To See You Once Again, My Love.

due to certain security reasons, i have decided to close this blog down.
but only temporarily.
however, do drop me a personal message and i will keep you updated on the development of this blog, which i so dearly love.

in the meantime, i leave you with this story:

beleaguered by the nagging worry that the wicked witch of the east will be setting the munchkins off on her tracks, dorothy resolves to implore the westerly winds to carry her house off to a pastel world.
however, concerned that her best friends the tin woodman, the scarecrow and the cowardly lion will not be able to locate her when sending out their christmas cards, she decides to put up a sign where her house once stood, requesting that they send her a personal message via email, msn, sms or handphone and she will inform them of her new address. she promises to reply even if she is outside, trimming the pastel-coloured rose bushes in her garden.

with that, i bid you adieu.

Partying Like A Rockstar

i was on the guest list at st james man!

not some kuching kurak bar, but

the st james powerhouse.

yeah.

how about that for living the high life?

and no, i didn't receive the honour by schmoozing with the bouncers every night seven nights a week, considering that i do club an average of four times a year.

so yeah, i totally felt like a motherfuckin' VIP of a rockstar when i marched right up to the bouncer at dragonfly and said, "guest list, for benita."

and then we sashayed right in.

here's pictorial proof of our night of debauchery:

had to look the part of a rockstar, innit?

although prior to that moment, liza and i were gushing like a pair of morons and squealing about being put on the guest list.

ok, fine.

my friend, cow, is a bouncer at the club.

so when we got screwed by zouk's bloody separate entry fees, i gave him a call and he got me into st james, together with nine guests.

finally, i am popular!

Moody in Tuas

a short post-it (hence the yellow font, although technically, if you had half a brain, you wouldn't use yellow ink on a post it...) to all my faithful and--i hope--entertained readers:

thanks for all the comments you have been making. i really appreciate them, really. i do. very much. and i hope you all continue commenting.
but please, please sign off. don't just leave your messages anonymous. because i know that you are most likely a friend, not a foe. i doubt anyone who is not an ally can read and live to tell the tale. but if you don't leave a name, then, well, i will have to imagine the worst-case scenario. which is sad. because i like you all a lot. really, i do.
ok.

that's all the mushy niceties you lot are getting. go crawl back into your cesspools where you all belong. and clean off your mucky trails as you return.

bye.

When's the Last Time You Watched a Show on Channel 8?

ok i really gotta tell you about this kick-ass show i saw on tv two thursdays ago. it was the penultimate episode of this channel 8 drama seriel called the truth.

so rebecca lim's character discovers that she is the victim of yet another conspiracy and runs off in tears to kill herself. she heads to the top of a building, presumably a high-rise one, since she is, after all, desiring to throw herself off it in an attempt to die.
cross cut to tay ping hui who, having received word of her disappearance, is frantically searching for her.
he picks up his handphone, dials, and hears the ringing of another phone.
he traces the ringing tone, looks up, and lo and behold, discovers rebecca lim standing at the top of the building. which, from a low angle shot, looks very much like a multi-storey carpark. which, as we are all aware, is not 20 storeys high.
he shouts up, i repeat, shouts up to her from below the building, warning her not to jump. warning, because i do not believe shouting at someone to not jump counts as persuasion.
she shouts back down for him to stay put, threatening to jump if he goes up the building to her. why his standing next to her will acelerate her decision to jump, i will never know.
then she picks up her phone and dials.
he picks up his phone.
crying, she tells him coldly, "i never thought you'd be the last person i see before i die."
proceeds to lamant about her wretched life as a pawn in an intricate series of lies. sadness.
he tells her to hold on, he will go up to get her.
she removes the phone from her face and shouts, i repeat, shouts down to him, "don't come up! i will jump if you do!" again.
he shouts back, conceding to her demand.
close-up on her as she tells him her final words. she is so disappointed with her sister.
he tells her, "i've informed your sister and father, they are coming for you now!"
"what? you called them? now they will have to see how i look when i die!" she cries. everyone's crying and shouting so everyone speaks with exclamation marks at the end if their sentences.
then. immediately.
cross cut to a top-down view of tay ping hui at the bottom of the un-20-storey multi-storey carpark as joanne peh and zhu houren, her sister and father, respectively, jump into the frame. jump into the frame. ju-ump into the frame.
and pick off from where his sentence ended.

yeah, that's it.

of course i am not going to continue with the rest of the scene.
does she eventually jump off? yes she does. a person's last wish must always to fulfiled, and her wish is to jump off. and die.
and she does.
jump off. the un-20-storey multi-storey carpark.
and die.
immediately.

did i say kick-ass?
i meant i want to kick the ass of the scriptwriter. or director. hell, or both.

Pity.

due to popluar demand, i have decided to take my previous post off.
laremy believes, and i agree, that the wicked witch of the east (not east? central?) might send her munchkins after me for my head.
yes, as much as i hate to admit it, i am hum chee.
strangely, i am suddenly realising why my mother fears so greatly for my life.

Do You? Really?

on tuesday, i spoke to God for the first time in three months.
in fact it was probably the most sincere i had been with Him in the three months.

i was sitting in the bus.

and i told Him that i was going to continue to blame Him and be angry at Him for the time being.
because if i stopped blaming Him and started owning up to reality i would not be able to deal with blaming myself.
not right now.
not without slashing my wrists.

so until then.

i hope He understands.

Your Daily Intake of Irony

you know what irony is?
i'll tell you what irony is.

i'm looking at this postcard my teammate titus gave me about the plays city harvest is putting up for easter, thematic concerns of which are, i presume, self-explanatory.

while writing my play about satan, thematic concerns of which are, well, not very religious.

as if i needed more proof.