I'm racist. You're racist.......So what happens now?

Disclaimer: The following post deals with issues concerning racism. It could be hurtful to you. It could also piss you off to the point of wanting to track me down and kicking my ass. So if you don't feel like reading an extremely long post in which I ponders the issue of racism in all my pseudo-intellectual glory, then don't. Unlike the real world; freedom of choice still rules supreme in the blogsphere.

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Let's be honest here, there is a bit of racism in all of us.

If you can honestly say that you are not racist, at all, then you my friend are a liar. We are all racist. It comes with the upbringing. When we were growing up our parents, our relatives, the people of our own race who associates with us......well they inject a certain something into our subconscious. It is called ""racial superiority". The case in which we view our race, our people as better than anyone else’s. This shit is like Sociology 101 yo.


Now how we are going to deal with that racism is up to us. We can choose to remain being racist or we can choose not to. Me? I have selective racism. It is shameful. It is wrong. I should get my ass whooped for it….but then you know, no matter how ossum you guys think of me, I am still but human. A constantly dramatic human, but still human.



You wanna know who I am racist towards? Chinese teenagers. Yes, do I hear uproar out there? Yes of course I do. But please before flooding my comment box with hate comments, let me just get some points across. I am not racist against all Chinese teenagers; I am only racist against those supa kawaii ones. The ones who find the need to emulate Japanese street fashion, to be anime themselves, the ones that wear top to bottom pink, the ones that talk like fucking bimbos……and those are just the girls. The boys, God the boys are another story all together.


But I do notice that this damn fucking annoying anime/Japanese/Harajuku behaviour are most of the time attributed in Chinese teenagers exclusively and because of that I am racist towards them. Please note that I am not racist towards the Chinese, just the supa kawii ones. I have Chinese friends, I watch Chinese movies, I think Lee Hom is a hot piece of ass and remember geek boi of which I had a………..sex dream of? Dude’s Chinese. How’s that for not being racist against the Chinese?


The second group of people that I am racist towards are white people. Yeah I know. Contradictory ain’t it? Am I not the one who goes on and on about how I wanna bang Clive Owen’s within an inch of his life? And clearly, he’s white. Do I not idolize Kelly Clarkson, and look at her- she’s white! Am I not blogging in English, which we Malaysians recognize as the language of white people? I mean go anywhere in Malaysia and speak a bit of good English and you’ll probably get comments that go along this line: “Berlagak lah tu, sebab pandai cakap bahsa omputih.”

Let me explain. I am not racist towards all white people. I am only racist towards white people living in Malaysia. Now I dunno whether you guys notice but white people living in Malaysia, most of them, they think they are so much more superior than we the locals. Cause they’re white. Just because we are all brown and suddenly they’re white in the sea of brownies, they think they are so much superior to us? It does not help that most Malaysians cannot escape the colonized mentality and view them as better than us. And because of this, white people in Malaysia think they can take advantage of us. They can skip queues, get discounts and bla fucking bla just cause they’re white. They think they can get away with anything, just cause they’re white.

Shit pisses me off.

And no, my selective racism is not limited to other races only. I am racist against my own people too. Malay people. Yeah I know, I am here to declare that yes that the Constantly Dramatic One is Malay and I take an active role to not be associated with people that I deem to be “too Malay”. The ones that I like to label as “kampong”. I mean the ones that only want to watch Malay movies, religiously watch "Akademi Fantasia", go for those damn "Sure Heboh!" bullshit. Yeah….those. I am racist towards them.


I view myself as more modern, liberal, hipper Malay whereelse they are the outdated, boringly traditional and kampong Malays. They in turn, do not view me as a modern, liberal or hip with a positive spin to it….They look at me and think that I’m a skank for not dressing in the typical Malay fashion, and that I am going to burn in Hell for being me. They also accuses me of bringing shame to the Malay community for being “liberal”. They are as racist towards me as I am to them. The cyle of hate that comes with racism is a vicious one.

So you see, I am racist. I will not deny it. But I am selectively racist. I do not blindly hate a group of people just because what I heard or because I have been thought that my race is “supposedly” superior when compared to everyone else’s. I hate them for reasons that make sense to me. So does it make it okay for me to hate?

Of course not. It’s hurtful.



I’m sure what I wrote about being racist towards Chinese teenagers have angered…well Chinese people out there. I’m sure what I said about white folks would lose me my international readers and I’m sure somewhere out there some Malay girl is reading my blog and going “Oh dia ingat dia bagus sangat lah sekarang? Betina sial.”…or you know something along those lines. Because let’s face it. Racism hurts.

So why am I bringing all this up? Why am I airing my racism out to the world? Because, I just recently encountered such blatant racism myself. I encountered it from someone who I think of as a friend. I thought he was cool....then I stumbled upon his blog and I found these gems:


“……………Waiting for the other guy, he stood there, the book in hand, and the place it below his lip and on his chin, the way you would place your fingers below your lip when you're thinking. OMG, the bloody Malay idiot. I just wanted to slam his face along with the book into the counter repeatedly. If he wants to get that personal with my book, let him have the whole shebang, I'd have shoved it up his ass if it didn't interfere with morals... and laws against assault.

Unfortunately for me, the book was the only one they had. Argh, kill kill kill. And if anyone wonders why I believe majority of Malays are uncivilised imbeciles that I wouldn't trust to even be my slave, let them go spend a night with Mr. Bookaphile over there.

Genocide, here we go!”

And this:

“…………show me a malay who seemingly doesn't exhibit traits of imbecility and/or incivility, and I'd prove you wrong.”


