Life's little mistakes

Before we start on this blog entry, I would like to say that i have a condition of blog spasms. When I feel like blogging, I feel compulsive urges to keep blogging and blogging and blogging until I breathe my last, and this kinda behaviour would go on for maybe a week.

And then I stop to take a rest, after which I don't feel like blogging again because I somehow think I can't write as well as before. I can't blog anymore! Until something or someone pisses me off enough, and I am emotionally charged to rant again.

Which explains the sudden droughts and floods of entries, actually. What is wrong with me??!

Let's start on the proper blog:

It's really sad to have a laughable name, don't you think? When I was a kid, I hated my name.

I also hated the mole underneath my eye, but I shall not digress about how I felt like strangling all the people who asked me if I "have something dirty" there. I DON'T HAVE DIRTY THINGS UNDERNEATH MY EYE YOU BLIND BATS WITH LEUKEMIA IT IS A FUCKING MOLE CAN?

Back to names - people used to call me yam yam (what the?) for a variation my chinese name Yan Yan, which is totally not funny. And then there was this functional writing thing in primary school class and the cake shop was called Yum Yum Cake Shop. Very fortunately for me, I was on MC that day. They didn't let me off when the teacher went through the answers the next day though.

Yan Yan also happens to be the brand for the dip-in-liquid-chocolate-or-strawberry biscuit that we used to eat, but no one told me I was delicious.

And then there was my English name Wendy, which I did not use in primary and secondary school because it is so common and people kept asking me where Peter Pan is. There is also the fact that I always seem to have classmates called Wendy. I use Wendy now however, because people in the working world are stupid and they cannot remember Chinese names - most of them anyway.

I hated my name then, but come to think of it, I must have been pretty fortunate. What kinda nickname can u make out of "Wendy Cheng"?

My classmates had the same problem with our Primary Six form teacher, Mr Bryan Chang. WHAT NICKNAME COULD WE GIVE HIM? It was so traumatic that someone came up with "Old Chang Kee" - which is bullshit and not insulting. So he is supposed to own highly successful curry puff stores, WHERE'S THE INSULT?

(Speaking of Primary Six, my female readers, remember all the education about menstruation then? Primary Six was puberty time, right? After the exams, I asked Bryan Chang if we could bring PETS to school, and there was this really awkward silence until I noticed my mistake and told the horrorstuck male teacher that I meant my pet rabbits, not Whisper Ultra Slims.)

Now, I am called Xiaxue in the internet world. Let's see, half the people who read me, hates me. These people, most of them serious, brainless people with no sense of humour, have to think of an insulting nickname for me.

Needless to say, it will naturally be what I call the "Xia Hokkien series" which includes the following:

Xiaxuey / Xiasuay / Xiasway
XiaLan
Xiajian
Xia whatever.

The most common of all is Xiasuay of course, which is also as stupid as a retarded amoeba in a pink tutu. It is also not insulting because Xiasuay means a condition of being embarrassed/ashamed. So Xiaxue is xiasuay, ah huh, then?

COME UP WITH SOMETHING MORE MENTALLY CHALLENGING CAN YOU, ANTI-XIAXUE PEOPLE?

However, these people nicking me Xiasuay has a point. I am constantly in a state of deep embarrassment because of my foul mouth.

Still on the topic of unfortunate names, I remember that I was in a new Primary Five class and sitting right in front of the teacher's table.

The teacher was not there yet, so I picked up the class register to have a look. The guy sitting beside me peeked into the register too, clearly curious to see who his classmates are.

Right smack at the top of the list was Ang Ee Sock.

In an attempt to make small talk with my future neighbour, I said in my best loud joker voice, "Look, Ang Ee Sock! She actually has a sock in her name wahahhahahahahaha! SOCK!".

He laughed a small polite laugh. Clearly, having the word "sock" in your name is really funny, but seems like he didn't get it.



It is anybody's guess that Ang Ee Sock herself right next to me, on my other side. Things like this always happens, no?

I tried to kill myself with a metal ruler when she raised her hand to say she was present later on, but I only succeeded in stunting my growth from that time onwards, which explains why I am so short. In actual fact, I was a pretty tall Primary five kid and I believe I am meant to grow much taller. (I am kidding)

That was during Primary Five and Ee Sock, whose Chinese name was actually Hong Yan Xue, should have forgiven me by now.

However, coming to the crux of this blog entry, is another encounter where I was deeply embarrassed. The reason why I am sharing this is because like in Eminem show 8 Mile, people can't laugh at you when you are already laughing at yourself as it is not fun anymore. Also to serve as a painful reminder to myself.

So anyway.

