Sometimes lesbians are just tiring… Pt 1

Before you continue reading, let me just say that everything blogged here is my personal opinion of current situations. I am in no way insinuating that EVERYONE behaves like this. If I say that I can’t stand women, it doesn’t mean I can’t stand ALL women… it just means that so far, those I have contact with personally are driving me crazy. Who knows if an unknown woman half-way across the globe would drive me crazy? So, if anyone is thinking of writing nasty comments or emails… get a life! This post is meant for entertainment and I am the last person on this planet who is into what is politically-correct or not…

However, if you are one of those people who take everything too personally and too seriously, I would suggest you stop reading right now before you get your panties into a twist.

I just wanted to say that I am so sick of lesbians!! Ha. I suppose if I were straight, I would say that I’m sick of straight people, but since most of my friends at the moment are lesbians and all the stories and experiences I have are dyke ones, I am allowed to say that I am sick and tired of us and our lousy silly behaviour.

Nothing really warrants this outburst, it’s just been something I’ve realised and thought about for the longest time. I am sure I am guilty of many of the things I’m going to rant about, but can I just say again that I am sick of lesbians that I know, including myself!

Dyke Drama/ Stories
The title should speak for itself. Do you ever have one of those close lesbian/ gay friends that tell you everything about their lives, especially about their relationships/ flings/ crushes etc? And one day, you sit back while listening to one of their stories about so-and-so whom they are seeing, but not sure about because so-and-so still has feelings for the ex/ is hung up on someone unobtainable/ think they are straight, and you just think to yourself:

GET OVER IT ALREADY! Everything that has happened before will happen again (Battlestar Galactica! Actually that’s a useful tv series that has a plot that L Word should follow..)…wake up your idea already la!

That story about how she met someone who has the same thoughts, opinions, feelings and star alignments as her? Who knows what she’s thinking and is even more caring and sensitive than the ex-girlfriend? But 2 month later she turns into a psycho bitch? Phui! If you hear this story from her once, be expected to hear it at least 10,000 times more, with different characters. Expect that some of the characters would be connected to you in some way (refer to Pt 2 on The Dyke 2 Degrees of Separation). Plus you can get off your ass to go get yourself a cup of tea and some smokes while she’s still rambling, because you know what the ending is anyway.

How about the story where this girl she’s into used to have a boyfriend but not really…not all the time anymore? Loads of drama, ending with a huge explosion where she finds her girlfriend having a shag with the so-called exboyfriend/ or even a new one, in positions she knows she could never compete with.

Or the story about how she’s so in love with this girl but they are just not meant to be together even though they love each other and would die for each other?

Or the story of how she’s broken up with this girl AGAIN for the 10th million time and yet the make-up sex is so good she would probably break up again for the 10 million and one time?

And this one is my personal favourite: How her girlfriend became really good friends with this dubious girl from god-knows-where and they hang out together all the time in threes or even twos and one day her girlfriend runs off with the dubious girl and engages in sex acts she thought only happened between two committed people.

I could go on. It’s almost like fairytales, you hear one, you know the ending for all.

To be Continued…

A Nostalgic Flashback

There was this one time, about 12 to 13 years ago, when I experienced one of those perfect moments that so rarely happen in real life. I met this girl in a movie-esque kind of way, in a library, on a perfect Saturday afternoon, in a moment of perfect coincidence. A’s probably heard this story once or twice, but I just had to blog about it because of a flashback dream I had last night. It was weird, it was like watching a video that I’d taped of that day, nothing about it was dreamt up or made-up.

On that particular Saturday afternoon, I was as usual hanging around the old library in town. It’s one of my favourite places to be because the building was so quaint, so magical. The interior of the building itself tended to gloominess with sudden shafts of sunlight shooting through glass windows, the walls were of red brick outside, painted white on the inside. It had a car porch, with a staircase ascending up to this platform that led into the main lobby of the library. The whole place was surrounded by trees and there was a hill at the back of the library. At that time, the library was located in an area full of old colonial-looking buildings, like the MPH Building, the National Museum, Substation, tons of Banyan trees. It was a scary-looking place at night, but on afternoons like that afternoon, it was a place to dream in.

