really.
this certain tv personality irritates the crap out of me.
even though i’m faraway in melbourne, i still see her pics popping out from various malaysian sites. her irritating voice+bad ass grammar haunt my head.
and her screeching laughter of burnt tires.
how can she possibly look so much more aunty when she’s merely my age? (yes, i’m not particularly a piece of tender meat, but hey, i don’t look 45)
arghhagegaee….*bitchy bitchy bitchy*
i feel like buying her hair extension of russian virgin hair so she could at least have a better hair cut to cover up her lack of talent.
and perhaps, to veil that scratchy voice.
bah.
i’m really stressed out right now because i have to cook for sam tonight.
after 2 yrs of not lighting up the stove…i’m fearing of setting addie’s couture kitchen on fire
i’m the worst bridesmaid ever
first, i nearly couldn’t wake up when el picked me up in the morning.
then i was eating non-stop through out the photo shoot.
i fell asleep on the couch for the longest time after telling daze i’ll touch up her make up after she change out of her gown
the finale?
i missed 3/4 of her wedding reception.
fearing of the flowers that filled up the ballroom, i took a telfast to curb my allergies.
forgetting about the telfast 5 minutes later, i downed andy’s glass of champagne and another filler before the formal introduction.
you guessed it.
the telfast gave me a cheap night out.
i was t-r-i-p-p-i-n-g and hallucinating. a bad one. the ballroom starting swirling.
i climbed upstair after failing to handle the bad trip. i stared at the ceiling, thinking what kind of bridesmaid i can be before passing out face down for 2 hours…the ceiling started morphing into a sea of waves.
when i finally woke up from the horrible horrible experience, i missed daze & fran’s first dance and dinner!
i woke up on time for the party only.
(because i drank so much water and tea, i think i flushed out the effect of telfast. i started tearing, sneezing and broke out in hives after when i submerge myself into the sea of flowers in the ballroom)
what more? because i’m a fag hag, i missed the bouquet throwing too………
addie’s word kept ringing in my head while i was trying to get out of the swirly-burly visionary
“telfast makes me sick”
trust me.
i’m so traumatized by telfast now….
for pictures, please hop over to addie’s. yah. i didn’t bring my camera too.
they say it takes a minute to find a special someone
an hour to appreciate them
a day to love them
but an entire life to forget them
today i passed by a victorian house with a lemon tree planted in the front lawn.
i thought “i could live in that house.”
i kind of like the quiet life in the suburb, but the amount of aging, frail retirees having coffee and muffin in the mall in the am freaks me out a little.
i thought of re-settling back here, the slow-paced kind of life.
i could get use to that.
slow-paced, silvercasting life in my victorian house in the sub-urban, chilling out in the front porch with fresh made lemonade on a sunny sunday afternoon….
yes, i’m broke.
legalized drug pusher(pharmacist la) & my temp. psychiatrist when i was cracking under wedding planning: Ling & YC
YC & YC: the guy who attempted to bully me 20 years ago. i was a feisty bitch since young. no prize for guessing who got the beating up instead.(which brought us back to the reason why i smacked someone with my laptop. she called my an “unemployed useless alcoholic, chain smoker, drug addict who only knows how to spend daddy’s money and messing uaround with men with daddy’s money” -______-”. last i checked, MrP highlights my spending on his CCard and demand for a cheque end of the month, where i pump in extra hundreds or 1k on a good month..even though he’s the one who sugar coated me to leave my job to rest and recuperate with the promise of a stay home salary of 2k which i’ve never seen so far)
Mr&MrsPhoon sort of did a little dance when I showed them the statement of my fixed deposit. Contrary to popular belief, i do scrooge and secretly save my money to materialize the plot of my escape, instead of spending all i have and not have on crack.
