Category: Emo & Personal

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!!!!!!!

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.

Bragging rights.

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

I canā€™t believe itā€™s almost 2007! In about 1/2 a year Iā€™ll be 23 and that means Iā€™m officially fast-fowarding to mid-20s. I still feel like I havenā€™t grown up one bit, which is bloody scary because I know damn well Iā€™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 Iā€™m telling you this because Iā€™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 ā€œholidayā€ 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 theyā€™re pissed with me leeching off, boyfriend as the chauffeur? Iā€™m not kidding you when I said Iā€™m about the luckiest bitch youā€™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 achedā€¦because I was such a self-destructive idiot with zero self-esteem (am still am) who never thought Iā€™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. Itā€™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 Iā€™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, ladiesā€¦thatā€™s my man). Iā€™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 donā€™t know how to express gratitude for my parents. Although being certified crazy has something to do with a tinge of Hainanese blood from Dadā€™s side (justttttttt kidding, daddy), I couldnā€™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 Iā€™d be seriously damned) and I donā€™t know how you guys did it but itā€™s a fact today I havenā€™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 Iā€™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.

Itā€™s Christmas season and I just feel like bragging. I canā€™t help it as I havenā€™t taken my medicine. MERRY BOXING DAY!