Saturday, November 27, 2004

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 ...


See, so cool!


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!


*'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.)

Thursday, November 25, 2004

Am Sick.

As sick as a battery hen. I heard that battery chickens are leading a darn sad life because farmers, with the play of lights no doubt, cheat the stupid chickens into thinking that 24 hours is actually 72 hours and therefore making them lay triple the normal amount of eggs in a "day" - i.e. 3.

The chickens, no doubt wondering why the hell they are still living when they are triple the normal grandmama chicken's age (that is if chicken can actually count), force themselves to die an early death, out of spite.

Anyway, my point is that I am as sick as a battery chicken. I have fever, flu, sore throat, cough and unemployment all rolled into one. And no one is even gaining eggs from my illness!


I wonder why the farmers don't make a typical day into six days instead so that the eggs can increase six-fold. Weird. Hell, make it increase 600 times so that the chickens become motor-egg lying machines!! Maybe they will lay eggs so rapidly that we can use them as weapons of mass destruction! Check out my egg pellet hen machine!!

Pardon me if I sound incoherent; I'm as sick as a battery hen.

So no blogging. Tata!

Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Photoshop wonders

Please wait for photos to load!!

Disgusting, to say the least. Fat, gross and obscene.

And yes, that's the before ...

I was unwilling to use my own hideous photos, but well ... I guess I shall come clean. I AM NOT PRETTYYYYYYYY!

But I will be.

Online as least.

Because I am blessed - with talents.


My legs are no longer fat! =) And that perfect tan ... Wow!

Background's ugly.

Let's take it away, shall we?

Here's a close up of the face:

Want a bigger shot?

Hell, I even made it wallpaper-sized.

Click to enlarge!

Who needs models? Anyone can be gorgeous. Including you! I do photoshop freelance and I charge economical prices. And no, your pic wouldn't be up my blog the next day. I promise! Email me! =)

p/s: More blogging tomorrow night, about my cousin's ROM, and *maybe* a continuation of the incredimorons blog.

Comments comments!!!

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Turn up your speakers can click on my annoying Bah! photo:

Anyway, guess what I also discovered!

Those following our favourite local satire site will possibly already know they discovered a minister dementor creature during Halloween, which looks suspiciously like our ... minister mentor.

They also penned an EXCELLENT (it's so good I almost danced in delight reading it) erm, parody on our very own local fairy tale story. Please read it here!

Well, remarkably the person blowing the pipe has a very familiar face on it. Hmmm.

Go read!

*twiddles thumbs*

Ok, welcome back! (Or just welcome, if you have read the story before)

Guess what I found? The Minister Mentor is not one to take it all lying down -he fights back! Listen to him lament here (not, erm, done by me. Really.):

On a side note:

How does it feel like to be a model?

How does it feel like to live a promiscuous, high-flying glittery social life where DA CAMERA (read: your camera - notice the arms!) loves you?

How (and why) do people put 92 photos into friendster when the rest of us live with 6? (I know, the "while friendster lags you upload more" trick - but ninty-freaking-two???)

How does it feel like to grope Rebecca Tan's boobs - which were gloriously (and doubtlessly) swollen to their current magnificence by the boob cream she endorses?

I don't know; I am neither gay nor a model.

Maybe he does.

Credits: Bubblemunche for the link to veepers and Eileen for the erm, friendster modelizer photo slut extraordinaire.

Thursday, November 18, 2004


FUCKANATHAN! The world is filled with stupid people. And evil people! Just to prove my point, Bush is elected AGAIN. So anyway, back to stupid people somewhere nearer to home: Singapore.

Today, I woke up at a freaking 0900 hours to get to Bukit Batok Driving Centre to sit for my basic theory test.

I decided to take a cab there.

And (CLICHE ALERT!) without further ado, I walked out of my rather secluded neighbourhood to go to a less obscure road to get a cab.

Unfortunately for me, there were already two guys standing at the edge of the bus stop - where I usually wait. Two guys who look like Indonesians or something - around late twenties. Ah fuck it. Let's just call them the Indonesian guys, whether they are Burmese or Bangalas.

