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Who's Been Eating Off My Plate!

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

You are such an "Cathode", they say to me...

Cathode 
A cathode is described as a negative electrode. Current enters the cell at the cathode and reduction takes place. Electrons are repelled from the cathode.


I hated Chemistry in school. H-A-T-E-D. Suffice to say, that my hate for Chemistry flourished into disgust + vomit + shudder + detest, when I chose to study Organic Chemistry for my A Levels. Chemistry ruined my life, screwed my brains and life inside out. It made me believe that I was stupid and had a learning disorder. So, it's ironic how my life has everything to do with chemistry now, especially my personality. 



I'm like the cathode ( negative electrode) which is in the middle of life ( solution in a beaker as my life). I repel people (just as how the cathode repels electrons) because I'm negative (cathodes are negatively charged). 


I've been told ( by MANY people ) that I am "such a joy" to be around, because I am just eternally negative. I'm always unhappy about something, dissatisfied about an issue, and disbelieving to miracles in life. DO I think I am negative?


Yes, and for a good reason. I would rather think of me as being critical, rather then negative. I just think that masking something bad, with hopes that something good might come out of it is fake hope. To explain why and how and justify myself any further than this, just seems like a waste of time. Either way, people still like reading my blog for their daily dose of sardonic-ism and I guess I'l try to keep the dripping bile from my burette at a slower frequency in an attempt to be more "positive". 


As a parting note, you do know that majority of positive people are delusional right? 
JJJJJJJJjust saying...











Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Flying solo while not being solo...

It's a busy day today and where did i get the time to put up two post? Well the last one was written during the weekend but I just never had time to post it up, this one, I just thought that I would take a few minutes aside to post up something that has been bothering me the entire morning. 


As I walked past a woman today draped in a power suit dragging her screaming toddler, I heard her shouting at the kid. She looked like a single mom, but was dragging the kid into a car where "daddy" was in and mentioned something about him wanting to spend the day with the kid while "mommy" had to go to work. 

It got me thinking for a bit. Why does the world have to be so harsh, on women especially. I'm sure (let's assume I am right about her being a single mom, sharing custody over the kid and having to juggle a career at the same time) that this woman has a good relationship, had a happy wedding, shared her pregnancy with her husband, cried over the birth of their first child and thought that life would only get better. She probably did everything normal woman at a child-bearing age would do. She probably did everything normal women did. 

Maybe I'm biased, but I think that women have to comply to more social norms than men do. Like I said, I might be biased. Women are expected to be bionic, understanding, caring, nurturing, and more while they are sleep deprived. When a kid gets attached to its dad, it because the mother is too busy at work or not a good nurturing mom. When a kid is spoilt, it's because a mother does not know how to exert authority. When a woman finds it hard to conceive, it's because "She" waited too long. When the husband doesn't have food on the table after a long day's work, it's because she is bad at multitasking.

I'm beginning to resent life and the life to come as a woman. I wish at times, I was a man, i would be cut much more slack. Not because I think men have lesser responsibilities. Only because I believe that women always cut men more slack than men do for women. In fact, women don't even cut other women enough slack.

I am always reminded by words of my mother "why can't you be more like her?" and to that, she is implying to me being unmarried, obsessed with travelling around, stuck in a job which requires me to work on some weekends, and not having a kid at this age and time. I always wondered why a woman like my mother, who is the pillar or my strength is giving me such advise. I would expect her to say, go live your dream, or something like, you are the boss of yourself. My mother gave up her education for her gambler father. She gave up her work scholarship, for my dad. She gave up her career, for me. She gave up her freedom, for everyone. SO I thought, that she might be more understanding to why I am so carefree. But these days, even she is singing to a different tune. 

When don't women take charge of themselves. How much are we worth if we were to place the price tags on ourselves? I'm not saying that women should be feminists, the right balance is always better than being the extreme of either pole. But is it really wrong to do things out of the norm?

1. Why do we wear white wedding dresses knowing the color makes us fat and that white is probably the least "stand-out" color to be seen in a crowd?