I was standing on that platform outside the main lobby, trying to organise the stack of books I had hugged to my chest. I was in my nerdiest clothes, something blue and checked, my grubbiest pair of jeans and sneakers, a battered backpack, my plastic glasses (because I broke my glass ones), my retainers in as I forgot to use them the night before, and juggling a half-drunk cup of Mac’s milkshake (which I’d guility stowed away in my backpack). Amidst all that chaos that was happening in my arms, I banged right into someone and my books flew everywhere. I was still clutching my milkshake because apparently food was more important to me than books.

I was half-blinded by my irrational fringe, my butt hurt… and this person whom I had bumped into had even grubbier shoes than me. This person held out a slim hand while I tried to straighten my glasses. It was a girl with impossibly long skirts (I thought only my mother wore long skirts), and she smiled and looked apologetic as she helped me out. I don’t want to sound mushy or overly romantic, but at that precise moment, she had sunlight shining on her hair through the dappled shadows of leaves, and it took my breath away that another person could be everything I wasn’t. And her eyes were these marvellous dark chocolate swirls with caramel peeping through. They were the happiest eyes I’d ever seen, the most hopeful and dreamy. She helped me with my books, I gave her a shy smile, the following week I saw her again, and we started talking and having coffee in the library’s courtyard cafe.

Not many things have a happy ending, but we are all allowed to hope for one eventually. I got to know her, I got to know future friends and girlfriends through her. We hung out every Saturday. We had a sad tumultaneous relationship. We broke up, then got back together, then we did the whole lesbian thing about trying to be polygamous. We did everything two girls that age wanted to do and experience. And one day we grew in different directions and I left the memory of her standing in that building’s porch like a ghost. Even now, even though the library is long gone, and where it used to be is a tunnel of some sort, I feel a twinge of nostalgia for more innocent times gone by.

It’s been awhile…

Woah… I haven’t updated in a long time. First I went back to Sg for vacation… then because I didn’t have my laptop with me, and it felt funny using A’s computer… then because I fell out of the habit of blogging…
Therefore. Since I got back in March, I have been tracking across my own blog and somehow, I just didn’t have anything to talk about. I’d been staring at this page for the past couple of weeks, wondering if there was anything concrete worth blogging about my life or thoughts.

Sure…a million things have happened. They’ve zoomed by, exciting me at first then falling flat when I realised they were just momentous. Kind of a sad life.

To catch up a little, I’ve extended my student visa and it will expire in September 2009. My initial plan was to get home to Sg in July or August, but now I’m wondering which is the better way because I still have to fly back for my graduation in September. I don’t know…it’s all about money again. It’s not like I have a shortage of it, it’s more like I would like to have more savings, because god know’s when I’d get a job given the current economy and my own trepidation about my talents (if any at all). I’ve been buying hope in the form of Lotto… LOL! It’s just nice to hope…]

Anyway, if I do fly home in July, it means my housemate might or might not hold the room for me. Which means if I return in September, I would have to find a hotel, or live with some friends (I’m not so sure I want to… their ‘family’ dynamics can be awkwardly weird), meaning extra cost. I also have to remember that I’m already spending XX amount to ship my stuff home. Decisions, DECISIONS!

Talking about recession (I don’t want to say ‘The’ Recession because goodness knows this isn’t the only one), I’ve probably been through at least 2 to 3 recessions in my lifetime. Will this horror ever end (and no, thanks to Finance classes, we know the evil cycle is about every 9-13 years)… Seriously, I’m so sick of recessions. If it affects people in the upper, upper middle class families, let’s not talk about how it affects those in the middle to lower quadrants. I spend days worrying about ka-ching, and that’s not something I want to do. I’m supposed to be a person who’s unmotivated and untouched intrinsicly by money. This is uncomfortably out of character for me. I’m sure my discomfort and the recession of course affects A to a certain level… and I don’t help when I start worrying and nagging her about saving… sometimes I contradict myself because I worry and nag too much about money, then I relent by telling her quite the opposite… Oh if you like it just get it…

ARRRGH!

