(Almost) Death in the cinema

I went to watch Predators on my own a couple of weeks back. Now, I am no sci-fi chick but for some reason or another I just wanted to watch it you know. This was of course a couple weeks back, before Inception even hits the cinemas cause you know, if you’re sitting there reading this and going “The fuck does she went to watch Predators when Inception was so much more Ossssummm!!” in whatever timezone you are in, well then let me clarify okay? This blog no longer runs on real time. Everything I tell you now is backdated cause I ain’t got time to blog in real time anymore boo. Mainly cause I’m lazy and have lost the blogging buzz…. but mostly lazy.


Fuck y’all.


Okay, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry.


Wait, where was I? Right I was walking by the cinema when I saw the Predators poster and I was like “Yeah, sure why not? I can do grocery shopping some other day. My entertainment fix is more important then say….stocking up the pantry so that I won’t die out of starvation.” Also, Predators was the member’s movie of the week which mean if you’re a member of the cinema you get a discount on certain movies every week. Usually it’ll be the last week the movie is playing in the cinema and because I’m a cheap bastard, I always wait till member’s week before watching any movie.


What? To borrow a quote from my dear friend but now-sadly-not-so-close-anymore Sharin; “I don’t shit diamonds okay.”


So I got the ticket, got the popcorn and went straight into the cinema….and it was empty but I didn’t really care cause I was there early. Even the screen was blank. So I just sat down in the middle, completely chillin and thinking other people would show up in a while. It is the last week for the movie anyways and it’s like one of the smaller cinemas. The lights darken and the trailers flashed onto the giant screen. So I sat there, shaking my leg, munching my popcorn thinking “Oh, 'The Other Guys' look good, I should check that out. Skank whore number 3 from 'The Day the War Begins' is irritating me and oh look! 'Salt'! I’m gonna die if I don’t watch it.” Just you know completely chillin…when it occurred to me that movie’s gonna start soon and no one is coming in.


The movie did start and no one fucking came in.


Sonofabitch.


Now think about this for a while: Big empty cinema. Dark, big, empty, cinema. Dark, big, empty, cinema with lots and lots of empty seats and places for lets say, SCARY FUCKING DEMONS TO HIDE IN BEFORE THEY JUMPED OUT AND DEVOUR YOUR SOUL!!!!

Or you know...eat your popcorn...

I was sitting there thinking “This is some bulllshit” but I really didn’t want to leave cause I already paid for it and please do remember that I am cheap bastard despite the fact that I could feel my figurative….imaginary balls shrink from the possible being-attack-by-scary-demons-from-a-hell-dimension…..but, but…dude, I paid for it. So I ran up and sat all the way back so that I can see the entire cinema. So if there is any bullshit brewing I can see it bitch and I can run the fuck out of there. And besides, there’s a wall behind me. So that’s good. Cause you know….things can’t walk out of walls right? Wait…..ghosts can right? And demons? And OHMYGAWD! Pontianaks!!!!! Oh wait, wait……there’s no Pontianaks in Australia. I’m good, I’m good….unless there are Pontianaks in Aussie and they live exclusively in cinemas.


Fuck.


You know, its one thing if I were to watch a chick flick or something. It wouldn’t have been that scary sitting alone there, but I had to fucking watch Predators. Inherently, it wasn’t that scary watching a bunch of humans getting hunted by an alien warrior race and then assraped repeatedly before getting decapitated….. but coupled with the fact that I was sitting all alone in a big, empty, darken cinema with a possibility of being ambushed by demons, pontianaks and possibly evil ninjas, made the experience and the movie consequently, so FUCKING SCARY! And then of course, it completely escaped me that the Predators can become invisible.


So in case you have never watch a Predator movie your entire life, Predators are this big scary warrior alien that looks like this:





And they have like advanced technology where they can make themselves invisible when they are hunting humans for shit and giggles. See, I knew this little titbit of sci-fi trivia but it completely escaped me until of course the invisibility-scene came on in the movie. And I was sitting there alone thinking “Motherfuck, maybe there is an invisible Predator in the cinema with me.”


………………………………………..