I mean, wow. Can you guys just feel the racism in that? At first I was shocked; I always thought he’s a cool guy you know. He doesn't show his racism in real life but every other post is about how he thinks Malay people should be rendered obsolete. Once the shock is over, I became extremely angry. And I just wanna track him down in college and kick him in the balls. I did. Then I thought of attacking him in my blog and then it occurred to me that……….wouldn't that be totally hypocritical of me?


I sure am not as racist as him. I do not want to commit any genocide and no I will not hold it against his people for the things he said………. but to judge him on his opinions of my people, his racism, when I’m in turn is racist too? That’s just wrong and shallow of me. But just because I can think sensibly about this does not mean that his words do not hurt. And that’s what racism is all about. They hurt, they anger and all that’s left is hate.

I have stopped being angry with him. I have also decided to stop being his friend. I don’t think that I could associate myself with someone who clearly looks down on me just because of my race. But of all things that I take out of this, most of all…is pity. I feel sad for him. If you read his blog and if you know him in real life as I do, he is a very clever guy. Quite witty too. But that’s just so much hate there..... I do not know where this hate for Malay people comes from. I do not know whether it is justified. I do not know. What I do know is that, it’s such a damn shame to have so much racism and hate in someone as young as he is.


We are all racist in our own way. It's just a question on how far we let the racist in us go. Do we let them dictate the way we think or view a person of a certain race without any justification? Or do we hold on to our racism but accept a person, albeit begrudgingly, if they turns out to not be what we have envisioned? Are we happy to lead our lives with all these hate and in turn pass it down to the next generation? Could we ever live in a world in which there is no such thing as racism, be it individually or institutionalized? Will the cycle of hate, unjustified suspicions and blind arrogance ever end?

I understand the idea of choosing a part of yourself to be the centre of your being. Gay people wear their homosexuality with pride. It is what defined them as individuals. I choose my dramatic antics to be the centre of my being. The thing that defines me as an individual. But sadly for him, instead or choosing his cleverness or his wittiness or a thousand other good qualities that he has as a human being.....he instead chose his racism to be the centre of his being. The thing in which he defined himself with as an individual.

He wears his racism with pride.

And that is the most saddest, heartbreaking thing I have ever encountered in my entire life.

So apparently, I'm an emo kid....

Hey guys, I am going to stop blogging for a while.

For the last few days I have been missing my sister. One of those pangs that came from nowhere and won't go away you know. As a result, the part of my brain, the part that produce my creative juices...yeah...that's kinda fucked up at the moment. The Constantly Dramatic One have turn into one of those overtly emo kids that are so annoying that you wanna slap them across the face and then shove their faces into a bucket of ice cold water so that all those emo makeup would come off.


In any event, I refuse to flood Dramatic Musings with my emoness. Fucking hell this is my bitching outlet, not a karaoke box in which I sing Bette Midler's "Wind Beneath My Wings" 5 times in a row and then curl up in a corner to cry my eyes out. And then if the mood strike, hurt myself. Cause that's what 15 year old emo kids do. They cry and then hurt themselves to feel alive. And apparently, ever since last Friday I have morphed into a 15 year old emo kid. Sans those raccoon eye makeup though.

So no, no blogging till I'm done being a 15 year old emo kid. But in the meantime, I'll visit your blogs. And if you feel like sending me emails, ecards, naked photos of yourself (if you happen to be Clive Owen), or you know.....contact number and residence address if you so happen to be a fireman- you know how to reach me.


And now, take it away Tickle Me Emo.

Firemen and zombies...Oh my!

For the last 3 days I have been obsessively going through youTube searching for.........me. First I searched for "Since You've Been Gone" and then I realised....how the hell would white-Honda Jazz-fuckface knows that I was rocking out to that song? I mean, does that fucker have supersonic hearing or something?



So I searched for "traffic jam singing" and have go through like a shitload of videos of people who videotaped themselves singing in cars during traffic jams. I felt somehow better watching these videos because clearly, I am not the only idiot who throw "concerts" during traffic jams. Then I went on to be more specific, throwing in words like "Malaysian traffic jam", "crazy girl in car", "fat crazy girl in car", "stupid idiot in car singing" and then when all else fail I typed in "ossum singing girl traffic jam".........and lo and behold...... I found nothing!



This is bullshit.


This is when my brother buzzed me over MSN.......




"Adik tau tak ada movie zombie baru?"
*Do you know there's a new zombie movie out?




"Meh, apsal lak Adik nak tengok citer zombie?"
*Meh, why would I want to watch a zombie movie now?




"Bukan hari tu adik hantar link calendar zombie kat Abang ke?"
*Did you not sent me zombie calendar link the other day?




"Excuse me, I sent you that cause they are Pinups Zombies. Not just any zombies."





"What's the difference?"





"Pinup zombies maksud nyer lagi cantik lah. Pinup zombies! Pinup zombies....Am I getting through to you?"
*It means that since they are zombie pinups...therefore they are prettier than your average zombies.




"Abang rasa gambar pinup yang ko suka sangat tu nampak macam sluts jer."
*I think those pinup girls that you like so much look like sluts.




"..........................................Why are you intentionally hurting me?"





"Cause I can. You're too easy. Never a challenge to pissed you off when we were kids."





"Adik tak nak chat ngan Abang lagi. Nak merajuk. Goodbye."
*I don't wanna chat with you anymore. I want to sulk. Goodbye.




"Poyoh!!! Tengok link ni! Best! Tajuk dia "Quarantine"."
*Big baby! Check out this link. It's the best! It's called "Quarantine".




