--bye for now
just feeling rather... sad, to put it bluntly.
it never fails to amaze how abrupt change is - it ambushes you from behind, smothers you and releases just before you choke to death . it leaves no trail. it comes as it pleases, unrepentent and unrelenting.
take care, all of you.
just one for the road:
train - drops of jupiter
--zee blind date
the blind date was.... well.....
the dude was 17. 17 17 17 17 17 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
will blog about it as i am in an emo-emo state after watching the painted veil
while killing myself with cheap wine.
fucking awesome film.
just as i was looking forward to a quiet weekend curled up by the TV with a bunch of rented DVDs and junk food, dear ol' jas called to inform that she has arranged for a blind date for me later.
i'm on a roll, man. suddenly everyone has got a "cute colleague/friend/cousin" that "might be the guy you are looking for".
right. will keep you guys posted on this "exciting" blind date that will take place in less than two hours' time. hoo. (no, no rose corsages or anything,tsk!)
have a good one, y'all.
on another note, i don't understand why everyone seems to be borrowing money from me, or attempting to.
i used to relent and play the part to a friend in need but when i realised that i make a really bad debt-collector, i stopped lending altogether.
i'm sorry to those i've turned down in recent months but you'd probably do the same too when you have about $600+ owed to you by probably a dozen people.
i don't forget, trust me. but i am unable to speak out and ask for it to be returned because well, i just can't seem to do it.
do not take me for granted. and once again, do not think that i've even forgotten about it because i do take mental notes.
this is specially going out to someone who owes me about $300, of which the bulk went towards paying for his nicotine habit. shithead.
--ASIAN PRIDE YO
结果我的O LEVELS 的华语PASS！ 真是领大家惊喜！
--sulk sulk groan groan
i know this will surely come as a shock (or a joke) to some of you but...
I AM GOING TO THE FUCKING GYM
and yes, and that would be my virgin visit.
i feel so sluggish nowadays, and i attribute it to the acute lack of exercise and the fact that i am so gu-niang
that i grumble whenever i start to perspire. ( i have this vision of bacteria festering in the millions thriving on my nutrient-rich perspiration on my skin whenever i sweat )
BUT THAT, ladies and gentlemen, will change.
i believe the last time i actually attempted to exercise/sweat my guts out was a good one or two years ago, for a run around the neighbourhood. yeah, lasting all of ten minutes and already i was grunting like a wet pig.
to kickstart my fitness regime for a healthier perkier fiona, i decided to reward myself with an incentive.
a pair of alexander mcqueen for pumas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!http://alexandermcqueen.puma.com/
yaya i know all ye hardcore fashionistas will cringe/want to clobber me for putting such delicate wondrous objects to such use other than the purpose of viewing it from a glass case. well, i've never fancied mcqueen's flamboyant couture much, if that makes you feel better. heh heh.
okay lah, wait till i i find it in my size then say lor. was browsing through nike women just now and realised to my disappointment (*air of resignation*) that i could only fit into kiddy sizes. mind you, i wouldn't mind wearing kiddy sizes if not for the fact that mot of the designs comes in bubble pink with velcro straps...
..and yellow daisies. bah humbug.
i just read through this post and to my disdain i sound like a whiney bimbo with fluff for brains.
that i am, darlings. that i am. =)
the sedentary creature
**update at 12.03am
3/4 bottle of chilled dessert wine = WOOHOO
on my way to "a bit the high ah"
---massive lone pimple on forehead
fifi's to-watch movie list
black snake moan zodiac
kissing jessica stein
the painted veil
and the list just keeps getting longer! hot damn.
--how do you spell i-d-i-o-t?
some people are just downright shameless. here's an excerpt from an MSN conversation with someone i haven't contacted in eons.
kai : eh, u like deathcab for cutie right? send me their songs leh (he didn't even bother to say hi)
me: no, i buy their albums.
kai: wah, so hardcore ah. upload them and send to me leh (the audacity!!)
me: WHY SHOULD I??
a few minutes later he suddenly went offline, and i assumed he had blocked me in MSN. just as well anyway!
some people.. tsk.