I’ve also been staying home a lot since I don’t have much school… like once a week for 3 hours. I’ve especially been feeling the bite of loneliness eversince majority of any friends I’ve made for the past 2 years have mostly flown back to Sg, or their home countries… or people, being people have just grown apart for various reasons, mostly logistics. I’ve mostly been spending my time doing laundry, changing the bedsheets, surfing, watching a copious amount of dvds. The house is uber quiet as the Personal Chef had left for Sg/ Shanghai for a vacation and work, and I’m quite alone for the next month. It doesn’t help that my internet connection is terribly slow this month due to a decreasing download quota, and I can’t really skype with A. My Wii is not with me either as I got the Personal Chef to bring it back to Sg for some upgrading…woe is me… It’s horrendously quiet, and it’s become a habit I can’t break out of to leave the house. Somehow I have lost the motivation to go out and explore, window shop etc. It just gets tiring because the moment I reach my destination, I start planning my trip home.

Okay, shall stop here, I’m just whinging right now.

Love is blind and it’s all the fault of chemicals in our bodies

I wanted this to be a separate post from the previous one about tissue packets. Anyway, I was reading Alix’s entry, and it struck a chord in me. I somehow felt horribly sad after reading it, because it made me think of Crappy Girl.

This is Crappy Girl’s story to tell, but I will talk about bits of it, just because I feel that I can empathise and have experienced the ‘u-haul’ jokes myself. And Crappy Girl, if you are reading this, don’t worry, this is an extremely censored entry and intimate details will not be revealed *evil chuckle*

I’m kidding lar!!

Anyway, when CG first told me that she was moving overseas with her then girlfriend, I was thrilled and at the same time skeptical. If I had in any way put her down, I am sorry it was taken the wrong way, but I was truly concerned and worried (although happy!). Understand that I didn’t have anyone else’s experiences to relate to, and could only rely on my own. Historically speaking, doing the lesbian and u-haul thing after knowing someone for a couple of months, or even not being sure about the other person’s character is risky business. I think when she announced her plans to migrate, she’d known her gf for maybe under a year (trying hard to count on my fingers). Of course, length of time you know someone is not a clear indication of how well you can get to know their true character and motives, but I feel that time also allows people to be tried and hence reveal their true nature.

During that period of time, I’d supported her decision to be together with the gf, because I felt that the she was a vast improvement over the previous one. CG seemed grounded and rational, unlike her usual brash self, and I thought the gf was a good influence on her.

It was heart-warming to hear her talk about her plans with the gf over the webcam while I was away. I even envied that she could discuss her move freely with her gf, whereas I felt A tended to be touchy about the subject of migrating to Sydney with me. However, the warning bells started to sound when CG mentioned how the gf did not seem to be as involved in the move as she was. She seemed to be completely clueless about everyday stuff, like house-hunting, getting bills paid, money transference, and so on. And from what I understood from CG’s coversations with me, it seemed that the gf wasn’t even really trying hard to find out about all those matters. CG told me she felt rather alone in the move, and I guess it did not help the relationship at all. No matter how CG tried to make everything sound better than it really was, I sort of felt that behind the scenes, the gf’s behaviour was going to take a toll on their relationship.

Knowing CG for this long, through all our shit, I didn’t want to say too much about it, because I knew that she would eventually chose the path that was most logical and be true to what she really felt comfortable with. In the end, CG did not go through with the move, and they ended the relationship. I was sad about it, but at the same time happy because I sort of anticipated all the shit CG might have to deal with if she did move. Moving to a new home is hard enough, not to mention to a new country where you’d need money, a job, a house… and of course social support from friends and family, which you wouldn’t have. In that new country, CG would only have the gf as support, and if the gf couldn’t give her the assurance and support she needed, I felt that she would have had the shittiest time ever… and I wouldn’t be able to help her either because we would still be 2 hours (by flight) apart, even if we were in the same country.

I too am guilty of doing the lesbian thing, where I moved in with A almost immediately. The time line eludes my memory, but I remembered that I was extremely upset when I first met her as I’d just ended a relationship with my ex. It was supposed to be a one-night stand that ended with me moving in with her so gradually that there wasn’t even an official moving in day. Let’s just say it took around close to 3 months to move all my belongings in. I was already living with her during a large part of the week (4 days out of 7). The ‘relationship’ was so green we spent our Christmas and New Year with our own friends and family instead of each other. Everything told me that it wouldn’t work out, it was risky, and it was just a big ole’ u-haul joke. I still think that it was risky… and if I had to do it all over again, I would probably be 10 times more cautious.

