just minishorts.

A few years back (and I reckon still in sparse practice), there was this trend of listing down a blogger's wishlist in the sidebar. Somewhere along the way, the trends changed and besides, many bloggers don't want to portray themselves as too materialistic, I suppose.

But come on, come on. Since Vincent has so vehemently called your bluff, be a good sport and admit it. Within everyone of us, there is a wishlist, and yes, some of the things in it are obnoxiously expensive. It's greedy materialism, but it's there nonetheless, so why lie and say that 'All I want, really, is world peace.' Unless of course you're a prince's son, and you can get anything you want in your wishlist yah, don't play Miss Universe.

So here you go. Mine.

Panasonic Lumix DMC-FX 9
Nokia 7380
Anna Rice's Christ The Lord: Out of Egypt
DKNY: Be Delicious EDP
Inspiron 630m
This Shu Uemura Professional Brush Set it's USD 450!! How to afford this?
This Shu Uemura Portable Brush Set also can do. USD 159 only. Hu-Hu.
A Coach Soho Suede Large Hobo
This Tiffany & Co. cross pendant + the chain
A DeBeers Round Solitaire Ring, preferably of Clarity F and Grade D… Heh.

Man. I'll take a lifetime acquiring all of the above. And then I'll definitely keep adding to the list.

I had *almost* wanted to put my list in the sidebar, but for fear of being labelled 'materialistic', I decided to dedicate an entire post to it instead. Or maybe, in my mind's eye I've been salivating over the products for quite far too long. Then again, I quite fancy the idea that many of my readers, I presume, work in places that would probably know how I could get these things at better deal. So hey, if you have some, I don't know, staff-discounts ke, company warehouse-sales ke, goodie-bag rejects ke, write and tell me, all right? You know my mail. Or here it is, shamelessly: minishort [at] gmail [dot] com.

Stupid terms of endearments. I don't mind the 'dear' and the 'hun', I don't mind it when lovers say it to each other like,' Can you pass me the salt, dear?' or 'What's up, honey?'. I don't mind the, 'Baby can you please open the door for me..' and 'Darling please come downstairs for a while.'

But what I DO MIND, is when people start talking to me about their boyfriends and girlfriends as 'my Darling' and 'my piggie boy' in public, mmmkay? I cannot take this. It's so menggelikan and meluatkan it makes me wanna puke. And I mean, you've seen it all before, you've heard the, 'You know last week, my dar-dar took me to the cinema woh, very nice lah the movie,' and I'm damn sure you've had at least one encounter with a friend who goes all mushy about her bf in public, and calls him, 'My Honey Bunny is calling me lah, I need to pick up the phone.'

LIKE SUPER DUPER BEI SEI YAN MAN… BRRRRR….

See I used to have a friend, and, we've lost touch after several years, and we're not that close anyway, so my bet is that he doesn't read this blog. So I'm going to bitch about the dude, and if you terasa too bad lah, not my fault, I just really really need to release tension and today I'm just not in the mood to be all nice and goody-goody. So anyway, this person, this guy, before he even got into a relationship, he was like a walking desperate freak. He'd go around trying to talk up ANY girl that goes his way, and you just can't help but feel he's casting his net as wide as he possibly could to catch just any fish that would come his way. WHETHER or not the feelings click is another matter.

So people like this, they eventually meet their match. The type who would do just anything to get into a relationship. Some way, or another, they end up together, him being the eager-beaver to go after just anyone, she being the simple-Jane who'll just take anyone… and they end up in a relationship. So all is fine, everyone's happy, we're happy that they've found each other… and who knows, it just might work out.

EXCEPT we have to endure their whole bloody relationship extra-demonstrated in our presence. It's like they HAVE TO SHOW THE WHOLE BLOODY WORLD that they're in a relationship or something. So you go to the mamak, just to have a drink with a group of friends, and you see her SITTING on his LAP at corner of the bloody table. You see him, licking her ear, at a Chinese round-table restaurant. And if in any case, he's out with the group (maybe it's a lecture, maybe it's just a place where you're having a break at the cafeteria together), and she rings him on his mobile phone, the conversation bits just make you want to bail and get out of there before the hairs on your skin fly out in all directions. Because he fucking kisses her on the phone. Just before he picks up the phone, he'll say to us, 'Oh sorry folks, but my honey bunny is calling.'