Dude….all I could think of at that moment was that….I won’t even know what to tell God if I were to die being killed by an invisible alien predator in an empty cinema. No seriously, what would I say to God? I’ll be like “God…I didn’t even know what happened. I was just sitting there alone in the cinema and the next thing I know this predator dude just materialized in front of me. I look at him, he look at me and that was it God. I don’t even know what happened.” Now, ain’t that a sonofabitch? But hey I preserved and the moment the movie ended, even before the credits rolled, I fucking grabbed my bag and got out of there. Seriously, I have never been more relief to see the crappy lighting of the cinema before this. And then suddenly, because I have survived possible demons/Pontianaks/evil ninjas/Predators attack, I was feeling all badass. So I snuck into another theatre.


Cause I’m badass yo.


The trailers were still playing in this one and I was like “Woooo hooo! Two movies for the price of one!” I was feeling all smug with myself. Now, you guys know how I feel about tattoos right? But at that moment, I even contemplated of getting one to demonstrate my sheer badassdery. Perhaps one behind my neck that says:

Bad Azz 4 Lyfe

So badass, I have to spell life with a “y” instead. No seriously. So I sat in this new theatre, as excited as a motherfucker wondering what free movie I’m gonna get to watch….when the trailers ended and my question was answered.


It was Eclipse.


I got up and left.


Fuck that.

My mama always say, stupid is as stupid does....

When you were young, I'm sure you've done your fair share of stupid shit. I mean, it's only natural for us to experiment with stupidity before we embark on a life of pseudo-intellectualism. This is not the case with the Constantly Dramatic One because sadly, I am still stuck at that stupid level.

 

Anyways, today I want to take a trip down stupidity lane. I think this should be a like a new section in Dramatic Musings. It should be a section in which I highlight my adventures into stupidity. Which is really often. Half the damn time I found myself caught in something so ridiculously absurd and stupid, that there are no words to even explain it. One of my aunts, who sadly have passed away due to leukaemia, once told me that stupid things only happen to stupid people because smart people are too smart to get caught in stupid things. I wonder if she tells this to all her nieces and nephews or just to me cause she knows what was coming. Guess I will never get the chance to ask her that.

 

 

Let me tell you of the really stupid shit I have done. Back in school I had this really close friend, let’s call her Nessa*. Anyways Nessa and I was really close, the type that still call to talk on the phone after school, private nicknames for each other…that type you know. So one day Nessa gave me a gift, just out of the blue. Turns out it was a book, I can’t remember what the title was, but it had two teenage girls dancing on the beach on the cover. The Constantly Dramatic One, being the Constantly Dramatic One, decided that somehow those two girls represented Nessa and I. The book was about these two bestfriends who were really tight and then one of them got cancer and this is the story of how the friends stayed together through everything. Eventually the other girl dies and the one that survives realise that she could never have another friend as good as her.

 

I remember finishing the book at round 2.30ish in the morning and crying my eyes out. I was like “OMG, Nessa has cancer! This is why she gave this book! She couldn’t tell me the truth cause she’s scared so she gave me this instead!!" Now, please bear in mind that this was the era before every Tom, Dick and Harry had a mobile phone so I couldn’t actually call her house phone at 2am now can’t I? Her mom would kick my ass. So the next day in school, the moment I saw Nessa, I gave her like a really tight hug and I said:

 

“It’s okay Nessa, it’s okay. I love you and I understand and I will be there with you every step of the way. If you need to go to chemo, I will go with you. Every step of the way.”

 

“CD, what the hell are you talking about?”

 

“The book Nessa! The book! You have cancer.”

 

“What?!!”

 

“Well….you gave me the book remember? About the bestfriends and then one of them have cancer and….I know this is your way of telling me.”

 

“Woman! I don’t have cancer!”

“Well I don’t have cancer either. Why did you give me the book then if not to tell me something?”

 

“I just thought that the cover is pretty and I wanna buy you something pretty. I don’t have cancer.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Fucking stupid okay. Fucking, fucking stupid. Sometimes a book is just a book. Okay and then you guys remember when I was in Grease right? So there was this one dance rehearsal that we had to go to and for practicality’s sake I always make sure that I wear proper attire when I go to these rehearsals. The thing was….I forgot that it was in fact a dance rehearsal; I thought we were doing lines that day. So….I wasn’t dressed properly. When I say wasn’t dressed properly, I mean I was wearing this flimsy demi-cup bra instead of sports bra.

 

 

Dude, bad fucking mistake. Seriously.