They were hovering near the bus stop, and if one had a wager on whether they were waiting for the bus in a kiasu manner or waiting for a cab in a relaxed manner (standing pretty far back from the road), one would possible put the dough on the bus-waiting.

There. In the picture. They are the pink doves coz they are sissies. More about that later. I'm the crowned princess of course.

Not in the mood to talk to anyone, I took out the basic theory test book Wong da Lawyer has kindly loaned me, and, while reading, waited to see if they were flagging any cabs down. If they weren't, then they must be waiting for a bus.

While I was still in a dilemma as to whether I should ask them verbally if they are indeed cabbing, another dilemma stepped up in the form of a tyrannic auntie.

She walked towards the bus stop, and with her fats oozing out from beneath her fuchsia pedal-pushers and cheap bleached-and-permed hair, stopped pompously right in front of the two Indonesian guys and me - who was at that point of time queuing behind them.


Auntie is the shapeless glob of mucky green.

I took a look at my Rolex (was late), and I took at look at the Indonesian men. They were doing NOTHING to stop the fat auntie from her fucking atrocious behaviour.

In fact, they were standing casually along the bus stop like it is just another lovely day in sunny Singapore and they would have liked nothing better than to stand around and breathe in nature's wonders.

To confirm my first dilemma, I asked the two men, "Excuse me, sorry, are you waiting for a cab?"

One of the men ignored me, while the other, turning his head so slowly he might have been slow-motioned, gently replied, "Yes we are," and stopped at that. He then started on the slow process of moving his head back again to face the front.

I then said, "Erm, then isn't that lady in front cutting our queue?"

He semi-turned his head and gave me a beady eye, and, apparently deciding that the turning of his head takes up too much physical effort, decide to turn it back to the front without a further word.



I decided I had enough, and I marched up to the fat auntie.

(In Chinese)
"Excuse me, are you waiting for a cab?"

*Proceeds to flag down a cab while I talk, and not looking at me*


"Oh, the two guys over there came first, followed by me."


"So I think you should queue up behind us."

"Where got write must queue?"

"Oei Auntie, please don't be unreasonable hor! If I stand in front of you now, can?"

She gave me a sneer, and sniggered, "Ha, then you go back and queue lor. I stand here, I don't flag the cab."

Yeah right. If she kept her word, I'd eat Cloudy sandwiched between two sesame buns.

Shortly after her promise, the auntie walked further up the road where she reached a bend and can no longer be seen by the naked eye - where she can still steal our cab nonetheless. Sneaky bitch.

I had a look at the two men (still standing there like complete morons) and decided I had enough.

I walked out to the main road and managed to flag a cab in 2 mins - and the cab was supposed to turn into the lane make a U-turn (if it didn't see me that is), and pick up the auntie.

MUAHAHAHHAHAHAHAA!!! Who's the losers now??

(I'm going out for dinner. BRB - with a shitload more of stupid people to report about. THIS ENTRY IS NOT COMPLETE!!!)

Wednesday, November 17, 2004


(This entry is for the ladies. Heterosexual males - you are warned. Boring, and slightly gross entry.)

MUAHAHAHHAAHHA!!! Please imagine, if you were Harry Potter and I were Lord Voldemort (Shewhoshallnotbenamed! LOL!), you will feel a searing pain on your scar right this moment, while you sense that I, Lord Voldemort, am skipping around in extremely merry jubilation! EXPECTO PATRONUM!!! Crucio crucio crucio!! Yay!

This is what happened. Those who know me will possibly nod their heads in avid agreement when you ask them about my very fat tummy.

Protruding proudly like an old man's beer belly, it threatens, at its worst of times, to be the most 'outstanding' thing my body has while in lateral view - beating 'breasts' and 'nose' hands down (the "hands" part not to be taken literally). The only thing that it can defeat is ... my toes. Maybe if I bang my forehead against the fishtank ala luohan my forehead can win my tummy too. HEY! Maybe I should bang my breasts against the fishtank! Yay!

Back to the point. Very sad indeed, very sad. I suspect that fucked-up tummy I have is the sole reason why I am not achieving my lifetime goal yet - which is to shag Mr. Tay Ping Hui.

