Tuesday, May 31, 2011

More about hair

My hair has always been stuck at shoulder-length or collar-bone length. It takes a millennia for it to grow any longer, so I get bored eventually, and chop it all off. However, lately I've been very patient. Mayhaps it's because of the whole waiting for life to begin thing I'm telling myself. Life has yet to begin, so be patient.

And so my hair grows, super-micro-millimeter by super-micro-millimeter. It's finally reached below my armpits. I'm not used to long hair, which is rather paradoxical because my hair didn't just suddenly become long with a snap. I should be accustomed to it being stuck to the straps of my bag, or clamped between my armpits (somehow it happens) by now, but I'm not. The last time my hair was this long was when I was ten -- a lifetime ago.

I'd like to see how long it would be before I get bored again. I'm trying to see if they'd reach my waist or something. It's a bit of a bother to keep, especially when it's wet. I also get a bit worried when I stand near a fan. I believe it was Final Destination part something or other, in which the girl gets her hair stuck in a blender and she is horribly, most horribly, sliced to death? Or was it some other teenage horror movie? Well, the image has been stuck in my mind ever since.

Oh, and last week as my mum was helping me color my hair, she noticed strands and strands of white hair. Woe.

A bit of a continuation from the previous post: I don't care if my uber-hot perfectly hairy guy is poor as balls, I will support him. He can eat my food and I can survive on dust and something that rhymes with mex. So if you see any guy resembling this:

Do let him know.

Monday, May 30, 2011

We can all dream...

I've decided to create a point system for when I choose a man, just for funs.

Height: 10 points for each 5cm taller than me. So, if he's 170cm, he gets 10 points. 175cm, he gets 20. And so on.

Body: 20 points if he is lean and mean, with a hint of body building. 10 points if he's just lean and mean. 5 points if he's skinny. -10 points if he's anorexic. -20 if he's got Arnie's hey-day body (over-the-top much). -50 if he's got a huge belly and much excess fat.

Hair: 20 points if he's got long-ish hair (which must suit him, of course). 10 points if he's got a mop on his head (which, again, must suit him). -20 points for a crew cut. They remind me of my neighbor.

Facial hair: 20 points if he's got a nice, well-trimmed set of mustache and goatee. 0 points if he hasn't got any. -20 points for chin beard or six strands of hair on his chin.

Hairiness on limbs: 10 points if he's evenly covered with hair. 5 points if it's only his arms and legs. 0 points if he's got even less body hair than what I've got.

Back hair: -5 points

Chest hair: 20 points for a comfortable carpet. 5 points for a meager covering. 0 points if none. -5 points if he's got six strands there which he refuses to a) cultivate more or b) shave off. -20 points if he's covered like King Kong.

Arse hair: -50 points. I know, I know, you can't help it and it's hard to shave there. But it's my point system and I'll rate it as I wish.

Use of facial products: 20 points for nice, sexy, musky aftershave. 0 points if none.

Self hygiene: 20 points if he showers twice or more times a day. -100 points if he showers only once in two days.

Drinking: 20 points if he drinks wine, brandy, whisky, or any of those, you know, manly drinks. 15 if he only drinks beer. 0 if he doesn't drink at all.

Smoking: 10 points. Period.

Tattoo(s): 50 points per tattoo (if nicely done). -100 points for tattoo of an ex girlfriend's name. -500 points if he's got Winnie the Pooh or some other cartoon character on his skin (especially on area above butt).

Personality: He can be a total airhead for all I care if he fulfills all those points. I've got brains enough for the both of us. However, I'll give him 100 points if he actually reads (Dan Brown not included. I don't know why, but I've got something against that guy) and listens to good old rock music (Hoobastank and Nickelback NOT inclusive).

You know, at the end of the day, the chances of me meeting someone who can score highly is pretty much non-existent. And yes, I've got a thing for hair.

Oh hot, cultured men, where art thou hiding?