"Fine, I'll humour you. But this is just because we are related by blood. Not because I harbor any affections for you. I want you to know that so that you won't be confused or anything."

"When did my little sister got to be so bitchy? Oh wait, I know. The day you were born right?"

My brother is a he-bitch but that's a given cause I think bitchiness is like a family trait or something. I watched his stupid link anyways. The supposedly "best" zombie movie ever. Looks like crap until the 0:51 mark.

Holy Mother of God!!!!! Is that a fireman at 0:51? Wait, wait....there are several firemen. Dude.....this movie just been elevated from "crap" to "OSSUM" in my book. So then I abandoned my brother on MSN and went in search of more "Quarantine" related videos and I found more trailers. With more firemen in it !!!!!! This one especially.

Firemen!!!! Everywhere. Okay fine, I noticed there are zombies too. But fuck it! Firemen! OMG!!!! I'm soooo horny excited now I cannot even think straight. Here's a synopsis of the movie:

"Television reporter Angela Vidal and her cameraman are assigned to spend the night shift with a Los Angeles Fire Station..........."

What comes after "Los Angeles Fire Station" in that synopsis is really not important. I don't really give a fuck. But if there's "Fire Station" involved that means it would involve a lot of men running around in those orange uniforms.....with the hats right? Holy crap!!!!!!!!!! This is like...........a dream come true. Minus the zombies of course. Wait wait.......apparently this movie is a remake of a successful Spanish thriller, with the same format and all...............................................you guys know what this means right?

Spanish firemen!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG!! Where can I get the original version of this movie? No seriously bitches. Anyone knows? C'mon! Spanish firemen!!!!!!! If those two words combined did not give you an orgasm, then you my friend, is a robot. Or a straight man. In which case, I apologize profusely for this post. And to show how sincerely sorry I am, here is the Spanish trailer. With Spanish firemen. Mwahahahahha!!!

Now, I'm off for a quick icy cold shower. *wink wink nudge nudge*

An open letter to my fellow Malaysians....

Dear Malaysian,







Listen, I need to talk to you guys. First of all, hello. How are you? Have you had your dinner yet? How's the family? Good? Oh good then. I'm glad that every thing's going great for you guys. Me? Oh I'm swell. Well as swell as I can get anyways.....given the fact that I'm buried under shitload of assignments these days. But such is a student's life.







Right, where was I? Oh have I ever mentioned that I like being Malaysian? I dunno bout you guys, but by God I do indeed love it. I love being in such a multicultural environment in which we either love each other or we tolerate each other's differences, and then we bitch about it behind each other's back. I love our "Malaysian time". Yes, it gives way to being tardy. Not that it's a good thing mind you, but sometimes you just gotta be tardy. And oh the happiness and joy that we derive from our foods collectively. Our nasi lemak, our rendang, our ketupat. Oh the joy we get from stuffing those into our mouths.....indescribable. Outsiders will never understand our fascination with our nasi lemak and rendang but it doesn't matter. We Malaysians have found a spot of heaven, and it's on that plate of nasi lemak. I find it fascinating how we all can sit at the mamak hours on end ordering teh tariks, one after the other and talking shit bout the government but yet doing nothing bout it. Other than giving our esteemed favourite mamak more money for our never ending craving for teh tariks. Yes, yes, I do indeed love being Malaysian. And I love you too, fellow Malaysians.







But amidst all this love and camaraderie I just need to iron out a problem I'm having with you guys. I mean, it's kinda a biggie. I do hope it's not offensive but I just need to ask this: Why the fuck are you guys so fucking nosy? Honest to God? Whhhhyyy?!!!











I'm talking about this insatiable need to be nosy assholes on the road. Why is it that every time there is a fucking accident on the motherfucking road, you people found the need to slow the fuck down so that you can all nosily, drive your car sllooooooooooowwwwwlllly by the accident scene so that you'll can see what's goin on? Why is there a need to be this fucking nosy? I mean, you fuckers, I was stuck for 2 fucking hours today on the fucking highway just because some truck overturned.





A truck overturned. It just fucking overturned.





Nothing else happened. The driver did not die, nobody was injured and oh nothing blew up. It just fucking overturned. If Miss Universe was parading naked in the middle of the street and you people found the need to slow the fuck down, fine, I get it. If there was somehow a mortal combat between Optimus Prime and Superman going on the fucking highway and you people found the need to slow the fuck down, fine, I get it. I fucking get it. But this is just a fucking overturned truck!!!! What kind of bleak, shallow, existence do you bitches live that the sight of an overturned truck would excite you so much that you found the need to slow the fuck down hence causing a bigass traffic jam, getting me stuck in it for 2 whole hours?







And no bitches, it did not help that I needed to pee really badly and it was pouring outside. Yes, it was cold. It was freezing in my car even without the AC on. I fucking needed to pee. I mean, it's not like I'm a guy okay. I don't have a penis. If I have one, I would have whip "little CD" out and pee in a bottle. But I don't have a "little CD". I cannot fucking pee in a bottle. I can't deny that at one point that I really did think of leaving my car and go in search for a bush or something. I'll be like "Hey y'all! Listen up, I'm just gonna leave my car here and go to that bush over there and do my thang okay. I mean it's not like you guys are going anywhere anyways.". It was tempting. I can assure you that.








Dante wrote that the final circle of hell is when you are buried in the icy grave of your own tears. Clearly, Dante have never been stuck in a traffic jam for 2 fucking hours with a full bladder.








