Friday, August 14, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Last post(?)
so yeah.. i might be dying due to the H1N1. Watch this space for further developments. Or not, in which case im dead.
I guess some people finally got their wish huh?
I guess some people finally got their wish huh?
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Book of the law/ Ouroboros
If you're still here after seeing all three videos, here's my opinion.
Do what thou wilt. I'm sure most of you live by that. But this Christian propaganda is not without its merits. At what point do we draw a line as to what is right and wrong? Hitler followed his heart and 6 million Jews and 2 million others died because one man wanted to do his own thing. From a personal view, for example, I find homosexual lifestyle distasteful and disagree with it, but I know many of you do not. I did my own thing by saying what I felt was right in my heart and I was condemned for it. So it is right then for you to do your own thing when other are also doing their own thing by telling you you cant do your own thing? If you say that you followed your heart, would it not also be correct to say that I followed mine as well? And by denying me my right to follow my own will, are you not being hypocritical? Is it fairer to say that you can do your own thing while what someone else does that offends you is not the right thing and that person shouldn't be doing it? On that, I believe that doing what thou wilt is utter bullshit. We live in a society that is extremely selfish and individualist. There is no altruism to allow for there to be anarchical communality. Nobody "does their own thing". That is why we have laws. Would it be more accurate to say that "I'm do as I will within the confines and parameters of the laws of the land"? Does that not go against the idea of doing as thou wilt? Listen to what Charles Manson said. Why then do you paint him a villain and a monster if you are all for "doing your own thing?"
Oh sure, you can tell me that you're not like Hitler, Charles Manson, Anton LeVay, Alister Crowley. They were all just psychos. Criminals. But they all did their own thing didn't they? I'm not arguing against free will. I'm arguing for the fact that most people who say that they want to and should be able to do their own thing are nothing but hypocrites. If I was a God fearing Christian, as it is stated in my MyKad, and if I was to say that lesbians are scum of the earth and sinners of the highest nature I'm sure that that would draw flak from almost every acquaintance that I know. Mind you, I'm saying IF. But then we come back to doing your own thing. Would not being a God fearing Christian and saying such derogatory and inflammatory statements be me doing my own thing? Why then should the above said hypothetical statements be considered wrong and derogatory and inflammatory? Its because we do in fact live in a society that hypocritically claims that it has free will but are just in denial of the fact that they want to be subjugated to laws as and when it suits their own individual advantage, i.e. laws that protect them from those who would follow their hearts by denying you what your hearts wants.Even then, the law is subject to men who do as they wilt and we all suffer because of it, as Iran and our own Malaysia can attest You see the vicious cycle developing here? Its a loop within a loop within a loop. At what point of the Ouroboros does the head meet the tail? The answer is that it does not, and we are all bound in this endless circle of right and wrong and the middle path that leads to nowhere. We are all hypocrites for believing that we are "good people"and that we can and shall do what we will.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
Nuptial Congratulations/Death/A fat man's worldview
First off, I did like to congratulate Ms(or should that be Mrs. now?) Chompunatt Krenger on tying the knot with Mr Krenger. Your brother was kind enough to send some of the pictures and like I told him, you looked beautiful. Here's to having many many many years of marital bliss and happiness.
Death has not been kind. Not to the celebrities anyway. I mean, I realize that death is an everyday part of life. Just last week there was a funeral behind my house. And a dead dog that was repeated run over till it resembled something akin to tomato puree near my dad's house. And the 5 mosquitoes I just killed and impaled their heads upon little improvised pikes to scare away their kin before they take another bite from He who's Blood is Like a Nutmeg and Honey Donut with Chocolate Sprinklings , or in mosquitonese. EEeEEEEeeeeeeeeE. And the 50 ants I killed with Commercial insect spray. You get what I mean. Death happens. But only to us "normies". Its like every week there's a celebrity death. Ms. Fawcett, Mr Jackson, Ms Ahmad, Mr Robson, Mr Mays. The list goes on. And it was all in the space of one month. Methinks death has become bored of us normies and craves to be hispter death with above mentioned celebrities. Or maybe he's forming a football team, with Mr Bobby Robson as coach. Anyway, what Im trying to say is, death is stalking, paparazzi style, and its disconcerting. These people entertained us and will no longer now. Instead the guilty, the corrupt and the immoral are still as springy as a spring chicken and no doubt at this very moment making the world a lot more shittier for the rest of us normies. Disconcerting. Oh, and I suppose condolences to the family and acquaintances of the deceased mentioned above. You touched our lives briefly but you touched us nonetheless. Metaphorically.
So, I admit i read Michelle's blog off and on. And surprisingly, Im not angry or "emo" as she put it anymore. In fact Im happy that she's found some happiness and is getting on with her life rather well. I don't know if its sincerity or indifference. Or maybe a bit of both. I can't say. All i can say is that Im not angry anymore and our chapter has come to a close. She has been relegated(or elevated) to memory of which i sometimes recall and then smile and say, that is the past and promptly get distracted by a scantily glad girl sashaying her way across the street while I hum The Door's "hello I love you" in my head and stare, at which point said girl catches my stare and promptly walks away faster upon realizing that she received a stare from a potential contestant on The Biggest Loser Asia.
Speaking of which, I entertained the thought of entering said competition, mainly for the money, partly for the weight loss which will guarantee me a 110% increase in pussy getting. Pussy as in the derogatory term for a woman's vagina and not the Michael(the cat) kind. But upon sizing up( pun unintended) the competition, I felt that I would dismissed out of hand as someone who requires just a little bit more exercise to ensure hot tamale-esque physique. It also got me thinking that I should befriend some of the said competition to be used as a foil so that I would seem thinner in the group of the BMI challenged. Having established what a bastard I am to think of such a thought, I promptly wondered if my friends see me that way since they all aren't BMI challenged while I am bordering on said levels. I then despaired till i saw a girl in short shorts(or micro minies..whooo) and fishnets with a tube top(and looking good I might add) and all was well again. Yes, I seem to live or be at areas where hot people peruse and wander through, causing us normies to stare and have a sharp intake of breath and spontaneously burst into humming obscure dittys about hot girls. Or the playlist at zouk, whichever takes one's fancy first.
Great, now i can't get that door's song out of my head. Then again I just came back from a mamak which catered to the after clubbing hours crowd and I was humming the song for a good half an hour.
