ambivalence #2

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HATRED - LOVE
brought and bound us together
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LIES - TRUTH
whilst one spreads like wild fire, the other prevails forever

WAR - PEACE
keeps us apart, breaks our spirits but fuels us with hope, reason and believe
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SORROW - LAUGHTER

humour reaches you even in the most remote, conflict zones !
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... and all of the above is timely primarily because :

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#1 we were all bombarded again
Funny how technology works. Both for the good and evil.
iPhones, Blackberrys, Vertus went straight into action.
I was woken up at unGodly hour by the white flash of light emitting from my iBook and O2.
We all had a good laugh. It helps the soul if you're out with the Juntas, in Palestine or Iraq.

This is yet another aspect of the lives of PJs* and those that stand behind them. Unknown to the world.

#2 I have been told I am an idiot
Really?
Interesting. Down right funny.

{This time, not from an armchair critic about the sanctity of my work and contacts.

You know what? Disappointingly it is not even about me! Or my social advocacy. Darn.}

But me? An idiot?!?
I'm the one who knows all the PJs referred here for REAL.
I don't google any of them. Because (read ^). I don't need to.
I don't clutch on to straws of "evidence". I don't write to strangers. And the funniest of all is I don't foolishly write to their professional counterparts making accusations, without knowing the relationships and friendships that have formed between those in question.

And, I have most of the bookings till 2009. Exhibitions lined up. Pro bono assignments committed to. Auctions...

But, I, apparently am the idiot in this equation.
hmmmmm...

#3 thanks heaps!
Any publicity is good.
Humouring us!!! Especially X who is currently on assignment in hell.

Putting things into perspective - and giving us hope and vindication that we are doing REAL, GREAT WORK.
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So for now, I am back to scrutinizing hundreds of original frames {only my PJs and I will ever see} ... it's a tough enough job deciding on colour? monochrome? crop? how much processing? etc. We don't need stalkers. But it has been fun!
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P/S:
Dear X,
.....Please, please, please stay alive and above all ...for me.

And N!
aaarrgghhhhhh N, you should really have not done the Burma Project after the Afghanistan Assignment. Your multiple show dateline is too tight. Let's get cracking!
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* PJs - photojournalists

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books with values

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I came across Sunbear Publishing through my sister and was taken by it. It is a niche publisher with a heart and not one for profit. Values runs through every aspect of this publisher and at the very core of its operations are great people with BIG, BIG HEARTs. This is not some socialite, celebrity trying to garner more publicity and popularity. This is about normal individuals trying to make a difference in this world and publishing books that matters. Books that talks about things that we (should) value...

The picture books market are on environmental and cultural themes and they reflect the rich experience of any child growing up in the tropics. Yes, finally books that relate to US HERE! It talks about local flora and fauna, local cultures and values, local people and lifestyles. And all of this with only the hope to help instill in our children a love and appreciation of their local environment and culture.

Well, of course the books also makes perfect presents for children who live in other parts of the world; don't you think it's timely for them to know what monsoon rain and rafflesia is?

Contact the kind and lovely Angeline at
mysunbear@gmail.com
012-297 45233

P/S:
a guilt-free purchase note
All books are printed in Singapore (NOT some sweatshop with child labour in Asia) on recycled paper.
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on being hit-on

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flirting is truly a great occupation to undertake.

Now, why would I pull your leg? I AM a living testament. A guru. I was born to do this. I am a Libran!

{need I say more?}

Anyways, I was hit-on last week. In the most inappropriate setting and circumstances by the most unsuspecting person.

I played hostess. I was nervous. I've not done this before (not, about being a hostess, but about hosting such an event). I was certain the roomful of people who had given up their time based on only one promise: 'fun', will see through me. Will be disappointed.

First, 'fun' is hardly in my vocabulary.
Skeptical. cynical. Depressing. Sulky.
Those are MY adjectives.

And the guy? He was hired to provide the 'fun'. Oh no! Definitely NOT what you are presently thinking. Hell, no! This is a no-nonsense, straight laced event.

So, it was initially awkward. Being hit on, that is. Let me explain. I am usually the flirt initiator because I want something from you. And I will convince you that it was your idea to give it to me and you would never have felt more pleased giving me whatever it is. Hence, this was different.

True to form, my brain convinced me: why not?
Flirting is after all good for wellness!