I was doing photoediting and make up (freelance) for a photo studio, and there were two other workers in there - XW, who did accounts, and HL, who did other nonsense stuff.

I got along pretty well with both.

One day, a new guy AL came along to the scene. I've never seen him, and I didn't bother to make small talk with him. According to XW, she was teaching him how to do the accounts properly because it seemed like she couldn't work the next day.

They both sat near the computer.

HL joined them at the com table, and being bored, I decided to sit there too, next to HL, to traumatize him with my verbal vomit.

XW and AL continued talking gently, ingnoring us and exchanging pointers on the boring program on the com's screen.

I picked up a photo album and flipped.

It's well-taken artistic shots of a rather cute-looking girl. The "Stella Ng" type of face - which I don't like. She was of average height and looked plain but sweet.

"YUCK!" I immediately blabbered. "SO UGLY LA! CANNOT STAND IT!"

I shoved the album to HL and asked, "You all used a model for these photos is it? What are these photos? Is this girl a model?"

HL said he didn't know. I continued with my abuse.

"FOR A MODEL SHE IS DAMN UGLY CAN? So many PIMPLES AIYOH! And the hair! Why cut until like butch? Cannot choose a prettier model meh?"

HL: "Maybe they just wanted someone more average looking?"

"Yeah," I sniggered. "Can't get more average than this."

Flipping a few pages down, while criticizing all the time, I saw a guy's side profile.

"Hey this guy looks a bit like AL!" I said cheerily to HL. "But cannot be la, he (the photo guy) is so ugly, omg."

HL took the album over, and put it near AL's face.

"It's you ah?"

AL: "Yeah, the album is mine."







O M G. Just kill me.

I tried to save myself a bit: "Eh, that girl is a model?"

AL: "No, she is my girlfriend."



*****

I saw him at work the next day without HL and XW present, but he pretended nothing happened and talked nicely to me.

The worst thing is, I really want to tell him for a non-model his girlfriend is really quite good-looking, but I don't know how to bring up the topic without dying of embarrassment. I feel so trapped. Up till today he still thinks I think his gf is hideous but I really don't think so! It's just that I hate ugly models la. Poor AL!!

Mental note to self: WHEN BLABBERING, ALWAYS CHECK OUT THE FACTS FIRST. In fact, don't even blabber.

GO AND DIE LA. DON'T LAUGH! It's not funny!

Oh yeah, dear Shuyin (aka Birdy Teo) has a blog suddenly. What do you know, the whole world has blogs now!

I shall also teach you how to pronounce her blog's title properly.

la.










la.













la.

















BOM-m-m-m!!


dot blogspot dot com.

Now make sure you pronounce it the right way, with soft and calm recitations of the "la"s and a mega loud "BOM-m-m-m!!" said like the Twin Towers kanna bombed during 911 .

whowantstodrivemetozouk.com

That day, I was waiting outside Zouk for Eileen to come, and was standing like a whore along that lane beside the bus stop. Except without the sexy clothes and horny looks and what's not.

Of course, normal people standing along roads do not feel that they are whores, but I did, because of the glittery people all walking past me, and not to mention the stupid guys in groups of three and fours in their oh-boring! shirts staring, not wanting to miss checking out every young chick they see. Tsk. YOU try standing along that lane to see if you feel like a whore.

The flashy cars drove past in a hao lian manner, no doubt wanting to valet their powerful machines as slowly as possible so that all the girls can take their time to memorise their car plates so that later the girls can pick up the drivers by saying, "Hi! Are you that guy with the Ferrari then?"

"I am, but there are two Ferraris here tonight, my love."

"You are the owner of SCX 101 C then?"

"Yes, let's screw in my car now!!!!"

Maybe that wouldn't happen.

But I was just looking at the flashy cards frisking their way into the Zouk carpark, and noticing that most of them do not have companions with them.

When my friends came, I voiced out to Eileen's boyfriend that there are so many guys driving here, WHY DO I HAVE TO TAKE A BUS?! AND THEN WALK??!!!!

He said, "Maybe they are thinking, 'There are so many cute girls here and I am driving a BMW! Why am I alone?!'"

THUS, I CAME UP WITH A BRILLIANT IDEA.

Ala the concept of the popular wholivesnearyou.com, girls can now search for drivers in their vicinity with http://whowantstodrivemetozouk.com in a shameless manner.

Drivers will be given ratings ala Ebay on cleaniness of car, touchiness, body odour, cuteness, recklessness, Zouk membership etc, while girls will be rated on cuteness, boob size, spit or swallow, body odour, constantly-menstruating-so-no-sex or not, too-talkative or not, glamour factor when brought into Zouk, and etc.