I believe that the relationship has worked out despite our dubious beginning. We had friends burn bridges with us, we harbored our own doubts about each other… but somehow it worked. I don’t know what we did right…

But science can explain our actions when we are in love, or infatuated. Our judgment gets clouded, we tend to do things based on our gut feelings rather than logic. All this is caused by a chemical produced in our bodies, and we are just reacting to that chemical. Once that chemical dissipates, that’s when one wakes up to reality and realises what a shithole they have stumbled into. Hence, love is literally blinding. I’m not saying that we are just walking vessles of hormones (actually I AM saying that.. haha), but I have found that it is extremely helpful to understand what I’m like when I meet someone new that I like. I act like I’m totally blind to all their faults, even if they robbed me blind, I would probably make an excuse for their behaviour. By the time I ‘wake up’ it is usually too late and I regret that I did not take things slow.

It’s the same thing when I get PMS. I only realise that I’m PMS-ey when I start having paranoid thoughts about things that usually wouldn’t bother me. I’m still working on ignoring those thoughts though. WIP okay… slowly…

My father was totally aware of this, and reminded me when I was 12, that when you are in love, the girl could be the shortest midget in the world, with the buckiest of buck teeth, bad breath, and bad temper, and you would still think she’s beautiful. But once you fall out of love, she could be the most gorgeous woman ever, and you would still think she’s ugly.

So the point of this post? Yes, love is sacrifice, love is taking risks… but all this should be calculated sacrifice and risk until you are certain that you aren’t looking at a new love with rose-tinted glasses… and as much as you might hate it that your friends’ warnings could be right, it’s better to heed them. We have this saying in Chinese, that an onlooker is always clearer about what is really happening.

And I shall end my long spiel and get into the shower. It’s bloody hot in this country!

Back where the dog fur flies and the mosquitoes buzz

So I’m back in sunny Singapore for the 3rd day now. Made my rounds, met with A’s family, my family, the toystores (to check out new toys for collecting), done the dinners with the families, unpacked the toiletries bag… have yet to unpack my clothes… played with the dog, quickly paper-mopped the floor, yadda yadda yadda.

I haven’t seen Crappy Girl though, since she’s currently working on a project for the Christmas period. I haven’t seen my other friends either, but it’s just the 3rd day, so I will go easy on myself.

Things have been sweet since I got back. The familiar smell of lush greenery contrasting with smells of concrete dust and hot tar (roadworks are a constant factor here). Having spent a lot of my days in Sydney, my ears are suddenly bombarded with noise. A lot of noise. This country is so loud all the time, even at 11 pm at night. There’s construction work going on, the sound of  vehicles… a neighbour or two who’s up playing all-night mahjong… I’ve never really noticed all these things before. Even the ’tissue packet’ syndrome which I’ve suddenly noticed in the food centre yesterday. A friend of mine who’d moved to Melbourne years ago, blogged about this ’tissue packet’ syndrome before when she came back to visit Singapore.

To those who aren’t familiar with our very unique Singaporean culture, this is a phenomenon where the general public (especially the white collar workforce) arrive at an empty table at a public food centre, and use packets of tissue paper to ‘chope’ (reserve) it. This phenomenon is performed by both men and women alike. Foreign expatriates wishing to blend into the culture do this as well (from my observation yesterday, although it was quite strange seeing a Caucasian male throwing a pink packet of tissue on the table). Yesterday afternoon, while having lunch with A, I observed this phenomenon with new (and irritated eyes).

A brought me to this particular eating place that sold excellent minced pork noodles. When we arrived at 12pm, the place looked relatively empty, although there was a long queue at the counter. All I saw on the empty tables were packets of tissue paper. I felt so annoyed, I had a sudden urge to sweep all the packets onto the floor and take a table of my choice.

