Home In The City

Crooning on my STEREO: World, Hold On by BOB SINCLAIR

Just a thought. Apart from translating Il Divo lyrics during class, I've been dreaming about Bob Sinclair.

Oh, he is so HOT.

I've spent the whole night crooning to his stuff, and intoxicated myself to believe that he is somewhere in town. You know how alcohol makes you believe the unbelieveable.



And since everyone's been wondering what my Perugian flat looks like, the pissed picture above should give you a vague idea. I am not complaining.
Too bad you can't smell the stench from the cook-in I had with my friends last night. Imagine, one of them were even chopping vegetables on the floor.



Horror of all horrors...
At least they did the cooking!

I am pretty fortunate to have my own pad in the city center. Not that Perugia is a buzzling metropolis, you'd be pleased to know that this is the exact view from the my window.

I know what you are thinking.

It's less haunted than you think.

The advantage of living in the city is that most people knows where you live. If anyone ever pops into town you're bound to have a visitor or two. My flat is virtually a pit stop; people come in for a nap, snacks, watch MTV or to use my internet. Yes, I am proud to be running a gas station.

This is when the STALKER comes into picture. Because EVERYBODY seems to know where that Malaysian chink girl lives, a certain Russian/Italian dude (who was a friend of a friend) decided to tail me from house to school and via all means of mobile communication. I am too lazy to elaborate here... most of you (who were constantly online on msn) would have followed the 2 day drama when I had to hide in the bathroom and under the table.

Note the past tense. I told him that I was lesbian (in Italian) and he backed off. For now.

Why didn't I think about that earlier???

My first case of a short-term stalker took place this time last year in Malaga, Spain. I had gone to the campus pub and had a friendly conversation with 18 year old Spanish dude and his friend (coincidentally captured in the background of this half-drink picture we took on that night).

Heaven knows why both dudes decided to tail us back to the hostel and played guitar outside my room till 5am. Everytime I walked out to tell them to shut it, they insisted on me following them home. For fux sake they were underaged, so I left them alone.

Courtesy of their serenade everyone on my block had little sleep that night.

This time, the Russian stalker was less romantic. There were stones thrown at my window etc.

In relation to this drama my sister was telling me about a film by Tarkovsky aptly named Stalker. After that I was feeling all nostalgic and looked through some vacation photos we took in St. Petersburg, Russia.



This picture struck me.

The bar boy looked a little familliar..

Miracle At Assisi

Crooning on my STEREO: Muneca de Trapo by LA OREJA DE VAN GOGH

BENVENUTO A ASSISI

Well obviously I got back safe and sound. Despite the miserable amount of Italian I speak, I managed to hop on the right busses and to pinpoint the right pilgrim route to reach the Basilica of St Francis. Even the granny pilgrims climbed the hill faster than I did...


The entrance of the basilica. It's on the slope y'see, and I tempted to perform a little dance to see if anyone would notice me.

(I can't be arsed to edit and photoshop the photographs as most arty farty travel geeks would do. Therefore so you'll have to bear with the purest form of naturalism in my photgraphy.... )


Monks leaving their classes. I was tempted to hand them some happy-hour-pub-flyers. I wonder if they will be quite fun to party with.


The great Umbrian view from the fortress. I am beginning to believe that I will be constantly climbing hills for the rest of my Italian stint.


Then I walked into a medieval knight who was more depressed than I am. Even his horse was pretty down, too. A happy-hour-pub-flyer for him!


Two miracles took place here. My good friend Francis (who later became the patron saint of Italy) was born on this very spot. Secondly, my prayer was answered almost immediately after I made a silent prayer in the chapel.

My prayer was simple: I NEEDED A TOILET.

Yes. Like a true pilgrim I had walked the the entire village of Assisi with a loaded bowel. THERE WERE NO TOILETS ALONG THE PILGRIM ROUTE
When my bowel was about to leak I desperately wailed before the altar, and someone up there had instant mercy on me. :)

A stray toilet appeared miraculously just outside the chapel.


Every good occurance had its payback. It started to rain. I found a shelter in a nativity house next to an obscure crypt. For once I felt quite tall. (I might have knocked down a few of the figurines though...)


This man felt sorry for me because I looked foreign and alone. Then again, I AM FOREIGN AND ALONE. I told him that there is nothing to feel sorry about.......

*Being alone is better than getting stalked*

Then again it is easier stalk someone who is alone, right?

To numb this fear I need marijuana. God, how I miss Amsterdam.



Explains why I have been indoors so much lately. I will tell you about the Russian stalker. Soon.