It will be a totally superficial and disgusting website with shameless whoring but it will increase the birth count in Singapore (although half the babies will be abandoned at door steps) so the Govt will be really pleased with me.

Men without cars will thus be really upset but they will learn to convince themselves that such girls are "not worth it".

I will then act as if I am very angry with the owner of whowantstodrivemetozouk.com and come up with a counter site called whowantstowalkromanticallytozoukwithmealthoughidonothaveacar
butiamnice.com

I will, of course, be a member of the latter because I am not superficial and I am nice and cars are not important in a relationship at all.

Both sites will further widen the gap between the rich and poor but it will increase birth rates, so the Govt will still be pleased with me.

With any chance at all, I will soon get a nobel prize.

p/s: Because I am also expecting idiots who don't know that I am joking to post comments or send hate mail telling me I am a shameless slut, I shall post this strip by Scott Adams.




I will be adopting this method from now on.

"Xiaxue you are so mean, you upset me when I read your words."

"Bah."

Tonight I shall include a picture of me doing the bah! action and it will be the most annoying picture you have ever seen. And that's saying a lot considering some of you saw Pixieposh's act chio photos too.

I hate such people!!!

Blogder Lynn told me that someone was using my photos in Friendster - someone by the ridiculous name of Philamae. What, she thinks she is living in Tokkien's times and she would have rhymed with Boromir? WHAT THE? She also likes watching the "Amzing Race". AMZING RACE!! AM ZING! AM ZING RACE KFC BURGER with that extra ZING like you want it!!!

ENOUGH OF THE CORNY JOKES!!!!

Naturally, I reported her to Friendster police.

Here's what her profile looked like before it is gone:





I also wrote a reply for her. It feels strangely like I am scolding myself because my face is there:






Because this message is mean (I think he/she deserves it and it will do her some good to wake up her idea) I expect I will get some criticism from stupid people who think they should be always politically correct. *wooo Xiaxue you are so mean she only use your picture what why you like that yadda yadda* I despise such people and I don't wish to have their dumbass comments marring my beautiful website.

Thus, this entry shall have no comments. If you want to tell me something so desperately, email me.

Actually hor ... I am quite honoured. Teehee. The testimonials say I chio leh. BUAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!

NOT.

Obsession

Hello! Did anyone tell you that today is I LOVE MYSELF DAY? That's right, July 22 is I Love Myself Day! It is stated that all bloggers should post up as many pictures of themselves as they please and no one is supposed to say anything because it is I Love Myself Day, the one and only day where everyone is supposed to show how much they love themselves.  If you don't have a camera or a blog, I suggest that you rob someone of one. Go guess your friend's password and post some of your photos there. Your friend wouldn't mind, because it is I Love Myself Day and he is too busy loving himself to notice.

If anyone critisizes you, it's ok! Just tell the fella merrily that it is I Love Myself Day! Watch as he says, "Orh, ok." and walk away while u continue humming to yourself about how much your knees rock coz they are not as knobbly as the normal human's knees. =)

I love myself!!!

Non-bloggers are adviced to talk to complete strangers to tell them what you love about yourself. If you are Gothic, or maybe George Bush and you have nothing you love about yourself, it is OK! Lie!

"Hi, I am George Bush and I love my eyes!"

"But they are saggy and disgusting."

"Ha! See! I found something else I love! I love my sense of humor!"

" ... "

It's Sad Times We Live In

If u watched Around The World in Eighty days, you would have noticed that the cute scientist was chided for inventing stuff because the senior scientist said that it was a Golden Era they lived in, where everything that is supposed to be invented has already been invented.

And that was much much earlier we are talking about, where there are no computers, no electricity, etc. We know now, for a sure thing, that that scientist was obviously talking bollocks, since many things have been invented after his little speech, including toasters and other useless what's-nots.

How about now? Is it true now then? Since we have machines to capture sound, and sight (and they are selling very well), it leaves machines which capture smells, and touch and maybe taste? The cyberworld possibly has lots of space for exploration too.

Digression to traumatize you: Speaking of good movie quotes, one of King Arthur's knights described his penis as being like a baby's arm holding an apple. He also had 12 children - and many many years later, one of these children passed on his father's good genes to Chua Idris who is perhaps only slightly inferior. A skinny baby's arm holding a chestnut, I assume. (remind me to ask Shuyin to verify this)

Back to the topic at baby's arms (it's supposed to be a clever pun on "hand", dum dum).

One day, it suddenly struck me that sexuality is a conditioned response. You might think its nothing amazing, but for me, its a sudden stroke of brilliance because i just realised it.

Just to perhaps aid you understand what I am yodelling about, this happened during a science class in Primary five:

My teacher, Mrs Seetoh, was going through test answers with us. She stopped at a question which a major part of the class answered wrongly.

