Monday, November 30, 2009

Packing.

I love going on trips. It's just the getting up which I hate. Or more specifically, packing. Just the act of cleaning that little mountain of clear bottles/jars and proportioning the necessary toiletries into the said thingamajigs is a fatigue inducing affair. You know how long it takes to wash those damn things, dry them and carefully portion out the 101 toiletries into them before packing it in? Long enough for fatigue to set in.

Don't get me wrong, I still love going on trips. And I'll still end up packing anyway even if it takes me all night to do so, usually cause I'm distracted by any other thing that doesn't relate to packing for the said trip. Finding old cds, downloading porn, on the phone with friends. You name it, I've done it. Well perhaps short of sex. Doubt I was ever distracted by sex while packing but that's mainly cause the opportunity doesn't present itself at 3am in the morning amid a pile of clothes, half of which you can't decide whether to fold, burn or pack.

But I digress. I love trips (in case you didn't know). I love trips which are sponsored even more. There is always something attractive about free stuff (and trips in particular) provided they don't come with too high a price (ie repulsive company which you wouldn't step out of bed for let alone go on a trip with). Work trips are perfectly fine (also depending on the company). I mean what's a bit of work if you get a nice all expenses paid trip (courtesy of client sans shopping of course) with good accommodation and expenses in return? Nothing seriously.

Besides given the rarity of such work trips given the composition of my work (you hardly ever go on any work trips while doing matri), such trips are a welcome change from office work. So I am actually looking forward to the work trip with the ex PM (pupilmast) in Hanoi from Wed to the weekend. That coupled with the saggi bros upcoming bash the following Wed and the Japan trip the following Sat means the next two weeks are jam packed with fun and the need to pack.

I never know what to pack seriously. And more often than not after I'm finally done packing, I always have this nagging feeling that I've forgotten something. Which usually turns out to be true. Not the important stuff of course, passport, money, keys all survive the check before you leave the house checklist. Usually it's random stuff like my shaver, cologne, toothbrush. Nothing that's irreplaceable, just a matter of the cost of replacing those items. Not to mention the annoyance factor.

So it was that I was lamenting to JL about the fatigue-inducing ills of packing over msn and offering her a sum if she'd pack for me. Imagine a neatly packed bag with everything you need without the hassle of worrying what goes in and what stays out. Sheer bliss. I was still on Step 2 of the Packing Toiletries routine which can be summed up as follows:

Packing Toiletries (aelgtoer style)

Step 1: Clean them bottles/jars/thingamajigs

Step 2: Dry the thingamajigs thoroughly. This means quite a few wads of tissue paper.

Step 3: Select necessary toiletries. Proportion sum. Pour into thingamajigs.

Step 4: Paste little neat labels stating the contents of whatever fluid/cream/etc are in that particular thingamajig on the correct thingamajig.

Step 5: Pack toiletries into toiletry bag.

Which was when JL said that I should learn about packing light from her. Good thing I was still at Step 2, else I would have bungled up the proportioning bit from all the laughing. To understand why, I've included a tiny excerpt of our conversation. :)

JL says (12:23 AM):

omgomgomgomgomg
eh pack light ah
hahahaha
must learn from me
HAHAHA OMG SUCH AN IRONY

Aelgtoer- fucking hates ironing...grumbles. says (12:25 AM):

haha u? pack light!

Aelgtoer- fucking hates ironing...grumbles. says (12:26 AM):

u who brought your entire bathroom for a one night stay!!!!
dies of laughter

JL; says (12:26 AM):

go and die la you!
WAH LAO

Yes so if you want an expert in packing your entire house for one trip I'd recommend JL :) Proportioning toiletries into little bottles is so passe and inconvenient when you can just bring the jumbo pack of shampoo/face wash/moisturizer (insert desired toiletry) along. Hahahaha. Nvm stilllll love my crrrazzzy gf anyway. hahaha

Which reminds me. I'm still at Step 2 of the Packing Toiletries Routine. Omfg.

Excuse me while I blast some Pink. I'm not here for your entertainment, you don't really want to mess with me tonight! Not when I'm packing. Hahaha.

U + Ur Hand - Pink


Sunday, November 22, 2009

K.

It's been a long time since I've had an engaging and intense 3 hour long conversation with another guy into the wee hours of the morning. In a way, it felt like those old JC days when I'd stay up till 3 gossiping with Annie over the phone or chatting with W over nothing in particular until we'd fall asleep on the phone.

What was supposed to be a 'short' conversation rapidly took on a life of its own so much so that getting off the phone required a very conscious and significant effort. But I guess when you're able to converse and connect with a person on a level such that interaction is spontaneous and enjoyable, neither party wants to end the conversation. Still, it's a little weird that K shares the same name as a close sistah.