 

 

The choreographer made us jumped up and reached as high up as we could. So that’s what I did, I jumped and reached as high as I could…and then my boob popped out. I really wish that I’m making this up…but no. I am not. Oh God. Okay to be fair I was wearing a shirt, that even when the boob popped out, said boob was still inside the shirt and not out for the whole world to see. Thank God for small miracles like that. But holy crap, I panicked okay. Wouldn’t you if your boob popped out? Dude, the rest of the rehearsal was like this haze of paranoid “Holy fuck! Is my boob popping out again?” and I kept on petting my girls to check if they’re in place. Until at one point one of the girls from the cast came up to me said “CD, can you please stop touching your breasts? The boys are watching.”

 

 

See, told you I do stupid shit.

 

 

I am one of those people who are not into gadgets and cars. I just don’t care. When anyone discuses one of these things, I listen but I don’t really care. It’s like white noise. Doesn’t concern me one bit, so yeah…whatevs. Over the years I came to learn that there is this super awesome vehicle called “Bimmer” and that it’s supposed to be really awesome with supreme horse power, very expensive, bla bla bla and that if you drive it then you are like totally cool. So in my mind, I equated it like this: Expensive + fast + supposedly “cool” = Bimmer. It never occurred to me to Google up Bimmer to see how it looks like or in fact, if it was the car’s actual name. I just don’t care.

 

Then last year, I invited my college friends for Aidilfitri. One of my friends took one look at our driveway and he said

 

“Wow CD! You have a Bimmer?”

 

“No dude, we don’t have a Bimmer.”

 

“But I saw one in the driveway. The silver one.”

 

“Oh…that’s not a Bimmer. That’s a BMW.”

 

Total, complete silence.

 

And then those creatures I call friends started laughing like the bitches that they are and I don’t understand why. I was like “Oh, did I say something funny?” Apparently, I did. Apparently, BMWs are Bimmers. It’s the same shit. How the fuck am I supposed to know that? No one ever told me that it’s the same shit. We don’t refer to my mom’s car as “Bimmer” or “BMW”- we always call it “Mom’s car”. Example:

 

 “No CD, you cannot drive Mom’s car.” OR

 “Mom’s car is much more expensive than your car so you cannot drive it CD” OR

 “There’s a reason why you can’t drive Mom’s car, cause its 'Mom’s car' and not 'your car'.”

 

See? My whole family never let me live this one down; they think it is the funniest shit ever. My sister phone home and goes “Hey CD! Have you seen a Bimmer today? It’s in our driveway! Haha!” Like…oooh, so fucking funny. Its like 2 bucks a minute to call from Finland to Malaysia and woman waste it on that. And she’s a lawyer. You would think a lawyer would not be as juvenile, right?

 

 

So why am I telling you all this? Simple. This is my New Year’s resolution:

 

 

the Constantly Dramatic One’s 2009 New Year Resolution

 

1)    Stop committing random acts of stupidity. Stop it. Just fucking stop it.

 

That’s it. Just one. If I can go though 2009 without any stupid shit, then 2009 would be a great success. Wait, you know what…I got more.

1. Stop committing random acts of stupidity.
   
2. Do not get my ass thrown in jail. (This is possible. I wholeheartedly believe that I am capable of committing big scale white collar crime. Seriously.) (I also believe that if I do get my ass thrown in jail...I'll be someone's bitch in 30 seconds, flat.)
   
3. Do not buy high powered, long range binoculars just to stake out a firehouse….with hot firemen in it. (Note to self: No matter what the voices in your head are saying, just don’t CD. Just don’t.)
4. Stop kicking doors open while shouting “This is Sparta!”…. and spraining toes in the process.
5. Have hot, kinky sex with Clive Owen.

 

 

Right, okay. Those are my resolutions for 2009. What’s yours?

 

*******

 

P/S: Comment moderation is off cause my internet is being a bitch. Friends, you know the drill: no names, no universities, no countries, no towns- no details. Haters, have a field day.

 

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....

That car was a ninja and it totally did ambushed me.....

I was involved in an accident last week. A vehicular accident. Actually "accident" is such a big word. It was more like....there was this car. And I uhhhh..kinda.....hit it. The worst part of it was that the car was stationary. How fucking sad is that? I drove into a stationary car and calling it a vehicular accident? Really, honestly. It is not my fucking fault okay. That car was a bitch.