In the following diagram, a beaker with was placed in evenly distributed rain for 1 minute. After 1 minute, the diagram shows the amount of rain water collected.



The beaker was replaced with a smaller one later on. Assuming the rainfall is still the same, what would the smaller beaker look like after one minute?

Is it:

A:


Or B:

I don't know why, but there I was, top student of my class, raising my hand confidently to say that it is A. Obviously the water would be more because the volume of the beaker is less what!

Looking around, almost every kid had their hands raised at A too. Mrs Seetoh must have been wrong.

She asked one of the five or so students who thought the answer was B to explain.

The fellow mumbled something about not knowing why, and Mrs Seetoh, exasperasted, tried to tell us that why. I didn't understand what she was talking about. BUT SUDDENLY IT HIT ME! It must have been B! How could it be A? It's just ... wrong! I don't know why, but I just could understand now.

Being much more able to express myself at this age, I can confidently say it's due to a reduction in surface area (however, why the level will be exactly the same as the bigger beaker is still a mystery to me), but when I was younger, I managed to grasp it without words.

Now, to me, i'm brilliant because i thought of it. Now unlike how you would be amazed at the fact that you suddenly learnt how to balance on a bicycle and think you are the smartest thing on Earth. I was very pleasantly surprised when I finally got the answer to my question of why some people are very gay.

I used to believe that people are attracted to aesthetic objects, so people would be attracted to a beautiful person whatever the gender is.

However, later on I realised my argument is flawed, because a gay guy is possibly not interested fucking in Pamela Anderson. To him, perhaps screwing an average looking guy would be a greater pleasure.

Why are some people gay? It's a conditioned response of our bodies.

To explain to people who don't know what a conditioned response is, the usual analogy is this: You ring a bell whenever u feed your dog a bone, and after years of repeating the practice, whenever you ring the bell, the dog will salivate.

To me, I am straight, because I know that penises can give me pleasure. What if one day, I realised that, say, breasts can also give me pleasure? Whenever I see breasts, wouldn't I get aroused?

Take for example when we were kids. I don't know about the guys, but frankly speaking, I would rather kiss my best girl friend than one of those smelly guys.

Combined with society's norms, when I grew up, kissing a cute guy was suddenly more desirable than kissing a cute girl friend.

When I was 12, and my cousin informed me what oral sex was about, I was frankly about to puke my prepubescent lungs out. WHAT THE? WHY WOULD ANYONE AGREE TO PUT A FILTHY DICK INTO HER MOUTH?! Why would anyone even think of doing such a disgusting thing?

If you asked me then, I would tell u I think that oral sex done on a male is far worse than oral sex done on a female.

But now, oral sex is ok, because I am conditioned to associate it with pleasure.

However, now I still think that oral sex done on a female is disgusting (for me to perform it that is), because it is not associated with pleasure.

I am lazy to further explain myself. In short, attraction was possibly due to a conditioned response. In other words, I do not believe that a perference for any gender lies imbued in us the moment we are born. Until a gay guy has tried sex with a pretty female (my aesthetic theory still stands ok!) and can positively say that he felt no pleasure, then he can say that he is truely gay.

P/s: You would notice that I did not once mention love because I am talking about mere attraction here.

However, when i told shianux, who is a wide reader, he said i'm not brilliant at all, because this topic has been thoroughly discussed before by our ancestors.

I did not for a moment think that I am alone in this world with that theory of mine of course, but neither did I think that it was, ah, so common. :(

Let me also quote Scott Adams, the author of Dilbert comics and one of my favourite writers.

He said it suddenly hit him:

We are all so convinced that there is gravity on this Earth. What if Newton was wrong?

Say, we are all expanding. The things around us are expanding too. Everything is. In fact, we do not feel that we are all expanding because it is all proportional. That's why, when the apple was dislodged from it's branch, it fell on Newton's head. Because while the apple was expanding, Newton was expanding too, thus closing in the gap between them.

Now, this theory of his IS flawed (why do things stay on the ground instead of floating away? why would we die if we jumped off a building? how come humans still grow if we are "expanding"?), but it is still a stroke of brilliance to come up with something like that.

After he published this warped theory on his books, thousands of mail came in to tell him he is a despicable rip-off from this physicist (how to spell?) who thought of this theory long ago, complete with complicated diagrams (instead of an illustration Adams made with Dilbert standing on an expanding Earth), mind you.

Now, is Adams any less brilliant than the physicist who thought of that?

Am I any less brilliant than the person who thought of the conditioned theory?

Possibly not, since i possibly thought of it earlier than that person considering my age. 

