Saturday, April 01, 2006

friday: boys

Third on list: outing with Ah Yung

I woke up with the sickest feeling in my stomach.

*Just so you know:
Alcoholic binge

Direct toxic irritation of alcohol on meninges, vessels + cranial nerves

Diffuse headache

(Guyton & Hall Textbook of Medical Physiology)
Alcohol also causes vasodilation and increased peripheral vascular resistance, diuresis with increased salt and water excretion [that’s why you pee A LOT when you drink booze], and has a negative inotropic effect. The impaired victim is more likely to vomit and aspirate.(Trauma Manual)

I tried purging but to no avail. Mmmy found me sprawled over the living room floor still decked in my outfit in the morning. Adoi, abit mortified. I must have passed out there and then (thank goodness I made it pass the door and INTO the house). It didn’t feel as severe as the last trip when I got weighed down post-Ivy but since I almost NEVER ever suffer from hangovers, the throbbing headache was something very new to me. It was a mystery how I could wake up in time to remind myself I had a facial and Brazillian wax in the morning. I stuffed a Jusco mini plastic-bag into my pocket just in case I felt like sharing my puke with Jurlique’s parquet flooring. Before leaving, I stuffed heated-up asam laksa (Like WOW my refridgerator actually has food!!) down my throat to kick-start some alcohol metabolism ‘cos the longer it lingers in my bloodstream the crappier I’ll feel.

Facial was good. Brazillian wax was… well, I’ve had better but they’ve improved some from the last time. I need to find a better place to do my Brazillian. I love it when I did it in Liverpool. It was quick, snappy and even though it hurt to bits the girl was a pro and she used wax everywhere. I mean in Jurlique, they’d wax some and they’d shave some. That’s NOT waxing. There’s also this place in Uptown, DU that does waxing. Now the lady there does wax everywhere but she lingers too long with the wax that she ended up scalding a quarter of my genitals in tiny spots. I hurt more from the wax than from the tugging. I never went back there again.

Mmmy took a half day leave so off we went sh-sh-sh-shopping!! I bought this CUUUTE dress in Dorothy Perkins which looks like a rip-off Diane Von Furstenberg or something. I didn’t really like the poufy sleeves but the cut was so slick I kinda look slimmer. Slimmer?? WE LIKE!! Besides the dress could zip up my FAT back and for a moment in front of the mirror, I felt like Dita Von Teese. So me buys. Aiya basically I visit the same ole 1Utama shops in the same ole pattern: Topshop, Dorothy Perkins, MNG, Warehouse, Miss Selfridge, FCUK, Zara, Laura Ashley (old wing) and Marks & Spencer (old wing). Sometimes I just get so appalled by the prices in Warehouse. It’s ONLY upper high-street, who gave them the authority to charge RM500 a pop for a measly blue cotton chequered dress?!! Damn the currency exchange. Here they make Dorothy Perkins sound like some “oooh aaah” but you know in the UK, Dorothy Perkins’ something like Giordano back here. It’s same gang with H&M. I know they hired someone to revamp their old drabby image [people used to go “eeyer Dorothy Perkins, tak nak-lah” back in the UK] and I have to admit their current designs are much much posher than what they used to have but they’re still the bottom bricks of high-street wall. When I wear something nice from Warehouse [I only purchase items there during a good sale] and people enquire me about it: I hate it that they go “Oooh Warehouse. Branded.” Brand my f*ck!! *snaps fingers + diva head-sway* Warehouse is only upper high-street, putting it at levels of FCUK [so don’t think that FCUK is all that-ah] and Morgan [overpriced French drab]. Even Oasis and Next is FUTHERRR up the pecking order. I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up. Basically I just don’t GET why our currency is SO low as opposed to the Pound Sterling. I didn’t study economy so I know nuts ‘bout finance and sh*t. Should go befriend an economist so he/she can explain to me why imported couture is SO expensive. Till then, me continues to shop despite heavy heart XD

Mmmy wanted to go for a haircut in her favourite salon Mod’s so I tagged along since I needed a trim of my own. Thought I’d give a new place a try. I think the fella did a pretty nice job. I might consider going there to do my rebonding.

By the time Ah Yung arrived, my nausea had pretty much subsided. Weee me likes cruising in his uhh… damn I forgot the name of that thing. If HMV is the music store then… ayia forgot-lah... DMV? 4WD… whatever it’s called. We ate in this place: FORGOT again (!!) in Centrepoint, BU. Man my short-term memory is DUNZO [KAKAKA I really love this word, it’s hilarious!!]. It’s a cute lil’ Italian place and the food was pleasant but yet again: small portions!! Me no understanding: do they think that FAT girls eat a bun and we’re done for the day? They are seriously mistaken. The food was good-lah. And I think we were seated behind Deanna Yusof. But at that moment I wasn’t sure if her name was Deanna Yusof and I didn’t want to be that chick who went up to Britney Spears and called her Jessica Simpson. So I just kept mum. After that we smoked sheesha in that place where that law student was beated to death: Uncle something. Funny how that dude was Miss ChongChong’s ex-boyfriend. She seemed to have gone out with everyone!! Ah Yung is a different sort of company. Don’t know is it because he’s more artsy or posher or the fact he went to prep school or whatever but the baseline is that he’s a different sort of company. His chick was away that Friday which explains why he’s SO free to spend Friday night with me. As for moi, between having to choose between The Loft and Luna Bar and upsetting both parties if I chose one over the other, I opt to go for none of ‘em; pushed the engagement up a day to Thursday when the whole world pretty much could make it and just go out with Ah Yung on Friday instead. In the end, everything worked out fine *smiles*. I like it when my sched is in place.

