Category: Babber Boo Boo

A very special date.

After my last breakup, I swore off the male species and resigned myself to a lifetime of being single. It was a simple rationale, no boyfriend meant no disappointment. To be honest, I was more relieved than sad, considering it was a long distance relationship (KL-UK) and the fact that he had commitment problems that drove me insane. One day, after a 2 year relationship and 6 months of broken promises and not seeing him, I finally realised it was not going to work. I broke it off over the phone.

It took me a long time to finally accept the reality of the situation. I lived like a zombie for a while, constantly plagued by urges to call him and beg him to take me back. But I needed to be happy really bad. The relationship was bad for me, he was bad for me and at the end of the day, I didn’t really have a future with him.

In the middle of the mess, I met him. Of all places, an online forum. He had also just come out of a nasty relationship and had sworn off women. It started out as flirtatious bantering. And we gradually moved on to chatting on MSN Messenger. Sometimes when thoughts of my ex rushed back into my brains and my hatred for men reignited, I would even block him on MSN for days.

It didn’t take long for me to be smitten. He’s really smart, quick, witty and very knowledgeable. And the pictures arrived and I really liked what I saw. Soon, we were chatting more than 10 hours everyday. He would cross an 8-lane highway just to buy more Internet dial-up cards to stay online with me. Sometimes, we would talk on the phone…not frequently because he wasn’t in Malaysia (he got whisked away to the land of boredom for work).

Once he came out on the papers and I showed the article to my Mom. She thought something was up, her daughter showing her a newspaper article about a random stranger and while doing that, couldn’t stop smiling or giggling. Yes Mom, your daughter was in love. Finally, after more than a month, his stint in the land of boredom ended and on 6 December 2004, we met.

I picked him up at KL Sentral. I was really nervous. So nervous, that I popped the bonnet instead of my car’s boot. The first time we saw each other, we hugged for the longest time. Before KL Sentral disappeared from our line of sights, we were already making out furiously in the car. The rest, is what you call a history.

Happy 3rd Anniversary.
Singapore, 30 June 2006

Today is our 3rd anniversary. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Your are my best friend, my pillar of strength and the best sex in the world =)

I love you so much, baby boo.

It’s not about you, I’m just jealous!

Another argument over the same issue. How the fuck am I supposed to explain why I’m jealous. I just bloody am. Am I insecure? I don’t know, maybe. Truth is, it’s not even about you. But it would have hurt if I had said that, wouldn’t it?

I think women are just generally competitive, please correct me if I’m wrong. We’re constantly comparing, who have better hair, who have leaner arms, who’s got a better personality, who’s more intelligent and the list goes on forever. It’s just something that we do, consciously or unconsciously.

Sometimes, you don’t even know this person but you develop a dislike towards her, just because she has better hair and she flirts like a ho (although nobody sees through that except you!) and then, you build on the dislike from snippets of accounts by other people who had contact with this person. And BAM, a fresh villain is born!

But you know it’s jealousy. I know it’s jealousy and it is unwarranted. But 99% of the time I just let my inner bitch goes around her own business as long as she doesn’t screw up my day-to-day life. That is till your boyfriend/husband or good friend decides to fuel your jealousy. “Hey, that girl’s got nice hair”.

I went fucking livid. “Shut up, I don’t want to hear her being talked about favourably in our house”. “Why, I’m just stating a fact. She’s got nice hair. You’re with me and I want only you”. War ensues.

You get my gist?

Of course, this is not just about hair, it’s only a hypothetical situation. I don’t expect men to understand that, especially not self-absorbed men. But ladies, do you get this as well?

Bragging rights.

Happy Boxing Day everyone! I had a fabulous Yuletide celebration. Party at KY’s was a blast but not as crazy as before. Yeah, all old already cannot party, damn sad right?

I can’t believe it’s almost 2007! In about 1/2 a year I’ll be 23 and that means I’m officially fast-fowarding to mid-20s. I still feel like I haven’t grown up one bit, which is bloody scary because I know damn well I’m getting old (I can see it on my face, gasp) but I still dread the idea of making money, making babies, making up, making efforts and basically making anything at all.

This year, I was also certified by a doctor for having mental disorder. And I’m telling you this because I’m sickeningly addicted to attention, which of course is part of my illness so you have no place to judge me because this is also a disclaimer. The best thing about being sick is the extended “holiday” and getting to spend time at home re-living my former life as a bum/spoilt brat. Oh man, car paid by daddy and fuel by mommy and when they’re pissed with me leeching off, boyfriend as the chauffeur? I’m not kidding you when I said I’m about the luckiest bitch you’ve ever met.

So I came home to a bigass framed collage of photos taken throughout our two year relationship, made single-handedly by my Boo. The old-school scissors and glue method, mind you. I was so touched, my heart ached…because I was such a self-destructive idiot with zero self-esteem (am still am) who never thought I’d land myself on such a gem. It was a surreal moment (especially considering what a crazed ungrateful cibai I was to him prior). He would literally go the miles for me. Litefuckingrally. It’s not easy to date someone such as myself (sloppy, perverted, gross, confused, moody + latest:mentally sick, w00t) and he takes it all in stride and he inspires me to be a better person everyday. I admit I’d wear down any man with fucking jell-o for a spine, but my Boo is a rock. A true rock.

And he cooked Xmas dinner for my family. Stuffed bird, potatoes, boiled greens and all the trimmings (swoon now, ladies…that’s my man). I’m sorry I fucked up the custard for the pudding but as always, you saved the day again by whipping up super smooth custard with absolutely not a single lump in sight.

What about my parents? I don’t know how to express gratitude for my parents. Although being certified crazy has something to do with a tinge of Hainanese blood from Dad’s side (justttttttt kidding, daddy), I couldn’t ask for a better set of parents than mine. You guys had to deal with my teenage years, which were quite bad I admit (which is also why if given choice I would absolutely refrain from having a daughter cause if she turned out like me I’d be seriously damned) and I don’t know how you guys did it but it’s a fact today I haven’t turned to drugs or vice and my most criminal achievement is the huge p0rn folder I have on my desktop.

My brothers brighten up my semi-dull days with their constant bickering and teenage angst. My darlings, please keep in mind that I’ll always be the only daughter your parents have and only sister you have so I reserve the right to damn bully both of you whenever, wherever and however I like.

It’s Christmas season and I just feel like bragging. I can’t help it as I haven’t taken my medicine. MERRY BOXING DAY!