Category: Blog Fillers

Carnage at Carnegie’s.

Went to Carnegie’s for ladies’ night. Ladies were given 4 drink coupons at the entrance. Apparently it has a good list of house drinks but it’s not like I knew how to enjoy it. I had one Heineken and was basically high on it the whole night. The rest of the coupons went to waste because alcohol elitists like FA and Suan would rather pay for big pints of Hoegaarden instead.

The place was infested with SPGs. And I mean stereotypical, straight out of the textbook kind of SPGs. Long straight hair, slightly tanned, mini skirt/tightass jeans and a little skimpy top with the bitchiest expression (to other women anyway). Mostly hogging the bar area waiting for balding, pasty white men with beer bellies to buy them drinks. The bar was so crowded it’s so gawddamn difficult for me to get ice water to dilute my Heineken.

We were at a bar table located right next to an elevated platform where more tables were placed. There were two girls seated just in front of us. At first they were having dinner and talking to each other. Fine. Then two old white men with the most horrible set of teeth stopped by their table and chatted them up. Wah, started to giggle like hell already. Then two more SPGs joined them. I tell you, I think these girls work in a team.

Not long after, the four SPGs started dancing. Gyrating their hips from side to side, durrrrrrrrty dancing with each other to the delight of the two wrinkled pasty men. At one point, one of them even sort of flashed at the perverts by undoing her cardigan.

Ok fine. I was more than a bit tipsy after consuming one bloody glass of Heineken, my legs were numb and I was just chilling. Suddenly, a wave of coldness enveloped me. Stupid SPGs shook their hips so hard they managed to topple the table and spilt drinks over me.

Instant soberiety.

The SPG’s heads are deliberately painted smaller to indicate lack of grey matter

They were still giggling. I screamed at them, “I THINK YOU OWE ME AN APOLOGY, I’M DRENCHED!”. Then one of them offered me a half-baked apology which, to be honest, I wasn’t in a good state of mind to accept. I swear I was about to stomp up to the platform and punch them in the face one by one.

The culprit. I took this picture because it’s got Paul’s name. Notice the SPGs at the back.

Didn’t stay very long after that. Danced a bit to get my mind off my jeans which felt really heavy on my numb legs. It was a fun night nevertheless but I’ve only worn my jeans for 2 days and now I have to wash it again…tiu.

New banner and new friends.

Finally got my new banner up. Do press Ctrl + F5, folks!

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Arthur, the owner of damndirtyangel.blogspot.com is one of my favourite bloggers. He publishes a weekly satirical cartoon and writes a damn interesting blog. So when he announced that he was coming to KL all the way from Sarawak, of course I jumped at the chance of meeting him. After rescheduling for so many times (sorry, sorry!), I finally saw him in the flesh at KLCC’s Coffeebean. Chloe of purpleism.com was also there as well as a good friend of Arthur’s.

Me and Arth.

Boy, did we hit it off well. We were practically chatting till the cows came home. Arthur is such a colourful individual (no puns intended, hehe) with an amazing life experience. I was in awe listening to the things he’s done and went through. Chloe’s such a lovely and articulate girl. We also share the camhoing amendment #215, never allowed self to be captured on camera midaction. Unfortunately she had to leave early, leaving me and Arthur to talk till our mouths literally became dehydrated. The meeting felt so short eventhough we must had spent 4 hours just yakking away. Easily one of my best blogger meetings to date.

Chloe and Arth.

Before leaving KLCC, I decided to spend RM2 on the so-called luxury toilets. It sure was difficult for me to fork out 2 ringgit just to pee but I had to because my bladder was on the verge of exploding. It was the nearest one I could find before I wet myself. Upon entering the creme de la creme of lavotaries, I half expected to see a butler but there was none. Only a mother and her spoilt daughter with a penchant for screaming. I went into one of the cubicles, surprised and cheered up at the sight of a full length mirror.

I never liked refreshing my makeup in the presence of other chicks because for reasons unknown to me I get bloody nervous. After I finished with my private business, I proceeded to whip out my camera.

My Mom would have been so proud…

Juicy mess.

We have this nifty little no-frills food processor at home. It does almost everything, including juicing. So yesterday, we decided to juice up all the oranges and apples that have been left to rot in the fridge for the past 2 months.

I cut the fruits up while he threw them into the mouth of the machine. Everything was fine and dandy….we tasted the juice along the way and it was yummy.

Then it was time to get ride of the pulp for the next batch of fruits. So he unscrewed the cap and proceeded to pour the pulp onto his palm. There were more pulp and juice then his hand could cradle, so he panicked and immediately held the jar upright again, which got more juice on the kitchen floor.

(-_-”)

After cleaning up the mess, we continued with the juicing. This time we decided to throw in some ice, for some homemade slurpee. It was successful. He unscrewed the cap, tasted the concoction with a spoon. Wah very nice, he thought. So excited he immediately detach the container from the deck. You know those blenders that you have to twist the container to get the blades spinning. Yes we bought one of those.

Before I knew it, we had orange slurpee splattered all over the kitchen floor and fridge and toaster and kettle. I glared at him and told him that he’s like a little “kid rascal I want to scream at so badly”. He just smiled sheepishly.

I poured the orange slurpee (that managed to remain in the container) into a glass, walked to the computer room, sat down and surfed. Tried to coax myself into a zen state of mind.

After a while, he called me and asked me to go to the kitchen. It was sparkling. I’ve got to admit, he’s much better at cleaning up than me.