My brother lived in Chicago for 4 years and all I got is a lousy t-shirt

My brother came home on Saturday. He told me that he was supposed to arrive on Sunday and that I am supposed to pick up his ass from the airport. It’s supposed to be a surprise for our parents and we’ve been planning this for weeks. Then he went and showed up a day earlier.

It was almost 2 in the morning. I was home alone seeing that my parents were in Singapore. If I am actually “cool”, I would have called up some friends, get me a DJ and throw a super happening party with abundance of liquor, marijuana and pole dancing strippers. But seeing that I am not cool nor an extra designated for plot advancement in some American coming-of-age movie involving 4 guys who want to get laid before prom, I did no such thing. Instead I was home alone watching "Love Actually" and cursing my non-existing love life. I was at that scene, where that guy proclaimed his love for Keira Knightley’s character using cue cards with Christmas carol playing in the background.That scene was so fucking romantic that I hyperventilated a bit. I was like “How come he loves her? Why her? Why her and not me?!! Why doesn’t Clive Owen ever stand in my doorway, proclaiming his love by giving me a diamond bracelet with Snoop Dog’s Sensual Seduction playing in the background?! Why?! What does his wife have that I don’t?!!! WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME CLIVE?!! WHY WON’T YOU?!!!” -when the house phone rang.

At first I thought it was my parents calling from Singapore. They could call my mobile but they called the house phone instead to make sure that I was in fact, at home. Like they’re so scared that I would go out all night partying and have random promiscuous sex in some club’s dodgy bathroom. I mean, seriously. Come on. I have class. If I want hot sex, I’ll just hire a gigolo. And we’ll do it in my parent’s bedroom, not some club’s bathroom. Trust me on that. So I answered the phone

“Yes, Dad. I’m home. I’m not out and about being a skank.”

“Hey CD, I’m in front of the house!”

Dude, I swear to God the first thought that crossed my mind was “Huh? Clive?” And then I panicked. Fucker, it was almost 2 in the morning. Who the fuck does house calls at this unGodly hour? OMGWTF, did I order a gigolo? OMFG?!! Did I? How the hell would I know who to call to order a gigolo? Shit!! How am I going to pay for this? What is the going rate for gigolos these days? OMG! The cops! The cops! My face would be all over the news for soliciting a hooker! And I haven’t got my eyebrows done.

“Dik, abang ni. Kat depan rumah.”

Sis, it’s your brother. I’m in front of the house.

Oh.

“What?! I thought you’re supposed to arrive tomorrow! Who picked you up?”

“My boys did. Come on, open the door.”

See, I could just go ahead and open the door for him but there’s a slight problem. I wasn’t wearing.... much. Like, maaaan I’m home alone okay. You’re lucky I wasn’t walking around naked. What the hell am I supposed to do? Answer the door in my panties and all my braless glory? With his friends standing there too? I’m sorry this is not a porno you download from the Net, this is my life. So I ran up, grabbed the nearest thing that I can and just put that on. You would think the first thing he would say to his long lost sister when I opened the door would be; “I miss you” OR “You are the best sister a guy ever had” OR “Wow, you grew up to be so magnificently beautiful” but what he said was “Hey, your pants is inside out…..and what’s that brown stuff on your face?”

Ahhh…..such sweet reunion of siblings. Bring tears to your eyes it does.

He looked dead tired so I told him to go to sleep but he was all excited saying that he brought me stuff from Chicago. Secretly I was excited too but was playing it cool. Inside I was like “YAY!! Gifts!” but outside I was like all “Oh really? You shouldn’t have.” Ahem. Then he pulled out like this thick ass book okay. “I got this for you cause you have always like to read.” Dude, I thought it was Tales of Beedle the Bard- Limited Edition turns out it was “Dreams from My Father" by Barrack Obama. Are you fucking with me? I stared at him and he was like “What? You were into the elections and I got you an Obama shirt too” at which point he pulled out this huge ass shirt from his luggage.

Okay, first off. Yes. I realise that I am fat. Yes. But really, is he mocking me? That fucking shirt is hugggge. It is not a shirt, it’s a fucking tent. With Obama’s face on it. I think it’s a men’s shirt sized triple XL. I am not making this up. I’m swimming in it! That shirt is so huge it reaches my knees. I got dresses shorter than this! Oh, the unprovoked insult delivered by your own flesh and blood!…Oh how it hurts so…

I actually got a picture taken in that shirt to show how ridiculous huge it is and I wanted to puti it here for you guys to see but at the last minute I took it off cause:

1) I was wearing shorts underneath the shirt but it’s either the shorts is too short or the shirt is too long that it seemed that I am not wearing any bottoms at all.

2) It is a men’s shirt.

3) I was posing next to my bed.

4) My hair was messy.

5) I also put on these sexy 4-inch heels that I got for RM25 on stock clearance just to show off.

Upon uploading this photo I realise the fact that I’m posing next to a bed in a man’s shirt seemingly without any bottoms on but with heels on and having that little messy bed hair going on is….not really appropriate now is it? What kind of message am I sending off to my readers? No, seriously…what? Images with hidden double entendre like that should not be seen by public.....only by Clive. So I took it off at the last minute. I will not blind my readers that way. You can thank me later. But trust me on this, that shirt is huuuge and it kinda look like this:

But in the size of a tent you take when you go camping in the Amazons.

I appreciated the thought however and thanked him for the gifts, gave him a hug and told him to go to sleep. We can do our catching up tomorrow. I got back to my room, flipped open the book and a Benjamin with a post-it note on it fell out: “Untuk adik abang”. (For my sister)

100USD, that’s 300 Malaysian Ringgit.

Turns out, my brother not so crappy with gifts after all....

Endings could be joyful too you know...

Today is my last day in college. Okay, last day for going to classes in this college. Next year I will be flying off to complete my degree in another country. My degree is like this international twinning program thingy, hence the need to fly off. Next week is my finals, and after the 4th I will be done with this college forever.





Wow.





I feel ecstatic. I feel free. I feel so fucking ossum. I'm moving on bitches, I'm moving on. I know that this high would eventually wear off and then I will become sad and nostalgic thinking of the friends I'm leaving behind. Then all I'll have of this period in my life would be the memories we created together. The in-jokes. The stupid arguments. The drama (most of time created and made possible by me). The endless stupidity. The joy and laughter. Parting is such bittersweet sorrow. But for now I am ecstatic. I am joyful.





I am experiencing the feeling of satisfaction that could only be felt when one is taking a step forward in one's life. A feeling of progression. A feeling of complete and total ossumness.





So no, no bitching post today nor any stories regarding my adventures into stupidity (and God knows how many of those I actually have). Today I am zen.





Today.....I am happy.

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?