2. Why do we have to work our dreams and wants around our biological clock?

3. Why do we always come across as the pitiful ones when we end up in a divorce/break-up?

4. Why do we have to be the nurturing ones, and not the stern strict ones

5. Why is it Mr & Mrs (your husband's name) and not the other way around

6. Why do we feel bad when we have to set work aside for things that unwind us? (golf= acceptable because it's a form of "social networking" for men)

7. Why do we have to have/adopt a baby preferably when we are married, if we are already ready for motherhood?

8. Why do women get alimony and not men?

9. Why does a cheating slut sound so much worse than a cheating jerk?

10. Why do we think that spinsters are much worse than old-bachelors?

Is it really wrong to want more, to be out of the box, without losing everything? I'm just saying, the reason why I live my life the way i do, is because I have enough regrets as of now, and don't want to add on more regrets for opportunities which i may have to pass....

Monday, June 28, 2010

Blue versus Brown.

Who can resist strawberry blond hair, freckles and big blue eyes? I must admit that since the day I learnt to distinguish what was attractive and not, blue eyes were a must have. I grew up fantasizing about meeting a blue eyed boy, fall in love, running my fingers through his sandy blond mane and having blue-eyed babies.

But I must say, all these fantasies were popped like a bubble gum balloon when I came out of my school-home-TV-church nutshell. No longer did I step foot into the city, did i realise there is nothing peachy and gooey about blue-eyed men. 

Risking myself to sound like a complete racist and prejudiced bitch, let me explain how and why my perspective of white men changed over the years. Bear in mind that I am referring to white men in Malaysia, and not across the globe.

When I was younger, many of my parent's friends married and settled down with white men and had beautiful children. Naturally, I always wished that I had their light brown hair and freckly skin instead of my dirty olive tone. Not to mention, locals who married white men always wounded up rich, but later divorced, with alimony. Monogamy just didn't seem to be their thing, at least for all those couples i knew off.

When I moved to the city, it was a reserve of expatriates. I found myself in the company of many blond blue-eyed candies, and surprisingly found myself hating it. Maybe it was my rotten luck to have met a herd of albino sleaze-bags, or maybe all the white men across the globe who ended up the region where I lived in, turned out to be sleaze-bags. Whatever reason it was, bottom line, i associated 'being white and in asia' - as scums. 

I found the hardest thing to do with a white men (in Malaysia) is to have a stimulating conversation with them. I mean, being an expat, pretty much means you were sent here to micro-manage because you have skills. Yet you would think that they would come across as highly intelligent conversation carriers. But from my ruinous experience, all conversation with white men leads to them trying to worm you into bed. Every action is flirtatious. Every topic leads to suggestive sexual implications. It just seems mind numbing and wearisome trying to ward their interest off your nether region when really, all you wanted to do was to have a decent conversation.

I learnt to appreciate brown eyed men instead. At least they were interested in me as a person, and not what kind of panties I had on ( well, to be honest not all, but a majority i would say would be interested in platonic relationships ). Their eyes bore into my soul, not into my shirt and right through my bra. They fancied laughs and silly fun, not conspiracies of getting me drunken and horny. Maybe it's the culture, maybe as I mentioned, it was my shit arsed luck to have ever been acquainted to those men.  

Well, I am not going to deny by all means that it takes two hands to clap, two stones to create a spark yada-yada. Thanks to a few ( now many) SPGs (sarong party girls) who make it their aim in life to nail a rich white men, Asian girls come across as desperate, cheap, easy and dispensable. Thanks to them, we suffer the same marred reputation even when we are independent successful highly intelligent women. White men in the same conference room as us, would not look at us as an independent successful thriving individuals, but a tootsie roll who is ever willing to spread her legs for anything albino looking. 

So what am I going to do now, since I detest all male humanly breeds which bear blue eyes? Well, when I am ready, I will adopt, a Blue-Eyed Siberian Husky puppy. It's a baby, it's fury, it's way more fun to raise a dog than to raise a kid. Not to mention much more economical.

I can still have my pie and eat it. All hope is not lost.. All i wanted is to have something blue eyed as my very own. Who said it had to be human. 




Thursday, June 24, 2010

The Royal Flush.

I was speaking to a friend recently and realised I haven't seen her sister in a long long time.

"So where is S? Haven't had her around lately", i asked

"Oh, she's in Thailand doing some meditation thingy" she trails off

"Yoga? Massage?" I inquired further

"Nah, she's at this meditation center where they flush coffee through their asses every day" with a perfectly normal reaction as if she just told me her sister was having a detox vegan diet.

I looked at her long and hard, because I still didn't get it..
"What do you mean? I mean ..err... how? She has to drink loads of coffee isit?" i probed.

" No, they flush coffee through her asshole, literally, leaves it there for like half an hour and then let it out. It supposedly feels damn good. Imagine having a totally clean intestine after they flush everything out!"