I know I’m being annoyed for no good reason, seeing how I should totally understand the ‘logic’ behind this way of reserving tables. I also understand how this phenomenon came about. When we were kids in Primary School (that would be around ages 6-12), we used to ‘chope’ seats in the canteen, or our favourite hopscotch diagram, using water bottles, purses, or whatever we had on hand. While the seats were reserved with our personal belongings, we could freely wander off to buy food, or do other stuff, with no fear of losing our table in the canteen. For some reason, we instinctively seemed to understand that if there was someone’s belonging sitting somewhere public, that particular spot belonged to someone else already. Warped reasoning, but it seems to have worked its way into our psyches and have been carried through to our adulthood.

I think it is an extremely childish and annoying practice. Being the typical true-blue Singaporean, I would also suggest signs being placed around food courts and markets, stating that there will be no ‘chope-ing’ of seats and tables. Of course these new signs will somehow have to be fitted amongst the other existing signs that warn people not to litter, not to bring pets into eating areas, not to smoke, not to breathe and, to be courteous signs. Did I miss out any other signboards?

Sunset right outside the fly screen.

This is the reason why I keep falling in love with Sydney, despite the rot and the ruin in certain places.

On sacrifice and going home for Christmas

A’s left yesterday, and now I’m alone. The space is rather welcoming, but I do miss having her around. Last night I woke up around 4am because the Personal Chef switched off my room light (I’d fallen asleep watching some DVD), and for about 10 seconds I thought it was A, and rolled over to make room for her, only to remember that she’d left. On the bright side, I will be home for Christmas, so I will be seeing her in approximately 7 days =).

The Personal Chef came over to my room yesterday evening to take my orders for dinner (yes, I’m lucky to have such a nice housemate) and to bum a cigarette off me. So we were smoking in silence, our feet propped up on my desk (and the bookcase). He asked me if my decision was final about going back to Sg after my course was over, and I said yes. Honestly, what can I do about it right? Decisions have already been made, mentalities have already been adjusted, some clothes have already been brought back by A. Even if I wanted to stay, there was no way I could continue in this long distance relationship.

Already, when A disappeared through the departure gate, I could feel my mind clicking back into ’singlehood’ mode. In 1 minute I was ready to go wandering around, not caring if I got lost (incidentally I did get lost, taking a bus to Rockdale instead of Randwick). The last couple-ly thing I did was to call her sister overseas to inform her to pick A up at the airport, and her other sister that A managed to catch a flight back.

So if this long-distance continues, over time, with the lessening of physical contact and presence, two people can draw further away from each other. Sometimes this estrangement is not deliberate, it is just a natural course that takes place. No one is really to blame. Moreover, I believe that there are a few types of relationships, some are purely physical, some mental (where there is a lot of communication but very little physical intimacy), and I am of the opinion that A and my relationship are a mix of the two, but the balance is tipped towards the physical. I think that she feels better when I hug her or squeeze her hand, rather than if I say something I deem comforting. Moreover, she’s more action-orientated, and not being able to do things to communicate her feelings is a serious handicap to her relationships.

That said, I do appreciate the effort and the tenacity she’d displayed throughout these two long years. Give that she is who she is, and the fact that she could even go through a long-distance relationship, when both of us do not believe in them… that is pure effort and sheer love. I can’t reiterate how honored I feel to be on the receiving end of such patience from her… especially from someone who gets impatient even when the bus is 1 minute late…

That is why, when the Personal Chef said I should try harder to convince her to come and stay here now, I know in a way, it’s just time to give her a break… and to give myself a break… If this was supposed to be a test of our relationship of some sort (and really I HATE this cliché but I can’t help myself), then I feel that we have passed it, and it’s time this test ended. Like how I feel that it’s time I graduate, and just fuck finishing up the finance major when it’s obvious I’m not mathematically-inclined.

I know to the Personal Chef and to many friends that know us as a couple, people think that our relationship can be rather dysfunctional. It seems that we bicker a lot and that we yell at each other a lot. I don’t deny that I hate the yelling and the bickering, but maybe it’s just the way we function as a couple. I’m trying to view this as objectively as I can… although I know there’s a level of biasness seeing how I’m A’s girlfriend. I know as a third person looking in, it seems like this couple is bad together. They argue a lot, sometimes it’s punctuated with yelling and someone stomping off. But there’s also a lot of good stuff… Anyway, I don’t think it’s necessary to explain, friends who are close to us know how it’s really like. The arguments are normally explosive 10 minutes of screaming and crying for blood… followed by extreme cuddling. Sometimes it does worry me because I think we have this weird way of communicating, and A is keeping her frustrations to herself, because after we argue, she looks beaten, or at least one of us looks beaten, or both look beaten.