Death has not been kind. Not to the celebrities anyway. I mean, I realize that death is an everyday part of life. Just last week there was a funeral behind my house. And a dead dog that was repeated run over till it resembled something akin to tomato puree near my dad's house. And the 5 mosquitoes I just killed and impaled their heads upon little improvised pikes to scare away their kin before they take another bite from He who's Blood is Like a Nutmeg and Honey Donut with Chocolate Sprinklings , or in mosquitonese. EEeEEEEeeeeeeeeE. And the 50 ants I killed with Commercial insect spray. You get what I mean. Death happens. But only to us "normies". Its like every week there's a celebrity death. Ms. Fawcett, Mr Jackson, Ms Ahmad, Mr Robson, Mr Mays. The list goes on. And it was all in the space of one month. Methinks death has become bored of us normies and craves to be hispter death with above mentioned celebrities. Or maybe he's forming a football team, with Mr Bobby Robson as coach. Anyway, what Im trying to say is, death is stalking, paparazzi style, and its disconcerting. These people entertained us and will no longer now. Instead the guilty, the corrupt and the immoral are still as springy as a spring chicken and no doubt at this very moment making the world a lot more shittier for the rest of us normies. Disconcerting. Oh, and I suppose condolences to the family and acquaintances of the deceased mentioned above. You touched our lives briefly but you touched us nonetheless. Metaphorically.
So, I admit i read Michelle's blog off and on. And surprisingly, Im not angry or "emo" as she put it anymore. In fact Im happy that she's found some happiness and is getting on with her life rather well. I don't know if its sincerity or indifference. Or maybe a bit of both. I can't say. All i can say is that Im not angry anymore and our chapter has come to a close. She has been relegated(or elevated) to memory of which i sometimes recall and then smile and say, that is the past and promptly get distracted by a scantily glad girl sashaying her way across the street while I hum The Door's "hello I love you" in my head and stare, at which point said girl catches my stare and promptly walks away faster upon realizing that she received a stare from a potential contestant on The Biggest Loser Asia.
Speaking of which, I entertained the thought of entering said competition, mainly for the money, partly for the weight loss which will guarantee me a 110% increase in pussy getting. Pussy as in the derogatory term for a woman's vagina and not the Michael(the cat) kind. But upon sizing up( pun unintended) the competition, I felt that I would dismissed out of hand as someone who requires just a little bit more exercise to ensure hot tamale-esque physique. It also got me thinking that I should befriend some of the said competition to be used as a foil so that I would seem thinner in the group of the BMI challenged. Having established what a bastard I am to think of such a thought, I promptly wondered if my friends see me that way since they all aren't BMI challenged while I am bordering on said levels. I then despaired till i saw a girl in short shorts(or micro minies..whooo) and fishnets with a tube top(and looking good I might add) and all was well again. Yes, I seem to live or be at areas where hot people peruse and wander through, causing us normies to stare and have a sharp intake of breath and spontaneously burst into humming obscure dittys about hot girls. Or the playlist at zouk, whichever takes one's fancy first.
Great, now i can't get that door's song out of my head. Then again I just came back from a mamak which catered to the after clubbing hours crowd and I was humming the song for a good half an hour.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Pussy......cat./ Paws Animal Welfare Society
Say hi to Michelle. No, I'm not being spiteful. It was just the first name that came to mind. I found her in my backyard 2 nights ago. Abandoned, cold and mewing for the end of the world. Having bought powdered milk( kittens can't take cows milk because they're lactose intolerant i.e. they'll die. Ignore the picture on the bottom left, it was taken pre googling of how/what to feed kittens) I promptly had a sleepless night due to her endless mewing and constant need to be fed through a syringe. After said feeding she attempted to explore her surroundings at which point I played traffic police and directed her away from electrical plugs and stairs while she ambled on tiny feeble paws. After tiring out from said explorations I tucked her in her towel/blanket and stroked her head and looked into her eyes until she feel asleep again. Repeat process 3 hours later while attempting to sleep before she mewed again.
I finally gave her away to PAWS. Why? Because everyone here hates cats and I don't feel responsible enough to take care of her. I don't know if I did the right thing or not. The receptionist/admin/volunteer told me Michelle was quite young and probably not vaccinated and will most probably catch something from the other unvaccinated cats in residence and die... Before quickly adding that they don't kill their animals unless they're terminally ill. And taking my Rm50 surrender fee. I didn't even say bye to her. While filing out the release forms a creepy old man/volunteer took her away, box and towel and all and I couldn't find her as I left the compound. If there was anything this animal planet episode thought me, it's that I'm an incompetent kitten care giver, and I'm definitely not responsible enough to own a kitten. And I'm missing her already.
If the 3-5 of you are reading this and feel that you want to give and/or are capable of giving Michelle a good home, please visit PAWS in Subang(near the old airport road) ASAP. She's about a couple of weeks old, black/gray and brown fur. Beautiful gray eyes. May or may not answer to the name of Michelle. There's a nominal adoption fee to pay but I'm sure Michelle would appreciate it very much. Closed on Wednesdays.
P.S i just read up that Michelle could potentially be Michael. Cat genitalia don't form till they're about 3 weeks old. I didn't see the twigs and berries so I assumed it was a female. But its supposed to be slit like and Michelle had a roundish looking genitalia thing. So... yeah. Goodbye Michael.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Fuzzy angry logic/ The fucking point/ Juice
So last night was fuzzy to say the least. So fuzzy I didn't realize I wrote last night's you-can-barely-call-it-a poem. Yes, I have the uncanny ability to craft barely passable poetry in the midst of a drunken haze. And the fact that I didn't fuck up on the spelling is also quite uncanny, seeing as my sober myself usually makes more spelling and grammar mistakes than someone suffering from dyslexia. It's a joke. If you cant take it ukfc oyu.
On that note, I'm sick and tired of being the calm one. It obviously doesn't get you anywhere in life and in some sick twisted and ironic way I can see why Michelle is happy the way she is. She just doesn't give a fuck about what everyone else thinks and she sleeps easier at night, alone or in the arms of her lover. And in some way, I think that should be applauded. Why the fuck should I be nice to you when its just so much fucking easier to fuck you over for my own benefit? Why should I give a fuck what you think when it's obvious that what I do think doesn't really matter to you in the first place anyway? We're brought up to think that we live in such an altruistic society. That we should fucking care for everyone and love thy neighbor and all that hippie propaganda bullshit. They lied to us. Society doesn't care about society. If they did there wouldn't be crime, there wouldn't be war, there wouldn't be cynicism and depression. But there it is. Outside your fucking temples, your churches, your mosques, your schools, your homes. Everyone has become a statistic, a target, an object to be ravished and destroyed for your own selfish pleasures and needs. No one's human. No one cares. You see a fucking road accident victim and you don't stop. You see a robbery in progress and you stare dumbly and helpless as your "fellow" man gets relieved of his possessions. Don't even fucking talk to me about sex. Society is just a big whore that fucks itself with a dildo. You just have to fucking go on the star's website and see that the most read stories are all about fucking rape and sex scandals and nude pictures being posted up by people who said victims thought they could fucking trust. They, as you all are, are fucking mistaken into thinking we're all fucking altruistic and "good" people. Money, might and carnal satisfactions have more say than love and peace. So why the fuck should we even fucking bother anymore? Why the fuck should I care about you?