D.A swerved the car a little when I spilled the bean of my secret saving. and now, i regret letting him know about my secret dosh…for i doubt i can live off him like an unemployed anymore…*wails*
bah, seriously, i should just cut the crap and get to the point.
i have some cloths to hack off. brand new, of course. only 1 piece each and i made them. if they do rip (touch wood), let me know instead of secretly beefing behind my back. i might seem like a bitch, but i’ll me more than happy to make things right, as customer service should top the list before everything else. (i think i did learn something from my retail management TAFE)
RM89.00
fits size s to a small m (yah, sue me for being a skinny bitch. don’t condemn me because the size doesn’t fit. love your body, live with it, or order a custom piece.)
skanky shorts with lace turn-ups and gold button
RM69.00 (xs-s)
indigo short cropped jacket with wood details
RM119.00 (s-m)
if you like my skanky bling up green open-toe stiletto, you can have it for RM90.00. i bought it for AU$119, only worn twice(inc. this shoot). size 38 (7)
we ship to everywhere and any corner of the world as long as you bear the postage.
maternal instinct?
jeeg sent me baby ally’s link during the weekend. i can’t peel my eyes off that little angel ever since.
eep. could it be my maternal instinct kicking in?
tsk tsk. bad day, bad day. my temperature hasn’t gone down, the groomzilla wouldn’t stop bugging me, the dress doesn’t fit and MrsP is going HAVOC! with her new karaoke.
vintage lovers
weighing a mere 41.5kg, i look like i have adam apple-pic courtesy of puggy
i took the first step to build the header for the new site. lately, shopping blogs are popping up like ’shrooms on cow dung after the rain. looking at the mountains of vintage loves i’ve collected, i think it should be the right time to share the love.
3 years ago, i made a mini fortune online (blogspot & ebay) selling handmade jewelleries and jinkies to support my mahjong fund. i shut it down as i moved back to malaysia to be tied down to my full time job and. no, my dad didn’t send me to architecture school to make jewelleries, hand bound notebooks and home made dresses.
as my health went downhill, i realized my full time job should not suck up my soul. so i kind of left. under health circumstances as well.
just in case you’re wondering, i’ve been collecting my home-made jinkies and loads and loads of vintage clothes for vintage lovers like me again.
one thing that sucks big time living in malaysia? getting your hands on vintage clothings is almost an impossible mission. oh how i miss those days when i dive into piles and piles of bundles.
ok so i’ve let out my not so secretive secret anymore.
phew.
time for bed.
x
oh ya. i picked up a wig from ken. i love new hair!
eruption
they were left collecting dust among the pile of sk II, kose, la prairie and other untouched cosmetic gifts from friends until i found these bottles while throwing away cosmetics i’ve not touch for the last 2 months. itchy ass, i tried them 2 nights ago for 2 days. my face and hair line broke out in red dots and acne like ickies when i woke up in the morning.
crap me. the 10k i spent to resurrect my skin was flushed, just like that!
to confirm it as irritation or my hormone screwing around with me, i rub a patch on my thigh. and you bet, the same kind of disgustos emerged.
squeezing 15 minutes from my jam packed schedule today, i took the stuff to the kiosk counter with given direction about an hour ago only to find the counter being dismantled, and their neighborhood shop told me apparently they owe some rent for months (not sure the info’s true.defaming from hateful neighbors?!).
instantly i thought something smells fishy. condemned skin+dismantled kiosk= x (you do the maths?)
having no clue of who is christien lavin, i googled only to find christien lavin’s blog, the locally proclaimed beckhams- husband and wife team, not a person as i assumed. i was looking at one of lavin’s photo. no doubt, i have to say, she is a looker. someone told me she n her husband are quite well known celebrities in malaysia. heck, it could be my lack of tv watching or presence in the country…i simply have no idea who they are. but there is something awfully familiar about lavin… then it hit me.
she reminded me of the girl who lived across the street with her aunt and monstrous uncle before we moved to theBiggerPlace. i was shipped off to australia before i turned legal, and years later i found out from her aunt that she’s married with a kid when i went back to pack up our abandoned house.
the resemblance of lavin and my ex-neighbor is uncanny. i clicked on further on their blog, to find her sharing the same surname as my ex-neighbor. i thought they are the same person, but their age didn’t match. then my super cannot jadi memory suddenly started working again.
lavin’s my ex-neighbor’s sister.
and just like that, i decided to let it go, instead of sending the bottles to aunty $’s lab to get them tested for what they claimed to be, and get my never-once-fail family lawyer to rip them apart if they turn out to be dingy-s.
so, i simply chucked the bottles away. and whined on my blog about my wasted 10k on facial and IPL instead.
fug me. the wedding’s on sunday, and i look like absolute crap.
shoot me please?
surreal
6 more days to the wedding.