After about 7 minutes, I couldn't help but glance the room for an exit strategy. Someone to rescue me. No, no. He wasn't half as bad. A tat dorky with too much gums and rapidly thinning hair. I could live with that. See, the only reason I still have a svelte reflection (be mindful, I said reflection) is because I am blessed with long legs and the sensibility to buy clothes that makes my legs go on and on forever. Uh huh, age and gravity has kicked in long before I knew; so who's judging gums and hair?

I needed to be rescued before I bolted for the door. Before I slapped this sweet, innocent being. Before I ruin his suit with the drink in my hand...

See, he was one of those. You know. Those people who always radiate cheerful optimism regardless of whatever is going on in their lives. One of those who seem to have walked out of QVC at 2am in the morning when you are sitting in a daze wondering about your sorry life in front of the tv. One of those 'diamond-platinum' multi-level-marketing folks who sees everyone as a prospect and whose non-sensible vocabulary consist of words like fan-ta-bu-lous. gi-ga-na-mous. Nauseating, aren't they?

However, typical of me and my mindset, I became increasingly suspicious that he is really intensely depressed. And who wouldn't be with such a name that is impossible to spell correctly let alone pronounce. hmmmm... could this be why he is still single? Seriously, think about it. A name with 6 consonants + 1 vowel ... HUH?!?

Precisely, my point.
And did I ever tell you I am thankful that 'Penelope' has 4 consonants + 4 vowels?
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if the day could be coloured, today would be fuchsia

I like fuchsia. It's not my favourite colour. I don't have one. I just have ideal colours. How some things should be of a certain colour and not another. So, fuchsia happens to be one of the few ideal colours I like.

Fuchsia exerted importance in my life about 5 years ago when I was refurbishing a store with my architect friend. Yes, one of my many part time engagements that makes my day. : )

I had insisted on painting an obscure corner at the back of the store fuchsia. Nobody knew fuchsia. Nobody liked fuchsia. It was just about to enter the fashion mainstream at that point in time. But it was the only colour that actually 'screamed' at me in the shop as we went about mixing pots of paint - another one of my many silly happy moments in life!

Being his usual kind self, my architect friend relented and allowed me two 5L pots of fuchsia. I was h-a-p-p-y! I was on cloud nine. And his restriction "nothing in front" didn't faze me. I had wanted it at the back anyways. I was going to make my girlie, fantasy like garden with a dash of boldness and drama at the back. It was going to be THE drawing factor to the store. Everyone was going to stop in their tracks, stare and drop their jaws ... then, talk about it to everyone else. Yes, that was the game plan.

The thing with plans is ...

We received objections like never before.
The store owners stopped in their tracks, stared, dropped their jaws and yelled.

We nearly lost our jobs. They were ready to throw us out with whatever remaining fuchsia paint there was left in the pot. Their faces were a shade of fuchsia - can't decide if it was from the light that bounced off the wall and reflected, or I really screwed it BIG time.

I defended 'MY fuchsia world'.

My architect friend pacified them. We were going to undo it. Apparently. They were going to get their boring elegant store by sunrise.

I was to have none of it.

I proceeded to put up my chandeliers. White rod-iron benches. Loads and loads of artificial flowers (that were for sale). I painted a partial damask pattern in dark bitter sweet chocolate brown while my architect friend threw a fit and played the guilt game on how he was going to be shunned by the world of architects and designers. How he would only be able to put food on the table by being a contractor. And damned he had to learn how to speak Chinese and chew on a toothpick ...

talk about drama!!! { and he isn't even gay }

At 3 am, tired and concerned that I haven't had a drink or meal since the 9pm 'grand tour' with the owners, he 'swung' by. He stopped in his tracks, stared with awe, dropped his jaws and said:

"Brilliant! You ARE A @#$%-ing GENIUS. I absolutely love this. I love you.
@#$% if I have to be a contractor. @#$% if I have to slurp noodles and chew on a toothpick. THIS @#$%-ing fantastic corner stays!"

We completed the job. The owners were neither convinced nor repealed by 'MY fuchsia world'. It made some 'noise' in the market place. We don't know what it was. Negative or positive. But the flowers sold like hot cakes. There were back orders for the chandeliers. That much leaked to us. We got a 30% fee cut. But we were H-A-P-P-Y.

... and, today is one such day. When finally people gottit.
My 'fight' and efforts paid off. Now, I can rest for a bit. I am exhausted. But, H-A-P-P-Y.

{ and coincidentally the PJ top I pulled out in the dark is fuchsia and so is my new toothbrush! }

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travel + toilet = nightmare

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says who i am obsessed with toilets?

