Finally I have changed a new blogskin for a more pleasing experience of my own reading pleasure. The old one seems so happy with colourful tulips. What in the world was I thinking? Maybe I was hoping to be more optimistic I don’t know. Truth to be told, I have an approximate 1000 millions of ” WHAT IN THE WORLD WAS I THINKING ?” moments.
Like seriously, sometimes I can’t believe why I willingly gave up hundreds of dollars for that piece of horrendously looking piece of clothing that I wore only once. Isn’t it more economical if I just went to a costumes store to rent one outrageous outfit to flaunt my undeniable sense of fashion? Over the years, I have been a lot wiser in spending money on clothes and any other inane necessities. In case you want to ransack my wardrobe for blackmailing reasons, you can be rest assured that all had been cremated and no ‘ Phoenix rising from the ashes’ scene is possible. I am still way too embarrassed by my old choice of clothes. After all, I can’t disappoint Anna Wintour after what she had painstakingly taught me over the summer when I was her slave for the Paris fashion week. Hur hur hur.
I still can never seem to forget the American Joker outfit for this shitty dinner organized by the organization before everyone was to fuck off, not excluding the animals and aliens unfortunately. There was this guy wearing the biggest costume of the night that literally turned many heads and generated countless mercilessly bitchy comments and I must admit I was one of the contributors. I shan’t go into details but I just don’t know how this dude got out of the house to the way too upscale venue for the animals to dine. Let us just pray that none of his next-door Ah Mahs got any cardiac attacks spotting him floating along the corridors. I really hope he took cab because with that outfit, half of the Singapore population would have fought for air in the train carriages or buses. I mean the whole outfit was so breathtaking. I really meant every letter. Breath-taking indeed. I, for an example, couldn’t breathe. Why I’m bringing this story which happened way in August was because of the colour theme his outfit donned, white and red and tinges of blue. Why am I bitching about him? You might wonder. But in actual fact, I am merely stating pure facts. He started to attack me in the first place you know. As usual, it seems like drama always follows me wherever I grace my presence. What happened was…
So, in order to spice up the dinner due to how lifeless and awkward it would be, the organization had cleverly put up a lucky draw to keep the ADHD monkeys sitting on their chairs else a stampede would occur during feeding times. I am not trying to be all high and mighty but I don’t give a fucking rat’s ass about the prizes seriously because I don’t really have luck in winning. The only thing I want is to win Singapore Sweep and I can retire peacefully in some suburban place in Melbourne. Oh dreams. Anyways, so half way through the thing, in the midst of bitching with the sorang gang, instead of reading out the lucky four-digit number, they called my name. Mind you, I don’t need that much needed attention as I already had enough to last for another lifetime. Low and behold, they asked me to dance to Lady’s Bad Romance while making a grand entrance to the stage to receive a cheap LCD screen. I am not saying I am unappreciative but I really don’t really want it while losing my self-image by dancing all the way to the stage. I’d rather peel a banana and sucking it all the way to the stage while marching like a real man. But dancing!?!? And you know how social dinners are like. Every chimpanzee, wild boar, pig, alien, dragon screamed and shouted and grunted and roared in an organized chaos. I had to shake my rock hard ass to receive the undeserving prize. Here is the finale, Celine- son of a motherfucking bitch, got so high on I don’t know what, ORDERED me to have an encore of my dance routine which is very private for my only exclusive clientele. I was fuming and all I can think in my mind was to throw this LCD screen right at his forehead. It was utterly horrendous observing how he was having a facial spasm right there under the beautiful chandelier. I wished someone cut the wires so the chandelier could bash his useless head into millions of pieces (cue Phantom of the Opera) before I did a full Chippendales number to celebrate this priceless and joyous occasion. That is how much hatred I have for that Celine. So of course I was showing very obvious signs of displease that Hougang and Stanford asked me to give it and just move for five seconds which seemed to be like an eternity because of the amount of rude flashes and noises reverberating across the entire Central Business District. I quickly wanted to repay my kindness to Hougang for the countless times he let me go for appointments and emergency leaves. Furthermore, Stanford seems like a nice chap, prolly because he is very new and did not take up ANIMAL BEHAVIOURAL SCIENCE during his Stanford days. Anyways, I know some heads turned when I dragged the prize out of the hotel because of its weight and mass and there was noone to chaperone me that night. Long boring story about my humiliating experience before I fucked off from the organization. A few days after the events, this American Joker texted me to sorta ‘ compliment’ on my dance move and stated that he recorded my whole DANCE performance for memories. Jesus Christ, that totally seemed like a threat to me. It is not as if I was doing anything inappropriate that any future self-esteemed institutions can use them to fire me or and statuory board can sue me for morally-degrading acts in public but I don’t want to be remembered 10 years down the road associating with my move. Henceforth, it is of natural reaction to retaliate with generally bitchy comments about his outfits as a very frail attempt to regain some of my self-worth on the marker index. He must have forgotten the basic knowledge of ’ action- reaction’ that is like at page 1 of Chemistry textbook during secondary school days. Okay, from his look, maybe he didn’t even get to go Science stream and scored some good grades for Design and Technology or Home Econ . Technical Education much. I have no ideas where he is now in case you’re wondering because the last time he texted me, I was too busy doing nothing and thus totally ‘ forgot’ to reply. Hur hur hur.