It was around 8ish in the morning and I was leaving for class. I parked my car round the corner from my house on this abandon piece of land. That land can fit up to 3 cars and since we live near that spot, it is very convenient for me to park my car there. There was this other car that always park behind my car. Not exactly behind my car but damn near that whenever he parked his car behind mine, it is damn difficult to just reverse out. In fact I have to do that annoying go forward, reverse a bit, turn a bit, and then repeat 3 times before I can get out of the spot. Bastard.





So that morning I was more than a little bit preoccupied. I have Spanish quiz at 10am and basically my head was filled with Spanish verbs and future/past tenses. I barely acknowledged that car as I walked past it. I got in my car, put the gear into reverse, looked into the rear view mirror, smiled smugly at my perfectly groomed eyebrows, backed the car out and BANG!! All my smugness and my Spanish verbs went out of the window.





I remember screaming "Where the fuck did that car come from?!!" I got out of my car and there was this huge motherfucking dent at the backdoor of the car. Thankfully mine was all okay except for some paint transfer.








The first thought that came to my mind was "Oh fuck."


The second was "Oh fuck."


The third was "Run bitch! Run while you can!"








But alas by the time I could do anything my mom was already out the house. She looked at the car then she looked me standing there between my car and the victimized car then she looked at me straight in the eyes...... I mean fuck this happened near my house okay. If it happened like I dunno somewhere else, like 3897 meters away from my house I can just tell my mom "OMG Mom, it is soooo totally not my fault. Like I was driving according to the speed limit -being the law abiding citizen I am- then all of a sudden this raccoon jumped out of nowhere. I swear to God, a raccoon! On Federal Highway. I think it was nesting on one of the billboard...and I think it was rabid too....but it jumped on my car. It landed on my windshield and I screamed. I was so shocked that I lost control of my car but at the same time there was this parked car by the roadside...yes Mom a parked car on Federal Highway, I'm not making this up and I hit into that car. But don't worry that car is only dented. And I managed to deliver that raccoon to the nearest vet for psychiatrist evaluation. Poor baby. So you see Mom, it is totally not my fault. It's the raccoon's but we shouldn't blame it seeing that it's insane....." But of course I can't say that. Shit son...she saw the whole thing.





"And you expect me to let you drive my car?"


Wow, sarcasm is not appreciated at moments of life and death like this, okay Mom?





"How did you managed to drive into this car? It wasn't moving."


"It wasn't my fault! I did not see it there!"


"Constant Drama* (insert full name), it is a car. A car. A huge car. It is not a toy car....Do we need to get new prescription for your glasses?"


"The sarcasm is really not appreciated at times like this. This stupid car should not be parking so near to me. It's not my fault........."


*dirty looks* "Constant Drama, you backed your car into a parked car. As in the car is not moving. Nooooottt moooooooving. How is that not your fault?"





I learned at a young age that upon fucking up big time, one must keep one's mouth shut so that's what I did.





"You have a quiz today? Go to class. I'll deal with this. And your father will know about this too."





Fuck.





I'm telling you, I was on the verge of dying of a heart attack that whole day in college. All I could think was how my Dad was gonna kick my ass. Figuratively speaking of course. Wah, it was damn scary. It was like being an inmate on death row. Then I decided that instead of running away from my problems, I should confront it....so I called my Dad. I was all matured and shit.








"Dad.... I wanna talk to you about what happened this morning."


"I'm busy. We talk about it when I come home."


Then he hung up. On me. His last born!! I'm telling you...the inmates on death row got it easy compared to me. When he got home, we did have a talk about it. Actually....it was more of him yelling and me keeping quite and trying to shrink into a corner. However this is impossible seeing that my fat ass cannot fit into any corners.



"Ayah...Adik serious tak nampak kereta tu kat situ."

*Dad, I seriously did not saw that car there.



"Oh kau kena ambush lah ni? Apa keter tu macam ninja? Ambush ko dari belakang?"

*Oh so you were ambushed? Was that car a ninja? Did it ambush you from the back?


No, seriously. He said "ninja". I swear, one day when my parents are not at home I am gonna fake a burglary in my house. Disarm the alarm system, brake the windows, thrashed the whole place to make it look like a burglary and the only thing be missing is his damn ninja movies collection. Especially the Akira Kurosawa samurai movies. And if the cops asked how come the burglars didn't steal the plasma TV or the laptop or whatever I'm gonna say...."Well perhaps the burglars were ninjas and they don't want mere mortals, such as my father, to learn their secret ways." In any event, his ninja movies collection have got to go.