Also, assholes.......uuuhhh...... I mean Malaysians, we are back to the nosy issue here. Listen, what I do within the vicinity of my car is none of your concern. So what if I like to blast Kelly Clarkson's "Walk Away"........and then pretend to be Kelly Clarkson in my car? Albeit, a more ossum version of her. Huh? What if I like to do that? It keeps me zen. It keeps me from going crazy. It keeps me from running out from my car like a crazy bitch to find the nearest bush. Let me be. In my car, I am Kelly Clarkson. Also fuckface in the white Honda Jazz next to me, I saw you taking a video of me while I am in my intense rendition of "Since You've Been Gone". I saw you fuckface, eventhough you tried hiding your phone from me.





I. Saw. You.





I got your car plate number. If I find out that there is a video of me, doing my batshit crazy rendition of "Since You've Been Gone", in my car, on the net, I will track you down like the dog that you are. I will kidnap each one of your family, and then feed them to crocodiles while you watch. I will tape your eyelids open (a'la A Clockwork Orange), so that you cannot not look as your 76 year old grandma is being eaten alive by a particularly famished crocodile. I will not end you bitch, no, I will smash both of your kneecaps and your knuckles with a sledgehammer, Vegas style, and let your crawl away to your worthless freedom. Go on, live your life with the excruciating pain of broken kneecaps and knuckles and the memory of your whole family being eaten alive by crocodiles. That will teach you for videotaping me when I'm pulling a Kelly Clarkson in my car.

I'm onto you, white-Honda Jazz-fuckface. I'm onto you.

So yes, that is all. I hope you, my fellow Malaysians have a lovely rest of the evening. I do adore you and value your companionship........ when you are not being nosy fuckers that is. Except for that one Malaysian guy. The one who videotaped me. Yeah, this is a little advice from me to you: Ship your whole family to Mongolia, while you still have the chance to do it.








hugs, kisses, your fellow Malaysian,


the Constantly Dramatic One

You know...zombie pinup girls are kinda hot......

So....apparently since my last post I have been getting a lot of questions....nay....more like statements of fact claiming that I'm insane. I mean............meh, so what if I like to talk to Monet in the morning? Sometimes that dude just materializes in my backyard okay. What am I supposed to do? Tell him to leave....that's just rude. Y'all just jealous cause he doesn't come to your backyard.





And which person here have not imagined their life as a movie? Honestly? At certain point in life, you would have thought that "Damn, my life would have made a kick ass chick flick/action movie/noir thriller". It's only natural if you have even an ounce of imagination. Me, I have way too much...that's why I write cause sometimes it becomes really crowded in my head. So no, contrary to popular beliefs I am not insane. Just too imaginative. To prove that I am in fact not insane, today's post would be a mild, run-of-the-mill, very sane and completely normal post.





Today I will talk about zombies. Particularly Zombie Pinups. See, what is insane in that statement?





Remember when I did that post about the new retro look? Well I come across an even better deal than beautiful, new starlets dolled up as pinup girls. What are your thoughts of zombies, dolled up as pinup girls?............I know right!!! Too cool! Some company out there is putting out a 2009 calendar of zombie pinups and I have to say their take of Gil Elvgren's pinups are pretty interesting. I am damn tempted to order one of these babies to put on my wall for 2009. Check it out!

The original.

I like how they have the outfit down to a T.

The Original

I like her face in this one. "I have a hole in my abdomen but it's okay. I'm cheeky!"

The Original

Pose is the same.

The original

Well at least the outfit is the same.

I am liking how this whole pinup look have crossed the boundaries of the undead. It is disturbing yet intriguing at the same time.......So if zombies and pinups are your thing, do feel free to visit their product site.

See, nothing insane bout this post right? Right?? I'm completely sane. Completely. Except for those rare moments when I have that strange voice in my head telling me to kill puppies. Yeah....except for those times........

If life is a musical, it'll totally be infinitely more ossum

Disclaimer: The following post consists of a whole lot of bullshit. A whole lot. Understand that you will never reclaim the time that you will have to use to read this bullshit. I just want you to know that, cause I respect you. And really, this entry is full of bullshit. I'm not kidding...............Don't say I didn't warn you.




So what time did you guys woke up today? What time?..........Oh, well if you were to be up around the time I woke up, which was round 6 in the morning and opened the window.......I swear you would have seen a sight that was almost too wonderful to behold.





The sun was shining, the trees were doing some kind of dance as the wind swept by, there was a rainbow somewhere in the distance, a family of robins up in the tree were singing a merry song and it was beautiful. So beautiful that if Monet were still alive, he would wept by the beauty of it all and then try to capture it in his painting. When he realizes that such beauty, such splendour, such delights of the world couldn't be captured even by someone as great as him, he would put away his brush, let out a sigh of contentment, take my hand, stare me deeply in the eyes and go...





"Tis beauty is too magnificent even for me, the great Claude Monet. For even I cannot capture it, tis is even more beautiful than my pond of water lilies, more beautiful than anything I have ever seen or painted....................but know this Ms. Drama, before I leave your world of make believe, cause when you think about it.......like what the hell am I doing in your backyard at 6 in the morning and talking to you in English when I'm French, I want you to know tis........You're ossum."





And with that he disappeared. He took with him the beauty of the morning. He took with him the sun, the rainbow, the robins and the wind that was gently caressing me up until then. All that left were me staring at my neighbour's maid hanging up the clothes to dry and the garbage track making a ruckus as it makes its way down the road. But yet, even without such beauty, I still feel happy.