And the gang of us would just sit there, pretending to busy ourselves with our food, and trying not to cringe too much as we listen to him talk.

'Ohhhh sweetie pie, you miss me huh? You miss me huh?… Oh okay. Mmm… don't want lah, don't want lah…mmmm ok ok sweeties… maybe tonight I come and see you ok? Mmmm don't miss me too much okay? Oh don't want lah all my friends are here… aiyah.. don't want lah… okay lah, only for you lah, MUAKS MUAKS MUAKS MMMMMMMMMMMMMMUAKS..'

Just remembering that moment in my life makes me cringe okay?

…

So imagine how I actually felt when I came across someone's Friendster profile. Her album is filled with nothing but photos of the two of them together. OKAY, I can appreciate that. It's nice to see the pretty pretty pics, and it's almost heart warming to admire how dedicated one can be towards a relationship. Declarations of adoration are sweet, but… but but….reading the captions just chill the heat out of me. 'This is my Dar-Dar'. 'This is my big fat sweetie bunny.' 'My darling and me in Thailand' 'My honey bunny and his big belly. So nice.' 'I love you baby muaks muaks.' Aiyeeeeehhhh… super bei okay?

I really, honestly, do not mind public display's of affection, a peck on the cheek, a quick hug, I don't even mind seeing his occasional groping of her butt. But sometimes, sometimes, some people just take it too far across the line.

I had a fight with the bf yesterday. It was quite nasty. The details are private.

I went to bed in tears and then I had the weirdest dream.

In the dream, I had just awoken from the night's sleep, and was preparing to go to work. The phone rang three times, and on the fourth attempt, I picked it up. It was the bf, calling to apologize. He said, 'Can I take you out to breakfast today?'

I sulked a bit, and then asked him to give me a few minutes to put on some clothes. And then I went to the gate, to see him waiting by his car. He opened the door for me, and then got in. Just before he started the car, he turned around and said to me, 'I'm sorry that I made you cry. Will this help?'

And then he opened his clenched fist, and in it was very nice diamond solitaire ring. I was so shocked I woke up before my alarm clock rang.

ANYWAY, I decided I didn't want to sleep anymore, so I got to the bathroom to wash up and all. The phone rang three times, and I rushed out to pick it up on the fourth ring. It was the bf, calling to apologize. He said, 'Can I take you out to breakfast today?'

Fucking deja vu, eh?

I sulked a bit, and then, just like in the dream, I asked him to give me a few minutes to put on some clothes. I got to the gate, and JUST LIKE THE DREAM, he was at his car, waiting. He opened the door, and I got in. I waited with bated breath as he got in on the other side.

Just before he started the car, he turned around, and then he said to me, 'I'm sorry I made you cry last night. So what do you want to eat today?'

AIYEEEEEEEEEE…!!!

One of the worst things about gaining weight, is the increased waistline. It's the after-effects of the New Year celebrations, I tell you, and right now, the abdominal crunches don't seem to work, just yet.

And for me, unfortunately, gaining weight doesn't mean gaining an increased cup size. Because only my waist line has increased, my cup-size has decreased too. This is NOT empowering at all. It's not like I like huge boobies all that much, but at least, I want to look like I'm proportionately endowed, or at least, pretend that I look like I have appealing boobs.

It's embarassing, yes, but I've been reduced from a B to an A. Not that B is anything to be proud of, but at least they look like something. A is just… flat. Airplane driveways. Like little slopes instead of visible bumps. Even my mum thinks they're pathetic. Yesterday I was about to go out to dinner in a sleeveless top when Mum decided she'd give her two sen on my assets.