Because I'm fucking better than you at being a human being.
You have to be Dante and travel through the Inferno to know that maybe, just maybe, there just might be something better to it than all of this. God knows I'm no fucking angel. I've fucked up big time in the past, and I know I will again sometime in the future. But the fact is, I wasn't and never will be, cruel like you. I've been there, and I don't like it. And I can't live like you. The above shows I've thought about it. Considered it. But I can't. I'm jaded but I'm not fucking blind to the fact that, despite everything above being true, there is some good left in this world. Its just that we've been mired in the shit for so long we can't see it so clearly anymore. I'm sick of looking at all the shit. Just for once, I did like to see something good. I pray that there is some good. Otherwise.. what is the fucking point..
Now, the emo shit out of the way, here's today's funny( or not) pic. It's all about the juice.
On that note, I'm sick and tired of being the calm one. It obviously doesn't get you anywhere in life and in some sick twisted and ironic way I can see why Michelle is happy the way she is. She just doesn't give a fuck about what everyone else thinks and she sleeps easier at night, alone or in the arms of her lover. And in some way, I think that should be applauded. Why the fuck should I be nice to you when its just so much fucking easier to fuck you over for my own benefit? Why should I give a fuck what you think when it's obvious that what I do think doesn't really matter to you in the first place anyway? We're brought up to think that we live in such an altruistic society. That we should fucking care for everyone and love thy neighbor and all that hippie propaganda bullshit. They lied to us. Society doesn't care about society. If they did there wouldn't be crime, there wouldn't be war, there wouldn't be cynicism and depression. But there it is. Outside your fucking temples, your churches, your mosques, your schools, your homes. Everyone has become a statistic, a target, an object to be ravished and destroyed for your own selfish pleasures and needs. No one's human. No one cares. You see a fucking road accident victim and you don't stop. You see a robbery in progress and you stare dumbly and helpless as your "fellow" man gets relieved of his possessions. Don't even fucking talk to me about sex. Society is just a big whore that fucks itself with a dildo. You just have to fucking go on the star's website and see that the most read stories are all about fucking rape and sex scandals and nude pictures being posted up by people who said victims thought they could fucking trust. They, as you all are, are fucking mistaken into thinking we're all fucking altruistic and "good" people. Money, might and carnal satisfactions have more say than love and peace. So why the fuck should we even fucking bother anymore? Why the fuck should I care about you?
Because I'm fucking better than you at being a human being.
You have to be Dante and travel through the Inferno to know that maybe, just maybe, there just might be something better to it than all of this. God knows I'm no fucking angel. I've fucked up big time in the past, and I know I will again sometime in the future. But the fact is, I wasn't and never will be, cruel like you. I've been there, and I don't like it. And I can't live like you. The above shows I've thought about it. Considered it. But I can't. I'm jaded but I'm not fucking blind to the fact that, despite everything above being true, there is some good left in this world. Its just that we've been mired in the shit for so long we can't see it so clearly anymore. I'm sick of looking at all the shit. Just for once, I did like to see something good. I pray that there is some good. Otherwise.. what is the fucking point..
Now, the emo shit out of the way, here's today's funny( or not) pic. It's all about the juice.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Angry Song
Fragile, fragile, fragile.
Your views and your stands.
Evermore were you nothing but guile.
Nevermore are you and me friends.
Lies, lies, lies
Your every promise and intimation
Our friendship at a demise
The hellish road paved with your cruel intention
Unrepentant, unrepentant, unrepentant
In your ways and in your actions
Our time together and the caring irrelevant
My dear, you have no fucking justifications
Anon, Anon, Anon
You move on
I will not mourn
While I sing this angry song
Your views and your stands.
Evermore were you nothing but guile.
Nevermore are you and me friends.
Lies, lies, lies
Your every promise and intimation
Our friendship at a demise
The hellish road paved with your cruel intention
Unrepentant, unrepentant, unrepentant
In your ways and in your actions
Our time together and the caring irrelevant
My dear, you have no fucking justifications
Anon, Anon, Anon
You move on
I will not mourn
While I sing this angry song
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Criterion/Non sequitur
Right of the bat I'm telling you this isn't going to be another 3000 wonder. Maybe about a 1000 er(or less, depending on long the creative juices can flow until I get bored and be distracted by something else, like porn). Some people have been asking me why I don't talk about "serious" stuff here anymore ( I know, I was as shocked as you are to find out I actually have more than just 3 readers). The answer is simple. I do that for a living now, so why should I do it here for free? Regardless, whatever I say here isn't really going to matter in the big picture. I'm not rich, famous, an intellectual and, most importantly, I'm not good looking enough. It astounds and assaults the mind sometimes to see that popularity, as intangible as it may be, is won because of the number of pictures and videos of yourself that you put up, rather than the substance and context of your opinions, if you have any at all. This has also led to the commercialization of popularity in blogsphere , i.e. ads that you'll only get if you get a certain number of hits a day. Again, as mentioned above, this is determined by how many glamour shots of yourself you can put up, rather than having some inkling of social commentary and intellectual discourse and its sad to see blogger event organizers select its panel based on the above mentioned criterion. I'm generalizing here of course. There are lots of good blogs to read out there and I gladly read and support such blogs because its actually intellectually stimulating if nothing else. But in regards to the rest of the lot, whose content consists of 75% glamour/party/camwhoring shots, 15% memes, 8% food/shopping mall shots and 2% one paragraph OMGIBOUGHTSHOES! entries of no substance and purpose other than to notify others of said financial ability(yours or others) to buy said shoes and/or other apparels (and being annoying about it), I shall not be a statistic on your statcounter nor shall I be following you on twitter anytime soon.
Continuing ju-rants non sequitur traditions, here are my thoughts on Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist. Plot wise, it's your typical
Well, that was my attempt at doing a movie review. I'm no Roger Ebert obviously but I felt I stuck well within the parameters of doing a review from a technical standpoint and didn't give too much of the plot away. In essence, it really is one of the coolest jobs out there(next to island get away caretaker) and a great party ice breaker. "What do you do for a living?". "I watch movies and tell people if it sucks or not". The only job stress one would be facing would be reaching deadlines and having to endure crap like Twilight( Winning the most awards in the MTV movie awards doesn't really account for much taste and only represents the tween to 21 age demographic. Plus they keep playing the fucking Jonas Brothers over and over. I mean come fucking on! The MTV generation is dead. Long live Post Consumerism)
Batman, or rather, Bruce Wayne, is also dead. Long live Batman. Dick move by DC as usual, pun unintended(for those out of the loop, Dick Grayson, Nightwing/first Robin, is currently the new batman). But like Green Lantern(Hal Jordan) and the Flash(Barry Allen) I'm sure they will bring him back again after the predictable fan backlash after 15-20 years. It makes the novelty of comic book death exactly that, an inconsequential novelty which has been proven time and time again to bring no value to the comic and does nothing but incur fan outrage and reduced sales. Then again, I suppose DC and Marvel and the rest do reserve the right to publish material which may not always appease everybody.
