2004-11-27

What kinda job do you want, Wendy?

Someone recently, in all seriousness, asked me that big question.

Suddenly, faced with all the options in the world, I realised I am pretty confused.

I went home that day with a question mark hovering above my head, and decided to push the question (mark) to the back of my mind and watch some TV.

Tadah! America's Next Top Model and the Amazing Race, 6.

After watching both shows, I narrowed my choices down to two:

I was watching ANTM absentmindedly, then I realised the designation beneath one of the catwalk trainer's (a black MALE with false eyelashes, electric eyeshadow and a bald hair [wait bald hair is oxymoronic - but never mind]) name, was DIVA.

I've never seen anyone with their designation as "diva"! I mean, regional executive chief senior intern yes, but DIVA? I decided I like that job title!!!





I shall try to be a diva!!! If a random gay male can be a diva, then surely Xiaxue can too?

Wouldn't it be fun to boss everyone around just coz you are a diva and hence superior to the world? I imagine the following situation:

Hectic ambience backstage prior to catwalk:


Make up artist: Gisele my daaaahling, close your eyes, close your eyes!! Now now see I've done my make up and you would be soooo pretty, dahling, if you only take away those silicon paddies? *jiggles Gisele's boobs while she smacks his hand away* You know daahling, I don't like silicon, uh uh, no! No silicon! Natural is small, but nice, daahling!

Me, top diva, purring: Hello everybuddy!!!

(Sashays into the room with a permanent pout and a violently purple feather boa and lime-green sequined dress with its train trailing behind me luxuriously and my chihuahua hurrying along in a huffy manner behind that. MIND MY CHIHUAHUA NOW! Poor pinkypuffs.)


Models, chiming: Hello Xia! (now now, Divas only have first names yeah? Like Madonna)

Make up artist: I see you have come Xia... How are you doing, my daahling? *air kisses on both cheeks*

Me, da Diva: Alright alright everybuddy! Don't be so excited *shrill laughter* you know I would grace such a preppy event as this one is ... what is it again? Victoria's Secrets show, or is it Vuitton again? Ah, ha ha ha ha ha Come pinkypuffs, come to mommy!!

Make up artist: Now that's a nice dress you have there Xia daahling!

Me, da Diva: Of course, of course, enough of your honeyed words my love, everything, anything, THAT GOES ON ME LOOKS GORGEOUS! Imma DIVA!! *shrill laughter* OH MY GAWD, LA, DI, DA!* What have you done to GISELE BUNDCHEN HERE SHE LOOKS HORRIBLE!!! Flabber! GASTING! Oh my poor Gisele darling, what has this horrible horrible Ivanoia done to your face?

Make up artist, horrified: What have I done?? Mac's most popular colours this season, Starshine Palegold, and Exciting Semengreen! Blended to make-up perfection, Xia daahling!


*A thunderous roar fills the air (by me of course - ever seen a diva get angry? Come to think it, divas don't get angry - they get even.) and pinkypuffs yaps and bites the make up artist*

(I take advantage of his confusion and use my violently purple feather boa to slap him across the face and stomp off in a huff. I turn and look back at at the shocked room)


Me, da Angry DIVA: WHEN I SAY IT IS UGLY, IT IS UGLY! Do I make it clear now? NOBODY, ABSOLUTELY NOBODY, CONTRADICTS A DIVA! Nobody doubts my words! I am supreme! I am divine! Do you understand now?


(The make up artist scampers out of the room in fright. HE MADE A DIVA ANGRY!!)


Gisele, whimpering: What should I do now with the ugly make up, Xia?

Me, looking at her with pity: You were never pretty to begin with, darling. Everyone knows you sleep with Donatella Versace, that flamboyant old witch.


(The room gasps in an audibly satisfying way.)



Gisele, indignant: Yes I did, (more gasps) but I am also pretty! I ... I ... I did a movie, I did!

Me, da Diva: You also slept with Queen Latifah you stupid flighty nitwit! Die, just die!

Gisele: How can you just ask people to die like that? You think I will just drop dead?

Me, da almighty Diva: Yes you will, because I am a diva!


(The other models are trembling)

(Gisele starts foaming at the mouth and coughs out a placenta. She drops dead.)


Me, da almighty Diva: MUA HA HA HA HA HA HA Who dares offend me now, WHO???


Alright. Seeing that I am merely 20 years of age, I don't think I can be a diva.

Failing that, I think I shall be a wrestler like Lori and Bolo in the Amazing Race!



Isn't it so fun, when people ask you for your namecard, and your designation says "Professional wrestler"? Everyone will go weak at the knees, and if they don't, you elbow them into a Deathstar Armlock or something that sounds equally scary, and make them SAY SORRY FOR THEIR ARROGANCE!!!


Insurance agent on the streets: Hi would you like to do a survey? Do you know that the poor are getting poorer, and the rich richer?

Me: I am a professional wrestler.

Insurance agent: Oh. Sorry.

Me: What's that again? I couldn't hear you.

Insurance agent: Sorry.

Me: I can't hear you, speak up!

Insurance agent: I said, Sorry!

Me: DID ... YOU ... JUST ... SHOUT ... AT ... ME??? ROOOOOARRRRRRR! (Deathstar Armlock)


Ok fine. Being a professional wrestler means loads of training, and I am lazy.

I have decided on a final, more attainable profession. I decided that I shall be ...



AN ARSONIST!!!!

See, so cool!




Wah!!


Guy A: Hey, your friend over there, quite chio ah?

Guy B: Yeah not bad only la ... Her name is Wendy. And oh yeah, she is an arsonist.

Guy A: You serious? Coolness!


It is relatively easy to be an arsonist! All I need to do is to burn stuff I don't like, and pretend I don't wanna be caught. Once I am caught, I am immediately labelled as an arsonist! Yay!

Wendy the Arsonist!




Yay!


*'La di da' - courtesy of Eileen's friend Eugene, can be used to replace "Big deal" (or something) in an absolutely gay manner

(thanks for asking, I am quite ok now. Cough is still there though, and the bloody sore throat! Enough of rubbish blogging. More tonight if I feel well enough.)

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