Ding Dong Bell, Pussy in the Well

This afternoon, while having my lunch, I recalled an embarrassing moment 8 years ago.

I participated in the annual team building organised by the HR department of my ex-company. One of the activities required teams to run, retrieve some placards in a box and form a nursery rhythm with the placards retrieved.

I was taken aback by the enthusiasm showed in these uncles and aunties (most of them in their mid 40s and 50s) racing up and down across the room, retrieving plac-cards, yelling and hollering, desperately trying to instruct their teammates to form the correct nursery rhythms.

Suddenly, an uncle who resembled my F math lecturer in JC (greyed side-burn, wide and big silver-framed glasses), hollered across the room albeit catching his breath: “Where’s the pussy, Where’s the pussy”.

A Lao-Chio auntie (gorgeous matured lady) replied “ Here. Here. Here lar…”

I swore I had had never laughed so hard.

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That uncle was the HR director and the Lao Chio auntie was the MD secretary.

My Red Right eye

Unwillingly, I got up of bed this morning after several attempts of “snoozing” my phone-cum-alarm-clock. I felt my right eye was burning. Still sleepy, I looked into the mirror. Wah….my right eye was burning red and swollen.

Tried to locate the eyewash for quite a while before I realise I left it in office. Nia Sing!!!!

Not too sure whether it is the contagious conjunctivitis.

I reached for Oprex immediately when I stepped in my office. I spent the entire morning washing my right eye religiously with Oprex as if someone has shat on my right eyeball. I made conscious efforts to wash my hands thoroughly like a surgeon preparing for an operation and stopped myself from vigorously rubbing my eyes, switching to my bro instead.

Oprex works, my right ball eyeball is less red now. Feeling better. It isn’t conjunctivitis afterall, I think. Probably, a result of surfing too much porn. Perhaps I should wash my left eye too.. *smirk*

I thought a few-months of drinking and pigging has finally caught up and got into me. Standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror, the evidence of pigging was apparent. Nothing seemed to interest me for the past few months. I knew the reason and have tried to let go the earthy anger, disappointment and jealousy.

I thought of going home because it was mid autumn festival (not “mooncake” festival). My mum missed me a great deal. She said she was thinking about me every night. We ended chatting over the phone for almost an hour. I knew she was aware I have been depressed and frustrated. She knew me too well because I would run away from her if I was feeling lousy. It was pretty obvious to her. As expected, she did not talk about things that would frustrate me. The entire conversation was littered with her cliché questions and concerns.

Yes, these were sufficiently therapeutic.

I asked my mum whether I have been a fool.

She simply replied, “No lar….silly.”

Yes this was sufficiently therapeutic.

I’m sorry, I uttered.

Marathon toddler

He inspires me.....gota go running 2mrw....

marathon toddler

A LA LA bush

With compliments of The Tokyo Incidents. Bush did the day after Katrina had been hit. *sigh*

Fable ramble

Is there really a need to lie? U lie once, u need another nine lies to round up the first.. U see it’s pointless to lie. No matter what kinda crappy reasons one can think of…. Be it …circumstance changes… dun wana make me feel bad.... Change of mind…. Last minute decision…just wana make things easier…..benefit of doubt….. take it easy, dude………. blah blah…. ………Weasely weasels.

Being lied to is one of the things that really gets me tits on fire. Coming close to getting on my nerves is being misunderstood and accused of doing or saying something I did not.

No joke, u will feel like a an idiot u realise u were being lied to and u feel worse especially if that fable came from souls whom you tagged as friends. Never mind whether they are fairweathered, fucked-up…. Or really nice ones. I seemed not to give f**king damn about it these days… for making my life easier…. Taking easy on others……being cool and steady….making people less stressful when they talk to me…………WTF. I knew myself too well….. I have soul punched too many times and risked of being beaten up by a good friend. That's sad! Really!

I am not a holy innocent saint either, never come close to be good and kind.

Regrettably, I have myself partaken of this fable. Never I have forgiven myself for doing that. Regardless of any hidden agendas , may it be purely business or personal, when one try to pull a fast one on me, I will , nowadays let them go….why? Cos they have made such a serious effort to con me…..so if it does not kill me ….. I will heed Mary’s words of wisdom…LET IT BE……cos the bare skeleton of truth will reveal itself amidst the intertwined threads of reality and fable.

Albeit the let-it-be pearls of wisdom…. don’t think I am stupid. I learn it the hard way. I can only recall those experiences when I was forsaken, left to rot and misunderstood. Asking me to be mindful…… telling me not to be too kind…….the f**k about level of comfort……why dun u be f**king mindful instead of me.... this is insane.....WTF. What’s the f**king problem for being kind and gracious……

It’s not my f**king problem if one feels uncomfortable……This is insane……..and it really freaks my nuts. Actually it hurts more than freaking. Call me an F**kin emotional claypot or stupid souplad. I admit I m slow and inanely foolish trusting friends and took their words and encouragement too seriously. A f**king nincompoop, I was.

If shit hits the fan, I shalt be burnt but please … stay away…..f**king please dun make me set u on fire……… to anybody who come close. I begged to be viewed as a brat treated and respected as a matured gentlemen. I have tried and still trying not to give any f**ks about anybody’s excuse for a life….even my own. So….inevitably when personal agendas and work are mixed up in my pot of soup …. I will be the jerk emptying the pot, rinsing it with soapy compassion in the kitchen of life and reality.

I f**king hate it.

The soup I brewed since last September left a bitter-sour bitter-sweet aftertaste. It lingers. It haunts. It f**king haunts me every night and I have to live with it. I am f**king tired. So allow me to blame and finger-point, I begged. It’s easy ..… I will bring myself to love it. I’m loving it.


I am not going to be responsible for this post. For once, I am behaving like a brat….. a mummy’s spoilt brat. My fake sincere apologies…

Dun ever misunderstand my intentions and twist my thoughts/words. I desperately wanted the “benefit of doubts”. I know. It’s a f**king irony.

I am self-destructive.

I have gravely sinned.

Amen.