I know, right? That's a stupid lifetime goal to have. It's stupid not because it's very bimbotic to have such a superficial goal ... I SHALL DIGRESS!

Why would wanting to shag Ping Hui be termed as superficial? I believe it could go as deep as 7, maybe 8 inches. That's pretty deep, ain't it? *smiles*

So anyway, back to my lifetime goal. It is not stupid because it is merely 7 inches deep. It is stupid because unlike other realistic goals - ie buying an estate in Queen Astrid Park - Ping Hui is likely to age a little faster than me, and therefore at my age of 50 he may be 60 and no longer half as suave as he is now. Boo! That means it impossible to be called a "lifetime goal"!

However, perhaps when I am 50, old men at 60 will start to look very good. Or perhaps, even when I am 50 the 60-yr-old Ping hui is still considered, arguably, the cutest 60-yr-old Singaporean guy. Hence, when I finally achieve my lifetime goal then, my friends - who are 50 like me - will be so envious of me still!! Yay!

Back to the root of the problem. Tummy.

I thought to myself - how am I supposed to make it go away so that, conversely, Ping hui will come (in all senses. Omg! *giggles*)?

And then I had a brilliant idea. Dah!

That almost exactly 1 year ago.

And I didn't see any girdles for sale anywhere at all! A few weeks ago, I went out with Weili to tour Geylang Serai, and I FOUND A GIRDLE FOR SALE!

I looked left and right for people that I might know, but in the vicinity are all Malay aunties and I don't think they know me ... Screwing up my face and courage, I walked up the the uncle selling cheap lingerie, and enquired about his .... girdles. Eh, for my mum of course.

He is apparently used to people buying horrid looking granny underwear from him, and did not give a hoot about me buying the said mechandise. I silently appreciated that he didn't even check out my tummy, which was then filled to the brim with Malay Kebab.

He took out some change for me (it was $4 and I gave $10) and promptly, the deal was sealed.

Meanwhile, Weili had stealthily walked away in embarrassment.


Ladies and faggots! Your pathway to trim tummy nirvana!

(I sincerely apologize to Blogger for wasting 67k of space for a useless picture like the one above)

No wonder Weili didn't want to be seen with me. I quickly stuffed the girdle into my bag.

Like the dutiful customer I am, I measured my waist before embarking on the task of bursting the hooks. 24 inches if I suck in, 25 inches if I be truly honest to myself. And this is at the smallest of the waist.

The past week was AGONYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!! I wore the girdle to sleep, I wore the girdle to blog, I wore the girdle to watch TV.

At my fleeting waking moments, the girdle forces me to sit up ramrod straight because it is so goddamn tight. At night, I usually suffocate myself to a faint and then fall asleep. I wake up feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. stomach. I mean stomach.


Today, I woke up to another day of girdle-madness. Giving my tummy a pat for being so obediently tortured, I decided to take off the girdle because I had a co-hosting gig Eileen (Wee) asked me to do with her.

I tip-toed to steal my mum's measuring tape, and VOILA!!!!!!!!!

May I make you envious, ladies??????

ARE YOU NOT SEETHING JEALOUS????? Because even as I look at this (still red) picture, I am jealous of myself! If I weren't me, I'd wish I were me!

22.5 (TWENTY TWO POINT FIVE MIND YOU!) FREAKING INCHES!!!! Of course, if you are a supermodel you will think ... 22.5 inches is really pretty fat.


You know what 22.5 inches is??? That's a freaking skinny tummy, that's what it is!

You know what 22.5 inches is??? I was never a 22.5 inch person since 1999, when my sec 3 classmates and I discovered the Malay store in RV sells extremely yummy fried chicken every Tuesday and Friday and a mountain of sambal kangkong for $1.

My RV belt was fit to burst and had to be grudgingly loosened by two notches then. It never looked back. *nods savagely*

NOW, AFTER A PERIOD OF FIVE YEARS, I BUY A GIRDLE, AND I GET MY SKINNY FRAME BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MUAHAHHAHAHAHA Ok I know I am nowhere near "skinny" yet but still ... Stop raining on my fatless parade!