Right. Thats all for now. As you can see, very intellectually stimulating stuff this discourse on movies and comics.
Pictures? Ok, why not?
Apologies for the text differential. Blogger is, as usual, fucking up.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
L' Historie des Julian et Michelle
Are you not entertained? By which I'm referring to the "blog war" of comments in the entry below. It missed the all time record of 15 by just 3 comments. As you, my dear astute and observant reader can read for yourself, me and Michelle are officially, as the Germans would say, Kaput.
So I know in post entitled 100 that I wouldn't be falling back on dwelling on the past. I have, obviously, not adhered to my own resolutions. In fact, it was said post and my impassioned(read;I did not think it through when I wrote it) writing that lead to the dissolution of our friendship. I would be lying if I said I did not feel a tug at my heart when it happened, but that's the bed of thorns I chose to lie on. Words have been said which I can never take back and I just have to accept fate as it is. Having said that, I will try, in an effort to get over said former 3 time apple of my eye, to retell our entire 8 year history. Bear and humor me in doing so. Its just my way of getting over it.
We met in Form 4, which would put a starting date to this roller coaster relationship in the year 2001, on that miraculous thing called IRC. I was on a Final Fantasy kick then and (disturbingly) attracted to the fictional character Rinoa. No prizes for guessing who had said nickname. So after the initial chatting, we graduated to another platform of internet chatting, that is to say, ICQ. Yes, that wonderful programme that goes "uh oh" when ever you receive an incoming message not too dissimilar from MSN's ring/tone/beep hybrid of today,and to the eventual evolution to the Phone. Yes, that's how it works in the cyber world. Moving from visual(reading) to audio(voice) was considered a step up back in the day. Keep in mind that the Ipod had not yet been invented and what would pass off as a USB thumbdrive with headphones with 256 mb space that could play 16 songs today was considered the height of technology then. The seeds of our chemistry had been sown there. To say that I fell in love(hard) would be an understatement and disservice to the emotions I felt then. I mean, spending 8 hours on the phone and not even realizing it(till the parents got the bill that is), 60rm on a dozen roses for valentines for someone I haven't even seen before...I couldn't be happier. What we said and did over the phone of course is something between myself and her and I would like to keep it that way. This went for about a couple of months or so, with me being blissfully in love. I was to find out later that I was also blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had been seeing someone else in the real world and when the news was received, it was not received well. I remember lots of sobbing, throwing of inanimate objects against other inanimate objects and a severe case of the asthma. I think at this juncture the seeds of my fragile emotional state were also planted, though I have a feeling this insidious rot started the day my parents divorced, but that's a story for another, more melancholic time.
So post sobbing and asthma attacks, I even spoke to her said real life lover. I said, the best man won(Yes, you read right. MAN) and he praised me for being humble and gracious in defeat(like that was going to help me in what way exactly?) in the pursuit of Michelle. And so I moved on. Or so I thought. This period is what I would like to term the Voon "the tyrant" Ping times. Again, the modus operandi here was (surprise surprise) the Irc and ICQ and phone method. In this regard, I must, for once, offer sincerest apologies to VP as, with the advantage of hindsight, she turned out to be nothing but a rebound. Now, why the tyrant title you ask? This is a snippet of how our usual conversations went.. ".. Where are you?!?!?! I'm with my dad. I told you I spend every Friday having dinner with him. Come home now!!! But I just started having dinner. If you don't come home now Im breaking up with you!!" As you can imagine, conditions were intolerable to say the least and the relationship lasting only 3 months. I was the one having dinner with my dad on Friday's by the way, just to clear up any doubt and confusion.
So post SPM and onto the college years, the best years of my so called life so far. I mean, talk about transition. No more uniforms, smoking(which I picked up during SPM anyway so no big deal), drinking, moustache and sideburns growing, independence of sorts from the strictures of school life... and them college girls. One of which happens to be Ms Cristine "I avoided you like a plague because my dick of a boyfriend hates you" Seow. Again, another tale for another time. Pre Ms Seow getting together with said dick of a boyfriend, I was making the moves on her. And i had supposed things were going well, you know, what with the dancing classes(YES, you read it right), the lunches and other assorted social activities, when Michelle shows up in my life again.
She played the Damsel in Distress. I played Sir Gallahad, the chinese version. Said distress required face to face meeting and in those 10 minutes, i guess you could say the old feelings came back.For both of us. We hooked up again. (or is this counted the first time since there was no secret lover i was not informed about, I hope, and this was in fact the first time I had seen her in the flesh). All thoughts of Ms Seow vanished in a split second and I only had Michelle on the brain. We went out on dates and did all the expected couple things, except kiss. No, we're both not Muslim or have some saliva transmitted disease. We just didn't do it for reasons I cant, till today, fathom. It was bliss again for me, for the better part of 5 months. Then, again for reasons I can't fathom or ever got an explanation for, things soured. We both hit a rut and it was mutually agreed that we both break up. Painful, yeah, but this was the only time we broke of relations in a cordial and amicable manner and was the least painful.
So there I was again, single , alone. Ms Seow, as you probably guessed, ended up with dick bf and as explained above, avoided me like the plague. I guess this was when i started doing 40 sticks a day and boozing every weekend. sometimes even drinking alone. The emotional fortitude was not at its all time high. Then 2003 came and it turned out to be the very best times of my life. Michelle turned up again, playing the damsel in distress(again). I was to discover that the cause of her distress was an ex lesbian partner and it involved financial matters (seeds being sown again here people) Being me, I again relented to helping her out and the scenes of the previous year played out again. I still loved her very much and she felt safe that she had me to fall back on. That someone genuinely cared for her. We got back together again(yes, again. that's 3 times). And we did it with a vengeance. 2003 turned out to be the year i got my first kiss and the year my virginity was lost. I was happy, and I believed we were happy. Until the I-completely-lost-my -mind- because- of- her- infidelity incident.