Therefore people assume that either one of us should not give up so much of our lives for each other. We are probably labeled as the couple least likely to be together. Who knows, maybe they are right, who knows, maybe they are wrong. Who knows anything really? If I choose to go home for her, well, that’s my decision right? If she decides to move here after a few years to fulfill her PR, whether I follow her or not, then that’s her decision right?

Sure people always say, don’t do this, don’t do that, don’t give up your life or what you want for another person, especially in this sort of relationship where there isn’t some sort of commitment (on paper), everyone can leave anytime… If we all believed in that, then what’s the point of being together with someone or wanting to be with someone? What’s the point when you already think that the relationship is doomed to separation at the end of the day? There’s always a sacrifice to be made somewhere for something you want… and the problem I feel that a lot of people have nowadays is with the meaning of ’sacrifice’. What happened to ‘through thick and thin’? You can’t have your cake and eat it…at least not at the moment… so where’s the patience?

I watch TV serials, and they always have storylines where couples break up because one is holding the other back from doing something they really want to do. Like breaking up because one wants to go back to college and take up sculpting and can’t do it because the partner is based in a certain location, or breaking up because one party has decided that the other is slowing them down from progressing. So what happens to trying to be together, and maybe someone giving up something? Isn’t love supposed to be about sacrifice? And what if you feel unhappy after sacrificing? In the first place, why should you have any right to feel unhappy if you did the sacrificing so that you could continue to be with a person? You just have to mentally adjust yourself into accepting it…’

Okay, I sort of talked myself to the point where I lost my original train of thought. Guess I should just shut up now.

Happy Holidays! The next time I type in an entry I will probably be steaming in tropical heat with dog fur stuck to my legs. I can’t wait for Christmas! I love it even if someone hates it… we’re gonna have a partieeeeee! *sings in a silly voice*

Asian Mullets are silly and you can’t do squat because it’s my opinion.

To all the douchebags (how I love this word, it’s so quaint) who have painstakingly bothered to read through every word of my entry on Asian Hairstyles, go fuck lizards. First of all, does it not occur to any of you that this is MY blog, and I am ENTITLED to MY own opinions. Go leave your silly little immature remarks at some other blog that talks about world issues that annoy you instead. Rome did not fall because of an ugly mullet. Secondly, I would also like to say that I am somewhat honored that you are as bored as me to even bother reading my long entry about that ugly hairstyle, and actually leave long comments yourself about how my opinion is the shits when honestly I don’t give a flying fuck about what you think of me.

If you aren’t happy about my comments about what I deem is ugly, then go annoy me by getting a bigger Asian Mullet, and maybe blinding the whole world with it. I hereby classify Asian Mullets as annoying as dreadlocks. If you aren’t happy that I hate dreadlocks too… well, can I again say how happy I am that my lowly opinion disturbs you to such a level that you give me some of your precious time and energy to bother telling me that?

Lastly, seeing how I have wasted my precious time on silly people like you, this is my final word on ASIAN HAIRSTYLE/ MULLETS. They are fucking disgusting to me. I am not enabling comments for this and the asian hairstyle entry (anymore) because I hate spammers and people who do not leave constructive comments. Once again, if you are insulted that I hate your haircut… well…think about it, why should my opinion affect you? I like writing about what I feel like writing about… it’s not like I’m the last word on hairstyles.

Merry Christmas children, either grow up or get a new hairdresser. You will be crying about ugly photographs 2 years from now.

Geek ATTACK!