This was the part where I went mental. Anyone who knows me, knows that I can be a stick in the mud sometimes. I'm not open to radical bizarre adventures. Yes yes I am generally quite adventurous, this is not a contradiction, but there are certain things I just wouldn't do for the heck of it. Like eating goat's balls, or fried maggots, or sky diving, or tornado chasing and certainly not flushing coffee UP my ass.

So anyways, after weeks of agonizing over how accurate my friend got her facts, I finally Googled it. It took me a few tries to get the correct key words to find what I wanted to find out. I mean what do you call it?Coffee + Ass = porn site links.

 So i typed in meditation + coffee + Thailand and voila! This thing really exists!! This form of "treatment" is called the "Coffee Enema". Look what I found....



What is Coffee Enema?


Enema is an introduction of saline liquid into the colon through the rectum. Coffee Enema means introducing coffee into one's rectum for cleansing and detoxifying purposes. The coffee is then allowed to sit at the lower part of the colon, until the person sits on the toilet and then it is flushed out and released, along with all the other toxins and feces. Coffee Enema is believed to remove toxins by stimulating the liver and gallbladder. Some say that it can help relieve muscle aches, pains and rashes. 

Look also what I found when i browsed through Wikipedia and other medically endorsed sites. Here are some excerpts.

Wikipedia
Coffee enemas are believed to have caused three deaths in the United States, described in the following references. Coffee enemas may cause electrolyte imbalance that, if severe enough, can cause death. Other adverse reactions that have been reported include enteric septicemia in a patient with widespread cancer, hepatic dysfunction and ascites, which the authors believed made this patient more likely to suffer from infections. If the coffee is inserted too quickly or too hot, it could cause internal burning or tearing. Because of the proximity between veins and anal walls, caffeine finds itself in the veins in much greater quantities, and may lead to caffeine overdose, though since the coffee enema is expelled, the likelihood of overdose may be less than when coffee is ingested and must remain in the body until metabolized. Excessive enemas may cause dehydration, which is only amplified by the diuretic effect of caffeine in the coffee. Also, as with all uses of coffee, it risks raising blood pressure, though not to a great extent in most individuals.


Myths about Coffee Enema
http://www.ineedcoffee.com/07/enemadanger/

  1. Adding ingredients to the enema recipe (such as coffee, green tea, vinegar, baking soda, bath/epsom salt, or minerals) is not proven to do anything superior to the effects of plain saline.
  2. Inserting anything into the anus may result in anal tearing.
  3. Re-used (instead of single use) enema kits may carry bacteria, which could result in an infection.
  4. Use of hot liquid in the rectum could result in serious internal burns.
  5. Extensive use of enemas could result in dehydration.
  6. Overuse of coffee enemas could result in electrolyte imbalances.
  7. The caffeine in the coffee or tea enema may lead to caffeine addiction.
  8. Caffeine enemas must be avoided by pregnant women and people with caffeine sensitivity.
  9. Overuse of any type of device designed to temporarily excite the nerves of the colon (such as an enema, colonic, or suppository) could result in decreased function of the bowels.
  10. The colonic does not magically remove cancer-causing toxins. It will create watery stool and stimulate the release of fecal matter from the last few inches of the lower bowel. Do not forgo licensed medical attention in favor of this dangerous alternative

Whatever it is, and whoever's right or wrong, it's still bizarre.. Just thought I'd share this with you guys

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

The Spoilt Child


I was reading my friend's blog the other day about family http://stephaniearasu.blogspot.com/ , and it got me reminiscing about my very own family. It isn't news flash that Eurasian families have two things in common, their dire need to compare their kid's achievements, and their dire need to gossip.

I remember as a child, as far back as I could remember, I was always labelled as the spoilt kid, the child from hell, the misfit, the delinquent, you name it. I was and still am the black horse of my very big family.

When I think back however, I really didn't turn out that bad. Nor was I such a menace as a kid, teenager, adult. Sure i had arguments and blown up shouting sessions with my parents, then again, which teenager didn't? I was a tv-addict, and often got into long big arguments with my parents over my homework. I used the housephone too much to call my other girlfriends from school for chit chats. And I used to feign sickness when I was terrified of sitting for tests that I wasn't prepared for. Sure I was rebellious, and rude to my parents at some point. I always spoke my mind and refused to grant adults the respect they supposedly deserved just because they were older than me. Some people classify those as growing pains. Mine? They thought I was sure to be a good for nothing.Some even bet on me turning out to be a whore...

