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 | Not for Hindus ... just kidding. Random thoughts, comments on anything that takes my fancy. Strictly a my opinion only & if you do not like, don't read, agree to disagree & go away happy. No flames, (flamers OK), request for photo/green card/webcam action etc please. |
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| Wigged Out Hot Momma |
Feb 11, 2008 5:26 pm
Mood: Blinded, 330 Views |  | Growing up, I constantly heard people comment that my mom looked like Cher. Yes, she did. No, she did not dress like her ... thank the Lord. Yes, she sang as badly as her.
Cher has had many style disasters (remember the blonde do? Shudder) but this latest is truly a class on its own. What cretin convinced her that ill-fitting wig was in?
I think I saw that monstrosity in a drag show just last week.
But the truly scary thing is that she still looks like mom except mine had redder hair ... Mom, that you?
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6 Comments | |
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| Come On Lines |
Feb 11, 2008 4:48 pm
Mood: Raised Eyebrow, 386 Views |  | I've always been ambiguous about Jack Nicholson. Great actor. Bit of an arsehole.
Apparently, this is his favourite come-on line which he claims is a fail-safe tactic.
Goes up to victim of choice and say, "When did you become preggers?"
The shock factor allegedly throws the women off and gets his buns in their ovens.
Charming. |
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8 Comments | |
| Beauty Is in The Eye of The Beholder |
Feb 11, 2008 5:24 am
Mood: Knackered & Annoyed, 322 Views | It's a really trite cliche but obviously relevant since it is used so much.
I always like to state that I am an intelligent beauty. Only the intelligent can see it.
I frankly do not think I am particularly beauteous and I say this without any false modesty. While I have the misfortune of drawing the immediate attention of a particular breed of cretins, those who remain drawn to me usually profess that it is my personality and intelligence that keep them in my sphere.
So I believe that beauty is really individual. If only people would open their minds a bit more and see beyond bones and skin and cosmetics.
A couple of nights ago I attended a birthday party hosted by a woman I consider outstandingly beautiful. She is one of those ageless creatures of grace who looks half her age until you get really close up.
I had assumed she was in her late 20s until she came right up next to me and I saw the fine lines webbed delicately across her face. It did not diminish her beauty but rather added another dimension to it.
In the ladies' room, I commented on her effortless charm and grace and an acquaintance gasped that she had aged so much.
I refrained from going into a discussion with the bubble-headed monument of shallowness.
How can anyone miss this woman's beauty? I can see the line on her forehead that came from the worry over her children. The shallow crevice that spoke of the nights waiting for her husband's safe return. The laugh lines that shared all her happiest moments with the observer.
When did beauty become associated with youth?
To me, the gentle slide into the golden light made this woman even more remarkable. Knowing that the fresh bloom of external beauty was fading made me appreciate it even more.
I've noticed that those who were very beautiful externally have an immense difficulty accepting the advent of old age. Those who held aloft other attributes of importance seem to cope better.
I will not miss whatever beauty I might have. But I will miss being able to see beauty. | |
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4 Comments | |
| Inspiration |
Feb 5, 2008 5:05 pm
Mood: Introspective but Inspired, 428 Views |  | I get inspiration from lots of strange things which people might never consider as logical or worthwhile sources.
So this morning, before I begin a hectic few days, I sat quietly for a while ... and watched trashy telly.
Watching Project Runway Canada (why not?), I heard a statement which captured my attention. Knowing how shows are produced, I am not certain if it was penned by a good writer or uttered in total originality by Iman.
Still, it made me think and that is a good thing. As it articulates one of my greatest fears and my biggest motivation and drive.
To make your own mark and not make beautiful impressions of marks that have already been made.
With every creation, I worry this niggling thought to a nub. Am I truly original? How much of it is from me and how much from some other external source? Will people recognise it as mine or just a copy of another? Is what I am doing a breakthrough or just a breakdown of something else?
Having this articulated means I can seek to see clearer. With each process of creation, I look for the footprint. If I see it, I will endeavour to sidestep it. So I can carve and imprint my own Size 4s on the path I choose.
With that I begin another day of discovery. Inspired. Slightly in awe of the task I set before myself. |
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5 Comments | |
| Be My Teddy Bear |
Feb 5, 2008 1:01 pm
Mood: irritated, 524 Views |  | Imagine if Elvis had sang his song about teddy bears differently ...
I come from a family with a strange and sometimes awkward mix of races, nationalities, backgrounds and of course, religions. The Muslim and Catholic family factions have co-existed harmoniously in a fairly live-and-let-live mutual agreement for decades. So growing up, I have been exposed to both religious doctrines.