And then there were more yelling, numerous versions of his monologue of "money don't grow on trees" and then "you been driving for 3 years now, you should know better"- maybe 4 versions of that ending with my Dad taking away my car keys. That's right. He took my car keys.






Oh my heart! My heart cannot take it!


With that I conclude this story on a sad note. Friends, comrades, bitches: I will not be able to hang out with you guys cause my Dad is PMSing and took away my car keys therefore I ain't got no wheels. I can hang out with you if the place in which you want to hang out is within walking distance from my house. Like the mamak round the corner. Or if you are able to drop me off at the train station so I can get home. If this is not possible then you have to deal with the fact that I cannot grace your life with my presence. I know....I know what a bleak and sad existence your life would be, to be without me....I know it is going to be difficult for you. But you have to be strong okay? Be strong.



Ahem.



I ain't got no wheels and it sucks donkey balls.

Sleep with the fishes

I have been getting weird phone calls out of late. I think its mostly wrong numbers but really, its getting to me.

I loathe random perverted messages. Truly. Like this one time it was around 2 in the morning and I was watching CSI: Las Vegas Season 2 on DVD. Thinking that its all kinds of wrong to be attracted to Grissom when the phone rang. I answered and there was heavy breathing on the other end. And then somebody yells out like he got an orgasm.

Classy.

There will always be perverts who would just be pressing some numbers in the early mornings. If you're at the other end, hanging up and moving on with life is the best bet. And you know what else pisses me off? People calling you and then asking you who you are. What the fuck is that? You call me, you worthless piece of shit. Not the other way around. You don't ask who I am, you let me know who you are. I don't ask. Asshole.

But as of today I have been getting these phone calls. I dunno who the hell it is from but the same number kept on calling. Its kinda freaky. Everytime I answers, the line would be incredibly blurry and I can barely makes out a word. It goes like this:

"Hi. Why are you awake?"

"Who's this?"

"Its Jason."

"I dunno any Jason."

"But I know you."

Then the fucker hangs up. He done this 3 fucking times. You would ask why I kept on answering. That's a fair question and this is your answer: because I am the dumbass that did not save that number in my phone therefore I do not recognize it until I answer it. Now I do. And I'm pissed. So in a total bitch move I'm giving you people the number:

012-2271790

Call him and tell him to fuck off and die. Call him and say that you wanna chop of his balls and feed it to the goats. Call him and say that the Constantly Dramatic One sends a message, she says "Tonight Jason, you will sleep with the fishes". Or maybe write it on the wall of a bus stop "For a good time, call this number." Whatever you want to do with it, do it. I'm fed-up with his stupid late nights calls.

As if I don't have other issue to deal with.

Now go forth and do my biddings.....Would be much better if you can chop off his balls and feed it to the goats. I would be eternally grateful.

I'm sorry. Is this an audition for 'Showgirls' that I do not know of?

Nipple Slut has got nothing on you. Seriously.

Bitch, what the hell was that? Its a public speaking presentation. Not a fucking stripping audition for Showgirls. See, I checked the course outline that it says this week we are all supposed to go in front of the class and give a presentation. There was never a mention of stripping in the course outline.Right, ..........stripping. In class.

What in the blue fucking hell is up with that?

I remember you mentioned once to me that you dress like this, so that one day when you get married only your husband would get to truly appreciate the glory that is your body. Maybe in the middle of sex he will just start singing 'Your Body is A Wonderland' because you kept it hidden for so long and he is the only one that could ever, in your entire lifetime gets to appreciate it. Kudos. I give you one point for dedication and another for being a hopeless romantic. I wish I am but I'm waaay too cynical about that. Plus I also secretly pity my future husband seeing that a whole lot of people have seen my boobies. I like to wear lowcut tops okay?

So anyways moving on..... was it really necessary for you to strip down from that to this:

(Albeit, the model look waaaay hotter than you and less vulgar.)

in front of the whole fucking class? You are talking about male/female interactions, what the hell was up with the stripping? You want to grab attention. You did bitch. But guess what, no one was listening to a word you were saying. I thought Nipple Slut was bad, you huney is the Queen of Hypocrisy. At least Nipple Slut never hides the fact or talk about undressing only for her husband. She is skanky and she never hides that. At least she is honest and that is something you are clearly confused about.


