Elvis Has Left the Building

My uncle quit smoking. Last year, he did, apparently. He was a life long heavy smoker, around 30 a day, and a very old fashioned guy when it comes to the roles of a man in a house. His wife, my aunt, is like a house maid when guests are around, and they kept that master and service person style for as long as they are together.

 

When I was a lad it seemed normal. There were tons of married couple like that. Even my own had slight tendency towards holding guy's position higher in a house. Then as I grew, as my cousins grew, it became painfully old fashioned for women to say, "Yes, sir," to everything husbands say. Yet they never stopped. Nothing changed in their household.

 

My uncle was a bit of a revel in his youth, and he still is very active in seeking anything that interests him. He has so many hobbies, some of which he does almost to the professional standards. Still, he keeps things the same in his house as a husband, or more like, as a man. He smoked and drunk the same, in his old slobbering track suites, ordered his wife to fetch ice and fix some salty snacks.

 

Then it came the news of his quitting smoking. He quit smoking, thus had changes in taste for food, and is having less and different drinks. When we went for a snack he ordered Darjeeling tea and said he is now hooked on them!! My uncle sipping Darjeeling!!! And he also says he doesn't eat oily and salty food any more and now is really watching his health. And he is now exercising!!! He is talking long walks with his wife, appreciating "THEIR" times together as their kids are now gone.

 

What is next, really. I feel like gambling. Anything is possible, yet again, and I wanna take part in guessing the fate's next move, would be wicked if I made money out of it. What's next for me? What's happening to the world?

ello screever

Working amongst vile G5s and people who keep saying,

"I sink,"

and

"I will ship this drink,"

and

"I am moving into a bedshit,"

and

"flee of charge"

 

and if I go all corrective I get to be called a gunta by a punk whose parents are from my country but who has a Brit passport. Nobber out of daiture I say nanti, am just thankful I get them anyhow. It's like a gift, or skill, takes years of training. But sometimes, after hearing this sticky dona with lally goes on and on about her charvering some omi, or hearing a chavie yelling a BT fish down a phone out of keenness towards work, I do feel a little more Auntie Nall than molly cull.

 

I know I got the messe attitude, and it's not competition, and I will never win anyway, and yet can't help but to wonder if I should be there at all. It's just completely new and afresh, exactly what I needed, or at least one of what I need, yet I am dazed and lost in a little universe of abnormality. Maybe I am expecting too much of bonaroo, maybe I should just think of measures.

Something New, Something Tall

I am back from retreat. That's all I have to say about that.

 

 

While I was away, I saw this REALLY tall guy. I thought he was walking on stilts, or something. He was that tall. Couldn't believe me eyes, so were other people around me, they followed around this guy like little Asian kids asking for chocolates from soldiers right after they bombed their villages. While these people followed around his long, long legs, I couldn't be sure how this guy's legs were build. I mean, are they real, or are they bamboo?

 

He walked right across my sight, quickly showing (oh, he was walking so fast! His compasses were like 160cm each!!) his real knee joints. My god, he is a real thing!

 

I dashed and joined the crowd, trying to see the guy once more. And my mind went into a state of hysteria!!

 

There was another one walking besides the first guy!! And he is even taller than the first one!!

 

They both stuck high above from the rest of the crowd. I found out they are 240cm tall or something, and indeed the tallest men on the earth's face. That sight was insane. Everyone was sticking the hands up with their mobile phones, trying to get a snap shot. It was crazy. I thought I finally lost it for a sec.

Media Sex Slaves

I hate thongs. It's not important at all if I hate it or not, it is already too late to even talk about it. I mean, back in the days it was still fresh to say,
"Oh, I hate thongs,"
and girlie mags faked up articles of guys saying,
"Ooooh, I hate thongs, there's nothing worse than taking a girl to bed and she was wearing a thongs instead of cute french knickers."
in a hope of some girls feeling relieved for disliking thongs because they are uncomfortable. You know, just like how we reacted with mobile phones.

I hate thongs and I can never date a guy who thinks thongs are the sexist thing on girls apart from himself. (Got that?) I hate everything about thongs, like why they are called "a thong" or "thongs" instead of "a pair of thongs" like every other undie. I hate turning back to a classmate who was setting a ring flash on a ladder in front of me and sticking her arse onto my face, showing the little triangle or T on her back. (Puuuukkkkyy.) I hate how they were invented to produce invisible panty line yet they are there to be REALLY seen. They are, as someone put it once, BUTT FLOSS. Yuk.

But these reasons are truly not important. I don't like talking about my intimate side, nor my liking/disliking in intimate sides, and it really is NOT entertaining. I frankly don't want to know these thing of my friends, either. (Thus the reason I hate looking at someone's clearly visible thongs on their arse.)

What pissed me off the most and worth shouting about is this;

I was in some house with someone I briefly knew. We were talking about nothing, having tea or coffee, smoking, that sort of thing. And this guy I hardly knew started on an article he read in a paper about a porn star, Jordan, helped boost the sale of thongs in UK, but now she is saying they are a bit tacky.