The need to disassociate the name from the person you'd usually associate it with becomes apparent when you consider the prospect of sex. Saying the name of the person you're fucking with and conjuring the mental image of the other person whom you'd never consider sex with is just... disturbing.

It's funny how attractive the ability to form an intellectual and engaging connection with another person can be. Unlike a purely physical attraction which flares up with ferocious intensity but dissipates like chaff in the wind if unsupported by anything else, an intellectual attraction and the ability to communicate is like a slow burning fire that builds up to a sustained inferno with regular interaction. Of course being gay and male, there are always certain physical pre-requisites, certain preferences which must be satisfied before one would consider the other party for something more than a tete a tet at Starbucks.

Meeting up with K. proved to be a good decision after all. And as you know, the devil is in the details so I'll just spare you peeps the pain and I'll leave it at that. Otherwise I'd never hear the end of rivulets of cum that coagulate on the abs from the Gang. Mmmm cum hahahah.




P/S: Actually I'm just lazy, did u seriously think I'd give a damn bout what they think of my sexcapades or lack thereof?

Monday, November 16, 2009

Bad Romance.

Lady Gaga, you either Love her or you Hate her. Her music, her videos, her fashion sense, her eccentricity, her everything. She so totally personifies Gaga-ness. I still remember back when I gave a friend who was raving about Lady Gaga, a very blank look, and he went 'OMFG how can you not know about Lady Gaga? I mean are you like 70 or what?'

So well, yes now I do know about her. Stumbling on the music video of her latest single, Bad Romance, thanks to Tom Wright's tweet was a pleasant surprise. I couldn't help but be enthralled by the bizarreness of the MV so much so that I watched it 5 times in a row, possibly much to the yakky roomie's consternation. At the end of it all, I still couldn't say with certainty whether I was repulsed by the whole video but remained inexplicably drawn in rapt horror or I really loved it to bits, eccentricity, in-your-face outrageousness and all. What I did know was that I was fascinated. Inexplicably so.

Now I'm pretty certain it's the latter. As Tom tweeted, Lady Gaga - music and all, is the kind that grows on you once you allow it to. Bad Romance is no different. The moment at the end with sparks flying out from her madonna style conical bra beside a charred lover was brilliant.

Simply Gaga-tastic! Say it now, I'm a freak bitch baby!



Bad Romance - Lady Gaga

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

I want your ugly
I want your disease
I want your everything
As long as it’s free
I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love)

I want your drama
The touch of your hand
I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand
I want your love
Love-love-love
I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love)

You know that I want you
And you know that I need you
I want it bad, your bad romance

I want your love and
I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
(Oh-oh-oh--oh-oooh!)
I want your love and
All your lovers' revenge
You and me could write a bad romance

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

I want your horror
I want your design
‘Cause you’re a criminal
As long as your mine
I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love-uuhh)

I want your psycho
Your vertigo stick
Want you in my rear window
Baby you're sick
I want your love
Love-love-love
I want your love
(Love-love-love I want your love)

You know that I want you
('Cause I'm a freak bitch baby!)
And you know that I need you
I want a bad, bad romance

I want your love and
I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
(Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!)
I want your love and
All your lovers' revenge
You and me could write a bad romance

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Caught in a bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

Walk, walk fashion baby
Work it
Move that bitch crazy

Walk, walk fashion baby
Work it
Move that bitch crazy

Walk, walk fashion baby
Work it
Move that bitch crazy

Walk, walk fashion baby
Work it
I'm a freak bitch, baby

I want your love and
I want your revenge
I want your love
I don’t wanna be friends

Je veux ton amour
Et je veux t'en revendre
Je veux ton amour
I don’t wanna be friends
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
I don’t wanna be friends
(Caught in a bad romance)
I don’t wanna be friends
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
Want your bad romance
(Caught in a bad romance)
Want your bad romance!

I want your love and
I want your revenge
You and me could write a bad romance
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!
I want your love and
All your lovers' revenge
You and me could write a bad romance

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Want your bad romance
(Caught in a bad romance)
Want your bad romance

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!
Want your bad romance
(Caught in a bad romance)

Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!
Roma-roma-mamaa!
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!
Want your bad romance

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Boy Bands & Boyfriends.

Funny how common the two were in the past, the proliferation of boy bands and boyfriends ( though flings would be a more apt description), now nothing more than quirky memories which leave behind a bittersweet taste in the mouth. And no, I'm not referring to any bodily fluids if that's what you're wondering.