Am not. Well, mebbe am. A little. OK. I can spot a KOHL a mile away. But that's not being obsessed with toilets. That's having good taste. Being architecturally in tune.
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And... oh. { embarrassed }
yes, I have devised and implemented a toilet rating system; 1 being the worst and 5 being the best. Criteria laid out are somewhat similar to those you'd find in a Best Western or the RACV Hotels, Motels and B&B Guidebook. Everyone that travels with me are given a thorough induction. Those I dine with sails through a 5 minute briefing. Only because I can narrow it down to type of establishments.

But, what's a girl to do, really?
Choices are often limited and challenging.
In a half squat for the seated versions, my thighs goes through a test of lactic acid endurance. My mind is forced to focus on not falling over or standing up!

In the full squat, my knee buckles 3 out of 10 times. I AM literally 2 feet away. 3 out of 5 of my senses are 2 feet away from my deposits. And many others before me.

As for the hole in the ground... I haven't a clue. But what's guaranteed here is: a bush is always less than 50 metres away.

The trench. Only seen in China. And I never formed an opinion. How could I? When traveling for 14 hours on a rickety bus on extremely bumpy terrains, I am gleefully delighted at the sight of the 'trench'.

With desperation, I mentally shut down. I peep only to strategically place my feet. I eliminate the need to process any unnecessary images. I hear only my inner voice commanding the thigh muscles or the knee. And I can hold my breath for a long time; just not when I am immerse voluntarily in a tank of water.

When traveling, I pre-plan food and water intake. I go regularly. uh huh - contrary to thought. It is a BAD idea to hold it in. An overloaded bladder fails to function - with trickles that stops frequently ... the thigh muscles screams for mercy! And lastly, I always remember antibiotics.

So, I am pretty covered. 'Pretty' coz I am yet to figure out the kangaroo challenge.

{ beetroot embarrassed }

See, faced with the hole in the ground, I once headed for the bush. With little light at dawn ...

anyway, the point is: for a nanosecond I actually felt remorse for jolting them with a warm spray. As they hopped their way up the hill, I ran for my life - tripping over the little piece of garment around my ankles ... I mean, who feels any remorse by then? And as I reached for safety, I felt a great BIG S-M-A-C-K !!!

uh HUH, I am probably the only girl you'll ever know who has had her bare bottoms spanked by a kangaroo (tail) ...

1. The visit to the doctor was interesting, to say the least.
2. Always wore long PJ pants thereafter.
3. Never used the hole in the ground or the bush ever.
4. Hunts for pie shops at every Australian bush or outback town ...

heh heh, VENGEANCE!!! JUSTICE MUST PREVAIL.

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And so, NOW, you can symphatise with my toilet obsession.
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i am sorry

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I didn't make it today.
I never wanted to make it.
But that's really besides the point.

My turning point came yesterday, en route to the workshop we were going to facilitate. A workshop we had no idea what to do ... but hey, as a team we nailed it! And that's what I like most about 'us'. And I always knew your hairdo was a good sign. The 'fights' to keep you and to reward you accordingly was worth every breath. Every risks. Every judgement I had to face. For you.

Your succinct remark: 'Penny, saya kecik hati' followed by the clarity and openness of your justification changed my outlook of today.

I decided I was going to be there with you.
I was going dressed in the same shirt as you.
(no distinction. I don't see why I deserved the 'special' status or treatment, when you, yes, YOU were the one who deserved it.)
I decided I was going to don a hideous, ridiculous red wig with you.
I decided I was going to yell my lungs out with you.

... but I didn't make it.

And though I would like to tell you that I am drained from bending over some porcelain entrapment for 6 hours yesterday, falling asleep in between on the bathroom floor, I will not.

The fact that I could never have made the 2-hour journey in my condition and the 2 co-drivers I had backed down at the eleventh hour, I will not.

I can only offer you my apology: I am truly sorry. I disappointed you.

How can I make it better? How can I tell you that:
I see the unjust, double standards.
I feel the frustrations.

But hey, listen: he ain't nobody to us.
He was crap at managing, at organising, and if this was an Apprentice assignment, we both know Donald would have said: 'YOU ARE FIRED!'

But, he sure was good at demoralising you - my boy!
And that I will not allow.
We will not allow.

So, this is my command to you: swing back up. He just ain't worth it.

