2005-01-20

Oh dear, oh dear ...

Oh my gosh Fiona ... Please don't close down your blog! Big bad meanie me? Did I accuse you? I'm so sorry; you must be as chaste as an angel and I was accusing you with the baseless information I had to withhold! I hereby apologize to all your angry fans who might have nothing to read from now on, and *contemplates for a short while* also for my obscenely fat limbs! Indeed, there can be no other reason for my insolence. I admit it. I am jealous of your tits and your remarkable success. I'd love to be a celebrity, because I do not appear in 8 days like you do. I am using your blog to, erm, gain publicity for myself. There, there. I'd delete that horrible blog entry ok? In fact, I think I shall slap myself with a fake accent right now, and also, as an added bonus, boycott all Joanne Peh's future shows.

Hmmm. This reminds me of this incident. I had two friends I used to play with when I was younger - like 7 or 8. These two girl friends of mine were sisters, one of them old year older than me, the other two years younger. The younger sis, let's call her YS (and conversely the older one is ES) is rather ... scheming (when she was younger that is), and I didn't really like to play with her. Rather unfortunately, she'd come in a pair with the older sis, so it was inevitable. If I wanted to play with ES, I'd have to take YS.

I remember this once, YS was angry with ES and I for neglecting her. We went on our way back to the house where both our mums were around. Elder sis entered the metal gate first, followed by YS and then me.

Upon stepping into the hall, where our mums were sitting in plain sight, YS stopped moving suddenly.

Being caught behind her, I was confused at her sudden halting since there was apparently no obstacles in front of her. I frowned a little, and jokingly said, "Oei, move leh."

I also gently nudged her on her back to symbolise the move she had to make for me to get into the house.

To my horror, and may I add, shock, she, with the trajectory power of a missile, projectiled forwards and in a few bloodcurding split moments was sprawling spread-eagled and face-down on the floor - apparently dead.

Imagine the look on my face. I didn't do anything except a gentle nudge. No, Mama! It wasn't me who killed her! I wouldn't hurt a flea!

Time stopped and everyone just stared at the scene. 2 seconds later came the good news - she wasn't dead. In fact, she was howling in pain.

I stared at her in blank disbelief.

She didn't look at me. She just continued howling. If this segment of the story were a movie, I'd expect the camera to zoom in on her face. Man that crying was darn REALISTIC! She was sobbing her heart out, complete with the screwed-up expression, blood-infused face, and tears dripping down in a continual stream. It did help that she was a very pretty young lady and the sight of her crying really tugged at heartstrings.

Oscar winners would have been put to shame.

For 3 or so seconds I was duped into worrying whether she was actually hurt by her fall. Then my brains came back from their leisurely stroll and I realised even if she did hurt herself she thoroughly deserved it for not being able to fall carefully enough since she cheorographed the whole thing.

She hiccuped a little. Her mum rushed to pick her up from the floor. The whole scene of the fall was so tragic that my heart would have went out to her if not for the position I was in.

ES gave me a look that said clearly, "I know, don't worry. She always does that."

I took comfort in that, until I saw my mum's look. She shouted, "WHY YOU GO AND PUSH YS?"

I think she might have even smacked me.

I tried desperately to explain that I didn't, but it was difficult because my mum was pulling my ear. ES tried to help me too but with no avail. It was no use; the parents couldn't see anything as the view of me was blocked by YS. YS also claimed that she was taking off her shoes when I evilly pushed her to fall.

You know what happened after this? YS stopped crying, sitting on her mum's lap like a lost kitten, and actually said she doesn't blame me. (!)

Wow! What a baddie that makes me! The magnanimous her vs the mean horrible me who pushed her and was fervertly denying it! A strategic move if I have ever seen one. I'd applaud her if I knew better then.

You know what? I think YS should be in PR. Or maybe acting? Yes indeed, she'd do well there, really.

After a few minutes of lecture on patience while waiting behind narrow gates and not using violence on friends, I was let off.

Up till today, I think my mum still thinks I am a door-pushing tyrant.

Am I going to swallow that till today?

No.

I maintain I wrote the previous entry because I was agitated by her hypocrisy. I am not criticizing ANYTHING ELSE. She can blog, she can fuck around, she can Zouk all she wants. I don't care! I just don't think it is right to pretend to be something else, especially trying to fit into the mold of the perfect Christian.

But alas! I think only a small part of you guys managed to grasp my point. "Poor little Fiona, oh you flighty damsel in distress! Did that mean Wendy bully you again? She always does that to people, never mind honesty!", you people lament. Yet it is ok when so many other criticize me every other day; just because my blog is there for public judging. Just because someone appears strong doesn't mean she is not weak inside, she might too be vulnerable - and remember vice versa might also be true.

What a naive audience I write for. Are they only able to take the goodies and not accept the blatant honest truth? Is that what you guys want? I can't do it.

I was a journalist, and I still write for publications. I know how to do my research before writing anything. I will not sprout nonsense before making sure.

One more thing to clarify: I wasn't speaking about Mr Miyagi at all.

My heart goes out to Miss F - sorry for your piteous plight which I induced. Your literary works must go on.

I shall thus close down my blog. You can continue yours. I had enough of being misunderstood. Can't anyone write their opinions without accusations of our ulterior motives? What's with this blog-closing competition? You have great tits while mine has gross nipple hairs on it. Why not let me win this time?

Adieus you faithful readers,
and those who are happy to see me go,
Wendy

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