Again, thorough sheer blissful ignorance on my part and deceit on hers, Michelle was seeing a lesbian behind my back. And when she finally broke the news, I was distraught to say the least. I remember the loss of appetite, uncontrollable sobbing, and drinking to the point i don't even remember what happened post drinking. And that was the day before I lost my mind. Having been a perceived "happy" couple, she left a few of her mementos at my place and wanted to take them back personally. Fine, whatever, just take your shit and get the hell out of my life were the thoughts that were running through my mind. She arrived the next night, with the fucking girlfriend stealer in tow. I not so much as handed her her bag of belongings but threw them in her face. All the while, that fucking bitch(the stealer) was smiling at me, so fucking proud that she stole Michelle from a man. I lost it. I did a blood curling scream, broke the shoe rack, threw the keys into the driveway and smashed anything remotely smashable. I punched the wall till my skin broke, and then threw about 3 to 4 glasses which promptly broke. I then proceeded to take a baseball bat and smashed a lot of chairs. After that, I don't remember what happened. All I remember was sitting among a lot of debris with a baseball bat gripped loosely in my hands and blood dripping onto the floor. I'm pretty sure it was from my hand and not someone I murdered in my frenzied state.Hopefully..
Then i sobbed like a little bitch. I called my dad of all people and told him what had happened. I don't have a close relationship with my father, him having left the family physically and somewhat emotionally since i was 11. Calling him was the last thing I would have expected to do. But at that point and time, I was so thoroughly mind fucked that all I could do was call a family member, with their unreserved and unconditional love, and I chose my dad. And that's when he knew i was smoking. Simply because I told him I was, in that fucked up state of mind. He tried his level best to be a comforting father, and yeah, I did feel slightly better. But the week and a half after that passed by like a daze. Literally. I didn't know what was going on, hardly ate, and slept a lot. And I think this was where i started hating lesbians. I brooded on it for the better part of 2 years. And I let it fester willingly. I mean, could you blame me then and now? The physical and emotional scars are still there today. Every time i see that crack in the wall or the scar on my knuckles i could only think about that lesbian bitch. If she wasn't a woman i would have, quite honestly, killed her. It left me scarred, traumatised and its still a sensitive wound today, even if I do a good job of hiding it at times(speaking metaphorically here people. If the physical wound still hurt today I would be very worried from a medical and health point of view)
After that was the whole Gi Gyn incident which, suffice to say, in my fragile emotional state post girlfriend stealing lesbians bitch, didn't end well. In regards to Michelle, I would get the occasional call, to see if I'm alive or not, and how I'm doing. Time healed the wounds a little bit, and we started being civil again. It took a while to forgive her(and its still taking a while). But I think, now with this introspection, I I was blinded to the fact that I didn't apportion the blame enough to Michelle and laid it mostly against that other bitch. What can i say? I had a soft sport for my first love. And the chemistry remained. The feelings were always there I'll admit. But we both( or rather I) knew it was never ever going to be the same again. So we decided that we could remain friends. And for a time it was good.
She was by this time, a full blown lesbian. The thought of it rankled me at the time, and obviously still does to this day. But I hid it and tried to look past it, for the sake of our friendship which I held close to my heart. I had rather have her as a friend, then not at all. Being a friend of course, beholds one to a position of less importance than say, family or significant other. With this in mind we only contacted infrequently, her time being mostly devoted to whichever lesbian partner she was with at the time. I felt a pinch of jealousy, obviously, but was in no position to voice my opinions. We drifted apart physically and somewhat emotionally, but again the feelings were there and so was the chemistry if and when we talked or met up. In this time I saw the world a little bit. Literally. I was off in the UK and part of Europe( I don't care what you say, Italy and Amsterdam(airport terminal) counts as me being in more than one European country). I experienced new things and Michelle was temporarily not the centre of my world for once, though always an afterthought in the back of my mind. Having returned to Malaysia, I set about a seemingly pre set path of life doing things I didn't want to but did it anyway because I considered it right. Goes to show that my power's of deduction and reasoning are not up to par with Mr. Sherlock's.
Last year, during my failed attempt at the clp, I was once again in contact with Michelle. And things were at their usual . Friendly and platonic. With a smidgen of us revelling in the chemistry we shared and the undertones of desire for new experiences in old comforts on my part. And i felt the rekindling of past emotions and foolishly wanted us to work again. I subsequently left to the States to see my mother and I tried to keep in touch regularly. Again, she found another lesbian partner(that's like what? 7 already? I don't know, I didn't meticulously keep count, nor would I have wanted to) and i was relegated to friend only and I don't have time for you status. That and her work. Which didn't seem to deter her in finding said partner. Hey, another blow to my already fragile heart. Its like as if i set myself up to get fucked over by her at will. We exchanged words and temporarily lost our friendship then and there, with me in the States but diplomacy and a willingness to apologize for my brash(?) behaviour managed to redeem our relationship again. I didn't realize then that it was a foreshadowing of things to come.
Back from the States, we still kept in contact, albeit again infrequently. And I tried to keep it platonic. Key word here being "tried". Things between her and he partner inevitably soured, as the familiar pattern of her relationships always seem to dictate. And on Chinese new year this year, we met, as friends, and also as two lonely people with a shared past. We hung out as we usually did, and the more time we spent, the more our feelings got rekindled. The first and second social activity with her this year ended with a kiss. Why we both did it, I will never know, but it invariably led to a strengthening of feelings for one another. We went out, as something in between a friend and, something else. In fact, we went out more now than we ever did when we were supposedly in love. I don't think I've ever seen that many movies in such a short space of time. Well, comparatively to my usual cinema going habits anyway, which equaled once every 3 to 4 months. I made the first move foolishly after watching slumdog. I had delusions of grandeur that i was Jamal and she was Latika. It escaped my mind that she was in fact having a its-complicated-fling with someone else and for once I let my opinions and my heart wear itself on my sleeves. That is to say, I didn't like it and I let her know it. Like I said, delusions and denials.
Make no mistake. I foolishly thought we could make it work again. 4th time's the charm. Despite the fact that all my family and friends would disapprove in a plethora of frowns and tut tuts and numerous round table discussions(arguments) on my decision. I thought that love only mattered between two people and what was important was that i was, for once, happy, but it seemed to all sides, Michelle included, that my happiness doesn't mean jack shit. This was the backdrop against which my pursuit was set, and like all my other pursuits, I failed. Michelle perceived me to be clingy, spouting such casually barbed words as, "I don't have feelings for you (even if I kissed you)" and thus began the ignoring. Because, you know, the way the world works is that you run away from your problems without addressing it(problem =me). And, for the umpteenth time, I was hurt again, more by the suddenness of such ignoring rather than the substance behind it, which was in itself as flimsy as a guy on crutches. I knew that it wouldn't work for the 4th time, coming to the slow revelations that things would never be the same between us, that she was hated by my family(not without reason) and that she was overall still confused and, when in confusion, retreated to her comfort zone that is lesbianism.