Just because these people were born earlier! =(

I just think its pretty saddening to live in such advanced times. Just imagine, there could have been many many Edisons around us - if only the lightbulb was not already discovered.

"Look Bob! I made this thing on the element tungstun! It lights up if you put it in a vacuum, look! We could finally be freed from using annoying kerosene lamps which stinks and extinguishes itself especially when you are having sex! Wow! I am a genius!'

"Well i'm sorry Michaelangelo, but you are not a genius. Someone called Thomas Edison already made it, and his came with different designs too! His bestselling includes the ZEN Lightie Bulbie, and the Mimimalistic Lights. I suppose all those ten years u were doing research in your lonely study, omg you have a beard already?, u didnt read the papers? He is deaf too, reporters are going mad interviewing him because they have to learn sign languages. How cool is that?"

'You dont say!!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!! This cant be happening! All my years and years of hard work!'

'Well it happened. Suddenly, you are no longer a genius. Too bad u were born too late then. Bye. I'm getting for myself the tiger stiped bulb, it's real cool."

*Michaelanglo takes out a gun (self-invented) and shot himself to death*

*Nearby, someone mutters: "Another mad scientist, none of them as brilliant as Edison but die trying anyway."* 

We've got mail!

Previous blog entry about doctors apparently got to Dr Gerard Chuah - chairman of the Children's Medical Fund. Eh, very shockingly, he was not offended. Which is good, because being angry is not good for the heart (according to Fei Yu Ching who said he is very seldom angry which is why he is so healthy. Is gay sex healthy? Sorry, that was an irrelevant question)!!!

I suspect Dr Chuah is not angry because I said he is good looking. Kidding!  ;)

So anyway, here's the mail:

Hi XiaXue!

I read your blog and I think it is very funny!

Well, doctors really don't make that much money-----just to correct that
fallacy. I drive a Subaru, hardly go for any holidays and live quite simply
actually.

A few more clarifications:

1. Firstly, many doctors donate to charities and spend a large proportion of
their time serving in charities.

2. The NKF Children's Medical Fund supports mostly medical programs in
government hospitals----there are no programs involving private doctors. The
medical programs are expensive because of the equipment involved and the
infrastructure setup costs----it is expensive to send doctors, nurses and
paramedical staff for training overseas---this is necessary so that the
patients receive the best possible care.

3. Medical care is expensive in Singapore because of rentals and staff
salaries---in comparison, the rentals in Malaysia and THailand are only 1/2
to 1/4 that of Singapore and a nurse's salary in Malaysia and THailand are
1/4 that of a comparable Singaporean nurse. These are factors which we can't
change significantly right now---instead, we can concentrate on providing
high quality medical care for complex diseases---something which the rest of
the region cannot yet provide.

4. The NKF Children's Medical Fund supports children with chronic medical
problems----for children, it is not just about money---very often, financial
problems compound family problems. THese children grow up with a lack of
self esteem-----they often look disfigured or abnormal (so they get teased a
lot in school), they miss school because of the frequent visits to the
hospital (so their school work suffers), their families are often low income
groups and the medical bills are great burdens to the family----in a lot of
these families, the husband often quarrels with the wife over the household
bills---the finances are strained because of the child's hospitalisation
bills.

The chronically sick child often feels useless and some even attempt
suicide. We try to help not just the child but the entire family. This
involves not just paying for the medical bills but counselling by the child
psychologist, specialised physiotherapy/speech therapy, job placements for
the parents, tuition subsidies for the other siblings etc. All this requires
a lot of funds!

Hope you and your readers find this useful info

Regards
Dr Gerard Chuah

Ok great, now I feel really stupid about posting all that. BUT I AM JUST A LAYMAN WHAT, so I shall not blame myself for not knowing.

Just to prove that I am a nice person and that I am sincerely apologetic for writing all that (esp the sucking c*** part), I shall post this up:

Please click here to donate money or an organ (a piano or liver are both welcome)!

Or you could write a cheque to the �NKF Children�s Medical Fund� and mail it to the following address:NKF Centre Children�s Medical Fund Department 81 Kim Keat Road Singapore 328836

And since I was once wrote an article for CMF, it gives me the rights to lecture you.

Proof.

When was the last time you helped a child? *plays sad music* GO AND DONATE NOW LAH, YOU STINGY POKE! Since I am unemployed, it gives me the rights not to donate till I am employed later on.

Shut up, Re-minisce. Zip it. Sheesh. www.zip-it.com.

From one media to another

Apparently some of us read the Sunday times in great detail because you all saw! Yes, a small part mentioned this site.

