A Test of Masculinity

Was pretty pissed off at some fucked up email that I'd received earlier on, from some seriously mental individual (hence so aggro), but upon some reflection on the matter, decided it wasn't worth the trouble getting all steamed up.

I mean, seriously, how to stay mad at anything when there are pictures like this to laugh at?

There's more from where this came from - I'm planning to start a weekly thingy here featuring more of such edited pictures.

Stay tuned, heh.


Bad Food Analogies Make Me Smile

An excerpt from one of the silliest love notes I've ever composed to anyone:

"You're the cherry in my black forest cake, the olives in my dirty martini, the chai po on my jui kueh, the oyster in my oh chien, and all-round bringer of so much hehpeeness to me..."

Do take note that such compliments are only effective if receipient of that line is a glutton who loves chai po (菜脯, preserved turnip, aka choy bou, in Cantonese), and oh chien (a sort of Chinese versh of a gigantic savoury pancake - with plenty of oysters in it).

And for those who don't know what it is, jui kueh is some sort of cake made of steamed rice flour and water, and topped with chai po and other ingredients for flavour.

Probably won't work on those who have no sense of humour, and also some ladies - you'll just earn a stunned silence, or an outraged glare, or even a slap across the face, for all your efforts.

And so this is Emeric

I love Mr. Chai Po =)

*Image taken from: Appon's Thai Food: Preserved Turnip


Complete Incomprehension

So tell me, how is it MY fault that your son is fucked up?

And why am I being issued threats? From you, of all people?

I have been as supportive to him as I could be, all this while.

Call me a whore all you like, but if not for me being such a nice person (I actually fall for lines such as: "Please Irene, don't do this. Don't kill all I've been working for. Please have a heart. Don't leave me here to die. Oh god. I'm on the brink of insanity. Thank you very much. Goodbye. [Insert more pathetic subtly suicidal cliches.]" I realise that I'm an effing idiot, of course.) , I'd not have stuck around with someone as detrimental to my health for so long.

All the shit he said about you when shit happened, and all the lies I had to tell and the anger I'd taken from the both of you for concealing his vices, and all the fucking bullshit I had to put up with.

Man I feel so fucking wronged.

Maybe I should start feeling grateful shit happened. More than ever, I've come to realise what a shitty situation I've been letting myself stay in for too damn long.

Alternately feeling pissed off, hurt, weary, and relieved. I don't owe any fucking one of you anything anymore.

Comment moderation has been enabled for ALL posts on this blog. Taking down the Cbox too.

Edit: LOL I hear that you got into an accident. So glad that karma does exist after all. Not gonna make it a habit to indulge in this downright spiteful pleasure, but I'll make a concession for your case, as someone points out, spiteful people deserve all that spite they receive in return for the suffering they wreak on others.



One over-indulgent binge on chocolate truffles, chocolate milk, Cheezels, and durians later, I find myself contributing greatly to the production of enough greenhouse gases to put a sizeable dent in the ozone layer.

I feel almost like I'm sharting.

But I'm not. It's just the emission of many, many warm farts for the duration of the past four hours.

But I'm very sure you don't quite want to know more than I've already typed down.



Already Imagining the Heights From Which I'll be Smirking Down at You From

Warning: This is a bimbo post. Guys, please click the little red box with the X in it on the upper right corner of your browser if you can't sit through a whole post dedicated to waxing lyrical over a pair of heels.

Remember the gladiators Sarah Jessica Parker made famous in Sex and the City movie?

And the flower-dress-and-glads combo nobody will EVER forget:

Anyway, these were the USD770 Christian Dior gladiator platforms she was wearing...

(I feel so humbled by that figure...)

But then, inspired by those shoes, Steve Madden came up with two very-similar-looking versions, the Madalynn and the Maddiee at a fraction of the cost. BUT. Much as I rather adore the grey Maddiee, it's still rather beyond my means (read: unwilling to splurge so much on ONE pair of shoes).

But then GoJane.com's come up with lotsa EVEN cheaper versh, in a lovely lizard-skin, snake-skin, python-skin, as well as a leatherette versh that's less glad and more bootie, just in time for Fall 2008, which a local blog-shop is taking pre-orders for.

