----
nobody fucks around with The Fiona
--
ello. i've been resurrected from the burning pit i call exams.
ITS ALL OVER AND I HAVE THE FOLLOWING WEEK TO MYSELF YO ! ( a blatantly shameless call for all ye arses to ask me out , dammit )
yesterday nigel and i were talking about the stupidity of some people over peach schnapps and lychee liquor ( girls , lychee martini is oh so passe. lol *deft flick of non-existent shampoo ad hair* )
we concluded on the two big "what NOT to say during the hot and heavy part of the mating game"
firstly , never ask a person if she wants to make out.
regardless of the answer, whatever that follows is awkwardness.
there can only be two humanly possible scenarios after our thorough analysis
scenario1:
boy : urm , do you want to make out with me ?
girl : er , no ?
scenario 2 :
boy : urm , do you want to make out with me ?
girl : er , okay ?
if you're caught in scenario 2 , lucky you. but unfortunately we're not living in hollywood so its wholly impossible that immediately after agreeing the girl will suddenly clamber on top of you while clenching your collar before pining you to the sofa/bed/washing machine and trying to suck out your tongue.
no siree !
as it is , what is likely to happen would be a pregnant pause with the two of you looking at the fraying threads of the bedsheet and likely a minute or so would pass before he makes a fumbled attempt to kiss you.
so never ASK.
spoils the momentum lah.
and secondly , never ever say thank you , especially after a sizzling make out session.
imagine..
girl : oh baby.. *looks at him expectantly , spent*
boy : *brushes off stray hair from her flushed face* thank you
it cannot cannot cannot get any worse.
zooooook on friday night was a swirl of madness !
xin and The Fiona . pre-party
how utterly unglam it was for me to bump into benny and kian outside zouk , with my disheveled hair plastered to my sweaty face and with a unconscious ruijie slumped around me.
The Fiona , posing with unabashed glee at the expense of the fallen. post-party
ack.
but it was fun though. i've never entertained the idea of modelling ( not that i have the assets to speak of ) but the flesh imp models kinda broke away from the stoic paris catwalk types and suddenly i wished i was just that 3cm taller and my teeth a little bit straighter. hahaha.
i want to prance around a stage in front of a screaming enthusiastic audience wearing nothing but engine-red mesh stockings , killer heels , little black dress , and a handgun tucked into my frilly garter belt.
roar is the new purr.
allow me to end this post with a quote from nigel
"beauty is only a light switch away"
