A matter of time

Dumb: Trying to overtake a tour bus on a 2-lane, no-overtaking road. 
Dumber: Tailgating the bus. 
Dumbest: Switching on your high-beams and tailgating said bus so that the driver will get the idea and move out of your way.


Lady, I'm sure you feel like a badass bitch in your big Mazda (I'm not bitter), and I'm sure you were on your way to an important Sunday engagement organised exclusively for the likes of drivers like yourself, but


bus drivers are the baddest asses of all drivers because they have to put up with drivers like you every day; the bus didn't even have a rear window or safety camera, so let's not bet that he knew you were even there air-kissing his bumper.


Me, I was in the car behind you, running through my scant emergency medicine repertoire, just in case.

Always catty; never batty

Dad is enthusing over how much weight he's lost now that he eats v. little rice.

Dad: Look at how small my stomach is now!
Me: Oh, they make shapewear in your size now, then?
Dad: *grumble*

Takes one to know one

I still can't believe Amy Winehouse is dead. I always knew it was a matter of time, but not this soon. Her legacy is 2 measly albums and a shitload of pictures of her looking like shit warmed over. 

Surprisingly (for me), Russell Brand's blog/letter was uncommonly articulate and compassionate:

All addicts, regardless of the substance or their social status share a consistent and obvious symptom; they're not quite present when you talk to them. They communicate to you through a barely discernible but un-ignorable veil. Whether a homeless smack head troubling you for 50p for a cup of tea or a coked-up, pinstriped exec foaming off about his ‘speedboat' there is a toxic aura that prevents connection. They have about them the air of elsewhere, that they're looking through you to somewhere else they'd rather be. And of course they are. The priority of any addict is to anaesthetise the pain of living to ease the passage of the day with some purchased relief."

...

Whether this tragedy was preventable or not is now irrelevant. It is not preventable today. We have lost a beautiful and talented woman to this disease. Not all addicts have Amy's incredible talent. Or Kurt's or Jimi's or Janis's; some people just get the affliction. All we can do is adapt the way we view this condition, not as a crime or a romantic affectation but as a disease that will kill.

To put it mildly, it was a welcome relief from the moronicity of tweets from the likes of Rihanna or Kelly Clarkson, to name just two. Essentially: "I don't understand how such things like this can happen... I'm soooooo devastated. Condolences to her family."

Honorable mention goes to Rick Ross (who?) for the following:

Wanted to collab w/ Amy Winehouse...r.i.p...smoking 1 in your memoryyy!!

Mate, really?

Boys vs. Girls

Enfant Terrible and I are walking around in the mall and we spot a Baskin Robbins kiosk displaying a promotional poster.

Me: OooooOOOh, Captain America!
Him: Mmmm... ice cream.

To wit:

Serious pec pic from The Pop Herald

Although I greatly prefer the more streamlined version:

srsly hot pic from KellyOlexa.com (who wins for her Monday Manjoyment category)

How to stop a conversation

Scene: Bro2 is all dressed up and on his way out to a night on the town. Coincidentally, Dad has just returned from one. 

Dad: Wah, wear so nice to go where huh? 

Bro2: Bintang Palace la. 

Dad: WAH. So expensive, man, that place. Even I don’t dare to go there! 

Bro2: Expensive meh. 

Dad: Expensive la. My friend went there last time and spent 4-5 thousand ringgit! 

Me: Why, what did he break?

Chasing shadows in the sun

One day, a link I followed led to an “article” on who was out and proud in Hollywood. The only surprise was Jonathan Knight, formerly of NKOTB. The only other vaguely interesting thing was that it included Johnny Weir.

How to lose 2 kg in 2 weeks without even trying

Step 1: Board evening flight to Chengdu, China; eat in-flight meal; steal airsickness bag in an extraordinary display of prescience.
Land in Chengdu 5 hours later, feel spirits sink at sight of the omnipresent smog, visible even at night.
Endure hair-raising van ride through said city; driver reassures you and other passengers with, “Don’t worry about the other cars; there’s no racing tonight!”

Step 2: Turn up nose at extremely alien hotel breakfast – cold spicy noodle with assorted pickled veg, or what appear to be veg, watery, bland congee, and watery bland soybean milk.
Spend the afternoon tramping around hateful smoggy city because hotel stipulates 12:00 checkout and your train only leaves at 20:59.
Arrive back at hotel, which is where van driver in Step 1 will pick you up and send you to the train station. Realise you’ve left something extremely important in the restroom of a café in a mall on the other side of town.
Cue Amazing Race sprinting-with-backpack-to-catch-the-right-bus sequence to and from destination, and within stipulated time limit (30 minutes). Keep winning.

Just a little bit

Although religiosity and I are complete strangers, the sound of a Muslim funeral prayer* echoing through the neighbourhood over the still air on a warm, humid day granted me a glimpse in to a world that is not mine.

* At least, I assume that's what it was; I don't know the words. I mean, 3 p.m. is kind of in-between prayer times, isn't it?

The importance of being prepared

My mother and I had the following conversation at a "luggage fair" while looking for a bag capacious and handy enough to lug around for 2 weeks:

Me: I'm gonna look for a haversack.
Mum: It'll be heavy; you'll have trouble carrying it.
Me: Yes, if I carried on my head, for sure.
Mum: *grumble*
We: *browse*
ME: OMG LOOK at this one! It's for 80 liters! It looks just like the one [cousin] brought when he came to KL! I should get it! Everything will fit into it!
Mum: It'll be HEAVY.
Me: But [cousin] has one...
Mum: [Cousin] is a lumberjack*, he can handle an 80 liter backpack!
Me: [Cousin] is NOT a lumberjack ffs; he works in timber!

So, I don't have a backpack taller than me, but I do now have a backpack that is about half my height and looks deceptively small. Things disappear inside its gaping maw and retrieving them feels like I'm risking a trip down the rabbit hole.

Yes, it is comfortable; what's more, it comes with an operating manual and a loop for an ice axe. It has more snaps and buckles than I ever imagined could fit on a bag, too, and I'm slightly afraid of getting tangled up in it when I put it on, much less turn turtle.

* Everyone knows there are no such things as lumberjacks anymore; only chainsaws.

Sexy Sunday

I love alliteration. Anyway:  

Liu Ye in drag (Cillian Murphy, eat your heart out!) for his photobook titled Catching shadows twentysix (2005)