I'm eyeing this brown faux lizard-skin one:

Since it's not exactly disposable-Vincci-cheap, I'm seriously in a dilemma now. I know that the gladiator craze has already died down on most part, considering it was a Spring/Summer 2008 craze, but this shoe's crazy sexy in my eyes, and since it's sorta rockin' the fetish footwear trend, and could sorta pass for the ongoing bootie trend, I'm a little (read: go for it-70%, fuck no you crazy-30%) undecided about it.

But on the plus side, it's sporting a 5" platform heel, which means I'll be a towering 5' 11" plus if I wear them, which means I'll get to gaze down at the turtle from lofty heights and assert my superiority... HEHEHEHEH... Sorta sounds fucking awesome if you ask me heh.

Comments, anyone?

Oh and is anyone interested in putting in a pre-order for it with me? The more people buying, the cheaper it'll be on the shipping charges.

Miss PinkGeek?


Fifteen Kilos

... and twelve years ago, this family picture was taken at an aunt's place:

Click for bigger image of creepy blurred-out faces

The thens and nows

  • Back then, I looked like a pair of walking chopsticks. My arms and legs decided to have growth spurt without the rest of me. Was flat as a board too.
  • I sported a rather cheesy grin on my face every time I tried to smile. I still smile the same way.
  • I was wearing spectacles that probably magnified my eyes to bug-like proportions.
  • I thought the pair of high-heel glads I was wearing there were cool. So way ahead of fashion hehe.
  • I was so naively idealistic back then. I'm now this bitter bitch I never thought I'd end up as.
  • I was wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy cuter than the Skinny. Now I'm just look a tad washed out and way too cynical.
  • Miss Dot looked like a dumpling. And ate like she had a black-hole for guts.
  • The boy cousins were all still obediently under my reign of terror. I was a terrible bully back then, heh. Probably still am, but much more subtle... =P

*Faces of all senior members of the family have been edited to protect their privacy. I'm effing sure none of them really need the exposure. =D


Sho Kiut Can Die!

Enough emo/drama/bitchy stuff for this week, especially after Miss Dot's spectacularly dramatic door-ripping episode after passing out in her own en suite toilet, and Mrs. Chan abrupt retreat into a creepy case of denial.

Found this on YouTube (actually posted on Facebook), and I want a kid just like this one!

Cute AND talented! And passionate, too!

Here's his self-introduction, taken from his MySpace page:

“Hi, I’m Sungha Jung from South Korea. My dream is to become a professional acoustic fingerstyle guitarist.

I had been watching my dad play the guitar for awhile before I finally jumped on it myself two years ago. I just turned eleven in September, 2007.

Currently, I am taking weekly classical guitar lessons and teaching myself fingerstyle guitar.

I used to not have tabs for the music that I played in my videos. I just listen and pick them up directly from the sound source in videos available on the internet. However, recently, I have started playing with original tabs whenever they are available to me by courtesy of the authors.”

And the kid's only twelve =D

Cute, kan? Kan kan kan kan kan?

On a separate note, tempted to go a sleek jet-black. Getting sick of sporting brown-blonde. And Halloween's coming up anyway. Hmm. Anyone knows anywhere cheap for hair-colouring?

Oh and, to further inflate an already over-engorged ego: I have the bestestest turtle in the whole wide world =D

Thanks, hun, for being nice about things despite feeling snarky and boh mood and getting shit so early in the morning. You're the best!

(Sorry, guys, for being so vomit-inducing here. Just feeling really, really happy with how things are going.)


You: Short, Fat, and Fugly

You're a bitch, and I'm so consistently full of rage, and I don't understand, and this week has been yet another testament that time is fluid even if I choose to remain where I am grieving, so I'll just fucking lash out here, fuck all the niceties I'm supposed to exchange with you, if just to feel a tad better.

Miss LKU (yeah, a tribute to what you referred to me as on your own fucking blog, except I don't stop at just ONE letter), I do NOT like you. You will never be my friend. I know well enough how I don't fucking wanna be your friend. You sicken me. You are blindly believing of the shit you hear, you pick sides based on your own biased lack of judgment rather than facts, and may I venture to ask, how are you any better than me when you are guilty of bad behaviour as much as I am?

I hope you read this. I think you still do drop by here. Yes, I have a tracker installed. Heh.

And yeah, I do agree with you that Facebook block is possibly the best feature ever included on this very lame thing called social networking sites. I have no need for networking that involves you in the picture.