2 weeks till i head back to melbourne for daze’s wedding.
3 weeks to K’s wedding.
4 weeks to L.C’s wedding.
burnt.
my 2G memory stick decided to pull its own plug on friday night when i held puggy close to camwhore. friday night didn’t turn out exactly too nice. having a mild food poisoning got me late to the last GX. on the brighter note, i actually managed to arrive on his 3rd call.
TAG was great, but i nearly fainted in the tiny little squashed up pit of happy party goers. towards the end of the night, i assumed D.A was sober enough to drive, so i downed quite a bit of beer from the almost-wasted jar with empty stomach, strongly holding the belief of “cannot waste alcohol”.
i learned not to assume in the future again.
D.A did the usual. hand in pocket, fumbling, pulling out the car key with a smile. *crap* wanting to get home before the cheap drunk takes over me, i tried my best to grab the boys into the car before its too late. but alas, it was almost impossible to peel C.J off the bar.the road.the parking lot. the road side.the monsoon drain.
i went into the kiosk to grab a pack of tissue and drinks for C.J halfway home. D.A was on the phone and C.J was missing when i got back.
“shit…don’t tell me he fell off and passed out again?!” i thought.
it was then, i saw his head rose from the monsoon drain. he was squatting in the drain.
i went over and sat next to him. my feet dangling over the drain as i passed him some tissues and drinks.
he spoke to me about his unhappiness.
and i listened.
i sat next to him while he squat in the drain, next to his pile of spew as we spoke about relationships on a early saturday morning….
cheap monday, with love from stolkhom.
i know, today is wednesday.
i went to the neighborhood mart to grab a carton of fresh milk, i ended up with 4 pairs of new jeans. serious shit. staying in this neighborhood’s not cheap. besides paying for over-priced groceries, i often come home with new marni, viktor&rolf, tsumori chisato etc.
today, i came back with cheap monday.
i had never own a pair of jeans which didn’t require altering in my whole life, simply because i suffer from flat ass syndrome. hang on, the very first edition of bettina liano’s ace jeans fitted snugly, but the reproduce became looser in the ass, resulting a fugly air pocket effect.
my jeans alteration nightmare bade me goodbye, after i stumbled upon cheap monday, one of the few cheap jeans that made it into Vogue.
behold, everyone. cheap monday- the savior to all flat-assers!
low waist narrow button fly- RM199.cheap monday is quite cheap indeed.
nolah, i’m not that free to pose. grabbed this off barneys.oh how i love scandinavian designers.
i missed mooncakes
victorian vintage lace x neu renaissance(raunchy S&M bear: MrP JR)
(brazilian panties bear: Mrs P)
i had the faintest idea mid-autumn fest was last night. i was at nike’s office for the nike windrunner x bearbrick submission. kids nowadays, in ah boy’s word, are HAVOC. seriously. their bears made me feel like flushing my raunchy s&m bear away (or as quote by MrsP, bearbrick made out of brazilian lace panties). procrastination killed my bear as i only started late a.m, few hours prior to submission deadline.
in the midst of hustler-bustler, i superglued my hand to the bear. a piece of skin is still intact on the bear, if you look close enough. ew, right?
i forgot to take a pic of the finished product , which shows more detailing of my windrunner re-interpretation. what amazes me the most will be min’s. G’s 10yr old daughter did a fantastic job, blinging up her bear.
should hv taken my cam with me. there are so many of them that put my panties bear to shame. check out the student’s work at pipit. out of the world right?
xx
i need some serious weight gain. i camouflage behind columns easily. thank goodness i no longer live in melbourne, where wind tunnel in the city on windy days were a bitch, when i was weighing 10 kilos heavier. i might be blown away on my next trip in october.
my most received comment will be “ARE YOU ON DRUGS? WHY ARE YOU SO THIN???”
at least 7 person told me to put on weight while i was at nike’s.
stress makes me lose weight. stressing about my weight doesn’t help either.
hyperthyroid sucks.
last night’s party in monotone
*loons wore his blackjettas royale kustom bracelet last night.
omfg can die
why?????? why????!!! WHYYY???!!!! why did i even forget about grabbing this before they’re gone???!!!!!! maybe i should cry myself to bed while hugging my antique murakami’s LV sakura. i so want to have this on my wall. fug me.
suffering from chronic procrastination and hyperthyroid, i’ve done jack on customizing the 400% bearbrick for nike’s wind runner which is due in another 3 or 4 days. fug me, again.
on the brighter note, the vintage chains, lucite beads, cabochons and cameos i ordered from the States has finally arrived. check out the detailings! things were made so much finer back in the days.
i love this watering pot!
sweet.
either that, or he’s already gotten too use to my weird antics.
those who matter don’t mind, those who mind don’t matter
my toilet is leaking. the noise is damn annoying.
