Month: March 2007

Happy 15th Birthday, Nicklaus!

One of my favourite stories to tell is the adventure of cleaning up after Nicklaus when I used to babysit him.

One day, I woke up from an afternoon nap by a horrible stench. It was my brother, Nicklaus, seated in the middle of the brown puddle, his tiny hands splattering his shit. Horrified and disgusted at the same time, my 10 year old self lifted the rascal from the puddle of shit, threw him into a bucket of water and washed him. I even slipped my hand between his asscrack to make sure itā€™s all clean. Discarded his shit soaked clothes and proceeded to clean the living room.

I am a good sister.

Nicklaus with me and Nikki, circa 1995

But the smell of feces lingered on for hours and I wondered why. I had thoroughly cleaned up the boy as well as the floor. I checked everywhere for traces of shit but I found nothing. Eventually, I thought nothing of it and just assumed it was the curtains that had absorbed the stench. Later on, when I carried Nicklaus, a sudden burst of shit particles in the air attacked my nostrils. Confirmed itā€™s the kid. BUT WHERE??????

I stripped him and started inspecting him again. Nothing. And then there was an a-ha moment.

I checked underneath his nails and starring back at me, 10 lines of dried shit trapped underneath his nails.

Nicklaus today

Heā€™s now the tallest in the family. How time has passed.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NICKLAUS!!!!!!!

It is bad enough to be fatā€¦

Itā€™s bad enough to be fatā€¦.itā€™s worst when youā€™re lumpy as well.

Ladies and gentlemen, the eczema is back, with a vengeance =(

Iā€™m itching like a monkey infested with crabs.

What youā€™re about to see will put you off food, so please proceed with caution.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

My right thigh. Now, imagine 80% of my skin looking like that.

Pretty sight? Well, Iā€™m on a self-imposed exileā€¦..sorry my beloved bosses, do not worry as I will still work from home.

Rest assured I have made the boo sworn on eternal love, regardless of lumps and/or layers of adipose.

I used to have a massive crush on my dermatologist and he knows it. I still think heā€™s a gorgeous piece of ass. So tell me, is it wrong to want to lose weight and ā€œlet the skin clear upā€ before seeing your dermatologist?

See my post about my last chronic eczema attack here.

Thoughts before bedtime.

Finally, I feel like a real person. Itā€™s not easy for me to say this as Iā€™ve always have a deep seeded fear that I would die when I finally feel at peace with myself. Itā€™s morbid but that happens when you read too many stories about dead people who seemed unusually happy before they bit the dusts. Am I feeling unusually happyā€¦am I about to die a tragic death?

Anywayā€¦..

I canā€™t recall anything from the past 7 months, nothing, zilch. My brains must have systematically erased my memories. Travelsā€¦what travels? Just a facade, empty, meaningless.

Iā€™m sick of people asking me why I left my previous job. Donā€™t they get it, I hated it! I donā€™t care about it. ā€œWhy didnā€™t you stick around for the money?????ā€, overusedā€¦just a bloody overused phrase. Well, fucktard, obviously I donā€™t care about the money. Does that answer your question?

Donā€™t misunderstand, Iā€™m not saying I donā€™t care about money in general. Itā€™s only because Iā€™ve found out the blatant way that no amount of money in this world could make up for the loss of your youth, health and happiness. Theyā€™re just figures on your bank a/c. And money means more to me when I earned it using what my parents gave to me. And by that I mean my brains.