Lastly, I'll need you to be my dose of positivity when he issues me a caution letter for not showing up today! coz I couldn't be bothered to offer him any reasonings. Not after all this. Not after how he treated you. So, : ) my dear... : )

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G.G.M

Gabriel . Garcia . Marquez

He haunts me.
I am not in love with GGM, but GGM must be with me.
That's my only conclusion.

Every person who tries to impress me will sleekly web in Gabriel Garcia Marquez into any conversations with me. And often it will be of the other gender. Simply because I am undesirable to my own gender. Not because I am straight. But because I evoke resentment. Envy. Must be the stature or aura. I don't know. I have lived with it for almost my entire life. At 6, I decided I am not to care if you like me or not. At 11, I made it a mission to leave a mark: either you hate or you love me. No greys for me in this regard.

The confession is: I have NEVER picked up a copy of GGM in my lifetime. Let alone leaf through it and read it. I still have not found any desire to do either (yet). Yet, because I am no fool to speak in absolutes.

I have no opinion on the characters or plot.

And you must be a bigger liar to agree with my remarks or any views I make on GGM or his works. Simply because I have no view. I have no idea. Nothing I said made any gibberish sense to me. I know nothing about GGM.

And a-Ha! that's when I know with precise certainty you are a hoax trying to impress me.

Like GGM, I am yet to complete Moby Dick. For Pete's sake, who on earth completes MD? Besides the obvious guy. The one who created Starbucks. err... how do I know this? The mermaid. 'Starbucks'. Yes, this is as amazing a revelation to me as getting an-'A' for MD!

So, there you go.
ha ha ...

GGM is NOT going to buy you any brownie points, with me at least. But sure buys you chai and companionship in southern India.

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{ I'm truly sorry, but I find this absolutely hilarious. So forgive me for laughing out loud and blogging about it. But it really gets to a point ... ya' know? }
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life's all about equations

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with the RIGHT summation... you'll get the desired results...
or mebbe just paparazzi!

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the STAR celebrated World Environment Day today. We are honoured to have been invited and decided to put our talent to good use by raising funds for the construction of another Ti Ratana Welfare Home; a shelter for women: single moms, abandoned women, abused women, runaways ...

Sure, we knew this wasn't the avenue for fund raising ~ there just wasn't enough money bags armed with cheque books confined in a room where their only focus of the moment is to save some face! Realistically, money bags will never soil their Jimmy Choo in a forest reserve let alone be caught having their makeup slide under the heat.

But we had to do some thing. And make the best of this opportunity.

So, we went with a simple idea... Make A Card 4 Charity at a low, low RM5! Blessed with Father's Day around the corner and parents who were beaten by the heat and exhaustion, and didn't mind us 'baby sitting' for 30 minutes, or so, willingly dished out RM5 per card.

Naturally, all materials used were recycled and every project we (the real designers) show-cased were also made from recycled products - the finished recycled products will hopefully be produced by the women of the Ti Ratana Welfare Home for commercial sale soon.

So, whilst we are dead tired, it was a fruitful effort and the beginning of another long journey for us to make the world a better place... and to improve the lives of others.

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Photos by Penelope Gan

LEFT to RIGHT, TOP to BOTTOM:

1. our id3a, 2. cutouts embellishment from recycled materials, 3. a young "designer", 4. Datin Wendy Ong (Mrs. Ong Ka Ting) assisting a boy in his designs, 5. Val (my sister) doing her public relations bit with Datin Wendy Ong and Datin Sri Jeanne Abdullah, 6. Datin Catherine (fund raiser/organiser - right) assisting Datin Sri Jeanne Abdullah (our very own Prime Minister's wife!) with her daughter looking on.
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P/S:

Having the ability to hold on firmly to a camera, look through the tiny box and click the round button with one's index finger has its benefits - no photos of me ever exist for free circulation! Thanks, but no thanks, I'd rather be shooting the shooters!
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the scavenger in me!

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all in the name of the environment ...

i dug.
i crawled.
i pulled.
i yanked.
i dusted.
i shrieked! {lizards}

and I discovered I am terribly disorganised.
and a junk hoarder.

but all is well. I have 'materials' for the World Environment Day Celebration with The Star tomorrow.

so for now, I've got to get going and squeeze the creative juice for the benefit of the Ti-Ratana Home ... while kicking myself for not volunteering in Tanah Merah instead!

.{duuuhhH... what was i thinking? surely tree planting would have been heaps easier than coming up with zillions of recyclable ideas... no?}
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where next?

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just discovered i have 20 days annual leave left.
add the countless public holidays ...

i have heaps of vacation time!