I remember the very first time i brought my first boyfriend home for Christmas, tongues were wagging and assumptions spread like wild fire. My aunt even told my dad that hips don't lie, and mine told stories of regular shagging. Naturally, my parents were utterly embarrassed and disappointed with me. It didn't matter that I was innocent, uncles and aunts gathered their children around, and warned them off being thrown out of the house should they walked my path. I also remember receiving a call from one of my aunt, prior to her daughter's holiday stayover with me when I was in my first year of college, urging me to be at my best behavior and  not to corrupt her daughter, as I already had a very bad name amongst my family members...and she didn't want her daughter to follow suit or be associated with my wrongdoing.

Let's recap the things I didn't do... ( which some other angelic kids in my family did)


1. I wasn't the one who had my first kiss when I was 13
2. I wasn't the one who stayed in with my boyfriend
3. I wasn't the one who had a muslim boyfriend and wanted to convert
4. I wasn't the one who got engaged without telling my parents
5. I wasn't the one who flunked out of school
6. I wasn't the one who screwed around and enjoyed one night stands
7. I wasn't the one who said my father is better off dead
8. I wasn't the one who got pregnant
9. I wasn't the one who expected my dad to pay for my phone
10. I wasn't the one who refused to study and played truant
11. I wasn't the one with the eating disorder
12. I wasn't the one with the unhealthy weight problem
13. I wasn't the one who went to pool parties and got wild
14. I wasn't the one who got tattoos and piercings without asking my parents first
15. I wasn't the one who turned out as a alcoholic
16. I wasn't the one who crashed my father's car
17. I wasn't the one who earned a criminal record
18. I wasn't the one who asked my parents for money even when I started earning
19. I wasn't the one who allowed myself to be abused
20. I wasn't the one who dabbled in drugs
21. I wasn't the one who expected my parents to pay for my wedding.
22. I wasn't the one who blamed someone else when her mom found condoms in her bag
23. I wasn't the one who dressed up like a slut everytime i hit the clubs
24. I wasn't the one who stole my parent's money
25. I wasn't the one who lived off my boyfriend and returned the favor in the form of sex.
26. I wasn't the one who turned out to be a womanizer
27. I wasn't the one who turned out to be man-nizer
28. I wasn't the one who deliberately broke curfews and got thrown out of a relative's house
29. I wasn't the one who shouted at my mom in public


Let's see the things that I did....


1. I was the one who picked up smoking

2. I was the one who was rude to my dad
3. I was the one who used to bring my younger cousins out to club
4. I was the one who lied to my parents that I was going to tuition and went for a movie with my friends instead

5. I was the one who called home every week
6. I was the one who worked my way through college for my fees ( at clubs as a events and PR personnel, which later was contorted as a Guest Relations Officer job according to the rest out my aunt and uncles)
7. I was the one who finished college without extended time
8. I was the one who 'gave' money to those in need (when they were too afraid to ask their parents)
9. I was the one who stood up for some when they were being abused
10. I was the one who gave up my room for months without expecting rent
11. I was the one who ended up with a job which advocated for the welfare of others
12. I was the one who planned the weddings for free whenever they came up ( without expecting a thank you)
13. I was the one who got up in the morning during Christmases to drive my aunts  to the market
14. I was the one who stood up for my other cousins when aunts and uncles gossiped about them
15. I was the one who bought a house for my parents





And lastly....

I was the one who didn't bring shame to my family ...

I know it might be a little too late, but to all my aunts, uncles, and cousins who have had their fair share of gossip and speculation about how I lived my supposedly promiscuous life, here's the middle finger from me to you.

May Karma bite you back in your arse. But if it has and you're just too much in denial of it, then you know what? I kind of pity you.

To all my cousins who might feel a pinch over me washing your dirty linen in public, no pun intended. This is a warm shout-out to your parents, not you. After all, you were only being a teenager and thats what teenagers do.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

The Young Ones

These days, I seem to be obsessing about growing older. Maybe it's the part where I'm on a tangent that is leaning closer to 30 than 20, and that time seems to be flying at an exponential rate, or so I feel it that way.

It sometimes feel as if my life is halfway through, I mean who knows how long I'll really live up to with my lifestyle and stress levels. But mostly, it's the young ones whom I have cradled in my arms not too long ago who have turned out to be fine young adults which puts me on the map of being "the older one".