'Wait, I think you should go and change your bra.'
'Huh?'
'You look like you're wearing nothing. SO FLAT.'
'But Ma…'
'Go get that Wonderbra of yours… the one with the extra padding.'
'But… but… but…'
'GO AND GET IT. YOU LOOK LIKE A LOG IN THAT.'

So on occasions, I think that my mother is too open for my liking.

…

Last night, after dinner, Eric and I decided to go to the Metrojaya Relocation Sale at Section 14 to see if we could get any great deals. Place is a complete mess, but if you look long enough, you'll be able to fish out some gems. Like the slinky, spaghetti strap, figure hugging dress I saw, which I think would be great to wear to a wedding at the end of the month. So, you know, you have a boyfriend, you get to ask his opinion when you try things on.

This dress I found was cut really low down the front, so you get to show off a bit of a cleavage… FORTUNATELY, I still have A LITTLE BIT of that lah…. and that's better than nothing right? I slipped in, got out of the room, and asked the bf, 'What do you think?'

'Looks okay.'
'Can I buy it?'
'Errr…'
'What?'
'Front a bit flat lor.'

See I don't quite mind honesty, but this is just rubbing salt in the wound. You think those bust-enhancing creams work?

When I was 15 years old, I wasn't allowed to go out with guys at all. Valentine's Day was off limits, mind you. Even if I received a card from a secret admirer, I'd got to keep it underwraps… (I don't know about you, but my mum was pretty much anal about this.)

It's funny that I now recall this conversation that happened a little bit after Form 4. We had just got our PMR results, and Mum was telling me how important it is for me to focus on my studies.

'You must remember hoh, you cannot fall in love.'
'Huh?'
'All those guy friends you have, friend friend only okay. Cannot do funny things.'

Something in that vein. All the conversations I had with Mum would be steered towards THAT direction. As if I would do funny things with the guy-friends I had lah.

So even when I celebrated birthdays and the closer, platonic pals shared some dosh to give me a book, Mum would raise an eyebrow and ask me weird questions like, 'How come he gave you a book?'

'Errr… cos it's my birthday?'
'Yeah, and so?'
'So he gave me a book-lah.'
'You sure he's just a friend?'

Fast forward two years later, a bit after Form 5, when many of my girl-friends were dating guys already. Now I was still living in the no-boys zone, and Mum gave me a serious prep talk after I got my Form 5 results.

'Now let me tell you one thing. You're going into Form 6, and it's not a joke.'
'Yes Ma.'
'I know a lot of your friends are dating now, but I don't want that to happen to you.'
'All right.'
'Stop nodding like that.'
'What do you want me to do?'
'Promise me.'
'You think wanna date that means can date izzit?'

So what happened was this. No dates. Nada. I made friends of course, and hell. It's easy NOT to get a date when you look like I did. Ask Nick. He'd vouch for me that kind of nerd I was in high-school. All right, maybe if I can find some old photos I'll upload them in another post. Later.

Fast forward another two years, I got out of Form 6, and WAS SECRETLY dating someone. SERIOUSLY. I had to do it in secret, because a bit after the STPM, my mum gave me another prep talk. And then also, I was a wee bit of a desperate babe-wannabe, suddenly somebody finds me attractive enough to want to date me, so mah date date and see lah.

'Look I need you to know something.'
'Yes Ma.'
'You're out of school.'
'Yes.'
'And I don't want you in a relationship until you're 22.'
'WHAT?'
'You heard me.'
'But 22!!'
'I AM YOUR MOTHER AND YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME.'

So obviously I didn't listen. I, err, went on my very first official Valentine's Date, by telling Mum I was going out with friends. And the friends helped, of course. It wasn't until half a year later that I told her I was going out with someone seriously. She didn't exactly blow up. After that I was free to go dating I guess, and she'd be very very nosey about the guys I go out with.

…

Fast forward many, many years later, I'm in my … err…third relationship, I think. (Someone correct me if I'm wrong.) Mum's so different now. She actually reminded me last week, that I had better get to buying that gift for Eric.

'It's Valentine's Day, dear. Have you bought your boyfriend his gift?'

How times have changed, no?