--my other half *chokes*
finally! a rather decent picture of myself together with the best friend.
and a very weird looking boob with a hollow chest. hmmm.
we're gonna get the same tattoo together soon! i can't bloody wait.
happy birthday tre, you idiot.
heading to bintan for 2 days for his birthday.
--not getting any, maybe thats why
well, would like to share with you guys something i plucked off the net.
As usual I was up long before R and had already completed my run and showered. I was at the sink rinsing out my coffee cup in a sweatshirt and panties, I heard him stumble out of the bathroom and now he was behind me his hands on my hips, kissing my neck and ears, while rubbing his pelvis into my hip. In the morning R is typically affectionate but today he was amorous, check that, horny.
“Hmmm, your irresistible, that cute ass of yours, your so sexy,” he whispered. Who knew a tattered college sweatshirt would be an object of arousal. “Let’s go back to bed for a while.” By now his hands had slipped under the sweatshirt and fondled my breasts. Not very convincingly I protested that I had a meeting to go to and asked him, “Don’t you need to go to work? “I have a meeting near here at ten and then he asked me about my meeting and I told him it was a networking breakfast. “You mean a meeting where no one expects you and no one will miss you?” I wouldn’t have put it that way but that was true. “But I could use the contacts,” my protests were getting weaker as a finger had found its way to my cunny. “Mmmm,” I murmured softly, and he knew I had surrendered.
As the sweatshirt lifted over my head my eyes met those of the landlady who was dragging the hose to the flowerbeds next to our apartment. I saw her smile as she did a u-turn and went to check on a different bed. He pulled the panties off my hips and slipped his fingers into me and then I felt him begin to probe with his penis, I folded myself over the counter and he entered me. After we went back to bed for round two, after which he sprung up and headed to the shower, satisfied. Leaving me with my motor running and knowing it would be noon before I could get anything productive done.
hot! this is how good erotic literature should be like. subtle, nothing too aggressive like "OH YEAH YEAH FUCK ME RIGHT THERE!" (who the heck screams like that in reality anyway? not even me!), and definitely a scene that we could all imagine ourselves to be in. bent over a kitchen top? yes please!
i guess being a writer manifests my life in more ways than one, considering how suggestive text
appeals to me more than visual porn does. haha.
contrary to popular belief,
i don't need anyone to buy me a chanel bag, to dine and wine me at chi-chi places nor jet-set me to far-flung spots on first class.
because i can afford to do that myself.
my needs are simple.
a genuine concern for my well-being. i want to be fussed over and be forced to sit down during one of my impending asthma attacks, instead of a "not again?!!" indignant reaction.
places... forget les amis, forget fullerton hotel. i'd love you even more if you brought me to that rusty swing in the middle of bishan park, the very spot where you first broke your leg after that nasty fall.
trust..i want to be able to give you something without being eyed suspiciously "why are you giving me this?
", and vice versa. no, i am not buying you a new shirt because i've done something wrong and this is to make up to you, but because i came across it in zara and i thought it'd look good on you. capisce
--monday, i'm not in love
though the day cannot possibly start off as bad as it did a few weekdays ago when i overslept on the train and ended up having to foot a staggering $12 cab fare back to the office, this morning wasn't a particularly fabulous walk in the park either.
felt incredibly sleepy, probably due to the mild overdose of chlorpheniramine, which always lulls me to sweet sweet sleep without a hitch.
anyway. hair misbehaved and i walked out of my house with a grumpy sulk, hair sticking out at odd angles at the back.
then, no seats on the train. i positioned myself in the middle of the cabin so that the probability of warming a seat is higher.
then a few stops later, someone sitting behind me alighted but as i was too engrossed in my book some motherfucker beat me to the seat by a few seconds. na bu eh.
i don't usually get so uptight over such trivial matters but i was super grumpy lah.
was in a daze the whole morning in the office. couldn't find the inspiration to write at all.
