Mi Manchi

Crooning on my STEREO: Stand by Me by THE FUGEES

I may put salt into your coffee. Knock the kitchen cabinet over your head. Ask you lame questions such as how to peel a carrot.



Eat all your food. Salivate on your pillow. Use up your toilet roll. Bite your ear.



Drink like a horse. Cry like a kid. Flaunt my cellulite on the beach. Brag on and on about Foligno. Steal all your sheets.

I am useless, I know. And I am downright annoying.

But you still cared for me in your strange ways. Perhaps you do feel sorry for me.


I miss you, baby.

Suddden Death

Crooning on my STEREO: Non Puedo Explicar by LAURA PAUSINI

First of all, apologies for the update delay. My faithful 4yr old IBook died a sudden death the night before I took off for Rome. I am distressed. I have lost 4 years worth of hard drive memory in a blitzkrieg. Please refrain from sending me wreaths.

This is a metaphor of life's unpredictability. Anyone of us is prone to a heart attack any second from now.

Eeesh.

Morbidity aside. I assume that you guys are checking out this page for photos of my annual bash.


To suss out who went this year, fotografias are here. I wish I had more time to snap EVERYBODY, but i guess there is only so much you can drink and hold the camera steadily at the same time. And not to lose it.

If you are a busybody, piccies from the 2006 bash are here. And I gather that people were far more drunk last year.

OK. Short Post. I am now back home in Perugia. Savoring Umbria Jazz with my beloved Limoncello. And my boss will eventually fire me for taking a week off ad-hoc.

But Life Is Short.

Fudge career. At this point I don't need one. Play when you can. Whatever that makes you happy.

Ci Vediamo, i miei amici!!!!!!!!!!!

Stupido.

Crooning on my STEREO: King of the Bongo by ROBBIE WILLIAMS

You are Zeus. You have followers. They desire to live in the countries you have lived in. Travel to places where you have been to. Envy your belongings. Stalk your footsteps.

They aspire to be just like you. Or better than you.

My friends, I call those pagans who reside beneath your toes: worshippers.

I have very little respect for worshippers.

Then there is Venus. Goddess of self-perceived beauty aka. 'perasan-ness'. Women who would utilise the spineless nature of mortal men for their own gains. Women who would perceive themselves as a femme fatale, are actually those who are blinded by their own beauty. (inaccurately reflected by their warped Ikea-endorsed mirrors.)

Last week, I saw a very fine example of Venus which made me puke.

Not the razor, I mean.

My point is, you people make me laugh.

Yes, I have many kickass adventures. And I share them. What freaks me out so much is that I have inspired a number of naive fools to run away from home.

I am responsible for the dumb people I know who are flocking to illegal jobs in ulu areas of Spain. I am also responsible for a handful who are leaving their families behind to flock to Europe in search for eligible bachelors.

You guys are dumb, or what? You don't even speak the language. What do you know of their culture? And Europe has the same ratio of bad male species as anywhere else in the world. Stop dreaming, you cows.

Living is different from holidaying. Get Real. Stop running away.

Kids.

Hair. Because You Are Worth It.

Crooning on my STEREO: Amore Disperato by NADA

When I was 9


I had the same haircut till I was 19


Bleach stripped my hair of its virginity when I was 21,


and after a heated consensus, I decided to ditch those infamous dumb-blonde locks in my midst of turning 24.


As you can probably tell, I've only had 4 hairstyle changes in the last 23.8 years.

I AM GINGER!!!

Moving On

Crooning on my STEREO: Crazy All The Time by 33HZ

Dear concerned friends and curious enemies,

LET'S TOAST TO THE 200th POST ON THIS BLOG!!!!

Only God knows how I have kept this crapology alive for so long.

It's like feeding a carrot to an elephant.

In conjunction with this celebration of stupid sorts, I am in the midst of contemplating some earth-shattering decisions. Please include me in your respective prayers and kindly alert your local bomoh as I will be in need of some blessings.


Fret not. The drinking will continue. The madness will continue.

And I will be packing my bags once again.




Yours, with courage.
Senorita Lyn xxxxx







"Se l'amore, nomade benedetto, e tuo ospite, tienilo caro."

SUMMER

Crooning on my STEREO: Too Drunk To Fuck by NOUVELLE VAGUE



I ADORE SUMMER(s). It is the time of the year when everybody gets less pissy, less inhibited and more accomodating. The youths party. The adults picnic. The dogs play. The birds sing. The children annoy.

Sunburnt whales invade the beaches. Bikini anorexics exhibit their silicon cleavages. If you have lived in the Great Britain, you will marvel at the slightest indication of summer's coming.

