People Watching

There are no strip clubs in Kuala Lumpur (that I know of). Let's just assume there are no strip clubs here, hence Kuala Lumpur has no strippers. So, presuming you're not a stripper, why on earth do you insist on dressing like one*?

Clothes, you can buy. Style, you can copy. Class, you either have it or you don't.

*lucite heels, animal print ripped spandex top, short acid wash jeans shorts, fake lashes, 4pounds of makeup, dangly earrings, tramp stamp tattoo AND fuchsia lipstick. I mean, come on.

Irritant

A gaggle of girls sitting on the next table at this Mamak place, eager to join the masses watching the football game. Loudly commenting on every single action on the field to no one in particular.

Trying to convince the world that they are, indeed, the very rare and special species of girls that are seriously into football. They know all the players' names. Well done. They the loudest to cheer/moan/groan every time something happens. Sometimes belatedly. They think all attempts at the goal are beautiful and singularly worth talking over loudly for another 10 minutes or so. They wear the tiny team jerseys, proud to show their colors (and body) and where their allegiances lie. They reminiscence about the last game before this, that game was better, cooler, they watched that one, too. They are hardcore football maniacs.

Shut. The. Fuck. Up. And. Go. Home.

Everyone knows as a football fan, you're basically Justin Bieber (i.e. a fetus), but in the spirit of the Cup, we'll allow it.

Everyone also knows that you're only at this Mamak place for the guys, but in spirit of having some airhead eye-candy for the guys here too, we'll allow it.

Everyone knows that, the only reason why there are no guys sitting in the same table with you is because anyone who knows a smidgen bit more about football than you would laugh their heads off listening to the inane and irrelevant comments you insist on (loudly) making all night long, ironically to prove to the crowd how well you know their football, when, in fact, you don't.

But we'll allow that too.

It's the World Cup, and every 4 years, we can afford to be magnanimous to the needy and pathetic.

Just know that nobody is impressed.

And please, just shut up. If I want an inaccurate play-by-play, I'd ask TV1 to resume localised commenting. I want to enjoy the game in peace with my buds. I may not care about the result as much as you (seem) to do but your screeching every time someone dives grates on my nerves.

And learn about the offside rule(s).

And a deflection does not make it an awesome goal.

See you next World Cup.

Sigh.

Thank you.

If you are..

If you are what you eat,
..then I am 81% Mom's food, 17% nasi kawah, 2% McD and Domino (cause only they deliver), 1% feeling guilty and 100% good eats.

If you are what you read,
..then I am Pratchett - sarcastic and with jokes people wont get the first time around. Or maybe even the second time. Or ever.
(sometimes also Gaiman, Fforde and myriads of Romance authors, but mostly and firstly, Pratchett).

If you are who you hang out with,
..then I am the 'weird nerd who knows the best places to eat and talks about stuff no other people could relate to'. Never really popular, pseudo cool, but have the awesomest fun nevertheless.

If you are where you've been,
..then I am India cause I am colorful, ethic and strange and need some getting used to. And I'm gritty and you either love me or hate me, no in-betweens but most probably, you'll remember me.

If you are what you shop,
..then I am shoes and earrings. Bought during sales. Not always the best purchase but always something you could never have too many of. And never ordinary.

If you are what you wear,
..the I am a plain black T, fuss free (I try) and stain proof. Ahem. Probably a little boring too.

If you are what you write,
..then I am tacky with strong undertones of pretentious-ness.

If you are who you listen to,
..then I am moody and undefined. Most of the time labeled 'Unknown Artist'. Wishing am not so main-stream but can't take the time to find better things to listen to.

If you are what you're good at,
..then I am Merryl Streep; actress, extraordinaire.

If you are what you do for a living,
..then I am crap. Enough said.

If you are what you watch,
..then I am executive transvestite (Izzard) in Middle Earth dancing to old tunes (Tarantino) yakking to Bobby Chin about quite interesting things (Stewart, Colbert, QI, NMtB).

If you are who you try to define yourself to be,
..then I am stupid. And trying too hard. And should know better than to sum anything up in words.

Update! Yay!

17 Reasons Why it is Cool to Have 17 Plain Black T-Shirts

So Nadia has been giving me grief about my 17 pairs of plain black Ts that I own. Why, I have no idea. There's nothing strange with my dress sense. I have 17 perfectly good reason why it is perfectly okay to own 17 black tshirts.

1. Black tshirts are cool, says James Dean
2. Black tshirts are cool, says me (yes, I am going to shamelessly cheat on this list. Deal)
3. It matches with practically anything..
4. ..hence, you save time when picking stuff to wear
5. You can go crazy when you accessorize..
6. ..cause when you wear patterns or colors you should really rein in the add-ons
7. Same t-shirt, 7million different looks
8. You can buy them in bulks (yes, I am cheap. Don't judge)
9. Makes me look thinner
10. Makes anyone look thinner
11. Slogan tshirts are for idiots (I only own 2 of those kinds)
12. I'm incredibly messy and stain doesn't show on black. Yay black!
13. It's rocker punk, it's goth, it's adult sombre, it's hip, it's fun, it's anything you want it to be
14. Black is timeless
15. I look good in black
16. My personality makes up for my lack of color
17. I only have 16 pairs cause my mom threw one away so I don't really need a 17th reason now, do I?

So there. Satisfied? Do you now see why it is perfectly okay to own some-number amount of black Ts? I am not weird Nadia. You are. Ahem.

Not Dead

Nothing like getting spammed to spur you into pushing an update. I will try to find the time to, I promise. Okay, I will try harder.

On that note, this blog's layout is ugly.
What the hell was I thinking wei?