This happiness in my heart is so delightful that I feel like anytime, at any given moment I would just burst in a song and dance number. Like in a musical. Goddamn, I wish my life is a musical. I wish I could start just singing on how happy I am, like you know....





"Oh happy happy joy joy!


I am so ossum!


Let's all dance around, and laugh gleefully together when we have never seen each other before,


And continue this merriment till the end of the song!"





Then random people consisting of school kids, soccer moms, construction workers, Indonesian maids, the ice cream man would just bust out in random synchronized dance move along with me. Monet would come out of nowhere and do a rap (in French) about what a glorious day it is. Then we all do a final complicated move consisting of a lot of back flips, twists and crotch thrusting, fireworks go up in the background, jazz hands, and that's the end of that song. Then we all move on with our lives as if nothing happened.





Ain't that fucking osssum?





Don't you wish that random people down the street would just bust out in synchronized dance move along with you? Dude, I totally do. I have always wanted that. Can you imagine how entertaining traffic jams would be if people would go out of their cars and start tap dancing on top of their cars instead? No, really....................think about it. This is the scenario:

Traffic jam. Bumper to bumper. 5 different cars, 5 different drivers, tapping their fingers on the steering wheels

then 5 collective sighs

Driver 1: Oh God

Driver 2: Oh boi

Ensemble: Why is there a traffic jam?

fingers tap (tap tap tap) collective sigh

Driver 1: Oh God

Driver 2: Oh boi

Collectively: Why is there a traffic jam?

fingers tap (tap tap tap), a car honking, tap, honk, tap, honk honk honk,

Driver 1: Fuck this!!! I cannot take this anyyyyyyymooooooooooreeeeeee

*opens door, gets out of car, loosen tie and walk towards the front of car staring in a distance*

Driver 3: Neither can't Iiiiiiiiiiiiii........"

*all driver get out*

Driver 4: Why must this happen to us?

Driver 5: Why must we endure this everyday?

Driver 1 & 3: Why must there be traffic?

Driver 2 & 4: What is there to be seeeeeen?"

Driver 5: Is it an accident? Did someone died? Why are you slowing down? Don't you want to get home?

Ensemble: Listen up my fellow Malaaaaaaysiaaaaannns, slowing down would not help aaaat alll. Listen to me now my fellow Malaaaaaaysiannnns, what should you do is step on the gas!!

Driver 1: So what if some Wira bang some Geeeennn Two? So what if they're dying by the roadside, who gives a damn? I want to get home, I have a wife toooo baaaaaaang....

Driver 4: So what if there's blood on the road, so what if the cops are theeere? I don't give a fuck, I want to go home. Doreamon is on, on NTV Seeeeeeveeeennn

Ensemble: Stop being nosy, stop being a bitch, just step on it on asshole, I wanna get home. No one want to be stuck in traffic for 7 hours, no one wanna sit on their ass for that long, we all want to be home, to rest and sleep, no one wanna stare at your fuuugly caaaarr. Stop being nosy, stop being a bitch, just step on it asshole, I wanna get home....."

Then this is the point in which everyone climbs on top of their car, start doing some tap dancing on the roof and then give each other the finger, as Malaysian are known to do during traffic jams.

That would totally be ossum. I mean when you're stuck on the highway wouldn't you want too see that too? Goddamn, that would be ossum. So ossum it'll be more ossum than me. I should start working on a script now...hhhmmmm.........

This is a clip of the ensemble of Improve Everywhere, where they did randomly started singing and dancing in the middle of a food court. I will kill to be part of this team. Please enjoy as I work on my script.

I'm happy, therefore I can't bitch

Sorry for the lack of updates. It seems that the Constantly Dramatic One have hit a writer's block. Also it must be noted that recent events in my life have made me ridiculously happy. And y'all know what it means when I'm happy right?

It means I cannot bitch about anything to save my life. No really, which kinda sucks donkeys balls. Being cheerful takes away my bitchy edge. Can I have both together at the same time? Why can't I be bitchy yet happy? Why? Also this whole being cheerful business is cramping my style, but I can't help it dammit.....I'm happy.

So with that I am opening the floor. I want you guys, including my sayang to come up with topics in which you guys want me to blog about. Anything at all, if I like it...... I'll give my $17,000,000 thoughts on it. Your thoughts cost 2 cents, mine cost $17,000,000...........it comes with being ossum. Which I clearly am and you are not. Also sayang, if you want me to list of reasons on why I am so much better than you in every way that is possible, or a list of Fat Lesbian Porn, which I know you masturbates to on a daily basis, I would be more than happy to oblige.

Anything to keep the love between us alive, sayang.

So here goes, comment box: thoughts, ideas, topics, anything at all. If I like it, I'll write about it and link to your blog. What say you? Help out a fellow blogger in a writer's block, eh?

Humble and modest, that is me

I have been double tag by both Faye and Pourpres to do this tag. 15 random facts about the Constantly Dramatic One. I mean, who would want to know random things about me? I mean......I think this whole practice of telling people all facts all about me is just shallow and narcissistic. The Constantly Dramatic One is of course not shallow or narcissistic. I am humble. And modest. And the ultimate paragon of all that is pure and true in this world.




What's that?...........What are these mistruths you speak of? When have I ever claimed to be..."ossum". I have made no such claim. Modest and humble and pure and true persons such as I am will never make such claim. I do not need to claim to be ossum, tis an undisputed fact.


*buff nails*

Even though I am humble and modest and do not like talking about myself....at all..............I will do this tag. I will write 15 random facts about myself. Because in the blogsphere, we honour the age old tradition of blog tagging. Yes, that's the only reason. In no way will I enjoy writing all this about myself. In no way do I enjoy talking about myself. In no way am I narcisstic. At all. None.