About useless acquaintances, I have someone else in mind as well. Like during the first gruelling 13 weeks in the organization, I hanged out pretty much with this lad for the endless bitching sessions. Till today I still think he is a very charming, funny guy and a parfait bitching companion. But I think that is about it. I don’t really call him my buddy because after the 13-week stint, we rarely kept in touch besides one or two nights out clubbing. A funny thing is that he always texted in a manner making me feel like he is my BESTEST buddy I ever had on Earth. I mean I really treasured the times we spent together in torrential downpour bitching to keep the clock ticking because during those periods, time seemed to halt to a standstill. It is of utmost importance during the seemingly darkest period of your life, it is a matter of life and death if you don’t have a wingman whom you can talk to. But imagine when you were not invited to his house Christmas party or received a much obliged birthday wish from him. You know how generously big my heart is right, and of course this case is not unusual for this plasticky polystyrene. I am a nice person. The occasional texts coming from him would always get replies from me without fail. But nothing more than that. He can forget about any birthday wishes coming from your Royal Highness. Okay, I’m not saying like my birthday greetings are attached with any kind of sparkles, fireworks, explosives, gold necklaces or bottles of irresistible Cliquot. I am as poor as a church mouse, St.Paul’s Cathedral one that is. But may I know where is his basic manner? Mayhaps it was excreted along with the green apple and cinnamon fruit bars while trekking in that isolated island. Fast forward, another very pleasant chap texted me to organize a small dinner to celebrate our much-anticipated exodus from the organization as we were the last bunch in the entire Singapore to fuck off.A few of us turned up including my best friend. We were strolling around the mall after dinner and our conversations were peppered with bitchy jokes which I surprisingly didn’t contribute to any ( are you proud of me ? hur hur ). Questions about the near future, current situation, skin care regime advice, memories and et cetera popped like popcorn hur hur. Till we passed by Billabong, this shameless BUDDY asked me to buy him a racer back singlet as a farewell present for all the past Christmases, birthdays, baby showers, funerals and whatnot. I was so shocked and in the rudest shock that is. But as a classy person who was brought up in a decent merchant class family, I smiled at him politely and commented on how nice that piece of clothing is and peeked quickly at the price tag ( cue Jessie J- It’s about the mah-nay mah-nay ). As an avid fan and obvious sucker for indiscriminate consumerism, I am aware of where anything in Billabong is hovering at even though they produce their stuff in many outsourced and dodgy places ( hint : Ch*na), coupled with the escalating inflation that is directly proportionate to the frequency of China accents blasting at almost every corner these days. In summary, your legal tender note that bears Yushof bin Ishiak is smaller in actual value though its monetary value remains intact or even better but only when you cross the causeways or board the planes. Digress much. So I was so well-behaved and asked , of course not forgetting my $400 million smile, ” Haha, would I get anything in returns?”
Till today I haven’t been able to forgive myself for not taking picture of how he pouted. It was a truly nausea-inducing moment right there in the middle of Billabong Raffles City. Even my own Mashimaro would take his hat off to pay respect to this BUDDY of mine. He didn’t even have the basic manner to wish me on my birthday via the social networking site and he could muster the courage to demand a fifty dollar gift from me unabashedly. I don’t know who could vouch for that kind of friendship but I simply can never look at that face with the same way I used to. I have no idea if the organization had engraved the core values on his smarty-pants skull but I am speaking with assurance that UNWAVERING SHAMELESSNESS was running across his forehead dotted with little red hungry dots ( pimples). And not forgetting to mention how he always boasts travelling overseas. I will only be jealous and if he travels in private jets with an entourage of hair stylist, make-up team ( which is much needed), chefs, PA, publicist and et cetera. Also, I will be crossed if bumping into him on the planes which also translates to how he upclasses himself through dodgy ways from Economy to Business to be next to me ( this part I was daydreaming hur hur, I can’t even afford a trip to the airport let alone boarding a plane). Many a time I wanted to compliment on how cheap flattering his 100baht-for-3 printed tees that he is usually spotted in but I refrained from being callous in social settings. I mean, honestly, who am I to say about him who stays in the exclusive residence located within walking distance to the most happening club in the sunny island. Wait, is it his? Hur hur hur I shall not comment any further.
Off the record, he invited me to one of his random party in the beginning of this year at the very last minute. I would rather stay at home and sing in front of the fan than be desperate to drag my gorgeous self out to his chateau because I may have nothing to be defined as attributes or assets, but for one thing that I know I do have that he for a million years later will never be able to achieve- basic manner.
I don’t know what got into me that I spend Christmas’ Eve blogging about random and insignificant people appearing into my life without any kind of invitation. I guess there are so many stories I want to write about this cursed 2011 and now is the best time to relive those memories. I would be disappointed if 2012 would be as bad. I will only be either satisfied or impressed depending on how 2012 will unfold in a few days’ time. Not disappointed as I have nothing to cling on for. Oh in case you’re wondering what s I have is Shania Twain, that gorgeous girl is so much better than Mark Twain. And I had a c just now also, cigarette. One. Stick.
Well, until I see you again. Happy holidays. Be merry like a cherry.
Yours fabulously,
T