Ahh.... those were my days of liberty: Skipping around Regents Park in discounted New Look summer dresses and H&M flip flops. Long live, London.

Okay. I am back in Kuala Lumpur. I love it here. But it is a little painful adjusting to a weather-less climate. To my fellow foreign friends:- I have said this many times, DO NOT BE DECEIVED BY THE POSTCARDS. BLUE SKIES DO NOT EXIST IN THIS CITY.

The sun, well, is something that the locals avoid. And if they see you basking in the sun in your little strapless dress, they'd laugh at your foolish obssession.

And there is no such thing as the monsoon season because we have been plagued by thunderstorms almost every other day.
Hence, you do not have to plan your holiday here on specific periods of the year - since we're gonna have sucky weather all year round anyway.

Truth is, my best summers were spent abroad. Minus those numerous drunkfests and decadent student summers, my happiest will always be Summer 2003; the year when I got out of uni and flew to Vienna to meet my family. We then embarked on a month long holiday through Austria and Switzerland via the Glacier Express.



I saw somethings so sublime that I was ready to die in the mountains. No, it wasn't a yoddler.

Back to the distasteful present. I took a day off last week as a partial-recuperation from Champion's League, followed by an impromptu doc's visit over a suspicious tumour in my body. As I did my first ultrasound, I thought," Damn, I have had so many wicked summers.... if luck is a bitch I could be spending mine in a WARD this year."

No. No. Of course Not. Damn You.

So I planned my summer vacations asap. I am going to the beach. I am going home in August. And I will be spending more time on real charity. Together with a loved one, we have even charted optimistic plans for the next 12 months.

Well, value your life. On top of that, you should also stop listening to stupid things that stupid people say to you. A smart alec once looked at my palm and said, 'Oh, hun... I hate to tell you this, but you are going to have a difficult life.'

My life actually got very good after that.

I Don't Want To Sleep Alone

Crooning on my STEREO: A Ballad For My Little Hyena by AFTERHOURS

We all have issues with trust. You don't trust your postman. You think your husband is cheating on you. You suspect that your son is oogling porn sites on the internet. You think your cat may eat your fish. You don't like Bush. You don't trust Alam Flora collecting your garbage on time.

You see, I have always been a fiercely loyal person. I live by a kindergarten formula: Be nice to me, and I will be very nice to you. And it takes a very simple betrayal to break that pact.

If you stab me with a blade, I will slash you with a scythe.

In fact, this is a bargain; you give me some and I will give you MORE. Faham?

Of course, life is not as anal as it seems. This scene from Bali has taught me about the beauty of co-existence.


Woman sleeping beside python.
(And I can testify that both woman and snake are very much alive.)

Salvation does exist in this world. If a reptile is able base its trust on Man, they share a mutual understanding that one will not harm the other.
This illustrates that trust transcends words. It is simply built on instinct.
If I am able to bring myself to sleep beside you, I wouldn't expect you to strangulate me in my sleep.

Speaking of such, I am not encouraging you to sleep with your enemy.

Building a comfortable level of trust between two parties is never instantenous. It takes an awful amount of time. Years. Or even decades.

Sometimes, you simply can't bring yourself to trust a particular person.

We all have our fair share of disappointments. There was a girl I knew who constantly whined/ exaggerated on the cruelty of the people around her, and how she is unable to progress in her life as a consequence.

All I could say to her was, no matter how many bastards and bitches we encounter in our lifetime, we just have to move on.

Life is a domesticated bat. You were once wild, but you were held captive.
And in order to survive, you have to trust your captors.



Off tangent, you may even have to fight for your right to co-exist with another being.
I call this: the passionate pain of love and hate.

Odio ed amore.

And I am fighting it. Because I love him.

Questa Primavera

Crooning on my STEREO: Pledging My Love by JOHNNY ACE

During one of my carefree days in St. Petersburg, I taunted a generic statue of Cupid to his face. I said, "You are a selfish prick. How many more times do you intend to wank me?" The museum guards chased me out. Nah, kidding. Cupid gave me a Russo-passive smirk which insitgated my desire to hack his pretty face. No, no. I have to give credit to anger management.

Fast forward a few months. And if you may recall, I wrote an extremely emo post sometime back in December 2006. And yes, I displayed my vulnerability. And I exploded my sob story to the world that all the men I was involved with were either pissers, bastards or the type of assholes that are featured in Cleo's Annual Eligible Bastards.

Well, Cupid's wanking came to a halt. Through an intense chapter of meeting a significant other, I have found strength in life through love.



Love is a strong entity. And unconditional. My mother once told me that a long distance relationship is a test of maturity. The test is even greater when he is, let's say, your first love.