Cosi Cosi

Crooning on my STEREO: Diras Que Estoy Loco by MIGUEL ANGEL MUNOZ

Of Course,

I wished I had maintained a journal like this during my Andalucian stint last year. Blame it on laziness. All I wanted to do was drink, sleep and lie on the beach. Well I did just that. No wonder I had nothing to write.


Back then I probably found it arduous to translate fun and all its glory into words. Then again, I was lazy. And being lazy was fun.

Fast forward to a year later, I found myself in a medieval Umbrian village. I told myself, and I keep telling myself in the likes of St. Francis; YOU NEED THESE THREE MONTHS TO DO SOME DEEP THINKING

And that means, in all that solitude, I should not be lazy. I gotta keep that fat lardy brain active.

Okay, back to the Italian adventure.

Just when I was about to hit depression due to the lack of alcohol since my arrival, a kind local friend chaperoned me to one that is deemed as the biggest danceclub in town. And it came with a strangely familliar name of VELVET.

Yes, VELVET. The name is that is so synonymous to HOME.


But nope. To my anticipated despair our Perugian Velvet pales shamefully in comparison to my beloved M'sian Velvet.

Think: topless gay men pretending to be straight. Oh, come on.

Even worse when you're groped by the un-straighter specie. Oh hold on, they don't grope you, they want you to grope them! that's fucked.

Either the crowd was bizarre or I looked like a butch. Nope. No unflattering pictures from that night.

The very next day, I pulled the tourist mission of exploring the Old Town Center. After wandering through loops and dark morbid corners, I found myself 475meters above sea level.



WOW

And to prove that I was there, I had to do the whole cam whore thing. Such is the price of travelling solo:



I could ramble on about the old town center but I have three months to do just that. As I will be catching a train to Assisi in an hours time, I think I should really make a move. Where the hell is the bus stop? Which bus to take to the station? Is it going to rain?

Again. I do not have a map with me. ...

I will leave you with a picture of Moscow for the time being. Yup, I was there last month for 3 weeks and I did not blog about it.



Tetris, anyone?

Italian Faerie

Crooning on my STEREO: The Only Difference Between Matyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage by PANIC! At The Disco

Once upon a time,

A foolish girl left for the pilgrim mountains of Perugia. Why? Because she is dumb. Because a kind institution granted her a rare opportunity to re-live the impoverished life of a student. Being a true Malaysian, she devoured the F.O.C offer in guise of an attempt to escape her existing man troubles.



Thus she quitted her media job. Graduated in style. Went to the Soviet Union. Came back. And forced herself to leave her beloved 2nd home in Velvet Underground behind. How painful.

Not knowing a word of its local dialect, oblivious of its choco-culture and traffic rules; she plunged headsdown into the chilly valleys of Umbria. She reluctantly turned her back to all sentimentality, and carried nothing but an open heart to a town far from Fellini-esque Roma. (okay, with the exception of her laptop and ipod... )

She found herself a medieval residence in the obscure corner of the supposedly haunted town, which conveniently faces a scaffolded construction site. Every morning, she greets the builders as she opens her windows for breath of fresh mountain air. Builders are fascinated by her laptop that ocassionally blasts JT's 'SEXY BACK' in the afternoons. And her curtain-less bathroom.

Then she figures how to boil water from a saucepan, sleep in murky duvets and clean chimneys.... not to mention mapping her way around over 30 steep and narrow street alleys. Without a map.



And of course, nobody there speaks English. Back to the Middle Ages.

WELCOME TO PERUGIA

This is the beginning of a new life for the next three months.

Leaving Again

Crooning on my STEREO: Te Busque by NELLY FURTADO

I can't write anymore. I just can't. I am beginning to think that my dyslexia is devouring my organic brain right left and center.

I finally left my workplace. Check out the horrendous glee in my piggy-dancing performance on the last day of office. God, I must have been such a pest.



And yeah, you've guessed it right, the cubicle (swarmed with delicious visuals of studs) in the background belong(ed) to me. Jenny, the girl who doesnt look too amused, inherited some of my professional rubbish.

Check out the lovely farewell card:-



I feel so loved. Thanks my lovelies :)

I am rushing off to the airport now and will be gone for three weeks. Not that anyone will miss me that much, I just thought I will leave my clubbing buddies a memorabilia of a certain hottie in the background.... (nope nope.. not Matt.. haha! )



Last but not least... a little tribute to my favourite clubbing buddy (SLUTIRAH)... who has tolerated my drunken antics in her car (and vice versa) for the past 4 months!

(was supposed to post your pic here... but my wifi died on me and I have to make do with no pic.... sigh)

BYE NOW.... TAKE CARE AND SEE YOU IN THREE WEEKS!!!!