So anyway girls, the point is!!!! BUY A FREAKING GIRDLE (only $4!!!)! Screw Xtreme. Screw Biotherm. Screw Xando. SCREW TAY PING HUI (that's only for me, sorry)!

Now will you please excuse me? I have a brilliant idea. I shall dress myself up naked except for a pair of white-and-pink bunny ears and a black g-string with a fluffy tuft of bunny tail on it. Maybe add a silky bowtie. And then, I shall hop (not walk - more realistic) into a giant satin gold box and seal myself in. I'd ask Momo to help me tie a giant red ribbon around the box. And then I'd bounce myself to the post office, where I WILL MAIL MYSELF TO MEDIACORP AND GIVE TAY PING HUI THE SURPRISE OF HIS LIFE!

Tadah! Ping Hui, look at my 22.5 inch tummy! I give myself to you!!!! Please, take me! Dr Tiger wo ai ni!!!

We will then proceed to indulge in intellectual banter until he gives in to his increasingly dangerous carnal urges and has mind-blowing hot sex with me**, therefore fulfilling my lifetime goal at the tender age of 20. I'd then die a happy person. Maybe Ping Hui's lifetime goal is to market himself such that some random teeny girl's lifetime goal is to shag him. Then he will die happy too!

What do you think of my mailing idea?

WHAT? Did someone say "Jeremy"? Excuse me, but I think with 22.5 inches I can get Tay Ping Hui - or any other guy for that matter. When's Beckham coming here again you say?

**Provided he doesn't open the box a week later and I have died of hunger but still oozing sexiness - therefore successfully making me guilty of turning Tay Ping Hui into a necrophile.

p/s: I am JESTING. My lifetime goal is NOT really getting Tay Ping Hui to shag me. It is a JOKE.


Mensa test went quite well, thanks for asking! =) I thought I could answer everything, but whether or not the answers are correct is another thing lah. Ta! Love ya all.

Sunday, November 14, 2004


I'm going out in a short while so here's a photolog first!

I had a bloody good hair day but only seafood saw it!

It's like this. Momo managed to earn a commission of a whooping $4,500 for a house she sold, so she treated Smelly (my bro - he is not really smelly btw) and I to a sumptuous dinner at No Signboard restaurant!

That was the lobster we ate. We had crab too. It was grumpy.

We tortured the seafood??!


Went out with Eileen to the already-decorated-for-Christmas orchard.

I think this angel looks very funny with a plastic bag!

We shopped at the new Forver 21, and Eileen bought a pretty suit for $68.

And my turn! (Warning: Camera-whore coming up.)

Bandanna! $9! Earrings! $7

Ming xing big big sunglasses! $11!

Wraparound skirt! $33!


See, so nice ...

Those are dangling crystals outside Tangs.

My friend (not Eileen) jumped up and stole one crystal for me!!!!

So cute right! The less-than-full crystals outside Tangs suggest that many other people are jumping and plucking down crystals too. Ha ha..

Oh yeah I watch The Incredibles and it is sooooooooo fabulous!!! I love it love it love it!!! Go watch!!! It's so cute and so funny!


Thanks to blogder Vivienne, I got notified that Miss Aina's blog is back - with some weak excuses.

For new readers, this saga happened some time back. What happened THEN was that I got notified of the existance of her blog and had a look at it. I was horrifed to find entire blog entries of mine LIFTED and put into her blog as her thoughts, and her writings. Plagiarism to its most shameless.

Not only were entries scarily similar to mine, I also found she took effort to mimic little things I say, copy my entire sidebar's contents (complete to the SELF-SPOOF and the entire contents of the spoof), and even had her FAQs in shocking similarity.

Her little tralala delivery was perfect to the extent that her blog's background was even the same as mine. Funny thing was how her FAQs claimed her HATES pink though.

Spot the obvious coincidence?After I wrote about her evil doings on my blog, my blogders, sensing injustice, promptly went over to her ... joke of a site - to spam her tagboard and well ... calling her some names which I thought might have been a little too harsh even for her repugnant crimes.

Ha! You should have seen how fast her tagboard moved.