I know I’ve gone missing again. But this time, after I’ve finished watching all the dvds, I’m currently addicted to Nintendo Wii’s Elebits. Zapping those little buggers are so fun! The Wii is the first game console I’ve ever owned. A got it for my birthday last year, and I’ve never really been much of a gamer, my attention span is too short and I get frustrated if I can’t pass a stage and tend to just wave it aside. I get really pissed off if the animation is programmed to snub me if I can’t get through a mission. But Elebits is really addictive… I love games where you can unlock stuff and when you have completed all the stages, you can go back and play again, and find new things. That’s what I call money’s worth!

The first console I’d ever played with was a Nintendo Gameboy (?) belonging to my cousins in the late 80s. I loved Super Mario. Someone also bought a Sega Saturn, and I remember spending Saturday afternoons playing Sonic the Hedgehog with my cousins.

When I first knew A, she was such an addict, forever playing with her PS2. I remember she was playing Clock Tower alone in her room one day, and I was doing something in the living room. Suddenly she ran out of the room screaming and telling me she was too scared to continue playing. 5 minutes later she couldn’t help herself and went back to the room to play Clock Tower again, only to keep screaming because it was scary. Sigh…

I played The Lord of The Rings with her for 3 months. That was the first time I actually completed a game with someone. It was really fun, even though I sucked. We played it so intensively that till today, when we tell people about the game, we’d talk about how we had to pause it halfway so that we could ‘Yoko Yoko’ (it’s a sort of muscle relaxation lotion) each other’s shoulders, and help me bandage my thumbs in cotton wool. At that time I still didn’t have ‘Gamer’s Calluses’ on my hands, so my fingers were getting blistered from trying to maneuver the PS controller. We would be screaming and I can remember A yelling “Babe! Babe!! QUICK SHOOT THE NIGHT RIDERS (these things with big black robes and no faces)!!” and I’d be screaming, “B!!! The black shit is coming!!” (everything was either the ‘Black Shit’ or the ‘Green Shit’ to me, depending on the colour of the enemies.)

Ahahaha…

We are geeks. But A is a hot geek. She calls those things that stick out of the PS controller ‘nipples’ and it’s kinda gross and hot to watch her frantically rotating those ‘nipples’ with her thumbs. ROFLMAO!

Okay, gonna finish my coffee, say byebye to A, and continue playing Mission 7 of Elebits. I feel so butch flinging furniture around while trying to zap those critters.

Ohhh…and counting down to Saturday, when A WILL BE HERE! (to play Elebits while I disturb her… aahhaha)

The Pre-Menopausal Lesbian’s Curse

I am typing this with the utmost difficulty because, tired and sick of my flaking hands (I engaged in heavy-duty spring cleaning yesterday), I have smothered my hands in Vaseline and Saran-Wrapped them. Very Martha Stewart I must say.

Anyway, I just had to get this off my chest.

Doesn’t it just SUCK EGGS when both you and your girlfriend who have been sexually deprived for MONTHS and are finally going to meet, have your periods at the same time?! Seriously it is a cruel cruel god that invented things like menstruation, cellulite, cockroaches and Kaposi Sarcoma.

Oh throw rocks on my head! *tears at own hair*

I know this can be a really squeamish subject, but what the hell, all who are born as female have this to deal with. It really is shitty because not only is my period late after months of being on time, this means I might have The Curse descend upon me when she visits next week. And the longer my PMS lasts, the worse my mood and paranoia. I am highly suspicious of everything that breathes when I have PMS. For example, I killed a fly outside the fly screen door of the apartment yesterday. I spent 15 minutes yesterday and today trying to find out if maggots were crawling off its ass. Last night I also thought that the cabbie driving me to Banks wanted to take me some where secluded and rape and kill me. But I think that’s a pretty realistic fear.

About 1-2 months ago, I had this one super drunk night out with some friends for an event Oxford Street (where plenty of gay bars are). I managed to get home in a cab and ring up my housemate to bring me upstairs when i tottered to the security gate.

About two days later, a friend asked me if I read the news that this drunk gay girl got into a cab at Oxford Street (the same night I was there). The driver drove her to some isolated area and molested her and when she resisted, he drove her somewhere else and raped her. I’ve been trying to find the article, but I guess this happens so often that it’s not newsworthy, so archives might not have been kept. Anyway, news like that ups my level of paranoia, and deters me from going out at night.

Will stop here, it’s getting tiring typing with two fingers.