Thank God I'm free of all the shit you and your ilk brought upon me. Especially the fat disgusting one with the wandering willy and not enough brains to realise that sneaking into my bedroom at night for a grope is a fucking BIG MISTAKE. I get a little psychotic when men take me for a sweet compliant li'l play-toy, more so when their girlfriends happen to be both my house-mate and friend.

P/S You can have your simian friend back, considering I'm no longer associated with him in the way that requires you to put on your superficial attempts to play nice with me.


Tin Can on Four Wheels

I hate driving.

Especially when I'm in a less-than-stellar mood.

When is anyone gonna invent teleportation?

I need a chill pill.



That's what my house feels like.

Soundless. Cheerless.

Came home to an empty house.

The turtle just left. Asked if I'd be alright alone. Nodded yes, despite doubting very much that I'd be able to tolerate the solitude.

Now I'm alone, and I'm afraid. Afraid of the loneliness and what the lack of human distraction might allow my thoughts to wander to.

Sigh. Been feeling very subdued since the funeral.

But life goes on.

So I'm OK.

I guess.

Oh and the turtle just stepped on Cookie's turd. Smart move, stumbling blind (without glasses) around the newspaper laid out for her to do her business on.



White Gerberas for You

Just got back from the funeral, and then the trip to the Buddhist temple where a plaque engraved with both her name and grandpa's resides.

There were lots of flowers at her wake, at the funeral, in her coffin, and in her favourite colour, purple. She always did love flowers, colourful flowers.

She looked so small in the coffin, not the larger-than-life figure of my childhood: the one I hid behind when every time my mum decided I needed a little discipline with the cane; the one who always had snacks to secret into my bag, despite my mother's disapproval; the one who always, always had a coin or two for me to spend at school, even though I told her that I rather she kept her money for herself; the one who knew just all the right Cantonese dishes to cook for me, even on days when I was sick and could barely stand the smell of food.

Yes, and also the one who raised me from babyhood, when both mum and dad were busy with work, the one who taught me how to make 汤圆 (tong yuen) with peanut filling, how to gut fish and how to fry it perfectly, and a million and one little things I never thought much about. Among all your grandchildren, I was the one you loved most. I'm sorry I didn't show you all the affection you deserved.

If I had a childhood hero, I'd say it was my Popo, the little old lady who, unlike most of my classmates' grandmothers, could actually drive and was still sending me to various tuition centres (and to school on days my mother couldn't afford to fetch me) even up till my last year of school.

The first drops of rain started falling, just as the final prayers were made at her grave, and we knelt to pay our respects for the last time.

And then we were told to walk away, without as much as a backward glance, and to pray for her to be rid of suffering, as is Buddhist custom.

I can still hear her voice, see her eager smiling face, beaming up at me expectantly, asking me, “艾玲,你几时要过来婆婆屋坐啊?”

I'm sorry, I told you I would, and I never made it because I was always busy, but not with work as you thought I was, but rather, my depression, my fucked-up relationships, my social life, my vices, and all the things I should have overlooked even if for an hour or two, just to drop by and tell you I missed you.



I'm so sorry I took for granted the time we had together, and kept postponing my visits to you.

I hope you're in a better place now, I hope that you're happy where you are, I hope that you'd understand why, and most of all, I hope you know that I love you, I really did, despite being self-absorbed as I am.



I'm Sorry

That I never spent enough time with you.

That I was too caught up in my own drama.

That I was so self-absorbed and self-centered, I didn't visit you much in the past five years.

That I'll never be able to tell you all this anymore.

That I wasn't there when you passed on.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say.

I love you, po-po. I'm sorry.

I'm so so sorry.

Flat, Green, and Briney

It's two a.m. and I'm up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after falling into a coma during dinner-time (the glutton missed dinner!) that lasted all the way till the witching hour.

Feeling very loved and cherished, and can't remember the last time I've felt this deliriously happy.

All those small gestures you make just to ensure my happiness touches me.

I love how reasonable you manage to remain, even in the face of my petulant temper-tantrums where rationale goes out the window. I love how you buy me healthy tidbits, and indulge in my gluttony even when I'm not being my typical human black-hole self. I love how you try to make every weekend special for me, and even if we do mundane stuff you make it fun when you're around. I love all the effort you've put into loving me, even if I don't voice out my appreciation much.

