I Was Kissed Today...

...by an old uncle can!!!

Grrr... Sibeh unfair lah. Some old uncle with dementia comes into the surgery and starts spouting rubbish to the poor GP. After about 20 minutes of talking (obviously half way through I started day dreaming) the GP started hinting STRONGLY that he should go.

But the poor old chap continued talking about fishing (FISHING!?!?!? How uncle is that) and when he was finally forced to leave, he came over, grabbed my arm, and gave me a kiss on the cheek! (of which I recoiled horribly to so all he got was a slight brush of my fine, fine skin)

HOW DARE HE! Chou Ngo Sui!??!

@#$%^&!!!



I mean, I have nothing against kissing.



If it was someone fit.

Like...


Lin Dan.

See those rippling muscles??? *_*

Although he beat Malaysia's Lee Chong Wei flat, (make that TRASHED LCW all the way down to the centre of the Earth and back) in the Beijing Olympics badminton men finals, Lin Dan is still on my top list because he IS ssssssssssmmoooooookiiing hot.

Lee Chong Wei looks like a scrawny long bean next to him.


Aiyo, mana ada fight!?!!?

Some Googling revealed that Lin Dan's gf is OLDER than him lorh. By like TWO freaking years. I think he needs to open his eyes bigger and take in more perspective that there are a lot of younger, fitter girls out there, which is much more suitable for him.

Like me.
However, my mandarin totally cannot make it. Still, there is no barrier between lust love is there?

Although I believe that I should be nationalistic and slam Lin Dan since he was such an arrogant toot when he lost to LCW during the Malaysia Open, one can never overcome nor underestimate the pure power of superficiality.

Yeah, I know that sentence sounds wrong.



OR, I can always settle for someone with more talent.

Like...


King of Mandopop, Jay Chou.

Now, this is someone with an undeniable gift in music. Not only does he compose his own songs, sings them and directs his own MVs, he has attained even greater heights by capturing the movie scene in both acting and directing.

How on earth can you resist someone like that??

Sure, aiming for Jay Chou is a bit high, but then again, he went for a nose job so that means he isn't perfect.

So if he ain't perfect, why should I be?



Or perhaps, I'd settle for someone who is within reach, like...

Hins Cheung.

Not that I super like him (a bit too pretty boy and scrawny in my opinion) but I suppose he is the closest superstar I can get to considering I know his sister and all. But too bad, she is married in her own happy little world and I do not reckon she will fancy a request from me to meet her busy brother because I want to kiss him.

That won't go down good At All.


But anyone would be better than the old geezer who stole 1% of my virginity.

I suppose the ONLY consolation I get is that he is Posh. So that reduces the likelihood of an infection spread and also that means if there was any mushrooms,melons or tofus, I can SUE His Pants Off.

Welcome to women of the 21st century baby.

Moved Beyond Words...

Mr. D is from Sri Lanka. He is a bit of a social outcast here, suffering from a broken heart and is also on hovering on the brink of depression.

It's been a long day.
Doctor is tired.
Doctor knows Mr. D's problem is nothing but just a bad break up with his girlfriend which lead to his 'depression'. Doctor knows the whole story and does not want to hear him lament about it again. And again.

But Doctor is after all - A Doctor.

She calls for Mr. D and he strides in.

He sits down -
Dejected.
Unsure.
Unbelieving.

And Doctor carefully selects and puts on the correct mask.
A soft face, full of empathy, devoid of judgment, caring, warm, affectionate.
She adjusts the tone of her voice and its intonation to the correct pitch; sits at the correct position, head slightly tilted, appearing understanding, knowing, loving.

And so Doctor asks Mr. D to trust her once again. To take the anti depressants. To know that she is there to help wherever she can. That she can make things work for him. All he needs to do is Trust. Trust that she can do it. Trust that she knows best. Trust that time will heal his broken heart. Trust that Doctor will Be There, Unwavering, Unfaltering.

The silence grew deeper, the air became palpable with undecipherable emotions; all other noise becomes a vortex of buzzing while Doctor's soothing voice becomes the beacon in the dark and the shake of her feathery hair becomes the only breathing object in the room.

Trust me Mr. D.
I need you to Trust Me.


I felt just that slight change of emotions running through him. It then grew.... and grew.... rising up to the surface as his fingers started to tremor. He struggles to fight his emotions. To remain calm, to remain cool.
But to no avail.
His marble like eyes behind his spectacles starts to become glassy. He blinks once, twice, and the sleeping giant in him burst forwards, exposing his all to Doctor, allowing her into his heart to touch, heal and care for his broken soul.