Seriously.




1. I kiss and hug my parents every night before going to sleep. Also every time before I leave the house. This does not include the times we have arguments cause during those times there will be no hugging and kissing. Only shouting and slamming doors. And more shouting........... And slamming doors.



2. I have 6 people whom I met through the blogsphere on my Facebook: Prince, Quin, Peter, Faye, Melissa and Tine. People whom I have never met in real life but have grown to adore.





3. Red lipstick is most of the time, my everyday look. I rock red lipsticks better than anyone I know. Yes, better than anyone else I know. This is yet another demonstration of how humble and modest the Constantly Dramatic One is.



4. I do not go out to celebrate the coming of New Year or Merdeka (Independence Day), I just couldn't be bothered. I'm not bothered to go out clubbing or to watch the fireworks or whatever. The traffic is hideous, everything's overcharged, parking is a bitch and the crowd..... Oh God, the crowd. The

rempits, the posers, the horny illegal immigrants, the snooty "cool kids"- I cannot take it. Piss me off.



So what if I'm lame cause I chose to stay in on these nights, I don't care. I'm not the dumbass who's gonna be stuck in traffic for 5 hours, getting stressed out searching for parking or getting my ass grabbed by some Bangladeshi construction worker in the crowd...all for the sake of watching some fireworks blow up.


5. In an ideal world this is how my beauty regime would go:

The first week of the month: I shall go for a full body massage. The nekkid type. Ideally, the messues would be male, muscular, sexy, has a tight ass and resembles Clive Owen. Would be even better if the messues is Clive Owen. But alas, this is not an ideal world. Clive is an actor, not a messues.


The second week of the month: I shall go for a diamond peel facial. Where they massage your face with diamonds to encourage blood flow and all that jazz. None of those run of the mill facials for moi, only diamond facials are good enough. But alas, this is not an ideal world. Half the damn time I cannot even afford a McDonald's Happy Meal, much less something related to diamonds.


The third week of the month: I shall go for a fish therapy

I will sit there for half and hour and let them fished nimble away the dead cells on my feet and hence beautify them. All this goes on while Clive gives me a back rub. But alas, this is not an ideal world. Clive does not give me back rubs. Bastard.

The fourth week of the month: I shall go for mani and pedi. At this upscale nail boutique in which they would pamper me, beautify my nails and make me feel all special and purdy. But alas, this is not an ideal world. I do my own mani and pedi and most of the time my nails ended up lopsided. And all retarded looking. Also they're kinda transparent due to lack of some vitamin or other.



6. Samuel L.Jackson is my ultimate idol in badass-dery. Everytime I watched any of his movies, I have an insane need to go around calling everyone "motherfucker". Whenever I feel like someone is bullying me or pushing me to a corner, I think to myself "What would Samuel L.Jackson do?............He would whoop this motherfucker bitch azz up! That's what he'll do." I of course would not whoop anyone's bitch ass up..........cause I'm a pussy.



7. I am only interested in men who are 7 to 9 years older than me. Little boys around my age do not interest me.




8. I have not watched MTV for about 4 years now. I didn't even check out that channel when I'm channel surfing. I just grown to old to give a damn about awards, or the newest video clips or who's hot right, or who's dating who. That's just so highschool. And it's been ages since I left highschool I am after all twenty.............19 years old. Yes 19, just 2 years since I left highschool. Not that long ago when I think about.



Moving on.



9. I did not find out about sex until I was 14. True story, I am not making this shit up. I honestly do not know that people have sex to have babies. I thought people have sex for fun and babies just appear out of nowhere. No really, I am that fucking stooooopid. I remember the day I found out about sex. It was in Islamic Studies class and the teacher was talking about the sins of premarital sex and what happens if you get a baby from that.......and then it dawned on me that people have sex, babies come from sex, my parents have 3 kids...........................................................that was a very disturbing revelation. I can assure you that.




I can also assure you that my knowledge of sex have greatly improve since then. Ahem.



10. I cannot pronounce the word "beach". I can't. Don't try and teach me cause I just can't. It just comes out as "bitch". So I always say "seaside" instead. Conversations going round this word usually go like this:


CD: Yay!! We're here. Let's hit the seaside.
Random friend: You mean the beach?
CD: Yeah, the seaside.
Random friend:.................................Beach right?
CD: Yes, that's what I said. Seaside.


And round and round it goes.

11. One of the best things in life is when I read something, a book or an article, is when a line would jump out to me. Like when you read something and you stopped over a sentence, reflect and go "Damn, that is a good line. I wish I could write that." That is like one of my favourite things, finding those lines. And because I like them so much, I collect them. I write them out in my notebook so that I could look them over again and again. I appreciate the beauty of words. Words can be magical if you can weave them well.

And one of those people that can definitely weave words is Faye. I cannot tell you how many times that I stopped and go "Damn that was a good line, this woman can really write" while reading her blog. Then in a total act of word nerdy-ness, I'll write out the line or the phrase so that I can look it over in other time. I'm nerdy like that.

12. You know how men are fond of saying that women dress up nicely for them? I say bullshit. I never dress up for men. When I do dress up to go out, I always have women in mind. What men think is a non-issue. It's not like that they have an ounce of idea what fashion is all about. What other women think of my outfit is far more crucial. That's how I know how chic I look.