Now, as an ex-journalist myself, I shall not be one to fuss over such a trivial matter as going ON THE NATION'S LARGEST CIRCULATING PAPERS OH MY GOD I AM ON THE STRAITS TIMES LAH CAN YOU BELIEVE IT OH MY GOD I AM HYPERVENTILATING WHILE QUIVERING IN NERVOUS BREAKDOWNS AND ALTERNATING BETWEEN PURE NIRVANA (how to spell?) AND A THOUSAND MEGA-WATT ORGASM!!

Here's the article:






Ah, I was smiling (because I have a sense of humour) at the not-too-glorious description of me as a cross between TalkingCock and what? right, Hokkien vulgarities, until I READ: "anonymous scribbler".
 
If I am supposed to be an anonymous scribber, ah, then who is that girl at the top of this webpage?! *boggled*
 
I shall say this loud and clear then: I am not anonymous! I am WENDY CHENG YAN YAN WHO IS UNEMPLOYED!
 

So will this particular journalist please tell your editor (or tell yourself if you are one) that I would love to write for Straits Times? Ha ha ...

Anyway, I have decided to add some nonsense to this blog entry.

MSN chat with Shuyin

Speaking of MSN, I have a new found phobia.

Some time last year, I was talking about the phobias I have - which includes big red ants, clipping my toenails (they are reaching 1.32m in length now, and I am really proud), and MRT gantries closing on my pudgy waist.

My new-found phobia is a paranoia of people blocking me on MSN.

Thanks to Shianux who did it to me once (or twice or thrice?) when he was not in the mood to entertain my rambling, I am now paranoid as I stare at my contacts on MSN, in which a good half are permanently red in colour - meaning they are offline.

Did they block me too?

I stare and stare, hoping that they would come online and say a Hi to me, so that I don't need to just look at their old nicknames (before they blocked me) and become steadily more depressed by the second. In fact, I am so depressed now, that I am almost Gothic. FUCK THE WORLD, WOE IS ME!

SNAP OUT OF IT WENDY! They didn't block you!

No no no. Instead of believing that, I have, being the deviously intelligent person I am, found out a way to curb this phobia of mine. Instead of looking at the saddening red contacts, I have decided that I don't need to chat with them if they are constantly not online or have BLOCKED ME.

I shall block them first. This way, I won't know whether they blocked me because I blocked them! BRILLIANT!

So if you are one of those people who are on my exclusive list and yet did not bow before my godly self and chat with me but is instead constantly offline, please tell me tonight that you didn't block me and I should not block you just because I am so paranoid, alright? No personal feelings if I blocked you, I just don't like you, that's all.

WOE IS ME! Oh darkness, death, illness all behold me! Tears, despair, dingbats!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Do not be fooled by this inaccurate portrayal of my delusional and sad self! I am actually not happy at all!

Ate at Billy Bomber with Shuyin. My food - steak and cod fish! What a marvellous combination!

Shuyin's burger!

Aha! Isn't this a marvellously creative picture? My hand, imitating the confusing and colourful D & G watch ads we have been seeing at Orchard MRT. Isn't it just uncanny?! Except that my watch is a Rolex - around 3 classes higher than a stupid cheap Dolce & Gabbana watch.

Ending off, Wanyi (Shuyin's sec school friend) and Shuyin would love to blow you a kiss.

Because I am such a depressed and morbid person, I would love to blow you ... a used facial blotter.

Now fuck off from my life and stop gambolling around like a hyperactive otter on a permanent sugar high. I hope you get as depressed as me. Cynism and bitterness are good traits, so don't let anyone convince you otherwise.

I hate everyone and I shall block everyone.

I am on my way to becoming a Sex GODDESS

In case you are one of those people who drifted aimlessly into my site today because it is the Best Singapore Blog 2003 (subject to the flawed voting system) or some other recommendation from other people, please do not be appalled that the first post you see is this one.
 
Because I am usually not so juvenile and self-absorbed. No wait, I am. But at least not every post is about my hair. Because this one is. The whole post is about it. And if you are one of those prima donnas who insist on reading only highly intellectual stuff (I am not saying my hair is not intelligent, but that might be an acquired taste for you), then please proceed to the next post below this one, where I blog in such a way that I seem intelligent, although smarter blogders saw through the million fallacies and exposed me as a lying hypocritical bastard. Did I spell fallacy correct?
 
In any case, I have just finished reading Scott Adam's book and I am writing like him. Dammit.
 
Let's go back to bimbo Xiaxue.
 
La la la la! *whistles IT'S A PERFECT DAY ... NOTHING'S COMING IN MY WAY ... PERFECT DAY ....*
 
Alright, back to my hair. What do you mean no one's interested in my hair? EVERYONE is interested in my hair - or anything to do with me. If you disagree, you are a self-centred bastard who only cares about yourself and not about random photoshopped Bloggers. If you say that I am being, ah, self-contradictory - congrats, you are too stupid to even read a blog about hair, so fuck off and get a sense of humour. Heard you can buy it from Elbonia - and remember to drown yourself there.
 
