Beware beware! Photowhore coming up! I know it's the Weblog Awards 2004 now, and I should blog something a little more ... substantial ... but hell! I have like tonnes of photos I want to show, so yeah... (Trails off in patronising tone)
And thanks, you cuties who have voted! I'm really touched! It's possible to vote every 24 hours, so if you haven't voted today, please do so again? THANK YOU!!
Alright, here are photos of ZoukOut as promised!
Eileen Wee and I at Mandarin Hotel before ZoukOut
Pretty hor? Anyway, Eileen is coaching me to do hosting lah, which is why she asked me to attend her gig. *Sigh*. Once in a while we do meet some really sincerely nice people, don't we?
I am reminded of this story I just retold today ... I had this friend in RV, called Lin Liang, and she is about as nice as a button. Ok, I know it is supposed to be "as cute as a button", but what is nice supposed to be compared with? Pie? Never mind.
I heard some rumour about some people in Lin Liang's school saying she wore some skimpy clothes or something (and therefore, is a slut), and I was GODDAMN PISSED. So pissed, I almost turned monstrously green and hulky. I mean, Lin Liang is as genuinely good a person as one can ever find, and yet, there are people who don't know her, haven't even spoke to her, and yet can spout such nonsense about such a lovely girl.
You see, I am indebted to Lin Liang's kindness. For those of you who don't already know, Lin Liang was once the top student in RV (my year that is) and is pretty (hence the spiteful jealousy of certain people) as well as exceptionally brilliant.
There was this once (I think Lin Liang might be angry that I tell this to the world but I shall pretend I was drunk when I wrote this) I realised that I don't know shit about differiation the day before I took a Maths test, so, in a flurry of pure panic, I asked Lin Liang if she could help me by teaching me.
Lin Liang had the same test, conducted by the same Maths teacher (she was in a different class) one period after recess. I have my test one period after hers. When I approached her that morning, she agreed to sacrificing her whole recess to coach me (FOR FREE!! Not even a kitkat treat in return!).
During the 30 min recess, she taught me the best she could, but with no avail. Apparently *ahem* I was not cut out for differiation (nothing to do with stupidity whatsoever).
I knew I was going to fail majestically as, 10 mins from the end of recess, Lin Liang's voice was going slightly hysterical as I still failed to grasp the concept of differiation.
The bell rang. I had no idea how to do differiation. BAD, BAD, BAD! Nothing to do with her teaching skills; it is tough to teach 1 month worth of homework in 30 minutes.
I packed my stuff while Lin Liang's voice urgently repeated again and again the simple steps I should abide by to complete the simplest sum.
I told her not to worry, as I am quite used to failing A maths.
She looked horribly guilty.
The period after recess was a free period for me, whilst Lin Liang was at the next classroom doing her Maths paper.
In a remarkable twist, she popped by my class, threw a panicked look around her, and passed me a piece of paper.
I stared at her in surprise.
She said in a hush-hush voice, "Yan yan, here are the answers to the test later. I told Miss XX that I was going to the toilet, so take this, quick. I feel really bad lah, that I was not able to teach you properly just now ... Why not you just pass this test first k, then we will continue the coaching after. Don't tell anyone!"
With that she scooted off, trying to pretend like she needed the toilet urgently.
I stared at her receding back.
After gaping for 30 whole seconds at what she said, I opened the piece of paper.
Please imagine that the little piece of foolscap had a bright golden glow as I opened it. IT IS THE KEY TO MY PASSING THAT TEST!
Inside, scibbled neatly, was the full workings for each sum.
I was amazed; not only by her generosity in sharing her gift of intellect, but the fact that it was only half-time for the paper, and she had time to finish each question AND copy out the answers for me.
Now, how many of you, if you had to study so hard for a test, would so willingly let some slacking lazy bitch benefit from it? I know I might have second thoughts. And what if she was found out?