He went on saying,
"If a porn star like Jordan says thongs are a bit tacky, you would think twice about thongs being sexy, wouldn't you?"
The question wasn't addressed to me, the only female of the species in the room. But I responded anyway, saying,
"It's not like girls went out and bought thongs because they secretly wanted to look like Jordan."

But what I was quietly thinking was,

"Oh, man, can't you even decide what underwear is SEXY for you unless someone famous tells which one is supposed to be hot and gives you a hard-on??"

Mind you, this is the same person who firmly believed the report of,
"Paris Hilton, the most influential person in America."
back in August 2005, (while I said, "Nah, Jessi is more influential, at least she is supposedly married.")

The sad thing was the few guys who were there in the room were all agreeing with this guy. So, now Jordan publicly declared thongs being un-sexy, we have to start threatening our girlfriends to buy boy shorties or we will leave her.

There are a lot of people who can't decide what to shag unless media or peers tell which. I pity these media influenced bi-curiossors, SUN brainwashed 3-way wannabies, and  manga lovers who think they get turned on by REAL Asian chicks.

Dumbarse Tabloid Whores...

What am I saying?

I know I will never use a friend as a lead, and I will never have enough freinds to establish (quote)business(unquote) anyway.

I am barkin' and hoppin' / Current mood: distressed

Wonderful thing, the internet.

I found my arch enemy in Australia. I hate this woman with all my guts, she is evil and she is one lucky mo-fo who always had everything. Oh, yeah, I was jealous, but I started hating her only after she went extra mile to put me down and made me feel so worthless. She was my best friend and kept me around her so all her friends look at both of us and tell her she was smarter and prettier. She never let me win in any aspects. (Otherwise I would be just happy being jealous of this highly over-rated slut.)

 

That put-down thing caused a permanent damage on me, such as I was totally convinced that I will never be as good as her.

 

When I lost weight I felt like I was just trying to be her,

when I changed my hair I felt like I was trying to be her,

whenever I bought a green shirts I felt like I was trying to be her,

and it bothered me enormously that I was so jealous and completely defeated by her existence instead of being OK about me not being her.

And I found her in Australia, after 6 long years, and,

 

Oh, why, oh, why, was she working for my company in Melbourne branch? Of all gazillions companies, she had to pick MY company???

 

It just looks like OUR lives are totally parallel. We worked for same company, we live alone with dogs, we have same hair style, and we are both far away from home.

 

This is worse than losing to her. Why are we same???? Why, why???

 

All of sudden my life has no meaning, because all of sudden I am living someone else's life. What the hell am I doing here?

 

Am I going to join a pyramid scheme like she did and send the link to all my friends? Am I going to lose it like she did?

 

I need to find my life back.

When I Grow Up

When I was a lad, I wanted to be weird things. All kids around me said,

"When I grow up, I want to be a bride!!"

"I want to be nurse!!"

and I never got the tingles of fancy for these typical answers. Nurses aside, I was scoffing at little girls holding their hands in front of their flat chests, dreaming about just (JUST!) getting married; and I was only 6 then.

 

I wanted to be a comedian. Not stand-up kinds, but traditional kind which takes years to train. It's not important what it is I wanted to be. What is important is that I always wanted to be something weird.

 

I guess everyone, I mean everyone, kind of holds ideas of being grown-ups one day. Like,

"Being a grown-up is having breasts and wearing high-heels and planning wedding."

or

"Being a grown-up is smoking cigars and sway a brandy glass and talk about ladies without giggling."

or something like that.

 

My idea of grown-up was, for some reason, somebody who does all the things I couldn't / wouldn't do.

 

This is not the wholesome description of my idea of grown-up, but it was something like this.

 

I guess being a grown-up is like;

eating dried or smoked fish / eating cheese / drinking whisky / drinking wine / reciting Bierce / reading The Times / singing karaoke / singing Sinatra / enjoys mountain walking / and likes everything dull.

 

I know, some of them are plain stupid, just kid's ideas of unknown reality. But they are basically the things I couldn't possibly understand how and why adult seemed to like and enjoy doing.

 

I must have ruminated these elements of adult activities over and over while growing up. I must have tested myself every time I faced smoked fish, daring myself to eat and enjoy it, just to see if I was grown up. (I guess I was very self disciplined kid.) And each time I see youngsters with inappropriately old stuff (like 16 yrs old drinking Guinness,) always fantasized them daring themselves like I did, to test themselves to be adults.

 

And note that I only picked things everyone likes except me. (I don't know anyone who doesn't like eating cheese at all, or doesn't understand Bierce.)

 

Along the way, I did conquer few things. I hated drinking wine, but now I am addicted. Smoked fish made me sick before but now I love them enough to marry. And each time I feel older, and wonder what the next step would be. Wine is actually the most recent conquering. I still cannot believe that I can empty a bottle in one night and do enjoy it. And I can't help but to think if the next one is singing My Way on karaoke, or drinking scotch on rocks, because if I could drink wine, anything is totally possible. I can go skating to work. You never know.