Most of all, I love how you put up with my eccentricities and how you love each and every bit of me, yes, not just the good things about me, but the not-so-good bits too, and your constant encouragement to me to be my own person, quirky and individualistic as I may be, as long as I remain happy with who I am.

So happy, happy, happy, and looking forward to this weekend as well.

Thank you, hun. You're my inspiration (even if you're sneaky and cunning and stealthily gained my affections by insidiously worming into my life into my mind into my heart).


Love Is...

Pulling up into the car-porch of my home, and getting out of my car just to see the door open (presumably by Mrs. Chan, peering out to confirm that I've just gotten home), and you, my darling, scampering madly over towards me, ears down and fluffy little fringe askew, with the cutest look of determination of your little doggy face to be the first to reach me and greet me with your happy little two-legged welcome-home dance and excited little barks of happiness.

I love you too, Cookie.



Woke up at a quarter to nine this morning, found myself alone in my bed after a fun girl's night out that was Jojo's birthday celebration, and realised that I was feeling slightly moody. Nothing surprising, I always feel a tad down after imbibing in alcohol, much as I've denied that fact upon queries from concerned friends and family who think I should lay back on drinking.

A person with bipolar disorder should never bother with drinking, to be honest. It brings the worst of the downers on most times, and even in the mildest of cases, a slight touch of melancholia, but the alcohol high is so, so good, and I am one with what they call an addictive personality - have never been able to leave my vices behind haha.

Been listening to Bush by Glycerine on a loop for no particular reason, nothing to do with the events happening in my life of late, just love the melody and the lyrics and the electric guitar riffs even if it's damn old-skool even if it vaguely reminds me of a man I dated briefly a long while ago even if the mp3 I have of that doesn't have the best sound quality, found an acoustic versh while downloading music but didn't like it as much.

But I digress. I'm feeling a bit emotional. I miss the turtle a bit. I miss Miss PinkGeek in Miri and how easy it used to be to just have a girl's night out with her. I miss the beach. I miss diving. I miss a hundred little random things that I've given up on. And if I were to be honest with myself, I'm a little terrified of moving on from the past. Been burning certain bridges, and much as it's necessary for a healthier me, part of me feels a bit reluctant and frightened about the changes in my life. Moving outta a comfort zone's never easy I guess.

And there's Creep by Radiohead and High and Dry and Hate Me by Blue October and then there's Breathe by Anna Nalick and Tongue-Tied by Aqualung and the acoustic versh of Matchbox 20's Diseases and all the slightly depressing music I seem to favour and even Kate Voegele's versh of Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah sounds more of an anguished wail than a song to me and I am giving up on the music playing on this rather laggy laptop LOL.

Blah. Why am I so emo T___T

I should blast some Adam Sandler to cheer myself up (and disgust everyone within hearing distance).

On a more random note to end this post, has anyone ever worn a black or dark grey top just to take it off after a sweaty day/night out and find the lint from the garment stuck on your sweaty pits like little fluffy spots of dark-coloured bread mold.

If you've had that experience before, how do you go about avoiding aforementioned 'pit fluff problem?


Free Handbag!

I need a new handbag! 'Cause handbags and shoes are things no girl has enough of. Am currently obsessing over this one:

Partly because I like its sturdy construction and classic design, not to mention I've a thing for big BIG bags that are practical enough to use for campus and casual use ie. shopping, and more so because it's the bag I'm hoping I'll be winning on Handbag Planet =D

There are not one, not two, not even ten but TWENTY-FOUR handbags to be won within the twenty-four hours of official site launch which will be on this coming 15th October, so do drop by the site to have a look - who knows, you might get lucky too.

Here's a little snippet taken off the site: "Our high fashion, trendy handbags are inspired by popular designer brands and priced between $30 and $80."

I'll just give it a shot either way, 'cause I love freebies, and I'm sure you do too =)

So head over to http://www.handbagplanet.com and register to try for a free bag aye?

(Yes it's in the States. I chiak pah boh su cho. One can always dream, aye?)


Travel-Buddy Needed

I badly need a holiday away from this madness. Trip to Bali anytime between December to February, anyone?

(I promise you that I'm not quite as psychotic as I sometimes sound here on my blog, and can be oodles of fun in the right company)

Email me at iwene.irene.iwene@gmail.com

No hamsap lous please, I want a restful trip, not a stressful one spent on macing people in the face.

Edit: Since Miss PinkGeek wants in, might have to make it a March. We'll see how. Hmm.