In case you cant tell, I am rushing like mad here..

Enlightenment

Crooning on my STEREO: Trouble Sleeping by CORRINNE BAILEY RAE

You know when the world (or YOU) hath gone slightly wrong when:-

1) Paris Hilton releases a summer single.

1 a) When you see Paris Hilton's picture on this blog.

2) You are given free tickets to the Malaysian Film Festival.

3) Kelly Chen tops the Hong Kong pop charts by flaunting anorexia.

4) You admit to fancying a juvenile bloke from CLICK 5IVE.

5) Reyes falls out with Fabregas and is desperate to leave Highbury.

6) You refuse to remove your patriotic flag from your gate eventhough the World Cup hath long gone..

7) Your boss sets you up on blind dates with older men.

8) You have a cameo appearance on a skincare programme that will be broadcasted on national telly. And you are praying ultra-hard that nobody spots you.

9) You go around bragging that your ex-boyfriend was a duplicate of Chris Martin. Without the dosh.

10) You are thinking of organising your farewell bash at no other place than the infamous Beach Club.

11) You delude yourself by claiming that you will never get smashed with an entire jug of Long Island.

12) There are psychotic stalkers of this never-updated blog.

13) Your futsal mates are never going to turn up for any futsal matches

14) Your schedule is fully booked for the next 14 days. (waiting list available upon request, cheh...)


15) Lyn has ceased to update her blog weekly. Even fortnightly. Probably monthly.

I seriously need to chill.

08.07.06

Crooning on my STEREO: Promiscuous Woman by NELLY FURTADO

Okay, say hello to the mother of all drunkfests...


LYN'S ANNUAL SUMMER BASH @ VELVET UNDERGROUND 2006!!!!!

Endless bottles of Smirnoff Reds, a smashing bass and an overflowing guestlist...
I'd like to thank the 60++ guests who turned up and rocked the PARTAYYYYYYYYY!!!!

I hate to turn his into a slut blog, but because I owe a whole lot of you pictures from that night, I am going to post a handful up here. You are going to be so sick of seeing my face in every photograph.

Cousins Sharon and gorgeous Sarah kickin' up the night!!!

Everybody seems to be involved with Shopping Queen Stephanie in some way or another.

Clubbing buddy Jen and I share the same foolishness for good-looking bastards... but hey, its their loss right??

Drinking buddy/ cousin Kev 'Yum Chao' and lovely Denise forcing Jack Daniel's down my throat... and yet I wasn't pissed for the night, bah!

Party gals Su Yong and Kristy.... half way through to intoxication!

The pretty GIS clan: Aaron, Kaveh, Su Yong and Stef... and I just realised I'd poured half a glass of lychee martini all over my top.

My dearie Syat on a high as you can see through her mystical eyes... hoi, they are contact lenses!!!!!!

Kenny and wife, I owe the party to them for getting me 10 extra spaces to accomodate my neverending guestlist!! Love you both!!

Dee and I remains comparitively sober.... nothing beats THAT night out in London *cough*

My favourite director Pit with all respect to his dreadlocks... he promised to sort mine out one day!!!
--------------------------------

Armed with a retarded camera, shame I couldn't snap pics of everyone who was there. But there are more bash pics on my desktop, drop me a bell if you want copies!!!

Last but not least, in spite of all that drunken decadence.....
I had a great time. :)

This is the first time 10 years that I've thrown a massive bash to boost my self esteem. Ladies and Gentlemen, Thanks for coming.

06.07.06

Crooning on my STEREO: Geek in the Pink by Jason MRAZ

I have been neglecting this blog. And no one really pops by anymore. That's because I've been neglecting your blogs. Sorry. I have been spending the last 300 hours away from blogger-world, dedicating my time to fellow humans in the real world. But you have to forgive me for that. If I don't visit your blog, you probably wont visit mine. It is fine with me.

Back to the real world, I found it bizzarre how there are people who actually wanted to celebrate my existence in this world.

Check out this smashing surprise in my office one fine morning...

IT IS AN APPLE CRUMBLE!!!!

My dearest collegues Andrea and Elaine fed the entire workplace with food that got all of us sugar high. Well, I blew my ambitious diet down to a size 10 for that weekend. I may be devastated with my ever-increasing flabby thighs,

BUT I STILL LOVE YOU BOTH!!!!!

Then there was the surprise lunch at T.G.I.F.s! To those who still owe me a birthday lunch, remember this:-

I ADORE BIG FAT MAYONAISE and BIG FAT FRENCH FRIES.

Check out that orgasmic face. I think you men disappoint me.