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

On facial hair

See, I'm watching a show right now in which the main actor has the sexiest, sexiest facial hair growth. I wasn't really a big fan of facial hair before this. I guess it's because Chinese men who try to grow facial hair usually end up with six strands of hair on the chin. Very disturbing. Also, many of my friends who have graduated from six strands to twelve, tend to grow what I have found out to be a chin beard:

Chin beard, a.k.a. facial pubes

Looks embarrasingly like pubic hair, yes.

Men who have just the moustache tend to
a) Look like old men
b) BE old men
c) Look like pompous bourgeois asses

This example portrays all three options combined

So I've decided that my idea of perfect facial hair has to be not over the top, you know, and proportionate. Not too heavy on top, not too heavy on the bottom either. Keep it clean at the sides. Like this:

Bad boys so rock my world

Or this:


The only exception to bottom heavy is:

Not unless you're Brad Pitt you don't

And, well, if you can't seem to grow any facial hair, do shave off those six strands because they kinda spell M-E-A-S-L-Y.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Power outage Julia outrage

In the span of just one month, my house has been hit by power outages three times. It used to be once a year, but three times within a month is just too much. It made me feel as though I were truly living in a third world country where I had to carry water from a well and light candles at night as a source of light (well... it is still true for certain parts of the country methinks, e.g. Sabah and Sarawak, poor natives). I swear, one more power outage anytime soon would see me calling up the Tanzanian embassy asking them if it would be possible for me to migrate there. I'd just need a flint, a gun and an endless supply of bullets (for lions and hyenas and whatever else that wants to eat me alive), and toilet paper. Hard to imagine life without toilet paper. Since the electric supply is so erratic, what the heck, Tanzania sounds plausible. You don't need electricity in the savannah. When I get bored of running for my life, I'll just head to nearby Zanzibar. Perfect. Screw you, TNB.

After years of living in the savannah, I predict I would have devolved to this.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

It's been raining the whole day...

I wish I was on a (clean) beach under clear blue skies, dipping my feet in the (clean) ocean. This week really flew by, but that's because I've been so terribly busy.

Yesterday, I had back-to-back meetings from 7am till 9am. Too lethargic, I went to the games room to take a power nap at 10-something. It was too quiet for my liking, just the erratic buzz of the central air-conditioning, so I put on some Sergei Rachmaninoff and I fell asleep. The piano's fortissimo (I believe it was Prelude in C Sharp Minor) woke me up an hour later, and had me wondering where the hell I was. That power nap also gave me strange dreams -- that was the extent of my lethargy.

So, the conclusion of this post is, if you want to sleep, and you want some instrumental music playing in the background, Rachmaninoff is NOT the way to go.

Now, back to (a coupla hundred pages of edits) work.

Monday, May 9, 2011

I swear one of these days I'm gonna quit reading the news

The whole "We're gonna turn Malaysia into a Christian state!" bullshit had me spitting in anger. It's like people are purposely trying to be stupid. Those who believe what Utusan wrote are even stupider. And you know who are the stupidest? Those who believe what Utusan wrote and threaten to take action, giving warnings that they will breach our national security. Man... there goes like a couple of investors? I don't know. All I can say is, I can't wait for the elections.

And then I go the The Star Metro, and I see this:

Forced to cough up RM50 parking fee

THIS is a real case which happened in Penang. We went for dinner in Tanjung Tokong but as the restaurant’s parking lot was full, we parked our car at a nearby food court.

The car park staff took us to the food court’s parking space and as he did not ask for any parking fee, we walked to the other restaurant.

Upon returning to the parking lot, we were stopped by a group of men. One of them told us to pay RM50 parking fee since we did not eat in his food court.

We were shocked over the RM50 parking fee. The man then told us that it was written clearly in the banners that those who refused to pay would have their car wheel chained up.

One of the men then started to ‘lock’ our car wheel with a thick chain.

