Wish My List

I was in Watson's grabbing a couple of toiletries when I realised that they had "Jingle Bell Rock" playing. And boy was I feeling that yuletide cheer.

And since I never got what I actually wanted for Christmas, I thought I might drop in a line for the Man-In-Red. This was how its gonna go down.


Dear Fat Fart In Red Santa,

Its a month to Christmas and I think you and your donkeys elves should be gearing up already. You must be kinda surprised to hear from me, since I never wrote to you before. So this year, I'm going to cut you some slack hand in my wish early to avoid you having drag your big ass around time at the very last minute and screw up unable to grant my wish.

As you've already noticed, I've been a really good boy this year. I've done my chores, cleaned my room, did my homework, met my deadlines, drove courteously and so forth and bla bla bla. I was gonna suck up to you more, but I thought I'll spare your balls as I'm sure all those whiny kids in the world would have made you very sore. So lets get right down to business.

Here's my humble wish-list for the year 2005, in no particular order.

1. Dubs for my fofo. 19-inch to be precise. Either one.

2. Clarion VRX756VD Touch Screen LCD DVD Deck.

3. Nokia N90

4. Acqua Di Gio for Men by Giorgio Armani

5. Adidas Superstar 35th Anniversary No.29 Etched White (Size- US 8 1/2)

6. Graham Swordfish Steel Right

7. Toshiba Stasia 32" LCD TV

I know by now you must be thinking 'This kid has either got some nerves to be extremely materialistic or just utterly mad to ask for such expensive stuffs.'

Well, for your information, old fart Santa, if all these stuffs is within my own purchasing power, I wouldn't have to leech wish it off you now, would I?

Okay, I know I said I'll spare you the suck up, but since everyone's doing it and they got their stuff year in year out, I'm gonna give it a shot.

So this is the part where I'm gonna say that you got a hell of a cool shade of dye for your beard and hair. And I can't seem to get those hypocrites saying you being a fat ass.

So, I guess this is it for the time being. But if there's more, I'd fill you in in due time. Don't you worry about that.

I thank you in advance for ALL the stuff that you're going to get me.


Yours truly,
Spence.

p/s: If you happen to decide to grant me my dubs, do let me know in advance. I need to get 2 pairs of stocking big enough for it. And for the LCD TV, do be careful. Its pretty fragile, so I heard. And since this is gonna be your first visit, I have to ask. How big is your ass do you measure? I need the specification to construct the chimney. I don't want you putting a scratch on any of my stuff you fat clumsy fuck.

The Goodbye

Finally.

The paperwork is done. The transfer is complete.

The Royal Tin Can is no longer in the show-yard. He's now in the hands of another. I didn't get to meet the new guy, but I sure hope that he treats him well.

The Royal Tin Can shall remain a memory. A sweet one.

And to The Royal Tin Can, you served me well and I hope to see you around.

The Ex

I took you into my life.
7th day of October, 2003 was a day to remember.
You were my first.
My very first.

You brought me places.
Work. Classes. Meetings.
Ball. Movies.
Everywhere.
You were there with me, all the time.

But I never had enough.
Never fully appreciate your presence.

I called you names. Beat-up-ride. Royal tin-can.
You stayed with me.
I revved you so high just to boost my ego.
You stayed with me.
I drifted you off corners, fuckin up your alignment.
You stayed with me.
I even rammed you into a tree.
But still, you stayed with me.

Now that you're gone, I'm starting to realise how much you meant to me.

So I got a call from my Toyota's sales representative.

My Royal Tin Can has just found a new owner. Or more like the other way round. But I'd like to think that its my ex-ride that found him, or her.

I'll have to drop in to the showroom tomorrow to settle some paperwork.

And say my last goodbye.

Repeatitus Complexitus

"What part of "NO" didn't you understand?"

What is it with parents interfering with issues? I got this call from a certain lady's mom. Twice.

How freaky is that?

What annoys me is that she was going on and on about the same thing. The fuckin' freakin' ol' woman was repeating the same shit, like the chorus in a chinese pop song.