Here's my tribute to the young farts who I love and probably will never have the courage to say it to their faces. I still want to be the cool aunt/cousin. Having an emo moment with them about how proud I am of them is going to spoil my uber cool image.


Kristin Anne


The first baby I've ever carried in my life. I remember when I was 10, my aunt who was a nurse smuggled me into the maternity ward so that I could see my newborn cousin. Born 2 days after Christmas, it was like Christmas extended itself that year. She was said to have had my eyes and my facial features. Now she's going off to college soon and is turning 18 years old this year. time passes!!!




Vicky Rose
The very first time I met Vicky was during a funeral, my first uncle to have ever passed on. Thought Vicky lived in London, her mom never failed to send us pictures of her. She was always the doll in our family. Soft spoken, incredibly adorable and a smile that could melt anyone's hearts even at the age of 3. Vicky's 15 now and a fine young lady!


Fukuda Yujin 
Yujin was my very first nephew of my favorite cousin who I babysat. At 12 years old, I was given the responsibility of weekend babysitting while his parents made get aways to spend more time together. We bonded, and I absolutely loved him even when he threw tantrums of doing breakdancing on the shopping mall's floor. He is now 17 years old, a teenager, and I can no longer carry him as he might be thrice my size..


Su Yen

Su Yen will be graduating soon as an accountant. She used to tag around me when she was younger and I used to baby sit her and play barbie with her. I watched her go to kindi, watched her move on to primary school, and the next thing I knew, she was taller than I was. Now, she's independent, strong, and bears a strong resemblance of my mom! both character and looks, her father says.


Just so you know, I'm proud that each and every one of you...

Emo.. *sniff sniff*

Will She Love Again?

It's been months since the Academy Awards, the fateful blissful parade of a star couple, which then was scandalized with scorn, infidelity, and betrayal. Sandra Bullock's love life which had always been in the low, was supposedly laced with sugar,spice and all things nice. So when Jesse James joined the Hollywood roll call list of husbands that could not keep their "shlongs" in their pants, the question which is still making headlines is, "Will she ever love again?"

Let's break away from Hollywood and look into the real world. Although Hollywood's lifestyle sometimes seem surreal, with the lives of stars as a movie of it's own, I've heard this question making its rounds amongst my girlfriends a million times before. Every time someone breaks up and is in the process of healing, she is always bombarded with friends who are forcing her to move on, to love again! Because, as helpful and caring as we are, a breakup is always a source of drama, predicting the series of events that will take place, gives some of us who thrive on gossip a wee little orgasm.

On the contrary, I believe that the question of whether someone will ever love again, is really over-rated or far less important than many other issues which needs to be ironed out in the aftermath of a break-up. Forcing that question down a jilted person's throat, is not going to do her any good. In fact, because this question is a staple question for any break-up, we have planted it in the heads of women that the true meaning of surviving a breakup is being able to find another person to share their lives and dreams with.

 What happened to appreciating the little things in life which have made an impact on us? What happened to acknowledging the changes that have made you a better person which you might have supposedly learned from the jerk that dumped u over Miss Size Zero.? What happened to making a mistake, and learning something good out of it? What happened to NOT making the same mistakes again?

The thing is, as much as the healthiest way to cope with a break up is to move on, it's not really healthy is it when you move "back on track". For example, dated a junkie, found out he loves his heroin more than you. Moved on to, "Dating a married man, because things might take a turn". Rather than bouncing back on track, wouldn't it be better if people were given time to grieve, settle the unsettled issues pertaining to the break up, bad choices, bad decisions, and then move on to greener juicier pastures?

I hate the fact that women appear to be vulnerable when really, they are not. For Christ sake, we're made for knife slashing period cramps, pregnancy, labor all of which is undoubtedly more painful than a break up. So telling me that a woman can endure Brazilian waxing, and yet not strong enough to be independent off men, is utter bullshit.

In my opinion, women think that finding true love is their ultimate lifelong goal because we are taught to think that way. An independent woman is always scorned for being too egoistic, or sour grapes. But truth is, woman, are just as capable as men when it comes to being on their own, and finding love in their own time. Screw the biological clock. Screw the "I'm getting older hence I better settle for whatever" theory.

Sandra Bullock can be picky over her next man for as long as she wants to. And if she intends not to, let's not judge her. Because a little of her, is in all of us. Wasting your time thinking about will you ever love again, might lead you back to where you started off wrong in the first place. Is desperation really worth it?