As usual Ah Yung refuses to speak about himself and lures me into talking about myself instead. I don’t know why I keep falling into the same trap again and again and again. I really ought to keep my trap shut sometimes. I talk about myself too much sometimes. I should, in fact, ask him more questions about himself. I know so little of him that it kinda scares me. His youngest brother studied English Literature. As in a degree in English Lit.

I suppose rich people and non-rich people have different perspectives in life. When he told me I was like, “Whoah. So…uh… what’s he gonna do in life?” Might have ticked Ah Yung off abit ‘cos he fell into defensive mode being all critical about the Malaysian play-it-safe educational system and stereotypical career mentality. It’s different-lah. His father studied psychology and Ah Yung started out rich as a child. I guess when you were born with a platinum spoon in your mouth you’d have this poshy-woshy approach where your job needn’t HAVE to be something that can earn you a living but something you would enjoy doing the rest of your life. Non-rich kids or at least kids who started out poor would know that life isn’t that easy. That sometimes you just need to do things you don’t like in order to put carbs on the table. That you have to fight for something ‘better than this’. Sounds ugly but, hey, reality is harsh: Malaysia just does not offer a conducive enough environment for non-typical professions. We’re sad that way but that’s just how we are *shrugs*. That’s why our entertainment industry is asphyxiated and we can’t even generate a rock band popular enough to take over the neighbouring countries (instead, Peterpan is dominating our top 40s). You just cannot survive in Malaysia on JUST a likeable job… it has to be a profit-generating one. So what’s the point in living if you wake up to a job you don’t like? Money. ‘Cos you sure as hell cannot live without the sultan heads. I very materialistic. I define success as money. People can think otherwise but then again they’re still living under their parents’ roof (and eating at home) you’ll find that kids who have to truly fend for themselves are more pragmatic. So what if we have created a generation of vocation clones but what else can a kid do if it’s one of the only routes to the FAT bank account?

The night ended early ‘cos the idiot was tired. Mannn what a waste of my Friday night. I would have been better off pissing off Miss PalnaPalna by choosing Miss ChongChong’s The Loft event. Damn sien. Must remember to AVOID going out with Ah Yung on a Friday night.

Decided to give my double-whammy gigolos a ring.

(msg)moi: Still dating ah? Wanna go out l8er?Ah Choy: Call you later, call your darling 2 come down. Let me go bath 1st, K.
Yeayyy Ah Choy agreed to go out with me after he gets back from his function. Ah Yeoh, on the other hand, was probably still merajuk-ing from the last time. He was such a prick. He refused to pick my calls up. *&^%^%@$%&^&*%$#@!!!!!

(msg)moi: He dowan go out
Ah Choy: Force him la. I tot u club ing tonight? Come use your charm on him He’s being cold. He only succumbs 2 u.
Which was oh-so-true ‘cos the bloody f*cker picked Ah Choy’s call up instantaneously. Like I’m suddenly the b*tch when I was the one making effort to be nice initially. Bloody f*ck. Not only that, this bloody Ah Choy was taking freaking eons to come. I had already peed twice and the f*cker still hadn’t showed up.

(msg)moi: T*u, I’m not d old woman. No nd 2 fuckg prep so long 4 me wei.
As it turns out the *sshole took a power nap before coming over and didn’t tell me!! I was blimin’ tired too. If I knew he was gonna sleep for abit I would have as well. Instead I was trying to keep myself awake by organizing my make-up bag and folding Jusco plastic bags. In the end he was the one widely awake and I felt like I could pass out in lethargy. We drove over to Ah Yeoh’s place and waited awhile in the car ‘cos Ah Yeoh was coming home from his mate’s place. Since I was hungry (when am I never?) they took me to a half-shut food court so I could get some food. I was the only one eating. Damn. Sucks to be the only one eating but ahh WTF my empty stomach more important than my thin skin. Yakked about rubbish ‘till the food court totally shut. Ah Choy decided we should hang out at Ah Yeoh’s place before heading home. We yakked and yakked about more absolute rubbish. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I’ve been missing this. While Ah Yeoh read up on XIAXUE (he’s obsessed with her… he even has her on his desktop wallpaper KAKAKA), Ah Choy and I compared pecs and discussed about weight issues (Ah Choy desperately wants to put on 5 kg while I desperately want to shed them). It was just happy bimbo conversation with the company of Ah Yeoh’s flavoured tea. Me likes!!

I was semi prepared to go home but Ah Choy was too tired to drive me home. Ah Yeoh pula was too lazy ‘cos he was already home so OK fine I don’t blame him. F*ck this is where it sucks to depend on someone else for transport. Since Ah Choy already called the bed, I had to make do with the armchair instead. Mann I should have called the bed first (damn my horrid reflexes!!) ‘cos my FAT ass struggled for hours to make peace with the limited couch space. I don’t think I’ve ever slept over with my double-whammies. Strangely cute. Our first slumber party weiii…

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