Presently came my test, and, being the nice "pay it forward" person I am, Lin Liang's answers were passed to some of my poorly performing classmates - with the criteria that they cannot copy more than what was necessary to make them pass (ditto myself).
My Maths teacher came back one week later saying 3J did an excellent job this time, and she is really proud of us.
Isn't Lin Liang nice? I mean, this is not the only occasion of course. She's the kind of person, whom when you casually mention you like purple markers, actually will get you a purple marker 10 month later during your birthday, when you yourself forgot you once liked purple markers. Such a selfless person, and why are people abusing her???! PUI!
So anyway! Huge digression. My point is that Eileen Wee is very nice lah. I mean, why is she coaching me for free??! Just because I said I want to learn and try hosting.
Where was I? Zoukout pictures yes. Please don't stare at my boobs, I will get shy.
Wanyi rudely conversing with boyfriend whilst I take bored photos at Harbourfront's hawker centre. She has the nerve to smile prettily. Pui!
Since Wanyi was so darn insolent to talk to her boyfriend while I slowly approached menopause in the long wait, I took a piece of Chin Chow from the local black drink and did this:
WAH!!! Ugly hor? Wanyi jumped out of her skin in fright! HAHAHAHA! Really la... Sometimes I wonder why some smartass detractor would use his amateur photoshop skills to disfigure my photos. Why do it when I conveniently do it for you in photos like the one above? tsk tsk.
I like this photo! And oh oh if you have noticed, yes my tee has changed from the blue "lifeguard" one that Eekean bought for me from Thailand to the present white tank top because I passed by This Fashion and bought it for $6 (!).
We met up with Eileen (left) and her friends. Other girl is Ginny! Her boobs are mighty fine la la la (though not obvious in this pic)!
Eileen and Ginny
Wanyi and I are ah peks in hawker centres
Eileen's friends. From left, Holdie, Wanyi, Yew Seng, Ginny, Me, Eugene, Russell (Eileen's ex who gave her the humongous diamond ring and retrieved it back recently after the break-up - would you do that?), Ex-humongous-diamond-ring-owner, Natalie, and ... erm ... I cannot remember the guy's name! Sorry!
So, after all that alcohol on the table, we proceeded to ZOUKOUT! (was a freaking 1am by then)
At this point of time I must apologize. Once again, my adorable cybershot took photos of the clubbing scene impeccably, but with one major flaw. Orbs, of different intensity and sizes, keep popping up EVERYWHERE. For those of you who don't know, orbs are *believed* to be spirits.
Is Sentosa that haunted? Blah. Some argue it is light diffusion. I just think orbs are fucking annoying. I mean, if they were spirits, then can't they NOT show up on my pictures and remain transparent? Totally ruining the shots! Pui!
I apologize for the orb-filled pictures.
And also, the next fucker who asks me to clean my lens will be proded in the ass with a suede Gucci stiletto. You think, after all my orb-infested pictures, that I did not already try doing that? *rolls eyes*
I was told, before reaching, that there were four tentages. These four tents are the Velvet tent, the Mambo tent, the Phuture tent (vs present tense and past tense. Ok, lame!), and the normal Zouk tent.
Upon arrival, however, I realised that there was no indication whatsoever as to which tent is which. How then, did people group these different tents to their names?
Wanyi sagely told me people do it by the music. I.e. Zouk plays House (I think.), Phuture R&B (is it? I anyhow say), Velvet snobbish music, and Mambo the usual Retro and what's not. I don't care.
If you don't care about the music then why go, you ask in an indignant tone, being the uppity music connoisseur you are.
Well ... My answer is that I have never been to a beach party before, and I'd love to see the big fuss about it. And besides, who am I to not go? I've got free tickets to attend. Big present from who? Admirer. =)
So anyway ...
The VIP tentage is surrounded by a remarkable amount of orbs, all the ghosts no doubt wanting to get to party with the rich and famous! Boo!