13. For some reason I always regret the fact that I was born long after my Pakistani grandpa on my mother side passed away. He fought in the WW2 alongside the Brits and that hows he came to (the then) Malaya, met my grandma and settle down. I always think that talking to him would a fascinating thing. Hearing all his war stories, his childhood stories in a distant land and all that. Unfortunately he passed away even before my parents were wed.

Atuk & Wan (grandpa & grandma) circa 1970s

I regret never knowing my grandpa. Though it is no fault of my own or anyone else's.



14. Every girl has a favourite Disney princess. Most of the time, for some reason or another it'll be Cinderella. Mine is not Cinderella. Mine is Snow White. Before this I though the reason why I like her so much is cause of the red lips, I have a penchant for red lipsticks anyways. But then I realise something, seeing that Snow White was released in the 1930s, the artwork that comes with the film Snow White is in tuned with that era.

You guys, Snow White looks like a pinup girl. No really. Google it up if you don't believe me.



15. Every year I will buy a little something for myself on my bDay. Sort of a self-pampering shit. Last year it was a handbag, before that a Shiseido lipstick, this year it is a book that I have been wanting for a long time.




16. One of my great interest, actually, love is....wait for it.......is history. I've always enjoyed history. All through highschool I consistently scored A's for history. I mean I'm flunking Maths, getting Bs for Biology but there never a time when I have anything less than an A for my history exams. In fact, I read history books for fun. I can tell you what the War of the Roses was all about, the founding of Melacca in a heartbeat, explain the rise and fall of the Roman Empire in great details.....cause I buy books about them. I spent countless hours reading about them online. I also religiously watch the History Channel, for fun.





In fact even the fiction books I read have an inclination to be historical. Historical crime, historical fantasy, historical high fantasy, historical romance, historical fiction...basically if it's historical you can bet your ass I will enjoy it. My favourites are 13th century Medieval England especially concerning Henry the 8th and his 6 wives, 14th Century Scotland, 1930's American (the Great Depression), books concerning the Holocaust are just fascinating, and Edwardian France. Those are good centuries to start with if you want to read anything historical.





In fact, this is the book I'm reading now:




The Autobiography of Henry VII: With Notes by His Fool, Will Somers .By Margaret George (994 pages)


It also has the honour of being the book I bought as a gift for myself, for my birthday. Now you know.


Oh wow, look 16 facts. Damn, I am too humble. Now I am tagging 15 of your asses.



1) Natalija

2) Frank

3) Aini

4) Melissa

5) Tine

6) Peter

7) Tinesh

8) Rujing

9) Technodoll

10) Michelle

11) Senorita

12) splatme

13) Kerp

14) Fara

15) And the last one is open for whoever that wants to do this.



Now go forth and be humble and modest, minions.

My haters ain't got no balls

Sometimes there are unexplainable things that go on in the universe that we cannot even begin to explain. Such occurrence such as the Milky Way is still a mystery to the scientists over in NASA. The Bermuda Triangle still evoke the hibbie jibbies in the hearts of all the sailors of the world. The fact that some women still find Tom Cruise hot is a perpetual source of confusion that keeps me up at night, wondering why oh why would they think he's hot when that dude is clearly insane......and sad.







But such is the universe. Who are we mere mortals to question it? But question it I do however.





I question it when I wake up this morning as I brush my teeth while staring at myself in the mirror, I realise something that is ridiculously perplexing to me. The fact that my life is going well right now. The fact that I am happy. The fact that I ain't got no drama.








What. The. Fuck.





The Constantly Dramatic One with no drama? With none at all? WTF? WTF? How does it come to this? How come I let myself be contented with life? Why did I not watch any movies that pisses me off? Why is no one up all over my face making trouble? Why do I not come across ridiculous articles online that get me all riled up? But most of aaaaallll, where the fuck are all my haters? Why have they got no balls that a little reproach would scare them away? It's disappointing that one teeny post with subtle sarcasm and a little disclaimers in the comment box would drive them away. Don't they know that I need them for the drama? Why do they not leave me anymore hate filled comments? Where are they in my time of need?!!!



You know there's a particular hater of mine that have grown near and dear to my heart. I adore her, I sayang her. Not only that I think she is a loathsome, no-confidence, self-hating, consumed with jealousy over the fact that she's not as ossum as I am, or that she does not have an ass like mine, and overall, a 2 cent hooker that even the most desperate sailor that have been stranded at the sea for 7 years wont go near with a 49-feet-pole cause she is just that fug and....... smells, but I admire her. Cause she can spell well. Most of my haters can't spell for shit but this one at least got 6th grade under her belt and can use the online dictionary properly. I'm very proud of her.



But lately she hasn't left me any hate filled comments. And this makes the Constantly Dramatic One a very sad girl. It makes me feel not ossum. Have you stopped being jealous of me sayang? Why are you not leaving me anymore hate comments? I know you still read my blog cause you're addicted to my ossumness........ also I tracked your IP address down. Amazing what technology can do for you. Don't you not want to be me anymore? But I'm ossum. Everyone wanna be ossum..............................



I'm sure most of you dunno what I'm talking about. So let me copy and paste what my favourite hater left me over the months:

1)
Anonymous said...

Maybe they're just giving you some encouragement. For someone obese, dressed in 10 sizes smaller, of course you are screaming for ATTENTION. They just bagi muka la so you tak tersinggung. Jangan la marah sangat. You should be happy sayang.

Translation for the brown part:

They're just making sure that you are not slighted. Don't be so angry. You should be happy love. ("Sayang" means love or dear, according to the context. Let's assume its "love" in this context.)

This is taken from this post.

2)
Anonymous said...