You huney, has lost it all today. You might think that you were being radical and sexy, I have news for you. There is a thin line between sexy and plain out trailer trash skanky. You have crossed that line and you are so far out that the line is a dot to you. I might go around in my miniskirts and sometimes my bra strap pokes through my top but I never stripped in front of the entire class or walk around in religious robes proclaiming that only my yet non-existing husband can look at my body.


Hypocrisy is ugly and come to think of of it, so are you.

"The government would never lie to us."

The Constantly Dramatic One just came back from watching the midnight show of Alien VS Predator Requiem. And the verdict?



Blaaaaah........



Of course, don't take my word for it. Bear in mind musicals is more my cup of tea and given between an insanely boring/horrendous/stupid movie and an action movie, you can bet your ass that I would pick anything but the action movie. But as it is, Saturday nights are usually family movie night. That's right. We still go out to watch movies as a family.



We been doing it since about 12 years ago and we still doing it now. It used to be fun but now more like a chore but it keeps Mom and Dad happy so there you go. Over the years we are missing one son in our Saturday movie nights and now with my sister impending wedding....well let's just say that Mom and Dad is trying to cram in as many Saturdays as they can before there's only three of us left to 'enjoy' our Saturday ritual. Its kinda sad. But life goes on.



So anyways, Dad watch nothing else but action movies. Give him something with a little thinking to do, a little intellectual conversations or even a plot line and he will bitch about it. All the way. All through the movie. His type of movies is where there guns and explosions and tanks and people killing each other and the most crucial of all: the movie MUST NOT have any plots whatsoever and yes he would dig it. He calls it action movies. I call it mind numbing boredom.



So there I was in the movie. And I was vaguely aware there's some slimy Aliens going at it with some thing called the Predator. They fight. Predator bleeds neon green blood. Aliens still slimy. Some chick gets half naked by the pool for the obligatory body shot of any given Hollywood movie that targets male aged 12-36.

Note to directors and producers:

To actually have a tits and ass scene, the female in question must actually HAVE tits and ass.

Anyways, guns shooting. People running. Some kid got killed. Battle scene in the rain. Some chick in the audience screamed. Some teenage boys shouted approval. Dad watches in awe. The Constantly Dramatic One yawns. When the fuck is this movie gonna end?




Then came the obligatory argument scene between the survivors. The Sheriff wants to go to the centre of the town where some Sargent promised him that there will a chopper coming to evict the survivors. Conman-childhood-best-friend says its a ruse, and we must all brave through the Alien infested town's hospital to the emergency helicopter and "get the hell out of here!!". Then one lady who's on the Sheriff's side said what possibly be the best line uttered in the whole history of film making:

"The government would never lie to us."

.......................................................................................................................................

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHA!!!!


Oh my gawd!!! That shit is awesome!!! It beats everything. No famous quote from any other movie would get to top this. Not "One Ring to Rule them all". Not "Buckle up. Its going to be a bumpy ride." Not "I make him an offer he can't refuse". Not "Look Ma. I'm on top of the world!" Nope. None of that. "The government would never lie to us" is OFFICIALLY the best movie quote that would ever grace the history of film making. Its so awesome that I think I would have it on my tombstone.

Here lies the Constantly Dramatic One

Sept 21st 198* -

"The government would never lie to her."

Shit, that was brilliant. I had never had a better laugh in my entire life. I just checked out IMDB and the script for the movie was written by one Shane Salerno.


Shane Salerno , the Constantly Dramatic One bows down and stare in wonder at your sense of irony.

P/S:

A cookie to anyone that could named the title of the movies with the famous quotes in them. And be specific.

Chicago in pictures: Part 2

As promised this is the second batch of Chicago pics. Yes, I know I took my own sweet damn time but then as a reader of this blog, you should know by now that the Constantly Dramatic One does not blog in real time (read: HUGE procrastinator). Now, onwards!!

The Art Institute of Chicago is apparently one of the most credible museums in the world. What you can't find in the Lourve in France, you probably would find it here. Tragically when I was there most sections in the museum was closed because it was under construction. I was so excited to see some Rococo pieces but only a selected few of Renaissance pieces on display and none of Rococo at all. Goddamn sons of bitches.

For those not in the know, Rococo is the art movement where painters started to show more sensuality in their work. Half naked women, rounded buttocks, pink flesh, thin layers of cloth protecting the nude form. Its all very sensual. To put it simply Rococo is erotica in art. My cup of tea.