So anyway, Miss Aina, sensing danger, fled. Fled into the safe realms of cyberspace.

She locked her site with a password.

Now, how long would it take a person to work back on years of entries and take out the ones screaming "DESPICABLE PLAGIARISM" and change the entire blog's outlook?

Miss Aina has proven to us it takes a month or so.

Welcome to the new, revamped, renewed, and therefore, original ... Aina's site!

(I highly suspect that some Tagalog entries might be mine as well. Well Aina, thanks but no thanks. If I want to have things translated, I would inform you.)

What makes me really, really angry is what she claimed:

Sunday, October 17th 2004

WHOA!!! 11:24 AM

WHAT???!!! The pink site's gone???
Yes my blogreaders.
Apparently the "orangey pink" background was bought by miss wendy. it belongs solely to her and anyone who uses that color shall be called shameless and a copycat.

*feigns terror*

Not that it should bother me anyway. She called me just like that a few weeks ago in her blog.

And her reasons for doing so is really personal. friend's grudge. that simple.
hello wendy. hello suzie.

as for the hate messages you've all thrown at me, i'll just rub it off my shoulders ala "wazzap??wazzap??"
it won't get you anywhere.
yes, you may have the satisfaction of calling me a bitch, loser, minah looking, (insert some hurtful words) et al.. but in the long run you guys will just get tired of doing it. i'm invincible and i cannot be put down easily.
if you believe wendy, then go to her site. there's no reason para magbabad kayo dito noh.

Unfair noh? the moment you posted something on the internet, and this is accdg to our IT supervisor, you cannot claim your work as your own. its now free and for everyone else. and so intellectual property is now equal to nada, zero, zilch.

i'll be blogging later abt anne's wedding. in the meantime, i'll go to wendy's site and rip off her entries.


*Frowns* I do not find the joke funny at all. Do you?

Since Aina wants attention so much, to the extent that will sacrifice integrity for it, I say, good for her. I've done her a favour by placing her words in my blog then! 15 miserable visitors (non-unique and therefore might even all be herself) yesterday and she claims "Everybody's reading it". HA HA HA.

What pisses me off the most in her unrepentant and self-righteous behaviour, like a bloody teenager saying she did no wrong when she stabbed someone in the chest coz the person broke her CD.

Miss Aina, plagiarism is a crime. It is not only infringing on copyright laws, there is also a deep moral wrong in doing it. You are claiming credit for someone else's work. Can you actually sleep with that on your conscience? Have your parents never told you it is wrong to steal?

I work on my blog everyday. It is my baby - my sweat, my pride, my joy. I spend hours on end writing for my readers and for myself. I do not like it at all, when someone rips off my work using a simple cut-and-paste in a matter of 2 seconds ... especially when I spend two whole hours writing it.

I am sure you understand, being a writer yourself (not much of one of course).

Do I not have the rights to be furious with you, when you copy some of my blog entries wholesale? Do you not concur that it is a shameless action?

All the name-calling done by my readers serve a purpose - to tell you that you have done a wrong. But you obstinately claim you do not feel a thing. I am shocked. How can one be oblivious to so many dire warnings regarding her flaw in character?

Let me tell you Aina ... No doubt you think that being mentally strong is a good thing, but it does not mean you should turn a deaf ear to criticism, right?

Enough of the lecturing, I highly doubt it can get pass her ...

hideous alice-band.

Two things to clarify though:


Never was, NEVER WOULD BE.

The "attack" (not so much an attack but some simple whining on my part) was not a "personal friend's grudge" like she claimed. I have never seen her in my life and the only Filipinos that I know are my maids Velle, Dindin, and one more, I forgot her name. It was not a simple grudge. She bloody copied my works. (and swiftly denied it)

2) "the moment you posted something on the internet, and this is accdg to our IT supervisor, you cannot claim your work as your own. its now free and for everyone else. and so intellectual property is now equal to nada, zero, zilch. "

-Her highness Aina the ignorant

WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. There is no such thing that anything that is posted on the net is a free-for-all, ignoramus IT supervisor with a peapod for a head. My works belong to me. For more information, please refer to the Creatives Common link, Aina.