Therefore, it is with no disrespect or bias when I say ... Bollocks. Bollocks to incarcerating and sending a woman home just because she tried to be an accommodating and good teacher.
Bollocks for turning a symbol of comfort and universal child-like innocence into a religious battle-axe.
Bollocks to making education a platform for teaching intolerance.
Bollocks to punishing instead of enlightening ignorance.
British teacher jailed over teddy bear arrives home
By Steve Meller and Kate Kelland
Tue Dec 4, 2007
LONDON (Reuters) - A British teacher jailed in Sudan for letting her pupils name a teddy bear Mohammad arrived in London on Tuesday after being pardoned and said she had been well treated in prison and was sorry to leave the country.
A smiling Gillian Gibbons was met by her son John and daughter Jessica at Heathrow airport after her flight touched down at around 0705 GMT.
"It has been an ordeal, but I would like you to know that I was well treated in prison and everybody was very kind to me," Gibbons told reporters. "I was very sorry to leave Sudan. I had a fabulous time there."
Gibbons, sentenced last week to 15 days in jail for insulting Islam, flew home from Khartoum with two prominent British Muslim legislators who had appealed to the Sudanese president for her early release.
Gibbons, 54, let her pupils at Khartoum's private Unity High School pick their favorite name for a teddy bear as part of a project in September.
Twenty out of 23 of them chose Mohammad -- a popular boy's name in Sudan, as well as the name of Islam's Prophet -- but a member of staff complained to the authorities.
Gibbons apologized for any distress she might have caused the people of Sudan. She has said she encountered "nothing but kindness and generosity from the Sudanese people".
Prime Minister Gordon Brown, whose country has had strained relations with Sudan for several years, mainly because of the conflict in Darfur, said he was "delighted and relieved" to hear Gibbons had been pardoned and freed.
Two British peers, Baroness Sayeeda Warsi and Lord Ahmed, went to Sudan at the weekend in a private initiative to try to secure Gibbons' early release.
Her pardon and release was announced while they were meeting President Omar Hassan al-Bashir on Monday and they left Khartoum later in the day.
Many Sudanese said they thought Gibbons' action was an innocent mistake which could be forgiven after an apology.
Sudan's influential Council of Muslim Scholars urged the government on Sunday not to pardon Gibbons, saying it would damage Khartoum's reputation among Muslims around the world.
Gibbons thanked all those who had helped secure her release and said she was glad to be back in Britain and eager to spend some quiet time with her family.
"I'm a little shocked at all the media attention I have been getting and I am looking forward to seeing my family and friends and having a good rest," she told reporters at the airport. "I am hoping that you will give me space in order to do that."
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10 Comments | |
| Pssst, Miss, Can I See Ya Nekkid? |
Feb 5, 2008 11:45 am
Mood: cynical, 570 Views |  | Remember when you were a kid and strange blokes (and some women too) would come up to you, hand over name cards and ask if you wanted to be a model? Your folks would warn you of such con men and pervs who would use this line on any and every young kid?
It always surprises me how these purveyors of flesh would still try that tack even today. What possesses people to even believe these kind of shite? Low self esteem? Inflated ego? Delusions of grandeur? Non-existent IQ? Irrepressible vanity? What?
I bloody detest the chancers who always ask you to pose for this and that. It just makes me want to kick them where the sun doesn't shine and future offsprings would only ever be a glint in their eye. But because this usually happens in polite society, I have to restrain myself and just smile and use my verbal arsenal instead.
"Ah, WHF, *insert smarmy fake flattery here* ... would you pose for me please? I love painting the beauty of the nekkid body."
"Ah, I understand. So obviously you could not rely on your own body then."
*Resist ... resist ... resist urge to tear his tongue from face with iron-hot tongs ...*
"Miss WHF, I would so love to see your body in motion. Can I take pictures of you dancing with no clothes for my new exhibition?"
"Sure, so long as you do it with no eyes as well."
*Still resisting ...*
"I write erotic poetry and I would love to have you dance as I recite some of them at my next reading."
"Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will revolt me."
*Barf*
And so on ...
What on God's green earth makes them think I will allow them anywhere near me even if I was swathed in Sherpa garb with a hundred vicious Rottweilers around me?
A young lady I am mildly acquainted with regaled us with the tale of how she had just been approached by a talent scout to be a model for a swimwear show. Perusing his card and hearing her recount of the encounter, we were highly dubious. But she would hear nothing of it and in turn accused her aunt of being an old biddy (this woman used to be a top model before she got married and retired) who is jealous of her youth.