{WARNING: DO NOT BURST MY BUBBLE BY MENTIONING PROJECT DEADLINES!}

the (uncharacteristic) thing is: i do not know where to go!?!
unbelievable but true. clueless. have been thinking about it. a lot. results? zilt.

add the fact that any hiking, trekking, mountaineering, abseiling ...etc. is out of the question
+ i don't want to fly for more than 8 hours
+ let's not do euros or sterling pounds
+ travel partner(s) needed

hmmmm... suggestions appreciated!
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sad

just 3-letters

yet so powerful

it is a combination of things. events...

i had a HUGE verbal spat with my mother. felt totally guilty about it. drove home. but the last straw that broke the camel's back was probably the 2-and-a-half hour crawl home. 1/4 tank of petrol in the light of ...

damn petrol price hikes!

no, i'm not going into the economics and politics of this.
every Malaysian blogger out there is doing it at this particular moment.

but it got me thinking about how price inelastic it is. to the high middle income and above at least.

i couldn't spot a luxury car amongst the serpentine line of cars that chocked the streets 3 to 4 kilometres leading up to every kiosk.

i, myself couldn't be bothered and thought it was a waste of time despite the 50% increase. it would just mean a one-off savings (which isn't really a savings). with heaps of aggression and frustration from waiting.

i wouldn't be trading in my LR any day soon. i would still pay road taxes than cost 12 times more than the national cars. i have paid luxury tax on my LR. i have forked out obscene amount in importation duty. i simply can't trade in my LR any day soon; it's worth as much in scrap metal! and of course i have a love affair with my LR.

what was really sad for me was the realisation than the poor and lower middle income people are the real losers in this game.

prices of everything, as a result of the petrol price hike, is going to skyrocket.

trading in their cars and substituting with public transportation isn't going to elevate the real problem. the mid- to long-term issues.

the government in the first place should have provided for more effective and efficient public transportation.

the government should not have allowed both the production and importation of inferior and affordable cars that are not necessarily efficient in gas emission; putting aside the discussion of safety.

the government should not have allowed flexible financing that allowed every man on the street wheels.

the government should not have subsidised taxes for these wheels that has caused a sudden influx of cars on the road, which naturally lead to costly fuel subsidy for the government.

oops! sorry. i know i said i won't go into the economics and politics of this; but i guess you can't shut an economics and government major that is opinionated and full of contradictions either! { wink }

so, i thought i'll 'visit' 'oxygen'.
but i faced an avalanche of other negative and depressing things.

that saddens me even more to the point of depression. that stretched my patience. that put my trust to test once yet again. that resulted in a turmoil of unexplainable emotions that made me feel physically sick and pain.

no, it's not that i have doubts. i don't. honestly. i have rationalised every accusation. i have a clear visualisation of how 'oxygen' is reacting at this very moment. i somehow have a connection that feels the emotions flowing through 'oxygen'. the anger and even self damaging thoughts. i do. and that's how strange this is. impossible. yet there.

i know 'oxygen' resents me for talking about it. but this is my cope mechanism. i have to express myself.

i know 'oxygen' resents the fact that i feel this way. that i (somewhat) feel and share the similar emotions.

i know 'oxygen' wishes none of the above for me. but i don't. i just wish i could hear. i could see. i could feel the vibes when these 5 simple words are uttered: I did NOT do it.

in the meantime i found something that's better than Valium for tonight and thought i'll share it with many other sad souls out there ...

SAD KERMIT!!!

Soon after the death of Jim Henson, Sad Kermit spiraled downward into a life full of addiction, romance and pain.

The songs and videos on this web page shed light on Sad Kermit's descent into his dark, hurting world.
Sad Kermit is an adult parody and is NOT suitable for children. Discretion is advised.
Apologies to those that finds this offensive.

i dont read the newspapers

there ... off my chest. Judge me if you will.

I mean;

Why must everyone who makes the first step to adulthood take up newspaper reading?

Why did we think as a kid growing up that dad was so important. so intellectual. powerful. serious. just because he held ink-smearing-unbleached over-sized reading material every morning?

Newspapers are seriously full of crap. Absurd news. Depressing news.
Often distorted and manipulated either for political or economic reasons. or both.

Who cares really if so-and-so was robed, raped, murdered, burnt, dumped, found?
You wouldn't even remember so-and-so's name. or the place the incident occurred.
And you would still go about doing the same thing you always did without extra heed or precaution. Bottom line is you learnt nothing.