Well, I expected at least an apology from her. But well, all I got are more lies. Good lord, what did I do to deserve this?

I'd love to blog more tonight, but I am too angry.

p/s: She smartly disabled comments so if you wanna tell her something, her email is:

Saturday, November 13, 2004

Very traumatized

As you can see, tomorrow (btw why is the short form for tomorrow often spelt at tml? Tomolo? Even in acornyms we use Singlish?) is the date for my much dreaded Mensa IQ test. I want to stab myself in the eye for bringing this pain to myself. AND WHILE AT THAT, SPENT a bloody $48.

If I had used a little more logic (very ironic for the topic at hand), I should have spent that $48 to buy 144 packets of tissue from the next lucky blind old man who approaches me while I dine at a hawker centre. Heck, I might even be able to get around 180 packets if he cuts me a rare deal. You may be frowning and thinking, But Xiaxue, wouldn't a Mensa cert do you great in life? Think of the amount of stupid people you can slap with the cert, till Mensa kicks you out for rough behaviour!


NOTHING, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, BEATS GOOD KARMA! (I'm in a foul mood) Buying tissue from blind old men gives me good karma, and I need good karma - to get a boyfriend, to get a job, to make sure I don't get cervix cancer, to make the people I hate fall into drains etc etc.


You know what? I think Mensa is siao.

Naturally, because Mensa only accepts smart people to join them, there has been criticism that Mensa is elitist.

To this, Mensa replies, I quote, from my Mensa book bought at a freaking cheap $1 at a flea market (but it is still an elite book ok, despite being sold so cheap!):
"Because of its membership requirement, however, Mensa has often been accused of elitism; but in fact it's no more "elite" than any other organisation that has a requirement for membership, such as BLAH BLAH ...... At these functions, the notion of elitism is laid to rest. Mensans come from virtually every trade, occupation, business, and profession. 'If we're elitist,' (OMG SPOT THE GRAMMAR MISTAKE A MENSAN MADE - AND ESCAPED EDITING) a national chairman once commented, 'then we're the most democratic elitist organization that ever existed!'"

Well, nice try, Mensans.

No doubt a PR effort.

HOWEVER, whilst the argument in point (that Mensa has people from all professions and therefore does not discriminate; and that other organisations have criterias for membership as well) may convince those who cannot bother less, I am still a strong believer that Mensa is, indeed, elitist. describes elitism as:
"The belief that certain persons or members of certain classes or groups deserve favored treatment by virtue of their perceived superiority, as in intellect, social status, or financial resources."

This definition does not contradict Mensa's argument, but personally, I feel that Mensa's argument is, in fact, not valid at all.

It's like saying, "It takes one to know one!" when people call Mensa elitist. It proves nothing, except that Mensa is indeed elitist, but only as elitist as the average organisation, right? Isn't that what they are saying?

So excuse me, Mr National Chairman ... If an organisation for retarded people is set up, and they have fun activities organised for members, but well, only people with IQ lower than 70 can join, is anyone likely to call them elitist as well?

Well, no, because elitism is often associated with intellect, or success. And since Mensa discriminates against people with low intellect - it is elitist. Simple as that.

Besides, I cannot think of any reason why people want to set up/join a society of intellects except that they are sick of interaction with brainless people - can you?

Let's face it. Mensa is elitist. But since the people complaining are likely to be people who didn't manage to get into Mensa (ie dumber people and possibly I will join their ranks tomorrow and be the latest victim of Mensa's elitism), it is also likely that these people accept that loop-holed argument that Mensa gave.

If I were the Mensa Chairman, here's my answer to reporters/society:

Press conference:

Qns: Mensan Cheng, do you concur that Mensa is indeed an elitist society?

Ans: *nods gravely* Yes, indeed we are.


Reporter: How can Mensa do this? You bloody bastards! How dare you discriminate dumb people? They have feelings too!

Me: Miss, what is your name?

Reporter: You even ask my name in a condescending manner, you horrible person! My name *shivers in indignance* is Sandra Bullshit.