The mind boggles. We could only smile and keep our counsel while her aunt made up her mind to tell the young lady's mother.
Strangely, I do not have as much of a problem posing for a good artist whose work, philosophy, attitude and talent I believe in. Which I have done on occasions. Perhaps as an artist myself I can understand and empathise with the journey they are taking. Even then it has to be artistic and tasteful rather than gratuitous and in-your-face.
But photographs and videos and such do not sit well with me. It's certainly not because I regard the art in these less than traditional visual art. Perhaps it's because these media have been so manipulated and twisted for deviant and dubious purposes, a la the recent Edison Chen debacle.
So how many of you would actually agree to pose naked for a photo or art exhibition?
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14 Comments | |
| Korean Annie |
Feb 5, 2008 9:25 am
Mood: Food Stupoured, 560 Views |  | Because I am on the move so much I seldom have a chance to watch telly. Which is fine with me as I can watch movies anywhere. But the telly programmes like Heroes, Weeds, Pushing Daisies (when the writers were not sticking their fingers FriendFinder) were sorely missed.
I could only watch them via the Internet if the place I was at had good enough infrastructure.
Then I got involved watching a Korean drama. I know ... the horror. I could not believe it. I thought any moment now someone would revoke my Mensa card and send me to the nearest halfway house for melodramatic soap victims.
Still, this one show was out of the ordinary. It was a spoofy saeguk with sass and surprises. Not least because the two leads made me laugh out loud.
Since my Korean is fairly non-existent ... commands in taekwando are not often used in Korean dramas, even of the saeguk genre ... I have had to rely on a fansub group who release the English subtitles weekly.
So I joined the ranks of (mostly female) followers who would check in weekly for the latest episodes. An avid fan community has formed and there's even a terminal illness called HGDWS for Hong Gil Dong Withdrawal Syndrome. Those of you who comprehend how the system works or have watched the show will understand the humour of my ode.
Those of you who don't, just imagine an 8-year-old Korean girl with red hair (in an ahjumma, which means older lady, perm) singing this song.
Talk about HGDWS ... I've been humming this since arvo and it finally became another one of my warped warbling ...
Gil Dong'll come out
Tomorrow
Bet your soompi dollar
That tomorrow
There'll be subs
Just thinkin' about
Tomorrow
Clicks away at keyboards,
And the sorrow
When there's none!
When it's stuck in a way
That's raw,
And subless,
I just stick it all out
And Grin,
And Say,
Oh! ... (Gil Dong ah)
Gil Dong'll come out
Tomorrow
So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come subs pray
Tomorrow! WITHS2!*
I love ya WITHS2!
You're always
A day
A way!
* I notice WITHS2 tends to alleviate our suffering by releasing the subs for the previous weeks' episodes either the day before or on the day of broadcast so we are not languishing 4 episodes away from Korean-, Chinese- and Viet-speakers. Thanks, mate!
Goes back to knitting (taken up to wile the time between releases), whiskey gargling and warbling ... hopes no one notices slurred words and crossed eyes ... hey, I'm me gran!
Aja ... Jiayou!
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12 Comments | |
| Entourage |
Feb 3, 2008 2:33 am
Mood: contemplative, 462 Views | Everyone is talking about Britney Spears. A woman I used to think was fairly intelligent and intellectual spent the entire night regaling anyone who would listen (and even those who won't) about the trials and tribulations of Ms Speared.
I cannot tell you how utterly catatonic I was during her fangirly recital. To save my brain from atrophying I started to ponder the design elements in the floor tiles.
Till she said something that finally caught my attention.
"Why does she have such an entourage anyway? She's still a lonely girl despite all those people around her."
Very astute, I thought. That got me thinking and able to shut out the rest of her celebrity goss.
Why do people have entourages? Are their self-worth so low they need a horde of sycophants to inflate their value? Are they so helpless that they need an army of personal aid-workers? Do they dislike themselves so much they need the company of others so they do not have to deal with themselves?
And then I realised something. I kind of have an entourage too. Am I as lame and needy too then? How on earth did I even acquire one anyway? Why do I need one?
Concerned, I thought really hard and really far back. Just when I was in danger of having my eyes crossed from the effort, I remembered.
I was quite young then and considered an upstart at a concert with many senior dancers. Two of my students begged me to let them be my assistants. I said no repeatedly stating that I was the solitary type, did not like people around me as I got ready and am downright anti-social and distant just before I go on. I also hated people with entourages as it just seems all so up yourself.