After loitering around the main arena (Zouk tent) for a short while, Wanyi and I decided to move to the Mambo tent right at the other side.
The walk took us twenty minutes!
In between we saw ...
A gay looking massager!
Flamboyant paraders! (orbs again)
What's so special about this red man and his light-blub-covered friend, you ask.
They are actually so goddamn tall!
After Mambo-ing, Wanyi and I went back to the main arena ...
to look for Eileen Wee!
And found Eileen Tan too!
(Realise how similar this is to the Eileen and Ginny picture)
Eileen's friend Eugene was playing poi with lightsticks. Alas! The effect is lost as I had my flash on.
Eileen Wee got lost in the midst of Wanyi's and my attempt to dance on the lady's podium, and we went to look for her in the agonisingly packed crowd.
Right in front of the men's podium, we tried to wade through the thick waves of half-naked men to look for Eileen.
As we squeezed through creamy, well-toned pectoral muscles and abs, I looked up to realise a sight that totally delighted me: MEN, MEN, MEN, AND MORE MEN! (good looking ones)
I tell you, it was exactly like I entered a gigolo house and the men were all surrounding me, their golden brown bodies all pulsating to the music and thrusting their hips in a lusty manner reminiscent of delightful fornication.
I was absorbing in the glorious sight before me, and thinking how I am the only female (with Wanyi following behind) when I realised it is too good to be true. Why are there no women?
I looked closely, and I realised a pair of nymphs (I swear they were good looking enough to eat with just wasabi spread lightly) standing one behind the other, the one at the back with his sculpted arms entwined around the frontal dude's eight-packed waist lovingly. He kissed his nape.
I turned around to silently communicate my sudden realisation to Wanyi, who was looking pretty troubled as well.
Suddenly, heaven smelt like ass.
I have never imagined the gay population of Singapore to be so vast; around 30 million of them carassing each other, bold as brass! No respect for females! Imagine all the sodomy! We speed-walked out of gay arena, with me feeling slightly insulted that no one bothered to pretend to brush against my body. Tsk tsk. I even, for 2 seconds, thought that my boobs were not attractive.
(Disclaimer: Nothing against gays! I have friends who are. Just stating my unpleasant surprise at how Penis-Heaven suddenly turned into Gayland.)
Wanyi tried this bungee thing, which was for FREE!
Up she goes!
I swear that instructor has, like, the hottest body ever. When Wanyi bounced up with him in tow, she should have just groped his penis and asked him to marry her or something.
But she didn't.
It was 4am ... Paul Van Dyk is coming!
Look at those people worshipping him!
Ok, end of blog entry.
"WAIT!!" you scream. "DIDN'T YOU TAKE PHOTOS OF SCANTILY-CLAD WOMEN, XIAXUE?!! I am so disappointed!"
Of course I did.
I took a photo of the girl I thought has the best body I've seen that night.
This is she:
You salivate ...
You desire ...
The award belongs to:
The transvestite in the middle.
I know lah, doesn't look too sexy, what... But this is because I caught 'her' in mid-thrust. I swear she has the nicest body EVER!! Her tummy is trim, her legs long (for obvious reasons), her boobs big, and her butt nice and round.
Really. As an authentic woman, I admit defeat. We women cannot beat the ah guas. We have cellulite, they don't. We have no tits, or saggy tits. Theirs are bouncy and pert. Their legs are going on forever.
HOW TO FIGHT?? Only they have ku ku jiao and we don't lah. And facial hair and adam's apple. And neighing voice.
Ok maybe being a girl is not that bad after all.
Some of you might be frowning. How do you know, Xiaxue, that they are transvestites? What if they aren't?
Well, I may be wrong of course. If you are said maligned transvestite, please send me an email with an attachment of your severed penis tucked into an artificial pussy and I will correct my notion. Thank you.
I'm tired! What a ridiculously long blog entry. Hope you enjoyed it. Tata!!!