SORROW

Crooning on my STEREO: If I Aint Got You by ALICIA KEYS

As of this morning, my heart hath been shattered.

You know, it is that sort of screeching pain that grazes across those running artileries that enter your corazon.

Right now,

I am in despair.

I am in agony.

I am in utter PAIN.

And this painstaking bitterness is too familiar.
Some may even have to go through it more than TEN times. What poor things.

Or in my case, TWICE within 6 months. TWICE.


FIRST, IT WAS ARSENAL .

And now,


SPAIN IS OUT.


Fuck the world.

Return In Peace

Crooning on my STEREO: We Be Burnin' by SEAN PAUL

It is funny how my illness has kept me away from the gym for 2 weeks, robbed 10 shades off my tan and turned me into a reluctant omnivore. Not to mention the sudden withdrawal of daily alcohol from my system has transformed me into some sort of nervous wreck in a desperate need for rehabilitation. In this course of recovery, the lack of protein adds to my lethargy, and this means that I've been sleeping through 30% of the World Cup matches played so far. I even drove my car into a ditch.

THAT SUCKS

In the midst of all that sick slumber, I noticed a pretty cool headgear:



Want one for yourself?

EASY.

You can get a similar net from your local fruit store.
Place it over your head.
One size fits all.

World Cup FEVER

Crooning on my STEREO: Malo by BEBE

I am typing this bedridden. No, really. I mean, YES, REALLY.

It is painful. I can't EAT. I CANT TALK. I CANT DRINK. I CANT HEAR. I CANT WATCH THE TELLY WITHOUT NAUSEA POISONING MY HEAD.

I am paralysed.

I haven't had a slab of steak in THREE DAYS. I haven't drank a plain ol' glass of water without yelling like a yeti every morning.

IT IS FUCKING PAINFUL, OKAY?

England is playing tonight and I am hospitalised in my room overdosed on painkillers. In fact, I have been sleeping for the past three days and I could barely keep my eyes open for the Germany match. I can imagine all my friends bawling it out at Souled Out with endless pints of Guinness WITHOUT ME.

Guess what? Today Doc told me there it will probably take at least another week before my life returns back to normal. She then gave me an extra boost of antibiotics on my BUM. And I probably have to keep doing so until that godforsaken sore goes away. And everyday, I have to wake up to the fact that I CANT EAT, I CANT TALK, I CANT DRINK, I CANT HEAR AND I CANT PLAY FUTSAL WITH MY DOGS ANYMORE.

I AM IN PAIN

And instead of wishing that the boy i fancy will eventually return my unrequited love or that friend who suddenly turned cold towards me will explain his reasons... I DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THESE JERKS ANYMORE.

There is only one thing I ask,

I WANT MY HEALTH BACK

Telenovela Especial

Crooning on my STEREO: Because I Got High by AFROMAN


If I could produce a TELENOVELA of my life in the month of MAY, it would (undoubtedly) consist of the following elements:-

- BETRAYAL

- ADULTERY

- MURDER

- PASSION

- BITCH FIGHTING

- ALCOHOL OVERDOSE

- DECADENCE

- LIES

- HYPOCRISY

- "GOL DAN GINCU"

- BANKRUPTCY

- PROSTITUTION/ PIMPING

- HATRED

- THEFT

- ARSENAL

- DESPAIR


Come on, folks! I know that you are all DYING to witness this perfect mix of scandal at my expense.


Well, it IS happening.

SUDDENLY, LIFE IS NO LONGER A BORE

10 REASONS WHY ALCOHOL IS GOOD FOR YOU

Crooning on my STEREO: Tequila Sunrise by CYPRESS HILL

I am speaking of drinks that can fuck up your brains. You know, drinks that get you high and consequtively fuck around with your moods. Nah, drugs aint no good. Give me 2 Long Islands and I can be friendly with the car jockey.

Reason #1
Alcohol gets you HIGH. HIGH = HAPPY. I like. We all like to be happy. Who doesn't?