*trickle, trickle, trickle*
more annoying than paranoia!
yes. paranoia.
it seems to be the in thing.
oh. and suspicion.
and.
and..
and of course, being delusional!!!
btw, the wedding’s off. apparently i ran off with the money to buy crack. never, never ever trust a crack hoe to plan your wedding, aye?
1985
stumpy, MrPhoonJR, evil no.1 (i wasn’t adopted. i was lack of melanin. that, or MrsPhoon must have dropped me into a tank of bleach.)
some say he owes me a lot for planning his wedding from scratch.
not many knew.
i owe him my life.
for pulling me out of the pool on a hot sunny day in 1985 as i drowned.
i burst into tears as i grasp for air as he dragged me out of the water.
according to him, he was curious of the bubbling blue and white polka dot ball underwater. instead, he found a drowning sister as he pulled the so called ball out of the water.
ultra idiot v.4
i was on the brink to chewing my laptop last night. my handbag was locked in MrPhoon’s car, along with my car key and cig. as we’ve just moved into the new place, i have no idea where the new key chamber is. and to be honest, i have no idea where all other cars are parked- a downside of multi-level car park.
i needed my nicotine bad.
as hi-so as it can be, the new place has no convenient store within walking distance.
i can no longer withstand the craving. i asked ah boy
“do you think i can jab a ruler old skool style, through the window of a new *series?”
“OI. DON’T BE CRAZY.”
i was that desperate.
i searched high and low, every spot in the new home, all drawers and all could-be secretive place for all car keys.
no result.
so i searched all my handbags, to find a hopeful crushed up ciggy somewhere.
no result.
i finally gave up at 3am, proceeded to cook myself a bowl instant noodle and everything else.
i sat myself down in the dining room. as i put the bowl down on the table, i heard a familiar clinking noise.
the key was sitting on the dining table all these while -_-
sunshine through my window…..
not.
black-out curtain is evil.
i just woke up, missing all appointments in the morning. having a flu is one thing, mixing up the day and night is another.
i’m so screwed.
f*** me
the whole morning involved a hell lot of kelam-kabut-ness. Breakfast w MrFrench, meeting with the florist(what the?), meeting with the patisserie chef(downing 4 pieces of cakes within 30 mins), making the decision to pick out 1 lace among 4 different shades of white and finally co-ordinating the movers to shift my must-have furnitures to the new place.
not funny at all.
i therefore declare i is super-wonder woman to pack everything into my before-noon schedule.
finally there’s a little pit stop for lunch, but i can’t seem to open the damn foie gras glass jar (how weird can i be? everyone else buys meat floss or dried fruits from s.motherland, i buy foie gras. everyone else buys teapots, place mats and cutleries, i buy a damn water feature) . there is no food in the old place, and i would rather eat dust than go to the coffee shop at the corner in this current weather.
so plain cracker it is.
i nearly slice my hand apart while plying the jar with a knife like a hero.
not another one?
i’m having a slight verbal diarrhea today. since my phone ran out of battery and there’s no form of other communication as D.A’s caught up at work (or busy nodding off in the toilet with his little power nap), i have no friends and even Luna’s been moved to the new place.
how sad can it be.
so no. i still can’t open my jar of foei gras. i gave up. i’ll be driving over to the new place to see ma n pa and my dear kettle shortly. i miss my kettle for the first time. i have no hot water to soak the damn jar in hence my bloody starvation.
i’m so hungry i might jab a blunt object into the next person that irritates me.
which i highly suspect D.A will be the poor sod.
gah.
ed’s driving thru the cali desert in a rented cadillac. and i so should be in that car. i hate her for a moment.
i think my blackberry is dying soon. short-lived, you might say. i’m never great with gadgets. i’m a gadget murderer.