But they begged and bugged me for weeks till I finally agreed. I really did not expect them to do anything for me and intended for them to watch the show from the wings so I could be alone in my room.
Alas, they made a big production of fighting me for my bags, pouring me tea and whatnot, fussing over my costumes and hair ... it was all rather much.
Of course, this caught the attention of the other dancers and I knew I was never going to hear the end of it. I was horribly embarrassed and resolved never to break my rule about having "assistants" again.
Unfortunately, life does not work that way. Other people, hearing or seeing I had "assistants" now, would bug me to be the next ones at the next shows, etc. Next thing I knew, I would have at least 2-3 people hovering around me at every show. It was extremely hard to turn them down as it would have created jealousy and ire among the students and supporters. It drove me barmy.
Then as I grew better, the real assistants came along. Hair and makeup people, costumers, minders ... people on the payroll with whom you spend time with. As with all colleagues, sometimes you build a relationship beyond the professional and become genuine friends.
They start hanging out with you for dinners, parties, movies, and other events.
I always just thought of it as mates hanging out. But I can see how some people might think I am travelling with an entourage. I much prefer to think of them as my colleagues or my mates though.
So, when Ms Speared is crucified over her toxic association with entourage member, Luthi, I can somewhat understand how that could have happened. I will not speculate on the hows, whys, and whats of her breakdown but losing faith and trust in your entourage is as painful as being betrayed by family.
When you work excessively long and odd hours, go to places where the only people you know are your entourage and/or have so many issues that you cannot trust anyone outside of the entourage, it is easy to fall prey to dependency.
I have the opposite reaction. I always try to escape my entourage, if you could call them that. I do not think I ever became fully comfortable with the concept as it makes me feel like a complete twat. And I detest the suggestion of servitude as it makes for a dysfunctional relationship. Worse, I am alarmed at the idea of dependency of any sort.
Which is why I always try to have at least one friend outside of industry in most of the places I go to. So I can at least step outside of my eccentric world to get a firmer grip of reality.
A reality without entourage.
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8 Comments | |
| Thank God For Empty Nest Syndrome |
Feb 1, 2008 9:40 pm
Mood: Squiffy, 565 Views | I don't get fussed over much being so much on my own and in strange places too. Well, at least not in a maternal way.
I had to cancel breakfast with a friend and her mother because of my misadventures last night & this morning. Aunt F is the archetypical mum. A housewife all her married life, when her husband passed away and all her children had married and moved away, she was a very lonely woman indeed.
She is an excellent cook and knowing how much I love to eat, she always invites me over for breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, brunch ... whatever meal she can think of.
She is convinced I am starving away and my "frail, delicate" frame fills her with alarm every time she sees me. She likes to illustrate her concern by wrapping her thumb and index around around my wrist to show how much allowance is still left. Then she proceeds to cook up a storm to fatten me up.
Which is OK with me since I get to eat.
My friend declares she hates me sometimes as I am such a sycophant with her mum that it makes her look bad.
Hey, I'm just doing it for the food, alright? I know no shame when it comes to food.
Anyway, Aunt F was terribly disappointed I cancelled on brekkie. She had cooked one of my favourites desserts called pulut hitom which is a black rice pudding of sorts with luscious, creamy coconut milk. And also some fried Hokkien noodles. And curry chicken. And nasi goreng.
Yes, these are for breakfast.
I think she plans weeks or even months ahead for my visits. She is always telling my friend to email me about this dish or that and to enquire what I like or do not like to eat. So I had a feeling she had been planning the menu for breakfast for a while.
I felt terribly bad but I was just too tired to be good company.
I felt worse when I received a knock on my door.
Aunt F had sent a hamper to my room. She had packed all the food in tupperware boxes so I had something to eat and she'd left a note admonishing me not to go to bed hungry.
She had even laced the pulut hitom with brandy so I could have a nice sleep. She asked me to wake up by dinner time as she would cook me more dishes to replenish my strength after the tough night I'd had.
Aw, bless. The sweet ole lovey actually brought a tear to me eye.
Her empty nest syndrome may irritate her children but to a wandering nomad back from fighting imbecilic bureaucracy , it is a calm, nourishing balm.
The pulut hitom is delicious. It's her own special recipe which includes longans. She must have added a massive dose of brandy as I am feeling rather mellow and much happier now. And sleepy.
So off I go to rest my weary head and dream of the feast that awaits me when I weave my way back to consciousness. | |
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15 Comments | |
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