It hurt that she would have used the copped out reason of me being too smart for her, or that I was being too clingy, when we only hung out on the weekends since we're both working. This, after all the time we spent together, was what broke the camels back and culminated in my "butches think they have dicks" commentary. It was used in the context of moving on, if only people would have read it properly, but I guess reading the metaphorical and contextual meaning of sentences is a lost art these days. And so 8 years of friendship got washed down the drain over, of all things, fucking semantics.
So that's it, our 8 year history compiled into 3000 words. It was more like 5000. But i decided to leave a few things out that will only remain between me and Michelle, as we promised each other a lifetime ago. So what was this entire exercise in futility for? Honestly, from the first words, I have no fucking idea. Perhaps as a chapter closing? Perhaps as therapy for a guy who;s clearly hurting but too proud to ask for help? One last good look at the rubble and ruins of the relationship I've spent blood sweat and dears building before leaving to build a new one and reinforce others? I don't know. I really don't. I don't know if we will ever speak again or if we see each other on the street randomly we will stop and say hi. I can't predict the future. Whatever may come, it's been a whole load of fun and a whole lot of grief as well. The time has come to say goodbye, whether for now, for good, forever, we can't say, but it's goodbye nonetheless. And thank you for the memories. All of them.
You're still here reader? Jesus. I didn't think anyone would want to get through all that. Thanks for reading. No comments are welcomed. Nor do I expect any.
So I know in post entitled 100 that I wouldn't be falling back on dwelling on the past. I have, obviously, not adhered to my own resolutions. In fact, it was said post and my impassioned(read;I did not think it through when I wrote it) writing that lead to the dissolution of our friendship. I would be lying if I said I did not feel a tug at my heart when it happened, but that's the bed of thorns I chose to lie on. Words have been said which I can never take back and I just have to accept fate as it is. Having said that, I will try, in an effort to get over said former 3 time apple of my eye, to retell our entire 8 year history. Bear and humor me in doing so. Its just my way of getting over it.
We met in Form 4, which would put a starting date to this roller coaster relationship in the year 2001, on that miraculous thing called IRC. I was on a Final Fantasy kick then and (disturbingly) attracted to the fictional character Rinoa. No prizes for guessing who had said nickname. So after the initial chatting, we graduated to another platform of internet chatting, that is to say, ICQ. Yes, that wonderful programme that goes "uh oh" when ever you receive an incoming message not too dissimilar from MSN's ring/tone/beep hybrid of today,and to the eventual evolution to the Phone. Yes, that's how it works in the cyber world. Moving from visual(reading) to audio(voice) was considered a step up back in the day. Keep in mind that the Ipod had not yet been invented and what would pass off as a USB thumbdrive with headphones with 256 mb space that could play 16 songs today was considered the height of technology then. The seeds of our chemistry had been sown there. To say that I fell in love(hard) would be an understatement and disservice to the emotions I felt then. I mean, spending 8 hours on the phone and not even realizing it(till the parents got the bill that is), 60rm on a dozen roses for valentines for someone I haven't even seen before...I couldn't be happier. What we said and did over the phone of course is something between myself and her and I would like to keep it that way. This went for about a couple of months or so, with me being blissfully in love. I was to find out later that I was also blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had been seeing someone else in the real world and when the news was received, it was not received well. I remember lots of sobbing, throwing of inanimate objects against other inanimate objects and a severe case of the asthma. I think at this juncture the seeds of my fragile emotional state were also planted, though I have a feeling this insidious rot started the day my parents divorced, but that's a story for another, more melancholic time.
So post sobbing and asthma attacks, I even spoke to her said real life lover. I said, the best man won(Yes, you read right. MAN) and he praised me for being humble and gracious in defeat(like that was going to help me in what way exactly?) in the pursuit of Michelle. And so I moved on. Or so I thought. This period is what I would like to term the Voon "the tyrant" Ping times. Again, the modus operandi here was (surprise surprise) the Irc and ICQ and phone method. In this regard, I must, for once, offer sincerest apologies to VP as, with the advantage of hindsight, she turned out to be nothing but a rebound. Now, why the tyrant title you ask? This is a snippet of how our usual conversations went.. ".. Where are you?!?!?! I'm with my dad. I told you I spend every Friday having dinner with him. Come home now!!! But I just started having dinner. If you don't come home now Im breaking up with you!!" As you can imagine, conditions were intolerable to say the least and the relationship lasting only 3 months. I was the one having dinner with my dad on Friday's by the way, just to clear up any doubt and confusion.
So post SPM and onto the college years, the best years of my so called life so far. I mean, talk about transition. No more uniforms, smoking(which I picked up during SPM anyway so no big deal), drinking, moustache and sideburns growing, independence of sorts from the strictures of school life... and them college girls. One of which happens to be Ms Cristine "I avoided you like a plague because my dick of a boyfriend hates you" Seow. Again, another tale for another time. Pre Ms Seow getting together with said dick of a boyfriend, I was making the moves on her. And i had supposed things were going well, you know, what with the dancing classes(YES, you read it right), the lunches and other assorted social activities, when Michelle shows up in my life again.
She played the Damsel in Distress. I played Sir Gallahad, the chinese version. Said distress required face to face meeting and in those 10 minutes, i guess you could say the old feelings came back.For both of us. We hooked up again. (or is this counted the first time since there was no secret lover i was not informed about, I hope, and this was in fact the first time I had seen her in the flesh). All thoughts of Ms Seow vanished in a split second and I only had Michelle on the brain. We went out on dates and did all the expected couple things, except kiss. No, we're both not Muslim or have some saliva transmitted disease. We just didn't do it for reasons I cant, till today, fathom. It was bliss again for me, for the better part of 5 months. Then, again for reasons I can't fathom or ever got an explanation for, things soured. We both hit a rut and it was mutually agreed that we both break up. Painful, yeah, but this was the only time we broke of relations in a cordial and amicable manner and was the least painful.
So there I was again, single , alone. Ms Seow, as you probably guessed, ended up with dick bf and as explained above, avoided me like the plague. I guess this was when i started doing 40 sticks a day and boozing every weekend. sometimes even drinking alone. The emotional fortitude was not at its all time high. Then 2003 came and it turned out to be the very best times of my life. Michelle turned up again, playing the damsel in distress(again). I was to discover that the cause of her distress was an ex lesbian partner and it involved financial matters (seeds being sown again here people) Being me, I again relented to helping her out and the scenes of the previous year played out again. I still loved her very much and she felt safe that she had me to fall back on. That someone genuinely cared for her. We got back together again(yes, again. that's 3 times). And we did it with a vengeance. 2003 turned out to be the year i got my first kiss and the year my virginity was lost. I was happy, and I believed we were happy. Until the I-completely-lost-my -mind- because- of- her- infidelity incident.