Me: Hold on Miss Bullshit. (motions to Mensan interns and they bring me THE EXCLUSIVE MENSA BLACK CARD) Now, Ms Bullshit. From the way you speak, I can ascertain that you are of Mensa quality. Here's your passport to discriminating the world, and evidence to your superior intelligence. Are you likely to say we discriminate now?

Reporter: *Quivers in excitement* For me? Oh my god, you signed it yourself? (I nod sedately in response). HA HA HA I RULE!!! Hey you guys! (Addresses audience at large) I AM BETTER THAN YOU!

Me: Welcome to Mensa. What say you, we have a game of Chinese chess?

Mensan reporter: My pleasure.

Mensa FAQ:

Q: I am stupid. But I'd love to be seen as smart. Will Mensa please accept me? Please? I am also disabled and unhappy.

A: No. Go away.

Q: You guys are horrible.

A: We are not a charity organization, my love. Yes we are horrible, but unfortunately for you, we are horribly smart too!

Q: Alright I give up. Can I bribe Mensa?

A: Yes, you may. However, the risk you have to take it great. Anything too little, and we take it as an insult and will press charges against you. Anything too much (not that it will ever be) might be a loss to your personal wealth, of course. If you really want a guideline ... Well, here's a hint: Our members need a new golf club.

Q: I am into taxidermy. Can I join Mensa?


Q: That's discrimination, that is!

A: We are not elitist. We did a test on a large group of taxidermy enthusiasts, and results have shown that 0% of the 1,000 we interviewed are able to, in a matter of 3 minutes, come up with a commonly used English word that has the letters 'ufa' in it. If you can, welcome to Mensa.

Q: Ok, what's the goddamn answer?

A: Manufacture.

Q: U guys tink yoU is FarkIng SmaRts but in FACT YOUR THe WORSE I SEEN in chacrator anD u mothr must wish shE had anal farked the dAY SHE maKS YOu!

A: Hmm. Our mothers what?

Q: Are Mensa members all nerdy and ugly? Geeks! VIRGINS!

A: We are born ugly, yes, but due to our innate sense of business, we are able to earn lots of money. We then go for plastic surgery, and therefore, we get fucked left, right, center. Thank you for the concern anyway. =)

Q: When you geeks get together, what do you do? READ THE DICTIONARY??? *Gaffaws*

A: We have mass orgies, then read the dictionary and randomly test each other. At more relaxed times we correct the grammar mistakes of political speeches. And have mass orgies again. And again. Our kids are smarter than yours.

So anyway, why do I want to join an elitist society, you ask in ferocity! Do I, Wendy Cheng, really think I am better than the world?

My answer is .... *drumroll*


I think I am the smartest and tallest in the world. WAHAHHAHAAHAHA


One evil blogder, pretending to be very nice indeed, showed me a site with has, he claimed, similar IQ tests.

He also, in mock-kindness, told me that he wishes me luck for my upcoming (OMG in 12 hours!!!) test and I'd do better if I practiced on .. erm, what's that again? Yes, the advanced progressive matrices.

During the test, which is very difficult, I panicked when I realised I don't have much time left and humtum-ed the last 7 answers or so, leaving me with a very mediocre score indeed and as much chance of getting into Mensa as Fann Wong.

The previous test results, from the Mensa mock test, told me happily that I had EXCELLENT chances of getting into Mensa. The other mock test told me I had 9 out of ten answers correct.

I was convinced that the test the evil blogder sent me was ridiculously tough (in an attempt to sabotage my confidence and not go for the test at all), until I realised ... maybe it is not true, maybe he wasn't being evil ... Coz every time someone takes a Mensa test, it costs $$$$$$.


And therefore, it is very likely that Mensa faked me!! Their mock questions must be over-easy to convince me to take the test!

I'm very sad. I'm gonna fail.

And to add salt to my vulnerable wounds, I was playing this game, and I got stuck at level 34 (password soabraxasa)! I asked my friend for help, and he solved it in 15 minutes or so. I feel stupid. However, I passed all the other stages to the last one at 42 though, if that is anything to be proud of.

-Someone's gonna be a Mensa Wannabe tomorrow-

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Perils of being stuck at home with Auntie Cheng

"Hey. The shiitake mushrooms you bought ah, faster go eat, or they will spoil."