Reason #2
Alcohol enables you to CONQUER THE WORLD. Or so you think. It is okay to fantasise your abilities and delude yourself into achieving something close to it. In other words, you finally summon the courage to speak to that hot bloke by the bar.

Reason #3
Tequilas and vodkas have one thing in common: they taste like car petrol. Nothing wrong with that though. Just that downing quantities is considered a social feat... after downing 5 shots in a row you will earn the respect of your shallow friends and random strangers.

Reason #4
Alcohol is the best remedy for heartaches. Speaking from experience here, why do you think I am writing this in the first place?? Damn you, mankind.

Reason #5
Alcohol earns you friends. Serious. Go to clubs after 2 am and you realise that random strangers are cradling your waist and men are more willing to open doors for you rather than to slam them right in your face when they are sober.

Reason #6
Alcohol is a form of medicine. Okay, thats bullshit. But I swear I recovered from a flu after throwing up excessive alcohol. Ooops.

Reason #7
Storing several bottles of imported beer in the fringe gives you the reassurance that if you ever hit any form of anxiety, help can be found in the kitchen.

Reason #8
If you can't sleep, drink 500ml of Absolut and I guarantee you instant pass-out.

Reason #9
Alcohol brings out your hidden desires. That is, if you refuse to dance to Kylie's 'Locomotive Song'.... 3 bottles of alcopop will certainly delude you into grooving foolishly. Even if they play KRU's 'AWAS' or Siti Nurhaliza, you'd still groove. In front of your crush. Without shame.

Reason #10
Most people testify that I am a BETTER person whenever I am intoxicated.

That's hot.

DATE WANTED

Crooning on my STEREO: Bump Bump Bump by B2K

In case you are wondering, I managed to source for an alternative job to supplement my life's monotony. Please embrace this SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT.

WOULD YOU LIKE TO DATE HIM?


Come on, show my nice friend some LOVE.

He is CUTE, POLITE, INTELLIGENT and WACKY.

Well, that's what I think anyway. I have such brilliant taste so you can certainly TRUST me on this.

INTERESTED?

CALL ME, LEAVE A COMMENT OR E-MAIL ME to arrange for a date. A group date if you'd prefer.

SATISFACTION GUARANTEED OR LYN WILL BUY YOU A FANTASTIC ROUND OF DRINKS.


I bet you lot forgot that I am a professional pimp. I am looking forward to my big fat paycheck for this...

1,2,3,4,5,6

Crooning on my STEREO: Tears and Rain by JAMES BLUNT

TIME: 1:02:03 a.m
DATE: 4.05.06

Dear Diary,

Okay. I am not writing this exactly at 1:02:03 a.m. They were raving about this auspicious date and time where it only coincides once in a few hundred years. While some lucky friends of mine got their marriage proposals, let me enlighten you with what I did that night.

I had the entire house to myself. Sis is happilly in Europe while parents were holidaying Down Under. American Idol was on telly, so I was inspired to create a solo rendition of 'ALL BY MYSELF' in the karaoke room downstairs. Truth said, I souded like a wailing pig in the slaughterhouse.

As I couldn't reach the high notes, I choked out all my unpleasant memories and summoned the courage to gulp down half a 1 litre bottle of Smirnoff. Honestly, it was such an amazing feat because it tasted like car polish.

Well it got me pretty high for a start.

So I decided to switch off my mobile phone. Ignored the house phone. Unplugged the internet.

I locked myself in that room. No, I aint gonna slice my wrists with a butter knife.
I dimmed the lights and hallucinated Randy, Paula and Simon's presence a few feet away from my microphone stand. I chose 'SOMETIMES WHEN WE TOUCH' as an opening number. Well, I rocked it. I bet I could kick Fantasia's arse when it comes to screaming out dynamic notes.

So I gulped down some leftover cooking wine.

HELL YEAH.

My next attempt? 'THE END OF THE WORLD'. Phwoarrr... exploded with so much of emotion. Man, I swear I can do a kick ass cover of this song.