Again, thorough sheer blissful ignorance on my part and deceit on hers, Michelle was seeing a lesbian behind my back. And when she finally broke the news, I was distraught to say the least. I remember the loss of appetite, uncontrollable sobbing, and drinking to the point i don't even remember what happened post drinking. And that was the day before I lost my mind. Having been a perceived "happy" couple, she left a few of her mementos at my place and wanted to take them back personally. Fine, whatever, just take your shit and get the hell out of my life were the thoughts that were running through my mind. She arrived the next night, with the fucking girlfriend stealer in tow. I not so much as handed her her bag of belongings but threw them in her face. All the while, that fucking bitch(the stealer) was smiling at me, so fucking proud that she stole Michelle from a man. I lost it. I did a blood curling scream, broke the shoe rack, threw the keys into the driveway and smashed anything remotely smashable. I punched the wall till my skin broke, and then threw about 3 to 4 glasses which promptly broke. I then proceeded to take a baseball bat and smashed a lot of chairs. After that, I don't remember what happened. All I remember was sitting among a lot of debris with a baseball bat gripped loosely in my hands and blood dripping onto the floor. I'm pretty sure it was from my hand and not someone I murdered in my frenzied state.Hopefully..
Then i sobbed like a little bitch. I called my dad of all people and told him what had happened. I don't have a close relationship with my father, him having left the family physically and somewhat emotionally since i was 11. Calling him was the last thing I would have expected to do. But at that point and time, I was so thoroughly mind fucked that all I could do was call a family member, with their unreserved and unconditional love, and I chose my dad. And that's when he knew i was smoking. Simply because I told him I was, in that fucked up state of mind. He tried his level best to be a comforting father, and yeah, I did feel slightly better. But the week and a half after that passed by like a daze. Literally. I didn't know what was going on, hardly ate, and slept a lot. And I think this was where i started hating lesbians. I brooded on it for the better part of 2 years. And I let it fester willingly. I mean, could you blame me then and now? The physical and emotional scars are still there today. Every time i see that crack in the wall or the scar on my knuckles i could only think about that lesbian bitch. If she wasn't a woman i would have, quite honestly, killed her. It left me scarred, traumatised and its still a sensitive wound today, even if I do a good job of hiding it at times(speaking metaphorically here people. If the physical wound still hurt today I would be very worried from a medical and health point of view)
After that was the whole Gi Gyn incident which, suffice to say, in my fragile emotional state post girlfriend stealing lesbians bitch, didn't end well. In regards to Michelle, I would get the occasional call, to see if I'm alive or not, and how I'm doing. Time healed the wounds a little bit, and we started being civil again. It took a while to forgive her(and its still taking a while). But I think, now with this introspection, I I was blinded to the fact that I didn't apportion the blame enough to Michelle and laid it mostly against that other bitch. What can i say? I had a soft sport for my first love. And the chemistry remained. The feelings were always there I'll admit. But we both( or rather I) knew it was never ever going to be the same again. So we decided that we could remain friends. And for a time it was good.
She was by this time, a full blown lesbian. The thought of it rankled me at the time, and obviously still does to this day. But I hid it and tried to look past it, for the sake of our friendship which I held close to my heart. I had rather have her as a friend, then not at all. Being a friend of course, beholds one to a position of less importance than say, family or significant other. With this in mind we only contacted infrequently, her time being mostly devoted to whichever lesbian partner she was with at the time. I felt a pinch of jealousy, obviously, but was in no position to voice my opinions. We drifted apart physically and somewhat emotionally, but again the feelings were there and so was the chemistry if and when we talked or met up. In this time I saw the world a little bit. Literally. I was off in the UK and part of Europe( I don't care what you say, Italy and Amsterdam(airport terminal) counts as me being in more than one European country). I experienced new things and Michelle was temporarily not the centre of my world for once, though always an afterthought in the back of my mind. Having returned to Malaysia, I set about a seemingly pre set path of life doing things I didn't want to but did it anyway because I considered it right. Goes to show that my power's of deduction and reasoning are not up to par with Mr. Sherlock's.
Last year, during my failed attempt at the clp, I was once again in contact with Michelle. And things were at their usual . Friendly and platonic. With a smidgen of us revelling in the chemistry we shared and the undertones of desire for new experiences in old comforts on my part. And i felt the rekindling of past emotions and foolishly wanted us to work again. I subsequently left to the States to see my mother and I tried to keep in touch regularly. Again, she found another lesbian partner(that's like what? 7 already? I don't know, I didn't meticulously keep count, nor would I have wanted to) and i was relegated to friend only and I don't have time for you status. That and her work. Which didn't seem to deter her in finding said partner. Hey, another blow to my already fragile heart. Its like as if i set myself up to get fucked over by her at will. We exchanged words and temporarily lost our friendship then and there, with me in the States but diplomacy and a willingness to apologize for my brash(?) behaviour managed to redeem our relationship again. I didn't realize then that it was a foreshadowing of things to come.
Back from the States, we still kept in contact, albeit again infrequently. And I tried to keep it platonic. Key word here being "tried". Things between her and he partner inevitably soured, as the familiar pattern of her relationships always seem to dictate. And on Chinese new year this year, we met, as friends, and also as two lonely people with a shared past. We hung out as we usually did, and the more time we spent, the more our feelings got rekindled. The first and second social activity with her this year ended with a kiss. Why we both did it, I will never know, but it invariably led to a strengthening of feelings for one another. We went out, as something in between a friend and, something else. In fact, we went out more now than we ever did when we were supposedly in love. I don't think I've ever seen that many movies in such a short space of time. Well, comparatively to my usual cinema going habits anyway, which equaled once every 3 to 4 months. I made the first move foolishly after watching slumdog. I had delusions of grandeur that i was Jamal and she was Latika. It escaped my mind that she was in fact having a its-complicated-fling with someone else and for once I let my opinions and my heart wear itself on my sleeves. That is to say, I didn't like it and I let her know it. Like I said, delusions and denials.
Make no mistake. I foolishly thought we could make it work again. 4th time's the charm. Despite the fact that all my family and friends would disapprove in a plethora of frowns and tut tuts and numerous round table discussions(arguments) on my decision. I thought that love only mattered between two people and what was important was that i was, for once, happy, but it seemed to all sides, Michelle included, that my happiness doesn't mean jack shit. This was the backdrop against which my pursuit was set, and like all my other pursuits, I failed. Michelle perceived me to be clingy, spouting such casually barbed words as, "I don't have feelings for you (even if I kissed you)" and thus began the ignoring. Because, you know, the way the world works is that you run away from your problems without addressing it(problem =me). And, for the umpteenth time, I was hurt again, more by the suddenness of such ignoring rather than the substance behind it, which was in itself as flimsy as a guy on crutches. I knew that it wouldn't work for the 4th time, coming to the slow revelations that things would never be the same between us, that she was hated by my family(not without reason) and that she was overall still confused and, when in confusion, retreated to her comfort zone that is lesbianism.