Alright, back to my hair.
 
I told my mum: "Mum, can you help me take a picture of my hair?"  The keyword here is "told". 
 
She replied in a snide manner that I am very capable of taking pictures myself, so why not do it again and stop bothering her from hanging the laundry in fact if I am so free to take pictures of hair, why not help her fold the clothes.
 
I threw her into Pandan reservior but while I was tossing her around like a lasso (using only my pinky finger mind you, I am that strong) to heave her into the choppy and dangerous waters*, I thought that I would have to end up hanging the clothes without her so I decided against it and set her gently on the floor again.
 
She was disorientated. I asked her, "Ma, are you not oriental anymore?"

She said she would take the photo for me.
 
So she did.
 

This photo, taken on a really bad hair day, oh wait, I think I shall digress. Really. You have to believe me. Usually my hair is nicer. Today, my hair, obviously very confused individuals because I have permed and rebonded them, have decided to act funny again.
 
Apparently half of the hairs prefer to be permed (loyal to the old perming liquids they were), and the other half, being shu nu hairs like it's owner, wants to be rebonded-straight. They fought a hard war, in which a rebonded bishop and a permed Knight lost their lives, and finally, both sides won.
 
So the hair ended up half curly and half straight.
 
But that's not the point.
 
The point is - LOOK HOW LONG IT IS!
 
I don't care whether you are mumbling under your breath that hair will grow no matter what and it takes no special talent or intelligence to grow remarkably long hair. MY HAIR IS LONG! It is possibly longer than yours and a Shih Tzu's combined - which is saying a lot.
 
The photo also serves to show that I have a kickass back view like the God of Gamblers. DU SHEN! HEI TAO Ace! Royal flush TONG HUA SHUN!
 
Ahem. 
 
When I was a kid, my mum used to bully me into cutting my hair short everytime the back of my hair reached my eyebrow-level. I used to be called MUSHROOM HEAD in kindergarden, which results in me being a quiet and subtle individual now with real difficulty in expressing myself especially speech-wise. I may not look it, but I am really diminutive and I have inferiority complex.
 
As I grew up to enrol into Primary school, where social life is important, she still disallowed me to have long hair because it is "messy" and I am messy enough without long streaks of sweat-ridden locks plastered down the sides of my face.
 
Thus, while all the pretty girls flipped their hair around the boys then, I could only act as the servants of these girls - fanning them and feeding them seedless grapes while looking up at them in adoration. I hoped and hoped the boys would notice me, the hapless servant girl, but no one loves a mushroom headed person.
 
When I hit Primary Six, my mum, apparently scared that I would fail my PSLE out of spite, decided to let me grow some tresses.
 
I WAS PRETTY ONCE AGAIN!
 
So, I rewarded her with my HIGH PSLE OF 269 - with four A*s and 1 HIGHER (yes, I am higher than you) Chinese Merit.
 
However, while the PSLE elites were rechoosing (you possibly didn't know the PSLE elites could rechoose their sec schools, for you were an outcast from young) which kickass SAP school we should entrust our little bright futures into, I was torn.
 
Should I go into RGS and wear loose waistbands like I was pregnant all the time?
 
No, I hate Girls' schools. They turn out funny.
 
Should I enrol into Chinese High then, where I could alter my shorts so that they became hot pants and I would be so sexy?
 
Should I go into SCGS where I can't sweat or I will have armpit sweat strains on my uniform?
 
Or maybe Dunman high? Or? Chung Cheng? Nah, all too far.
 
The only choice is River Valley - but for one thing. I had to cut my long hair - or join Chinese Dance.
 
Rumour has it that one particular long-haired ancestor of River Valley was doing Technical work and her hair was accidentally rolled into a cruel machine which with one giant heave! tore her hair and scalp off - leaving a bloody mess, a flabbergasted class, and River Valley to ban long hair forever, as opposed to banning that violent technical machine which pulls hairs. She was also the heir of Slytherin and she opened the Chamber of Secrets.

In all seriousness, we should be real glad that they did not make us all have crew cut.
 
So anyway, I joined National Cadat Corps (you heard that right. Blogging Society was not invented yet or I would have dropped NCC in a jiffy) and cut my long hair while crying my heart out.
 
For four years, I could not have long hair. Nonetheless, I made it up to myself by having the longest armpit hair in the world. Often, teachers would come up to me and say, "Yan yan, your hair is getting too long, you should cut it" and walk away tsk tsk-ing to themselves. For some time, I didn't understand it. My hair was averaging 3 cm per hair. Later I realised they thought my hair was so long it showed under my armpits, but they were mistaken.
 