And as shiny tears slid down Mr. D's face, staining his jacket like little raindrops on a sunny day, he croaks out, barely audible words:

'You know Doctor, sometimes, I think God sent you to me.'

'Thank you. Really, thank you.'

Paint Ball

Now remember how I said that I enjoy looking out for extraordinary things to do?

Yes, paintball, not extremely extraordinary in itself, has been at the back of my mind for quite some time now.
Well, not MY mind per se, but a friend's who has been going on and On and ON and ON and ON and ON about paintball everytime I met him.

So finally, on a bright sprightly Saturday on the 9th day in the month of August year 2009, 20 brave souls made their way to the A1 Paintball pitch based here in Edinburgh.

Ok, first of all, let me give you some background. I have played paintball before.

Oh yes.

Way back then when I was a wee 19 year old with my A Level friends in Extreme Park Malaysia. And my second time was back in first year at some other spot in Edinburgh with some friends from the Asian Friends Society.
All I remember of the first time was that my friend Rei Ka suffered a skin abrasion the size of a penny on her arm and also puked at the sidelines because of her terrific gallantry that brought nothing but victory to my team.
The second time I remember the hammering in my heart as I brought the canister that is supposed to be delivered to the enemy's base up front for the warriors in my team to skip over the cross fire and bring us the triumph we deserve.

But for what my money's worth, I remember both times that the pain inflicted by that darn paintball is nothing less than pure agony. ESPECIALLY if it was point blank.

So really, paint ball isn't something new to me.

But since I have not played in about 4 years and also me friend is going to return to Brunei like very, very soon, I jumped at the chance.

A few inquiries to those that exist around me brought the number of our group up to a formidable 20.

Of course, it HAD to rain that morning and of course, the bus driver HAD to tell us the wrong stop to get off at and of course, another 1/2 of us HAD to lose our way there.


Still, 2 hours later than scheduled, 20 Edinburghans, ranging from medical students to biology and engineering and nationalities from SEA including Malaysia, Singapore, Brunei, Thailand, Indonesia and Hong Kong gathered together at the base, ready to Kick Ass.

After changing into the rather flattering army suits, and strapping on the almost attractive head gear, complete with finger enhancing gloves, we were ready to rock n' roll.

Of course, changing where everyone can see you is the way forward.

What did I say about kick ass?

So we were then divided into 2 teams, handed our guns and marched out into the muddy battlefield.

Yes. Muddy like there is no tomorrow. And when the marshals yelled 3, 2, 1 and START! we scrambled like scared rabbits, backs bent doubled, finger on trigger, feet stepping into the ankle high mud, eyes darting like squirrels and basically tried to hide our big bodies behind whatever that was available.

And my team lost. Because we have too many big people thus providing easy targets.

Well, that's just an excuse. The real reason was that the enemy crept right up to our base and no one saw him. -_-"'

We probably all need glasses.

Never mind.

Round 2.

Now. This was when things got a little tricky.

Already tired with squatting so much (this did not agree with my thighs at all really) and also oozing sweat from every pore, the almost attractive head gear I was wearing started to tooting FOG up.

Right.
It is very well if I can actually see who or what I am shooting at.
It is even better if I can actually see where I am walking to.
It is probably the best if I could see my hand in front of me.

During the first game, I actually managed to see people through my visor.

And being able to see them, meant I could aim to shoot at them. And hit them.

Hard.

By the time the second game went into full swing, I saw:
Bloomin' fog.

Descending over my field of vision, cutting off my ability to estimate direction, destroying my precise calculations of the time it takes my bullet to reach the enemy, interfering with my meticulous ciphering of the wind's velocity and angle, sabotaging my mind sketch of the parabolic curve of bullet travel and thus effectively obliterating my deliverance of head shots straight to the Nemesis's head.

And so I had to endure either shooting blindly or slipping my hand into the visor to wipe the pestiferous vapour away every other second.

I chose the latter.

Which I paid dearly for because I was shot at mercilessly during our last game, where we were led into the silliest battle ever, called No Man's Land.
What do you do? You go, run, hide and shoot your comrade, brother, sister, acquaintance, colleague... just shoot at bloomin' everybody.

Yes.
No rules, no feelings, just pure brutality.


See the yellow marks all over the suit?


The by product of paint ball.
This definitely beats Rei Ka's penny size bruise all the way up the Great Wall of China and back.

For the faint hearted?

Definitely not.