It hurt that she would have used the copped out reason of me being too smart for her, or that I was being too clingy, when we only hung out on the weekends since we're both working. This, after all the time we spent together, was what broke the camels back and culminated in my "butches think they have dicks" commentary. It was used in the context of moving on, if only people would have read it properly, but I guess reading the metaphorical and contextual meaning of sentences is a lost art these days. And so 8 years of friendship got washed down the drain over, of all things, fucking semantics.
So that's it, our 8 year history compiled into 3000 words. It was more like 5000. But i decided to leave a few things out that will only remain between me and Michelle, as we promised each other a lifetime ago. So what was this entire exercise in futility for? Honestly, from the first words, I have no fucking idea. Perhaps as a chapter closing? Perhaps as therapy for a guy who;s clearly hurting but too proud to ask for help? One last good look at the rubble and ruins of the relationship I've spent blood sweat and dears building before leaving to build a new one and reinforce others? I don't know. I really don't. I don't know if we will ever speak again or if we see each other on the street randomly we will stop and say hi. I can't predict the future. Whatever may come, it's been a whole load of fun and a whole lot of grief as well. The time has come to say goodbye, whether for now, for good, forever, we can't say, but it's goodbye nonetheless. And thank you for the memories. All of them.
You're still here reader? Jesus. I didn't think anyone would want to get through all that. Thanks for reading. No comments are welcomed. Nor do I expect any.
Monday, June 01, 2009
Days of Days
So yesterday was supposedly World No Tobacco Day. I didn't realize that there was actually such a day but even if it was to my knowledge I would not have participated. I do not believe that my right to smoke should be infringed by self righteous save the world and whales hippie organizations or persons. Yes I know its killing me. Yes I know secondhand smoke is bad. Regardless of these facts I still enjoy smoking and I do not see the point in forcing me to stop. If I want to stop it will be of my own volition and I don't need to be guilt tripped into quitting. Jesus, its not like I go to every non-smoker and peddle and force my cancer sticks on them, nor do I intentionally stop every baby occupied perambulator(pram in layman's terms) and blow smoke into Douchebag junior's face. So take that hippie. *Takes a long drag from currently lit cigarette hanging nonchalantly on my lips.
Today also happens to be World Milk Day(I'm not kidding). Like Valentines day, I fail to see the point in there being an especial day where something everyday is celebrated on a specific day. I drink milk everyday, so why should today be so special? Methinks the likes of Dutch Lady and HL have gone down the dark and shadowy path of marketing akin to that of the Hallmark and Roses Int. Inc. in creating Valentines day. If you wanted it to be such a special day how about sponsoring a ship load of milk and milk products over to say, I don't know, Africa? Where infant morality rates are the highest in the world due to malnourishment, let alone milk? So yeah. Fuck you too corporate douchebags. Then again, if there is a more nobler purpose to all this, and you are, in fact, sending milk to countries that actually need it, instead of "celebrating" its nutritional properties.. then yeah, happy World Milk Day.
Speaking of freedom, I'm a firm believer of free speech. In that regard, Ms. Thong, you are allowed to say whatever it is you want to say on your blog about me. Similarly, I am allowed to have my own personal and humble opinions about you and the lesbian community. It is not, nor have I ever claimed it to be, the gospel truth and people can judge for themselves what or what not to believe based on their own powers of reasoning and rationale.Having said that, you're so full of yourself into thinking that it was alright to mistreat me and are now trying to justify it by labeling me as an emo fuck. Yes, I am in fact an emo fuck. And the fact that you couldn't deal with it doesn't justify the way you treated me. Two wrongs don't make a fucking right. Furthermore, when I say, "women who think they have dicks" it's pretty much obvious to everyone else I meant it metaphorically and/or symbolically. Obviously butches are comfortable trying to be "males" without the added appendages otherwise they might as well have gone for a fucking sex change. But you know, you're obviously free to interpret it in any way your little mind desires. Isn't freedom of speech wonderful boys and girls? There should be an International/World Freedom of speech day. Oh right. There already is one. Go Google it.
Oh, before I forget, Tweety died. Tweety is the name of the bird that yours truly helped back into the nest. Let's just say... Sylvester ate him.
So no cleavage references today. But then again it is World Milk day... so.... would it be politically incorrect to show a picture of cleavage and milk in its awesome togetherness?
Guess not.
Today also happens to be World Milk Day(I'm not kidding). Like Valentines day, I fail to see the point in there being an especial day where something everyday is celebrated on a specific day. I drink milk everyday, so why should today be so special? Methinks the likes of Dutch Lady and HL have gone down the dark and shadowy path of marketing akin to that of the Hallmark and Roses Int. Inc. in creating Valentines day. If you wanted it to be such a special day how about sponsoring a ship load of milk and milk products over to say, I don't know, Africa? Where infant morality rates are the highest in the world due to malnourishment, let alone milk? So yeah. Fuck you too corporate douchebags. Then again, if there is a more nobler purpose to all this, and you are, in fact, sending milk to countries that actually need it, instead of "celebrating" its nutritional properties.. then yeah, happy World Milk Day.
Speaking of freedom, I'm a firm believer of free speech. In that regard, Ms. Thong, you are allowed to say whatever it is you want to say on your blog about me. Similarly, I am allowed to have my own personal and humble opinions about you and the lesbian community. It is not, nor have I ever claimed it to be, the gospel truth and people can judge for themselves what or what not to believe based on their own powers of reasoning and rationale.Having said that, you're so full of yourself into thinking that it was alright to mistreat me and are now trying to justify it by labeling me as an emo fuck. Yes, I am in fact an emo fuck. And the fact that you couldn't deal with it doesn't justify the way you treated me. Two wrongs don't make a fucking right. Furthermore, when I say, "women who think they have dicks" it's pretty much obvious to everyone else I meant it metaphorically and/or symbolically. Obviously butches are comfortable trying to be "males" without the added appendages otherwise they might as well have gone for a fucking sex change. But you know, you're obviously free to interpret it in any way your little mind desires. Isn't freedom of speech wonderful boys and girls? There should be an International/World Freedom of speech day. Oh right. There already is one. Go Google it.
Oh, before I forget, Tweety died. Tweety is the name of the bird that yours truly helped back into the nest. Let's just say... Sylvester ate him.
So no cleavage references today. But then again it is World Milk day... so.... would it be politically incorrect to show a picture of cleavage and milk in its awesome togetherness?
Guess not.
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