And you guessed it. She WAS speaking in mandarin.

And I don't understand jack mandarin. Not the words she was using. Too deep.

The only version of mandarin I know quite well are moans. Its universal.

And I had to repeat my moans point, over and over again, TOO. In mandarin.

Agonizing.

Not that I want to be disrespectful, I'm starting to think that the woman probably got a malfunctioned tape recorder which the surgeon happen to misplace when she got her vocal chords looked into. Or a mp3 recorder.

Please, leave me alone. Please.

I just want to drink my beer, okay?

De-railed

Something in me tells me that I'm gonna be in for some big time deep shit if this goes on like this.

Or a hell lot of disappointment. Either way, all the same.

A week into my leave, and I can safely say that I've not gotten any closer to the word "Progress".

I need something to get me going. But I don't know that something.

There's this emptiness that is tugging at me, like constantly. Twenty-four-seven.

Things may be better off if I'm working. Being occupied. Revision is just different. There's no flow to it, well, to me that is. Its just downright different.

I seriously need to straighten out my life. Like this instant. Probably being off-routine is just not me. I feel so, incomplete. You get the drift. I'm just a corporate gigolo.

Hence, I shall head back to the office. First thing tomorrow. Get stuck in the jam, the rush for deadlines, the meetings and all the shits that follows.

I'm just gonna say this once. You might not hear me say it again, ever.

I miss my job. (Highlight where necessary)

Of Inches & Miles.

If there's one thing I learn from what I hear, see and experience, it got to be the fact that long distance relationships do not work.

I know by now, if anyone even read these shits, all those realists who still strongly hold onto the feasibility of distant relationships, would be trying to stone me to death.

But seriously, I've heard, saw and experienced too much. None worked out. As far as I can remember, not even a single one. Only time tells the story.

So, I happened to chat up this girl while I was sadly downing my beer by the bar just now, and she too, tells of a distant too far. You see, her guy, cheated on her. And what used to be 6 years of intimacy, gone.

I have a strong feeling that was her brandy coke talking. True or false, you go figure.

Excuse me while I close my eyes and enjoy the sensational feeling of my room spinning.

Chill Pill

Just when I start reading my notes, stuffs just have to ride along.

Got called back to the office to settle a few issues. Thanks to the Inland Revenue. Those blood sucking imbeciles.

I need to breathe. Like seriously.

Hold up while I go down a couple of beers by the bar. Alone.

Discharged

"One would never, ever, be the same once one is altered from its original state"

So is my fofo. I would never look at it the same way again. Plastic surgery sure did its 'thang. Beyond my wildest imagination. So, different.

My fofo, My love.

Okay, so its just wishful hoping. Let the man dream a lil' would ya? A man's gotta have some dream at one point of his life or another.

A little sidetrack, so here's the real fact. I got my ride back. Sooner than I expected.

Paint-job was slightly above average. Could have been better. Shades differ a little, but nothing I can help. Better than the scar the cunt left on my fofo's ass.

I feel so mobile again. So free.

Hitch a ride, anyone? Preferably a chic. Or chics.

Of Empty Porches & Shits That Follows...

The idea of being immobile is not sitting very well with me right now.

Not when I have important stuffs to attend to and bills which I have forgotten all about to settle.

Not especially when I made a promise to a friend without considering the fact that I am without wheels, and cancelling it out at the very last minute.

And sitting ducks at home doing jack.

All that, and Mother Nature finally know some love. Fine weather. No game.

Kinda teaches us not to take things for granted, no? Especially my fofo.

4 Wheels, A Man & A F*cker

Why is it that everytime I'm on my leave, my ride has to be admitted into a medical centre? The last time, it has to be lavaged due to overdose of oxy-sewage-ocycline when The Pussy Cat tried to drown it.

This time, it's being shipped out to L.A for a plastic surgery. My ride is getting pimped fixed by West Coast Customs UMW, or more like getting a blowjob paint-job.

So that leaves me immobile for the next two days.