I downed a glass of random brandy I found at the bottom of the bar sink. Whatever. So I decided to croon a highly emotional number:- 'NEVER BEEN TO ME.' So emotional that it got the neighbourhood dogs barking. Even my own dogs were embarrassed to woof for a start.

Next on, I scrurried for a pretty ancient bottle of rum in the hindsight. god knows where that came from. At that point, my vision was pretty screwed up, so anything in a bottle HAD to be alcohol. Tasted shit but what the hell. So I grabbed the mike, stood on the couch and did the ultimate encore: - 'FLYING WITHOUT WINGS'.

Now, thats gay.

Slouched on the couch and on the verge of puking, I decided to put my self-induced poisoning to a HALT. It was 3 am and I've got to screw myself in the office the next morning.

WHATEVER.

Guess what? I am single.

FACE JOB

Crooning on my STEREO: Pump It by BLACK EYED PEAS

I have been thinking about a possible FACE JOB. Everyone's talking about it at the workplace.

Of course, when you're caged in a mistakenly glamorous industry, having pretty little face WORKS WONDERS. People will be generally nicer to you, clients will pursue you, you get deals done, you get a phenomenal payrise and your boss wont be inclined to use your pretty little face as a punchbag.

(Rather than to wait years for him to bloom into a decent-looking swan, the Ugly Duckling would have speed up the process by resorting to surgery so that the other ducks in the pond will be more compassionate towards him from the start. Don't you just LOVE this shallow world? )

But hey, might as well throw in a course of full body LIPOSUCTION . And leg extensions, too? I'd love a boob job as well.

By now you would have noticed that I am (was) a failed actress. I don't doubt my acting skills though.When I attended auditions in Malaysia, they specifically said they would prefer a PAN ASIAN for the job. Even one who resembles a mongloid will suffice. Oh, they even lovingly advised me to lose 75% of my body mass.

Back in London, I swear I could have scored a cameo in the DA VINCI CODE but casting agents said they would rather hire someone is a UK citizen. FINE. The best of all, they complained I didn't look ORIENTAL enough.

But not all hope is lost,
I DO HAVE A SOLUTION.

Instead of sitting on my butt and propagating my woes to the world, I shall take ACTION.

I shall transform my current monstrosity to inspire the world to LOVE me.



COSMETIC SURGERY.
THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL.



I bet you took me seriously..... Didn't you? ;)

Still Here...

Crooning on my STEREO: Do You Only Wanna Dance by MYA

Walked into a long-lost friend the other day.

And this was what she said to me

"Wow, you... look.. so... different....

I mean,

YOU LOOK LIKE GERI HALLIWELL."



Honestly,

I really don't know what to make of it...

Lights! Camera! Action!

Crooning on my STEREO: 2 Become 1 by SPICE GIRLS

Stop giving me that flak. I've got SPICE GIRLS on my stereo. Oh, damn it.


I am walking towards the red carpet at the Palais Des Festivals. Guess what?

I FORGOT MY DIGITAL CAMERA

Thank the almighty for the inbuilt camera on my mobile phone. Well, the battery did NOT last very long.

IT DID NOT SURVIVE THE C.S.I MIAMI LAUNCH PARTY.

And NO ONE WOULD HAVE BELIEVED THAT I PARTIED WITH DAVID CARUSO.

Damn it. This ALWAYS happens to me. There is not a single photo evidence of my claims to fame everytime I hit a close encounter with any celebrity at any point of my life.

(To name a few: Westlife (2x), Sam Neil, Ricky Martin, Jenson Button (2x), Seal, Fernando Alonso, Jarno Trulli, David Coulthard (2x), Eddie Irvine, Gael Garcia Bernal (2x), Stanley Tucci, Sean Biggerstaff, Colin Farrell, Giancarlo Fisichella and dozens dozens dozens of others....... sigh.)

Tough luck with my camera. As a result,
NOBODY BELIEVES ME.
*wails*

My resolution? Time to get myself a slinky camera with a longlasting battery life. And to implant a memory grain onto my head so that I will actually REMEMBER to bring it with me everywhere I go.