Just lose weight and stop commenting on other people. They are much better looking than you and are much slimmer and have better bodies than you. So please don't try to make up for your hideous and fat self by condemning these chicks.

p/s: Sayang, i hope fasting has helped you lose a few pounds. Though it seems impossible...but my prayers are with you. Tak baik tau mengata orang masa ramadhan.Muacks

Translation: It's not nice talking shit bout other people during Ramadhan. Muacks.

Taken from here.

3)
Anonymous said...

Fat bitch, i dunno what's riding up your ass....but seriously, you have a huge problem. Not only are you like obese, you are condemning other ppl. It's ramadhan bitch. Kesian your mom. Her butt hole was torn so badly when she purged you out coz you are such a fat shitty bitch

Translation: Pity your mom.

Taken from here.

And then of course I wrote this post in which I was subtly sarcastic. Cause I'm classy like that. But after that my sayang disappeared. Like poof. Well she didn't disappear all together. She still reads my blog. Ahhh...the infinite joy of IP tracking. I'm just like a drug you can't quit right....sayang? I know, I have the same effect on Clive Owen too. But sayang, why didn't you leave me any more hate comments? Did you get scared sayang? You are my ultimate source of amusement and with every comments that you leave behind you stroke my ego for being far more superior than you. And I appreciate that. I like being superior. So please won't you come back?

You can even insult my golden hamster, Ghendut. I don't mind. And oh sayang, even though I come across really bitchy and like someone who is good with confrontations in this blog, I want you to know that it is not the way so in real life. I am not bitchy or good with confrontations in real life. Really.


I'm better.


And thank you sayang for giving me the hint in that first comment you left. I knew you went to the same college as I do and now.........recently, I found out who you are. I'm looking forward to meeting you in real life. I thrive in confrontations, I hope you do too. It'll make our upcoming meeting even more interesting than our online relationship already is.

Miss you sayang, and looking forward to seeing you.
Muacks!

Balik kampung! Ooohhh oooohhh ohhhh balik kampung!!!!

I bet you guys have been relentlessly refreshing this page going "Where oh where is the Constantly Dramatic One? Why is she not updating her blog 3 times a week on alternate days? Why have she gone missing? Whyyyy God!!! Why?!!! I need me some drama and who is there to provide me with some it it's not the Constantly Dramatic One herself?!!!!! Noooooooo!!!!!!!"


*hits refresh*


"She's still not here!! I cannot take it!! I can't fucking take it!!! Arrrggghhh!!"



*stab self in the eye with a fork*



....................................................Okay, in an ideal world in which people builds shrines and worship the ground I walk upon the above situation might hold some truth. But seeing that this is not an ideal world in which no one builds shrines OR worship the ground I walk upon, I bet no one gives a fuck where I've been. But seeing that I do in fact live in an imaginary world where I make believe that everyone -absolutely everyone- adores me, I'm gonna tell you guys where I've been anyways.



Nowhere.



No, really. As it is tradition with all Malaysians to balik kampung during the festive season, I ain't got no kampung to go back to. I am a pureblood of my hometown. My dad grew up here, my mom grew up a town away from here, all my relatives are here. When the rest of Malaysia (read: mudblood) is busy driving back to wherever other state that they hailed from, I'm living it up in KL. Basking in the sheer joy of being in KL without being stuck in traffic jams. That's right, KL with no traffic jams. Yeah mudbloods, suck on that. Y'all never get to feel that cause all of you mudbloods have to go back. Balik kampung.


*looks smug*


Okay, fine. I'm jealous.



I have always been jealous when people tell me they will balik kampung during the festive season. I never get to feel that. The anticipation of going to see your grandparents and favourite cousins that live 3 states away. The long road trip with the whole family. Okay maybe the thought of being stuck in the car with my mom when she's pissed off about something or other for 5 hours is not that attractive, but nevertheless it's different. The joy of playing fireworks, running around the kampung house, chasing the chickens..........so quaint. So old skool. So...............different from the noisy and shady life in the city. I mean I bet in the kampung when y'all open the window during the first day of Aidilfitri, you can see paddy fields as far as the eyes can see. Complete with a scarecrow. When I opened my window here during the first day of Aidilfitri- and I see my 57 year old neighbour washing his car, half naked, beer gut hanging out. Not a pretty sight.



You see where I'm coming from?




Nevertheless celebrating Aidilfitri in the city has it's advantages though. First and foremost- the wireless connection. Mwahahahahhaha!! I noticed that most of my favourite Malay-themes blogs, written by Malay people of course have not been updating. I bet it's cause they all balik kampung and can't get a decent connection. Hahaha!! I bet it's a bitch trying to get connection by the paddy field. I can get connection anywhere here in the city, bitches. Y'all have kampung, I got wireless. Also the cable TV connection here is also better and I'm thinking at night I wont be attacked by an army of evil, hungry mosquitoes either. Riiiigghhht?


I'm making assumption here of course.


But then you know I will not have that bakar lemang or dodol making experience either. *Le sigh*. Urgh, what the hell am I talking about. You people with kampungs to go back to win. So be thankful and stop grousing bout the long drive home, about the bus ride over 4 states or the fact that you can's stand that one bitchy Aunt back in the kampung. Count your blessings and know that each time you are there, you are making kampung memories of Aildilfitri we pureblooded city kids will never get the chance to have.




You lucky bitches.



P/S: I wanna apologize to my international readers if this post makes no sense to y'all. Think of it as a Malaysian cultural lesson, brought to you exclusively and dramatically by the Constantly Dramatic One. And yes, there are references to Harry Potter in this post. Thanks for noticing.