Four long (ironic pun intended) years. So now, after I left RV, I grew my hair till it is its current length, and thank more than five different Gods everytime I think about how lucky I am to have such pretty hair.
 
In fact, my ultimate aim is this:
 
(Digressing, today Enormous EK, who is still in China, said that I should be Singapore's first and only female EROTICA writer. Here's my try - tell me if I am any good)
 
I want to grow my hair till it reach my waist in thick, luscious curls that cascade down my sexy back.
 
Eh eh, let me give you a virtual aid:
 
Imagine some long-haired pretty girl, say .... Vivian Hsu. Who is, coincidentally, one of the most beautiful actresses in the world, in my opinion.
 

Now, imagine you are a guy, if you are not already a guy. 
 
Vivian is sitting on you, and she is naked. Of course, you guys are having sex - in a slow, Taiwan RA film manner - and you are rocking her gently while she gives out soft moans of ecstacy as you reach into places she never thought existed.
 
You stare at Vivian. She has her eyes closed, and her porcelain skin so smooth against yours. You think to yourself, "DAMN, I am one lucky bastard to be shagging her!" and indeed, you are, because it will never happen. But that's not the point.
 
Vivian opens her eyes slowly, dark long lashes framing her big soulful eyes which stares into yours. But with a naked girl in front of you, who would want to look at eyes?
 
You stare at her swelling breasts, heaving slowly to your pumping rhythm. You are in total control of her. Her breasts are partially covered by her long hair, as if a shiny auburn waterfall is cascading over her shoulders. You want to reach out to shift the smooth curtain away - but Vivian looks so perfect now, you don't want to risk ruining the picture, which is so beautiful, you almost want to throw it into the Louvre.
 
In one particularly strong thrust you make, Vivian moans even louder, and she throws her head back in half-pleasure, half-torture.
 
With her eyes still staring into yours sincerely, like the innocent girl Vivian is, she lifts up her hands which were plastered palm-down to your muscled torso, and while breathing heavily still, tosses her dark hair back in one fluid sweep.
 
Her hair is so long that it frames her lithe body beautifully, forming a stark contrast to her fair skin. It fans out behind her and ...
 
YOU CAME TOO FAST.

I can't do this anymore. I can't write anything without making it into a comedy. So anyway, I think I made my point about waist long hair. Now, replace the bold words with an image of a girl with a short black bob, or maybe even a girl with engine red spiky flat top if you must go to that extent.
 
Totally lost the sensuality, right?
 
See? I am about to turn into a sex goddess soon. Give me maybe ... four months? and my hair would be long like Vivian's. I do not look or moan or toss my hair like she would, but four months is plenty for plastic surgery and practice while watching Taiwan porn.
 
I might have been single for 2 (maybe 3?) years - but just four more months, and no men can RESIST MY SEX GODDESS HAIR!
 
Then, I shall conquer the world just because I have the best hair EVER!! BUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Whenever I flip it around in a small action, oceans overflow and the temperature goes up by 5 degrees - I am that hot. Whenever I flip my hair around in a BIG action - ho ho ho! I shudder to think what will happen. I imagine if I were in China, all the guys cum-ing at the same time would cause everyone in Singapore to drown and sink into oblivion.**

To end this blog entry which has almost no point, I shall put some of Vivian's photos.
 
The reason is because in my Friendster profile (xiaxue_blog@yahoo.co.uk), I stated clearly that I will not reply any messages which has the heading "Hi" as it is possibly desperate morons sending it but stupid people are stupid and I get like 6 messages a day with the heading "Hi" still.
 
What is worse is that when I actually open it and tell the bugger to please go kill himself for it's people like him that makes the Africans starve, he has the nerve to say that not only is he not responsible for the Africans' plight, I am also a conceited bitch and I should be actually appreciative that horny bastards like him and his kind are actually interested in me BECAUSE I AM NOT THAT PRETTY OK, PROUD SLUT? No thanks ok?
 
You are thinking what has that got to do with putting Vivian's photos up.
 
My point is that if people in Friendster do not actually read what the profile says, then there must be a percentage of people who are viewing my blog who do not actually read my words at all. These people glaze over the chunky paragraphs while actively searching for naughty words like breast breast breast breast AHA MENSES BLOOD STAINS! (the menses part was to catch them unaware and traumatize them) and do not actually register any meanings in their heads.
 
Thus, these people would also be stupid enough to think that I am actually Vivian Hsu and this web owner is very pretty. Of course, my big fat picture is on the top of this site, but I'm sure this will work: