Color Me Flattered

I realized I have newfound love for Blogging. Mainly because Fast Connection Speed and Streaming TV Series have eloped off to somewhere NOT MALAYSIA. It’s a little like how you settle for the nottie after you blown it with the hottie (FILM REFERENCE BABY!). But rejoice not, my fans. This infatuation would most likely end as quickly as the fetish for latex.

So c’mon, let’s mate Blogging. After I finish writing this post, 15 long minutes of publishing is all we need.

Hmmm, here’s another edition of “The Significant Insignificants in the Life of Theron”. And of course, what is more significantly insignificant than a performance on graduating night? Aptly titled “Pokemon Love”? Well, not exactly — I still think PokePorn would hold better with the teenage audience.

Should I walk you guys through the thought process? Well, the strategy is this:

Step 1 ) Walk unto stage. Flash winning smile. (Note: This would win over the female half of the audience.)

Step 2 ) Dramatic opening lines. (Note: This would lend impact to the starting note of the Pokemon theme song.)

Step 3 ) “I wanna be the very best”. (Note: This would win over the childish half of the audience, ie. everybody.)

Step 4 ) Finish first song. Do an English bow. (Note: Feed off the audience energy. Prep up for second song.)

Step 5 ) Second speech. State that song is old. State that teachers know the song. Insinuation? (Note: Get the teachers involved in the self-deprecation.)

Step 6 ) “Gotta take a little time” (Note: Now comes the “real singing” part)

Step 7 ) Wrap up. English bow. Flash Satan horns hand signal while strutting/jumping off stage. (Note: Milk the crowd for what they are worth.)

Step 8 ) High 5 everybody. Appear super-cool. (Note: Make sure Koh-Oon is within sight.)

Seems like a flawless plan. However in reality, 2 hours of practice 3 hours before the actual performance will only get you this far:

1. Walk onto stage. Smile dumbly.
2. Senseless opening lines.
3. Start song 3 or more octaves HIGHER??!!!! (Until now, I still can’t fathom how I did that.)
4. Continue singing until voice breaks.
5. Repeat 10 times.
6. Falsetto ending reminiscent of Celine.
7. Salvage what little voice left. Do a bow turned an attempt to untangle the wires. (I thought I was promised a wireless mike?)
8. Second speech. Forget the age joke.
9. Start song 3 or more octaves LOWER??!!!!!! (Well, this one I can comprehend )
10. Half-shout/half-squeal the song through. Reminder: Do weird constipated faces.
11. Finish song. Slump onto mike for comfort.
12. Receive your “Three Cheers”. Caution: Make sure the Satan sign does not turn into the finger.

Happy times, innit? Still, I did not expect such a rousing reaction. So a genuine statement here: Thanks guys! It was surprisingly fun on stage, after you ignore the nerves. Simply loved the experience (Maybe enough for a Powerpuff Girls performance sometime next year?) Proof? My new G2000 $33.00 Silk Shirt was drenched in mansweat. That has to mean something. Oh and I just watched the video of my performance. Have to say it sounded better when I was singing it. Hopefully this would mean an opportunity to improve. After all, I am considering a career as The Guy That Performs At Every Function (Tan Yu Song I HEART YOU 4EVA!!!!!).

ps. Would like to end off with a quote just made by the Almighty Kenric, Brother Blood Relative Distant Blood Relativeof Theron.

“Nonono, gays wear polos. Only cool guys wear tight, see-through shirts.”

Gotta love the IQ magic number of 15. So here’s my reply :

How cool is that?

Pardon the Camel-Tail ( Camel-toe, Camel-tail, geddit, geddit? HAHAHAHAHAHA) and have a great holiday, folks. Theron, out. (Possibly for another month. Don’t wait up.)

Showerhead

Disclaimer: If you are looking to read some sort of female sexcapade, sorry brother (or sister, I’m not judging), you have come to the wrong place have to come back some other time.

High time for me to post something about the significant insignificants of my life, considering how comatose my blog is, or my other blogs were (RIP). GAD how I can tell you that blogging is the last thing I want to do, but I’m getting really sick of incessantly watching TV shows, films and facebooking. Heck, there’s this episode of Fringe, and this man got his brains liquefied from having too much computer time (of course, I paraphrased the actual occurrences to fit this post). I wouldn’t want that, would I?

Okay so, the theme today is “showerhead”. Suffice to say, I have quite a history with them.

But let’s start with the present shall we. Every day, I enter the cubicle, hang the clothes, lay the towel, peel off sensuously the clothing off my skin, slowly allow it to fall to my ankles, and lift, ever so slightly, my foot, then playfully nudge the pile of used clothes away, lean forward, finger the tap,and gently twist the knobs, embrace the streams of liquid to my face, let them water droplets trail my chest, then my hip, then my knee and guide me to damp heavenly bliss. Yknow the usual (pardon my grammar, I’m getting too hot and bothered for comfort).

BUT! But I always take care to turn the heater off. Not even low heat. Strictly off. Why? 让我逐一说明。

I think it can be attributed to my warped perception of the things around me. Fancy that. (From here on out, this paragraph will be referring to the way I *USED* to think) People who turn on the heater are wussies. They can’t stand the cold. What’s more they willingly conform to societal norms. Pfft pathetic. Therefore I have to prove that I am more of a man. But shit there’s nobody watching. Hmmm. Aha, I know, leave the heater off so the next person can see that the previous person is more of a man than he is! And that person is me! YESH!

What an idiot I was. Moving on.

The next reason is my upbringing.  Now this pertains to my history with showering, in general. (Naughty naughty!) From up till ten, my house didn’t have a showerhead. Heck, it didn’t have a bathtub (except in the master bed room where my brother would constantly sneak in to use). All it had was this toilet seat situated northwest, a sink at west, some hoses east and a large pail? tub? pail-tub-like thingy northeast. So we had two options: a) shower with the hose connected to the tap or b) shower with the water from the pail-tub-like thingy, using a mini-pail to scoop up the water after you let the tap run. The commonality? No heater. I grew up loving cold showers, and can’t stand the slightest of heat. So I guess I always had a distaste for heaters.

There’s a few other aspects of upbringing that may have influence me too. My brother likes to use the heater because “his friends also use the heater”. (which strengthens my point about conforming to societal norms) Those scenes when my mother found him playing with the heater in the middle of the night and beating him while he was naked: priceless. Maybe to be more intellectual and individualistic I sought to be less like him, thus the cold showers.

Also because of my family’s financial concerns. My mother never liked to waste electricity, or anything for that matter. Call it miserly, but it was pivotal in our diluted version of the rags  to riches story. “The heaters consume ridiculous amounts of energy. Better off using the tap. It’s the same thing anyway: streaming water. The discomfort can build your character too.” (Again, paraphrasing.) So this is it. THE ULTIMATE REASON. The virtue of “Thrift”. (Why else would I use the word “shower” instead of “taking a bath”? Showering is a one-off thing, while a bath takes time and water to fill up and all.) In using the heater, I am betraying my ideals, my mother’s trust, and the planet. Damn you heater.

Nevertheless, the hot-cold debate has gone to pass now. As I mentioned in a previous post, my distance from home has change my perceptions of things. CHANGE, YES I CAN. Although it isn’t drastic (LOW HEAT FTW!), it has to symbolize something in my highly symbolic, metaphorical, macrocosmic life right? So thank you heater, for getting me through the midnights with lukewarm showers, for allowing me to think instead of shivering in the shower and for guiding me into the light. I could never have done it without you. But also thank you cold showers, for perking me up in those mornings with the imminent examinations one hour away, for keeping my individualism and keeping Earth safe. I could never have done it without you too.

God bless showerheads. And heaters (no I haven’t forgotten about you). They are more important than you think.

Family Politics

Don’t you just love it when after an apt reunion dinner, your mother starts bickering with your father (who is suspiciously silent throughout) about the shitty food and the various one-liners your uncle blurted out in his drunken stupor and the reluctance to pay for the bill of your aunt on the car back home? At least now I am able to say, “Aah, those were the times” in my friggin’ cubicle doing some white-collar job eating out of a polystyrene packet. Or maybe not since I am too intelligent for that.

Hmm…

Pimples (or the lack thereof), Bodily Hair (or some may say) and now this…

First up it seems exceedingly inapropriate to pen the proverbial dealing-with-teen-sexuality post right after the morbid one before, but hell, teenage angst seems just as much grim as the next murder or rape case.

Hormones. Today, boys and girls, we’ll be discussing hormones.

Which pretty much is the god-forsaken horned devil (pun intended) constantly CONSTANTLY bugging me to objectify every single decent-looking female in the boarding school. Okay, only one. But still, WHY ME? WHY NOW? Alpha Males do not fall vulnerable to the slightest charms of the shes. DIE.

There seems to be a spunky JC chick around, I must say quite attractive for an Asian actually. Mostly likely because of her resemblance to a hot British model. Hmmm… EXAMPLE:

The goddess I mentioned

Anybody knows who I’m talking about? Recalls her name? At least the Christian one? If so tell me so I can Google her. A stalker needs his information.

And that’s just the surface of it. She is perpetually around a not-so-hot male, which is what makes this forbidden fruit all the more sultry and luscious and addictive and tempting. From the series of crushes last year, I must say I think someone high up is toying with my emotions and hinting to me to get a girl? Not that it is on my mind now, or ever. Just seems hilarious for me to join the ranks of …. you know which lovelorn poseur I’m talking about.

Bye-bye Alpha Male image. And hi pussy-whipped Theron.

He was cremated this morning, she said.

I don’t really know what i should make out of the news. A relative have passed away from cancer. Well, there’s a thought.

On one hand he was sick. Holding out for close to three long months already. Met him during the new year. Shook his quivering hand, watching on as he squints his eyes trying to take a good look at his grandson, listening to his voice above the morbid beats of his heart. I wished him “Happy New Year” and “Healthy body and spirit.”

That was the last time i saw him, the one time in maybe six, seven months. Probably for the best. Him to stop suffering and the people around to stop worrying. Just wishing for him to find sanctuary in the arms of maybe God, if He exists, because I need all the help I can get right now.

On the other side of the palm, she have cried and cried. Endured sleepless nights. It’s kinda hard to bear listening to the electronic voice of your mother struggling to deaden the sobbing behind the phone. Surely this is a hard time for her. She bought him pills and vitamins and wheatgrass since maybe last year. The care for her father have just be one long protracted nightmare. Now that the tsunamis have hit, other than to salvage, she can wait for the tides to recede. Flow back into the ocean calm.

But I am handling the news suprisingly well. I may be desensitised by mainstream media, or maybe my emotions have been strecthed thin by the sheer distance between the Gombak and Bukit Timah. I am feeling fine.

Although I’m feeling that bit guilty. Me to be able to concentrate in my studies when i should be breaking down in tears right now. Me to be able to laugh and smile at the kindly jokes of friends when she is tearing herself apart with the anguish and pain. Me to be able to type this when i should be digging my fingers into my eyes and trying to stem the flow of tears. It does seem wrong to have no feelings.

My only redemption is that I mourn for the next couple of weeks, wishing with all my might that he has found his Goddess and lay her soul to rest and relief. If You are out there, please dont let me down.

Rebooting

Restarting.

Reinventing.

Reassuring.

Reminding.

And of course, waiting for the essay results to come out.