A sculpture from the Greek empire. I have no idea who he is or what idea he represents but duuuuude, check out that ass. I took a pic from the front too but maybe that's too vulgar to be posted up. I mail you the pic if you want to see it. Heh.

Time Transfixed by René Magritte (1935).

In this particular piece Magritte depicts a train protruding from a fireplace surrounded by a mantelpiece supporting a clock. The painting contains the images that Einstein himself relied on to illustrate his theories of relativity, namely, the clock and the locomotive. Since this is one of the famous pieces of Dadaism then it really up to you how to interpret it.

It was never my favourite piece of the DADA movement (that would be The Scream by Edvard Munch which sadly wasn't on display) but to be in the same room with such a prominent piece of art is truly a gift.

A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat
(1884-1886)

I had no knowledge of this particular piece before I visited the Art Institute but the moment I laid my eyes on it...it spoke to me. I know, cliche' but truly one of the most magnificent pieces in the whole museum. It was huge, its 81.7 × 121.25 inches - HUGE!! And its quite odd, the composition was all off. The figures in the painting seems one dimensional but when you go nearer it comes to life. Its one of those magical paintings that when you view from up close is different and from far away it tells a completely different story.


Another fascinating feature is that the painting wasn't painted. It was dotted. The whole painting was dotted. It was simply magnificent. I spend an hour sitting on the floor just staring up at it. My brother managed to finish like 5 sticks of cigarettes waiting for me.


I bought an imitation of this piece and now I'm searching all over for a book regarding the deeper study of this particular piece. Yes, that's right. The Constantly Dramatic One is a nerd. Now you know.

American Gothic by Grant Wood (1930)

Looks familiar? Bet it looks familiar if you watch Desperate Housewives. I did not know this but apparently American Gothic is one of the most important American art, ever. It also one of those pieces, along with a Sunday on La Grande Jatte and Nighthawks that have been parodied over and over again. I can't really appreciate this particular piece because the pop culture connotation that comes with it kinda lowered its artsy value to me.

A mirror dated all the way from the Regency Era. In case you dunno when Regency Era was, that was Jane Austen's Mr.Darcy and Emma and the whole lot's era. Back in the 18 hundreds. Long time ago.

The mirror has actual rust on it. I have never seen mirror that rust as much except in movies. The Ring anyone? After taking this pic, the Constantly Dramatic One spooked herself by thinking of countless scary movies that have scary mirrors in it. Stupid shit.

My brother took me for a walk in the neighbourhood he lives in. I wanted to get my astrology and crystal read coz I'm ridiculous like that but he gave me a look so I didn't.

You don't get buildings like this in Malaysia.


Over the bridge we go.

Annnddddd aahhh.....Chicago at 4 in the evening. Already darkening. 4 pm back home is when the sun starts burning our collective skins. As you can see the traffic is a bitch. Traffic are being bitches in every part of the world apparently.

The view of Chicago at night from the Navy Pier. You know how people always say that Chicago has a fantastic skyline? No true words have been spoken. The Chicago skyline , especially at night is simply amazing. I have no pictures that could justify how amazing it was. In fact no picture can justify it at all.

You have to be there to appreciate the beauty that is the Chicago skyline. I don't think I would see anything like it again. KL's skyline has got nuthin on Chicago's.

The entrance to Navy Pier, one of Chicago's most prominent landmark.

The famous Ferris wheel. I didn't get to go on a ride on it because the time we went (believe it or not, this pic was actually taken round 5 in the evening), the wind was blowing too hard so for safety measures no ride on the Ferris wheel that day.

Yet another famous Chicago landmark. Google Image Chicago and I bet you that you'll find this pic.

I went to watch WICKED# on Broadway. So many good things have happened to me throughout my life but so far fulfilling one of my dreams that is to watch a real Broadway show on Broadway have been the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Ever had a dream come true? I did.

The Ford Oriental Theatre where I watched Wicked.

The entrance to WICKED. I went to watch alone because sadly no one else in the family give a damn bout the arts. I basically had to drag my brother to take me to the Art Institute. People just have appreciate the arts better....

The inside of the Ford Oriental theatre was beautiful. The walls are all carved into these intricate organic designs. It was breath taking and if you stare enough none of the design repeat themselves. Truly an amazing piece of work.