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On the other note, what is it with assholes that they love to eye on you from head to toe?

I had exactly that when I brought my ride down to the service centre this morning. I made an appointment and when I was called for, the service assistant gave me a full-blown-head-to-toe check-out as if I was some hot chic with a skirt so little fabric all men would un-controllably gush.

What's up with that? No, not the gushing part you nincumpoop. F*cker with double standard, thats what. Just because I'm some 22 year old doesn't mean I can't afford to be here. Just because I was only in a polo and jeans?

So what is that you need for me to be treated as an all-eligible man?

All dressed in corporate attire; power-suit, power-tie, powerful cock stare?
A gold card? Platinum?

You want the suits and the tie, I'd give you that. Platinum... Okay, so I've yet to qualify for one, but how would you like a gold?

I bet I'll get a different treatment if I was in my working attire. Wait, their Customer Support Department just mailed me a Customer Feedback Evaluation. The f*cker is so gonna get it.

With that all out, I shall try to hitch a ride to get my lunch.

I'm starting to miss my fofo.

Off-Tune

It all started when I had one drink too many on Wednesday night (or should I say Thursday morning) that caused me to wake up earlier than expected and should be. Since then, my biological clock has gone cuckoo.

After chilling out and supper with the rest of the crew, getting home at half past 1 and not feeling tired at all doesn't quite equate me. Not even after hanging in from of my com for almost 2 hours. Boredom was the only thing killing me. What is sadder is when you get up after half an hour of tossing and turning to watch a couple of clips with that weird feeling running in your head.

Dreamland only found me when dawn was almost here. Estimated time was 4.30.

Waking up 5 hours later with a stoned mind ain't fun I tell you. I tried testing my tolerance level by running down to the library to get some revision done. I failed within an hour.

Fast food for lunch didn't get me faster on my feet either. I'm still stoned.

But I got to say that all these non-routine-ness is kinda fun. Fun in a weird way, well for me, that is. Probably due to the fact that I've been working for 3 years and everyday is almost the exact repertoire of the other.

I feel like a 10-years-old-forgotten-piano. Or probably I'm just confused. Maybe.

House Arrest

I'm currently under house arrest. Minus the observation and electronic monitoring.

I have been confined in this crib of mine since I last got home early yesterday morning, which means I have yet to even step into my porch since. Thats like more than 24 hours ago. And that is the saddest thing a completely sane person (though I'm starting to doubt my sanity) could do for a holiday.

Talk 'bout the extreme ends in just two nights. Drinking hard and shouting by the bar on one night and stuck in my own crib on a movie marathon on the other. Waking up early when you seriously needed some shut-eye and waking up after noon when you thought you could use some early breakfast. This is so not me.

Meanwhile, I shall consult a psychologist to regain confidence in my quest for sanity. I shall not be in denial. I need help.

Incompletely Complete, Again.

Waking up 9.30 in the morning when you slept at 4.30 with your head spinning doesn't quite meet the criteria of a holiday. Yet I have no idea why the hell I got up that early. But what I do know is that sitting by the bar with beer is fun. An experience I never quite have.

Waking up to an empty house is sad. Waking up to an empty fridge is giving me indigestion.

Empty stomach and all, thats when you sit down with your orange juice. and your mind starts wandering off. That is when reality hits you hard in your gut.

I realised that I have almost everything but almost nothing.

The Past, The Present & The...

One day you say you love me. Another day you tell me how much you miss me. The next you tell me that you need space. You want to feel young again. And that you want to enjoy the freedom that you never really did 'cos you were with me since you were 17.

And so I said fine. I let you go. We'll just be best of friends. And so we did.

Never thought you'd ever bring up the issue of "us" anymore. Until now. Almost a year later.

So what am I actually? Just someone you can come to and leave whenever you please? Whenever you feel lonely and all miserable?

I really don't see any chances of this working out. Not at all. Not anymore. Please, let us just be friends... and stop being hopeful. The past has gone, the present is happening, but I don't foresee any future.