My friend tried to stop them, asking why they did not inform us earlier since they knew we were going to the restaurant next door. Now, you are just waiting for us to come back to pay the high fee.

The man replied that he had no time to see where the customers were going and scolded us for not seeing the notice.

But since he said the parking space was for the food court customers, we wanted to avoid paying the RM50 fee by going to the place to buy some drinks.

However, he did not want to accept it and ordered his staff to lock up our car.

He also shouted: “I am not scared if you ask state legislators, journalists or even a lawyer for help. You still have to pay!”

In such a helpless situation, my friend surrendered and paid up. This amounts to bullying but what can we do?

I believe we are not the only victims. It could have happened to your friends or relatives but they might not know where to channel their grievances. Please help to publicise this incident.



I mean, after going through the superlative of 'stupid', I'm out of words to describe this person! It's not like she went to Tanjung Bungah and got bullied into paying RM5 to some bum in order for her to park by the roadside because she wanted to go the beach. That, my friend, is retarded. No, she parked her car at a private property (for over an hour, mind you) and skipped off to the restaurant next door.

To me, that is equivalent to going to visit your friend, realizing that there is no place to park in front of your friend's house, and parking your car in front of some hapless stranger's house instead. I will publicize this incident alright. I will publicize her stupidity. Why am I so angry? This is because I have been the hapless stranger before. Idiots who want to frequent an eatery nearby sometimes park their car in front of my house, thus leaving me with no place to park my car. Even if I didn't want to park my car there and then, I still don't bloody like it if you park in front of my house! Idiotic.

That's not all. A few weeks ago, I read in The Star online that a woman was slapped because she double-parked her car in KL. Be it woman or man, whoever double-parks and is not attentive to whether the car inside wants to get out, should be slapped. Twice. Again, I had another personal experience with double-parkers. I'm really fine if you double-park, as long as you are there to move your car when I honk or whatever. I parked inside the compound of a shoplot near Queensbay and went for lunch. Lo and behold, when I got back, there was this white car in front of my car. I honked. Nobody came. I honked the shoplot down, and still, nobody came. In the end, I had to maneuver my car out of that parking space with skills my dad would be proud of. I tried to scratch the white car with my keys but didn't have the knowhow to leave any marks.

I don't know why I bother reading the news these days. Everything I read pisses me off.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Gnossienne No. 1

There were dreams we had when we were young, ambitions. When I was a child, I wanted to be a Paleontologist, I was obsessed about dinosaurs. I used to watch The Land Before Time every single damn day, till the VHS wore out. When Jurassic Park came out, it was like the event of the century for me. Top of my head, I still remember the name of the dinosaur with the longest neck (at that time, circa 1995), Mamenchisaurus. My favourite dinosaur was Triceratops, because it looked so badass with those horns.

Then I grew up a little, and I decided I wanted to be an Egyptologist. I was in absolute awe of a culture carved into the eternal rocks of history, so ancient and enduring. Also, reading The Mask of Ra by Paul Doherty influenced me further. However, home is pretty far from Egypt, and after a while, the sands of this dream blew out of my eyes.

After that, I wanted to be a historian, till I realized that there wasn't much to be made out of being one. So I did more growing up, and decided I wanted to go into journalism. I wanted to pursue a degree in Mass Communication. My mom hated the idea. She didn't think you really needed a degree to be a journalist. I suppose she's right, in a way.

After Form 6, I applied for local universities, and amongst my choices was English Literature. I've always loved reading, and literature was fun for me. And thankfully, it was the course that I got. I breezed through it, although the linguistics part was a pain in the ass.

But in all, what I'm trying to say is, it's a far cry from paleontology, literature is. And at this age, I don't know if I have any dreams left, because I've realized that dreams involve a gratuitous amount of money.

Listening to Satie's Gnossienne No. 1 just makes me so damn depressed. Actually, I believe all the Gnossiennes are depressing.