The ceiling and the chandelier. Beautiful.

The balcony, look at the design on that. I didn't get to go to the second floor because my seats are on the first floor. Front and centre, 5 rows from the stage. Again: best thing that have ever happened to me.

Those are apples, dip in chocolate and toffee and I went insane. Malaysia don't have these!!

Okay, I'm hungry now.

Another thing that Malaysia doesn't have:

Half naked women on billboards.

What? I'm just sayin.....

So that's all the pictures from Chicago. Well not all, dude I have 700 photos. But those are the highlights. One of these days, the Constantly Dramatic One shall blog about WICKED and my first time flying home across continents alone.

Nosy bitches and full body massages

Ever had a full body massage? No. Then let the Constantly Dramatic One tells you all about it.

I decided to get a full body massage the other day because what better way to celebrate the new year then to pamper yourself silly? Plus bear in mind, I didn't get to celebrate the New Year thanks to the food poisoning that followed me all the way from China.


Inspired by a recent blog post by the deliciously passive aggressive Cheesecakeerian, I decided that I too will have my full body massage in an open air setting at the gazebo. Usually the gazebo is there to accompany two people, a couple if you would so when I requested to get my massage there the manager was surprised and a little bit reluctant. I asked her sarcastically if a terrible spell would befall the spa hence propelling them into bankruptcy if a woman sans one boyfriend get her massage done there - solo. After giving me a dirty look , she told me that yes, I can get the open air massage that I want.


My day at the spa was off to a good beginning.


My messues led me to the gazebo and I was amazed. It actually took my breath away. I have been to this spa before but I stayed inside the building, though the decor is glorious in all its Balinese inspired theme but the backyard literally took my breath away. To get to the gazebo one must first walk across a huge greenery area with trees and shrubs, if you have watch old Malay movies where P.Ramlee was wooing the princess in the moonlight in the royal garden you would know how this place looks like. The gazebo itself was set in an almost-island. There was a makeshift pond complete with lilies underneath and the soothing sound of the [artificial] waterfall helps made the atmosphere heavenly. The gazebo was wrapped with thin layers of cloth in assorted pastel colours and when you stepped inside you can still make out the shape of things outside the gazebo through the cloth. Its all very...romantic.

Mental note: next time bring Charlie.

See the thing with full body massage is that you gotta go buck naked so if you have problems with getting naked with a total stranger and letting them touch you...then a full body massage isn't for you. My messues, a real Balinese woman waited outside the gazebo as I was getting undressed. They provided this disposable panties, that looks like disposable granny panties- I'm serious -for you but really its useless, because when they say full body massage - trust me they will be touching everywhere. Its not like its my first time getting a massage. But I really did not want to look like a shameless wanton so I put them on even though I did not want to.

As I was lying down and the messues was working her way from my feet applying just the right amount of pressure. I was thinking what a beautiful day it is, and what a good start to a year and how I wish its not some Balinese woman who is giving me a massage but instead the father of my [yet unborn] children, Charlie, that was the point that my messues decided to strike a conversation with me.

"You know, you have a nicely shaped butt. If you work out more, it'll look better."

Bear in mind that when she made this comment...I wasn't wearing much. Aaaaaawkward.

"Ohh....uhhmm...thanks."

Silence.

"So when was the last time you were touched by a man?

...............................................................................................................

..................................................................................................................

Say whhhhhhhaaaat?!!!!

"Excuse me?"

"You know when was the last time you did it?"

WTF?

"That really is none of your business."

"Oh can't get a man?"

"Oh I get plenty.....I just don't like...men."

At this point I turned around and gave her a meaningful smile. The look on her face was priceless. Ahahahahahaha! Homophobe much?

After that she didn't try to make anymore conversations coz I think she really think that I was a lesbian. Because I have nothing better to do with my life I kept on moaning suggestively every time she applied more pressure. After my 90 mins session was done, she wouldn't even look at me in the face. I think I scarred her for life. Heh. I'm goin to hell for this but who ask that bitch to be so nosy?

It was a good massage. Nosy bitch, aside from being nosy, is actually really good at massaging. Maybe I'll go back there again next month and request for her.

Bet that would freak her out.

For the interested:

Jentayu Spa

No 11, Jalan Gelenggang, Bukit Damansara, 50490 Kuala Lumpur

(03) 2094 4428