This Spring is one of the most beautiful. After a series of exhaustive work travels to Bangkok and Cannes in the past few weeks, I detoured and returned to Perugia. My incentive came in the form of four days.

And I found myself attempting to freeze time.

The whole process became sublimely sad, but devastatingly beautiful. I recall leaving Nice with a schoolgirl's grin, to sharing a kiss with him on opposite walkalators in Fiumicino. Then there was the train ride where he pointed out Cinecitta to me; a place that is incredibly close to my heart and dreams.

From then on, everything was perfect. It was so perfect.

But, like your typical Korean soap, a happy duo had to part. That dreadful feeling is familiar, i was overwhelmed by the same fleet of thoughts as the time when I had to leave home for a few semi-unproductive years in Britain.

I miss him. I miss being with him. I never knew that Nuotando Nell'aria can be the song that can shatter my fragile soul. Reason being; he had whispered the lyrics into my ears the night before I left.


Cupid has thrown me into an Orpheus-inspired labyrinth of questions. Why am I stressing over the pending deal of a nonsensical TV programme? Who gives a damn if your fax had not reached your supplier in time? Why do you even bother with friends who backstab and those leaches who lick the arses of society?

I took some time off in Bali. Everything was nice. But I longed to smile the way I did when I was with him a few weeks ago.



But life has always been good to me.

Generic Girl Talk

Crooning on my STEREO: Kiss Me by CANARY

I am back from slogging in Bangkok. A friend and I were discussing the touchy issue of toxic friends and we compared notes on some generic whining sessions that we had to endure from girlfriends.

Of course, girl emo sessions can be forgiven as mere PMS attacks.

But when it becomes a HABIT, boy, we have to jump the bridge.

Read on and tell me if this sounds familiar to you:-


Girl: I am so depressed.

Me: Why?

Girl: I am so ugly.

Me: But you are fine. Why do you say this?
Me thinks: I hate to sing unnecessary praises at unnecessary times. But when you have a sobbing friend on the other line, this should be the most appropriate thing to say to stop her from downing Baygon.

Girl: Nobody likes me.....

Me: Oh no no... dont say that...
Me thinks: I have just been insulted.
Translate: SHE IS SAYING THAT YOU DONT LOVE HER. SHE IS TELLING YOU THAT THE WORLD, including your baby brother, IS PLOTTING EVIL AGAINST HER.
To put this into perspective, why does a sobbing fool have to call you if she knows that you wont give two hoots about her sorrows?

Girl: You know, no boys will ever like me. Because I am UGLY. Nobody ever looks at me. I will never have a boyfriend ...etc etc...

Me: Thats not true... you will never die a spinster.
Me thinks: Lord help me. Why do you chicks delude yourselves into thinking that life is all about finding a dude?

Girl: I don't know why boys do not like me...

Me: Ermmmmm
Me thinks: Well, you know the answer. You just said that YOU ARE UGLY;

Girl: I mean, you will never understand.... you have a guy and all. And I have nobody....

Me: Yeah, of course I know that I am fortunate.
Me thinks: Of course I don't understand you. If a shitfaced bitch like me has done good for myself, any specie without a dick can do the same. Woman, stop whining and just put in some effort.

Girl: But the guys here are useless. They will never appreciate me...

Me: Maybe it is in their culture... some sort of trend going for anorexic pan-asian chicks...
Me thinks: No matter how hideous you are, it is highly easy to get a caucasian fling if you are not choosy. You know those balding men at Beach club? Or head to an obscure town in Greece and the local boys will drool over your exotic-ness.

Malaysian dudes aren't so bad. Yes, there is the shallow bastardy 70% lot. But there is also the humble lot. Give them a chance. The ones who avoid you are the ones who probably sensed your desperation. They are not stupid, y'know.

Girl: Sigh.. I don't know anymore...

Me: Just rest and you will be okay.
Me thinks: You have nothing more to whine about. So shut up. And this will give me a break from being overly condescending.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY:

STOP COMPLAINING. BE THANKFUL THAT YOU ARE NOT DEFORMED.

Jeez.

MARCH PMS

Crooning on my STEREO: Splendido Splendente by RETTORE

Five things to BLOW UP on:-

1) I've got YELLOW TEETH .
Yes, it is due to the excessive tea drinking.

2) I do not have ample strength to clear my SMS(es) within a week.
There is not enough of memory space on my cranky phone.

3) My skin is morphing into a mouldy chocolate shade.
There's not enough of sun in this country.

4) Arsenal and Liverpool.
I'd rather have Crouch kick my ass than Christina.

5) F1 - Who on earth is Hamilton?!??!
Y'see, I had a lovelorn history with Mclaren. Until Hakkinen eloped. And Kimi stabbed us in the back.

I need RED BULL.