ME, watching news:
"How they spoil? Mushrooms will spoil one meh??"

"OF COURSE WILL LAH! The last time you bought also spoilt. GROW MOULDY ah wait."

"Rubbish. Mushroom is a fungus, so why would fungus grow on it?"

*stony silence from Auntie Cheng*

"Huh mommy? Tell me leh, how come fungus grow on fungus?"

I don't know. If you really want to find out ah, I suggest you go ask ...

*pause while I thought that I don't know any environmentalist I can possibly ask this question to*

"I suggest you go and ask the mushroom."



Later on:

-The news shows how Beijing people have a new interesting hobby of riding horses-

Mom, from behind the sink washing dishes but stealing looks at the TV:
"You know hor, girl, that riding on horses is actually very fun one leh."

"Very fun meh. What about if you are the horse? How would you feel if people always climb on you and put their smelly ass on your back? Poor horseys."

*Mom shoots me a very irritated look*

... and after a short pause...

"You know what is wrong with you? You are going crazy, everyday only go write nonsense on your blog. Poor horse ah ... Then you don't use the toilet paper lah, he everyday must wipe your backside, also very poor thing."


*short pause of silence*

"Mommy mommy!!!!"

Mom, in a snappish voice:

"Mommy mommy I want a pony. Can I have a little pony please? Please mommy? I want a pony. =( Buy a pony for me!"

*short pause while Auntie Cheng shoots me an extremely dirty and vindictive look. The ground trembles*

"I really wonder what I did to deserve a daughter like you. Whole day only talk nonsense! Talk nonsense never mind, unemployed, huh, then got the brains don't want to study, huh, then whole day only say crazy things ..."

*scrambles back into bedroom*


Updated: I don't know if you have seen this site. It's Americans saying sorry to the world for choosing Bush.

For some weird reason, it made me cry. Oh yeah, that, and Americans are quite cute and many of them have digital cameras. OMG total bimbo!

Oh yeah and this too. Quite interesting. Ta. Not in a good mood tonight.

Monday, November 8, 2004

BE CAREFUL! For it might happen to you!!

BE CAREFUL! For it might happen to you!!

BE CAREFUL! For it might happen to you!!

BE CAREFUL! For it might happen to you!!

BE CAREFUL! For it might happen to you!!

Sunday, November 7, 2004

I. HAD. ENOUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

RUDDY GARANG GUNI MAN COMES THUNDERING AROUND EVERY SUNDAY AT TEN AM BLASTING THAT BLARING FOGHORN OF HIS KANNINA DOESN'T HE REALISE THAT PEOPLE NEED A SLEEP-IN ON A BLOODY SUNDAY GOD MEANT FOR IT TO BE THE OFFICIAL REST DAY AFTER A HECTIC WORK WEEK AND THE bloody Garang Guni man doesn't give a shit and blasts his horn ANYWAY totally inconsiderate and woke me up in a start to his unpleasant voice and my blankie is oh-so-comfy but I cannot go back to sleep and it is all the Guni's fault for being a horrible self-centred person I hope he gets very little papers today and realise that the majority of his clientele ARE STILL STRUGGLING IN BED WISHING HE WOULD GO AWAY OR BLOGGING EVIL BAD BLOGS ABOUT HIM I HOPE EVERYBODY DIES AND NEVER MAY I HAVE TO WAKE UP SO BLOODY EARLY AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-Open a School of Garang Guni Manners, anyone?-

(Yes smartass, the fact that I am unemployed and "hectic work week" is meant to be ironic so stop acting like u are so brilliant coz you spotted it.)

Mail from an eligible man

He emailed me this:

I didn't reply. Looking at the English level, I would say, a wise decision. And why should I teach him about websites anyway? Who is he to me? *frowns*

He tried again the next day:

I ignored him again.

He doesn't get the hint:

I ignored him again.

He persisted, once again:

I am sick of seeing the same email almost everyday, and I feel it is time to stop, ay?

Perhaps a little harsh ...

Then came his reply:

If you ask me? Classic.

Men turn into ugly things when they know they cannot get you.