idiot
- the trip’s almost impromptu
- i’m still moving (yes, it took us 2 months +), almost everything in the room’s been packed in boxes, hence the disappearance of my charger
- i thought the charger was in the office, apparently not
- D.A thinks he’s fat, and i think i’m too skinny
- we were busy sleeping
- i have no strength to leave up the camera
- i’m losing hair too fast + too much to the point i’m a tad paranoid that i’m balding in fact
- i’m
too low techcan’t be arsed to figure out how to upload the pictures from my blueberry to my desktop
all this happened in the few hours he was asleep. now i understand why he said he gets worried to leave me alone.
the purpose for this impromptu trip was for me to put on some weight, rest and to get ready for the worse to come. but as usual, i ended up clearing my bank balance instead.
i have a feeling D.A will never ever let me out of his sight once he sees the celadon water feature that has yet to arrive.
perhaps after all these years, he might not even blink his eyes twice if he does find me buying a dozen of flamingos dyed to all different colors to match my ever changing mood.
p.s. buddy, thank you for the suite deal. we had a great time. the place is rather big for the 2 of us, weighing slightly above 100kgs and measuring below 340cms in total. D.A got rather upset by the fact that i didn’t glide across the hall like he imagined i would.
p.p.s anyone knows where i can buy or customize a nice laptop skin for my vaio? nothing cute or O.T.T please. camo, damask or plain will be great.
my bags are packed.
sometimes, life is not about having choices. it is more about having none.
i dread for tomorrow to come. when the sun rises, it’ll end.
the last 16 months has been a whirlwind of events. a series of both fortunate and unfortunate events, causing my life to flip around. to make matter worse, that sneaky bastard-happiness left the building without a sound while my life was flipping like a fish in a frying pan.
imagine living the days without knowing how it feels like to be happy.
to turn things around, D.A took me back to my surrogated motherland, so i could rest after many crashes. as irrational and surreal as a dream, happiness invested the last few days with a flurry of emotions.
to be honest, it felt weird to feel happy.
and because i’m such a bloody pessimist, i’m freaking out.
i’m afraid that the bastardy happiness will leave once again when we depart from my surrogated motherland.
if only i have the power to freeze the moments of life.
i believe the day will come, when we can buy them off the rack like jars of preserved jams.
no, seriously.
i’m not going nuts.
maybe i am. maybe not.
i’m going to tender my resignation.
i’ve had enough of the stress i can’t take.
i’ve had enough of falling sick.
i’ve had enough of the guilt trip from MrMD’s being overly nice and spoiling me.
i need a break.
i need to get away.
i’ve made up my mind.
i’m going to leech on daddy’o from now on.
i’m going be that spoilt rotten kid i should’ve been 10 years ago.
i’ve had enough of giving up.
for a start,
i’m going to become a full time blogger.
and to shoot up to fame, i’ll start posting provocative pictures of myself.
or perhaps, pics of me kissing junk food and everything else with that cute little japanese pose, dressing up in fugly little ra-ra skirts.
hang on.
maybe not.
my IQ is way too high for that.
no. those are just nonsensical ramblings.
i shall just live on daddy’o and be a constant traveler until my sickness kills me completely.
yah.
i’m gonna withdraw my fix-depo clean, sell off all i have and off i go.
screw my job.
screw responsibilities.
i’m gonna be a happy person from now on.
i will see the world before i die.
at least.
see a few more continents.
life is way more fragile than it seems to be.
sorry MrMD. forgive me.
don’t pull your hair out when you see that white little envelope on your desk tomorrow.
i’ll make sure the layout’s perfect.
like i always do.
and as usual, i’ll sign it like i always do.
the unconventional, unprofessional way.
thank you for everything.
you’ve taught me more than i should know.
and i appreciate every bit of it.
x
YC
p.s. don’t freak out. i’m not gonna strip online for fame. that’s the last thing i’ll ever need.
i’m merely gonna really take a good rest, be a free soul, laid back traveling artist, concentrating on my little jewelries, and maybe letterpress couture stationaries with a little help from Mr&MrsPhoon.
waiting for thursday
I’m still alive. (but we nearly died)
I’ve been busy.
I’m finally getting some rest.
the blessed virgin
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