Strangely people are disturbed by this fact.
No. no. Not the robbery, raping, murder ... fact.
The fact that I DO NOT READ THE NEWSPAPERS fact.
Strangely even strangers think I am strange.

I prefer my condensed TIME.
I dread the fact that the reporting is skewed.
I dread that its Americanized.
But it sure beats 'hunting' for real newsworthy editorial amongst countless of mobile phone adverts. Mountains of furniture adverts. Colourful vacation adverts. Food reviews. Socialite news... et cetera et cetera et cetera.
2-3 hours over the weekend, and I am covered. with the TIME.

The Economist is a bit of a bitch.
It takes me 2-3 months to complete one issue ... and I've long lost the catch-up game. It's ok. I have no economic or financial sense any ways. So, no real material loss here.

NGM is awesome.
It overloads you with information that has zero relevance or application in real life. normally.

OK. The Pharaoh are supposedly black. So? Try telling the Arabs that signs my pay cheque that!
Or that the anaconda teeth are hooked the other way around and the only way to free oneself is to wrestle it until its exhausted. I mean .... hello?!? And when is this piece of information ever going to come in handy? Seriously. Betty Crocker's bicarbonate of soda tip reaches to millions of household. Not the anaconda's teeth type of tip. Surely not any NGM's information.

and finally FT.
I just don't get FT.
Why is it pink? Is it backed by some powerful, obscenely rich faggot?
{ not that I have a problem with that. }
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*ping*

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10:01 PM " i am heart broken "
10:13 PM " bitch! are YOU there? "
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10:22 PM " oh hi. how are you?"

" i SAID i am HEART BROKEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! "

" yeah. when? how? who? why? "

10:23 PM " did you see ironman like i told you to?!? "

" err..."

" bitch. nevermind. she didn't want me. "
" i went to see her. i tried her. i went in. and... and i didn't fit! "

" huh? who? what didn't fit? GOD. SEX? over sharing. no thanks! "

" gaaaaAAAAAAHHHHH! how is it you are in MENSA?!? the R8 bitch. "

" you committed adultery?!? "

{ oh Mary Mother Jesus, God ... HELP!!! }

But who am I to judge?
He is after all a friend. And a friend in need of an ear.
Or rather in need of someone capable of relating and saying the right thing at the right time.

{ ok. I DO have friends like this! Now, back off. }

And I shamefully fitted the bill.
I've been there before: Sweating like a pig. Clogging my pores with carbon monoxide. Maintaining a speed of not more than 90 km/h to avoid the hair from totally covering my face / view. While desperately trying to look cool. Without establishing any eye contact with any other motorist. Uh huh. Not even a quick side glance.

I've also succeeded in ignoring the stares - not any ordinary stares, but those that bore holes and leaves an imprint in your back even hours later - by at least half the population of Kuala Lumpur. In IKEA. On a public holiday. Between Val and mom they bought half the store. Thought 60 bucks was way tooooo much to pay for transportation. Made their mayday call. Ignored the fact that I was in the coupe convertible. Not the 4WD. Which would render hopeless as well, since it's a 2-door! So, off with the roof and I had 3 Billy-s, 1 rug, pussy willows and the likes sticking out of my shinny, sleek, black baby. Trying not to care about the heat, humidity, pollution, snigers and stares. Ha. Laugh.

And so, when the mayday *ping* came in tonight, I knew I had no choice but to listen to the ramblings that went along these lines ...

The wretched flirtatious creature allure was too strong. Sure, I knew she would tease and only bring tension to its peak and then leave me hanging. But I had to. Her lines were just too seductive.

I knew seeing her would lead to adultery. But I was powerless, you understand? I can't resist. My heart raced just thinking about her.

I was shaking physically when I opened her. Then I entered. And this is when it happened. I did not fit! I tried every position known to man. But I still hit the roof. And I didn't even have any room to move.


blah. blah. blah.
Oh well, who would have known that he wouldn't be able to fit into the Audi?

And since only a 'drama queen' is capable of such literary, I have to blog excerpts of the IM!
I'm already a.k.a 'bitch'. It wouldn't make any difference. Besides, he is too heart broken to be bothered by anything at this moment... until the next infatuation du moment swings by.

As for me, I've learned that @25 you're an outcast if you were to arrive in a coupe convertible for your alumni dinner. Resulting in me only spending 15 minutes in such an affair in my entire lifetime now.

But for now, I need my beauty sleep! 'Alumni' deserves a blog on its own.
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