lunch was a lacklustre affair as usual. i wolfed down the salty mee sua without tasting anything. at science park 1, everyone eats to live, and not live to eat.
a filled tummy = the temptation of a noon snooze.
i snuck into a toilet cubicle, set my alarm clock to buzz after 15 mins, and fell asleep with my head against the toilet paper holder.
and here i am, pretty damn awake.
okay this is a mundane boring post lah. but it reflects my mundane boring monday =)
woke up with the familiar sensation of a shrivelled tongue, after it got mildly assaulted with whiskey last night.
damn shiok lah, to be able to amble around the house lazily, stirring porridge and reading papers over earl grey tea with just a soupcon of milk and two cubes of sugar. just the way i like it!
say you like me froweer!! i is pweety with froweeeeerrrrrr. and urm, hi chest.
post accident near the ammo dump. owner of car isn't too happy. okay that was a gross understatement.
the writer-in-residence happily shows off her bag du jour. SHINY GREEN BAG YO. yes i know my office chair is an offensive putrid looking saffron yellow.
3 / YYYYY
attempting a look that i can never quite pull off as you can tell from the nauseating results. had dinner at Ramen ten at FEP, and the cynical food critic says : fucked up place.
looking awful behind the EcoSphere at the science centre. was looking forward to the excursion there with l.e but it was marred with many malfunctioning exhibits and a dripping nose.
followed by a sombre stroll around lim chu kang's cemetary.
climax of outing - HOLLAND V XO FISH BEE HOON!!!!!! pretty fucking good. further accentuated by the beads of sweat rolling off my brow. as good as the one at compass point's food court!! i'm sold.
the charades people. YEAH CHARADES! try acting out "sugar and spice and all things nice" and "he ain't heavy, he's my brother." thanks ah.
unconvincing salesgirls. spot the mole.
the one reason why being a writer rocks - no restriction on hemlines. or anything else for that matter.
orange tan + neon pink bra + zebra prints = classic eurotrash.
okay. heading off for a nap. i'm craving for fish bee hoon again.. =(
A little bird told me that MOST Singaporean men would have paid for sex at least once in their lifetime, and that it usually occurs before they are 30.
Young, dumb and full of cum, I’d say.
I am not oblivious to the inclinations of our fine young men, but never gave much thought to it. No one ever owned up (who would?), so it was swept under the carpet and dismissed as hearsay. But it is now confirmed.
That little bird then sheepishly admitted to me (after much probing) that yes, he’s guilty as charged as well.
But only once (!!!), he claims.
And why the hell would you want to do it? I pressed on; adamant that such a good-looking and well-off bachelor like him (SPH scholar at that! I blame the educational system.) would resort to what I would assume as something only ugly toothless men with crusty beady eyes would do.
“Don’t know, curious I guess.”
Unconsciously I shifted away from him. Our kneecaps were no longer touching. I drummed my fingers on the table nervously, unable to maintain any eye contact with him – every time I did, I saw him (oh, your beautiful face!) furiously thrusting some buxomly young thing moaning unconvincingly in my mind’s eye.
It disgusts and scares me no end. I now look at my male friends in a whole new light – tinged with slight contempt and suspicion. Did harmless-christian-boy once throw his religion to the wind to sin? Has Mr fiona-you-look-great-tonight ever picked up some girl off Geylang for a quick wham-bam-thank-you-mam in a dinghy transit hotel?
Though I am full of admiration and respect for the women who trade their flesh for cold hard cash, I am unable to imagine how (and why) men can actually put off thinking about the fact that the very vagina that they are about to enter has been fucked raw by countless of other desperate men, not to mention the remnants of various bodily fluids deposited. Teeming with viruses and what-have-yous, no doubt!
How on earth they still get turned on, I do not know.
In happier news - SHELLY HAS GIVEN BIRTH! ALL HAIL JOSHUA !! =)
hello. my name is fiona. and i am a drunk.
i like to sway precariously between complete inebriation and temporary insanity while sucking furiously on dripping wet menthol cigarettes.