Like a strange dream you can't quite recall, the retrieved fragments of time a jumbled mosaic of competing sensations and emotions. Cemented by specific memories and that indescribable feeling of unassailable emotions entrenched with every single fragment. For Boybands, that sense of exasperation when trying to rip off the plastic wrapped discs, a kitschy mix of mushy sentimentalism and corny affirmation, angsty love. For boyfriends...well let's just say it depended on the individual in question and leave it at that.

Both now a thing of the past... for the foreseeable future. Though the latter resurfaced from the deep recesses of the mind when the Ex suddenly re-established contact on Sat to wish me a happy birthday. Strange but true. Though it's not something I'll be losing any sleep over.

Listening to Take That's Back For Good, I still remember when I thought Gary Barlow was hot. Those were the days, gone forever.

Take That- Back For Good

Saturday, November 14, 2009

The Birthday Bash

Although the shewolf didn't turn up (phew) due to a sudden and virulent bout of flu and sore throat, the night still turned out to be damn havoc, certainly one of the wilder ones I've had in a while.

To begin with, the Underworld theme which required us to come dressed (somewhat) as either vampires or werewolves set the tone for the rest of the night. Shopping with A. the night before for accessories and what not helped to put me in the mood. Nothing like some proper accessories and a sense of satisfaction with one's outfit to get one prepped and happy.

I went with the slightly campy, vamp in paris look though for some reason the Gang seemed to be fixated on the metallic gothic sword pendant which they claimed was a crucifix and highly inappropriate for a vampire. Which is pure bosh because it's a sword, looks like one and the only similarity between it and a crucifix is its proportions. But we all had fun, even A. as Fluffy, the failed vampire slayer. A role specially invented for her cause she looked like neither a vampire nor a werewolf.

Dinner wasn't bad. I liked my cod though I remember being hampered by the jungle of wine glasses that obstructed easy access to the starters. It was the after dinner party at the Pump Room (Zirca sadly was closed for a private, lesbian party event) though that was damn havoc. Sufficiently sloshed with booze by the time we reached, the ex-PM's Flaming Lambo pushed me to a dangerous high. Another waterfall and I would have undoubtedly crashed, with an almost inevitable trip to the toilet to puke.

As it turns out, I didn't but suffered selective amnesia on the dance floor. Which is probably a good thing on hind sight. Apparently, I danced with half the people on the dance floor, did a lot of acrobatic moves which resulted in a serious wardrobe malfunction, pants that ripped along the ass seams. On the day when I chose to wear my jock straps.

Groped a lot, got groped a lot. Had my most 'private of parts' groped by a particular ahem, vampy, individual in the Gang who apparently leapt on the platform to engage in some serious dirty dancing with your truly. Thankfully, I have no recollection at all of the latter. The Gang got a full view of my naked butt cheeks which incidentally got groped by that same individual.

It is vaguely disturbing to know that she's the only other woman (other than the Mother) to have ever touched my bare ass. Which might explain why I simply cannot recall that part.

But all in all, a pretty damn havoc night. Certainly the first time my pants ever split along the seams from dancing. Which I have to admit was more than vigorous. Thanks for the night though guys, lurve ya!

Let's aim for Zirca for the Saggi - bros' upcoming birthday bash. This time I'll wear jeans.

Tik Tok goes the cock erm clock!



Tik Tok by Ke$ha

Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy
(Hey, what up girl?)
Grab my glasses, Im out the door - Im gonna hit this city (Lets go)
Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack
Cause when I leave for the night, I aint coming back
Im talkin' pedicure on our toes, toes
Trying on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowing up our phones, phones
Drop-toping, playing our favorite cd's
Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tips-eeerw

[CHORUS]
Dont stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, Imma fight
Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party dont stop no
Oah-oh wah oh
Oah-oh wah oh

Dont stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, Imma fight
Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party dont stop no
Oah-oh wah oh
Oah-oh wah oh


Aint got a care in world, but got plenty of beer
Aint got no money in my pocket, but Im already here
Now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger
Im talkin' bout - everybody getting crunk, crunk
Boys tryna touch my junk, junk
Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk
Now, now - we goin til they kick us out, out
Or the police shut us down, down
Police shut us down, down
Po-po shut us - down/deerw

Dont stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, Ima fight
Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party dont stop no
Oah-oh wah oh
Oah-oh wah oh

Dont stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, Imma fight
Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party dont stop no
Oah-oh wah oh
Oah-oh wah oh

DJ, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, you got me
With my hands up
You got me now
You got that sound
Yeah, you got me

DJ, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, you got me
With my hands up
Put your hands up
Put your hands uh-a-a-a-a-a-a

No, the party dont start till I walk in

Dont stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, Imma fight
Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party dont stop no
Oah-oh wah oh
Oah-oh wah oh

Dont stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, Imma fight
Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock, on the clock
But the party dont stop no
Oah-oh wah oh
Oah-oh wah oh