רּ (rĕsh)

It’s like 2 minutes past 11 in the dead of a glorious Saturday night and for once, I’m actually at home. Not at home about to get myself ready to go out and cause chaos. Just plain ol’ at home in my jim-jams with a hot cuppa at my side. I’ve decided that for several weeks now, I’ve been going out incessantly and 80% of the time, my night get’s fucked up no thanks to one (constantly drunk) girlfriend of mine.

Now I’m not belittling my gender here, but man some girls can be so fucked up at times. I mean the things they’ll put themselves (and us) through just to get that wee little amount of attention they’re seeking. Don’t get me wrong, I know I have my dramatic moments but it’s so nothing compared to crap I’ve seen here. Like today I had an appointment with a female client. Jane Blogs was your usual 26 year old blue-eyed blondie but with a difference- she had razor scars all over her arms. Now I’m taking a hunch here but I’m 99.999% positive that they were self-inflicted.

A  girlfriend of mine is going through a rough sexuality patch at the moment and she’s carried on the am I gay/straight saga for over 2 months now that I dread seeing her whenever I’m out. Like I don’t have a problem whatsoever with whoever and whatever their sexual preference may be but c’mon now, it’s crunch time. Just decide and get it over with. I don’t understand why she’s making a big deal out of it. No one’s judging her and I absolutely cannot fathom why she’s absolutely angry at us at her bewilderment. Just mack out with a girl already! Hey I’ve done it and I’m straight.

Apart from that, I’ve had a shitty week with trying to catch up with my clients. What is up with bastards confirming their appointments and not showing up? I had one cancellation today as well so I’m 1 short of making my monthly target. No matter, I hope I get the last one tomorrow. And yes you can be damn well sure that I’m going to make it. My sales manager told me on friday that if I hit it, she’ll give me a $5K increase. Yee-haa!

On the flipside, I had an awesome training week. Friday alone, I had 3 hrs of glorious kickboxing training. David’s confident I’m ready to start sparring so he’s told me to go and get a mouthguard as we start fighting this coming Saturday. Being the little girly that I am, I’m still deciding on what colour my mouthguard should be. Hhmmm, any ideas? I’ve got my sights on say a nice blue colour and perhaps I could personalize it and get someone to put the phrase "my bitch" on it. So can you imagine, whenever I’m smiling in the ring, my opponent will see my pretty blue mouthguard and "my bitch" emblazoned on it..? Heheh

Ooh.. now I was talking to some of my girlfriends back at home and they too have caught the fitness bug. Have you guys heard of BodyCombat? It’s one of the Group Fitness classes that’s taught in over 55 countries worldwide and it started in the heart of NZ at my gym. Nyways on friday after training, the program director who choreographs Combat saw me doing some mirrorwork for kickboxing and do you know what? I ended up having a training session with him. Dan used to be a kickboxer back in Britain and gave me a couple of real good pointers… as well as a smack in the face when we were sparring. Now how many of you can say that?!

Nyways, it’s only a matter of time before I fly back to Malaysia and in a word, I’m stoked. I think my depression and homesickness has amalgamated so I really can’t wait to go home and see my folks. Typical me, they don’t know I’m coming back to see them. It’s been over 2 and half years now since I last saw them so it’s gonna be pretty funny when I rock on up there and say hello. Let’s just hope that they haven’t changed the locks…

Aiights I’m going to jet. It still feels weird that I’m not out partying on a Saturday night. The big GFX workshop is on next week (that’s when we do filming and launching for all Group Fitness programmes) and later on in the night, there’s going to be a massive party so right now my main concerns are:
> Training ultra hard so I’ll look super buff
> Finding something to wear to the party (perhaps a sexy skimpish little number)
> Duty Free shopping!

I will take photos!

Aiights, am out. It’s close to midnight and I’m aching for a sleep.

Laters!

So in the quaint brick house off Parker Avenue, one of our pudding bowls went missing today and needless to say, there was hell to pay.

If you’re not in the know, I’m not on good terms with one of my flatmates. In a word, he’s a complete fuckhole. Now before you conclude that I’m just being my usual cunty self, this mofo has aggravated me for weeks end. If he’s not causing a ruckus at like 5 in the damn morning, he’s leaving his dirty plates for us to clean up, freeloading on our food or trying to gas us to death with his pungent cologne.

Like seriously, I never thought that you had to teach one to be considerate. I thought it came about like instinct.

Anyhow the latest incident has put this dimwit in my bad books- for life.

So we were a pudding bowl short. He was asked if he had it in his room and typical him had replied that he hadn’t seen it.

This morning Joss’ towel had gone missing.

So in the quaint brick house off Parker Avenue, we were now a pudding bowl and a towel short.

…

For the record, our darling boxer pup doesn’t have an appetite for crockery and fabric so that could’ve only meant one thing-

Mr.Fuckhole had taken it.

So me being your typical brazen chindian, I had taken it upon myself to storm into his room and investigate and man, I got more than I bargained for.

Yes, we found the towel- which was for some reason buried in his dirty fucking laundry hamper.

Beneath the bed, we also found the infamous pudding bowl.

Not only was it speckled with dried crusty breakfast oats, the piece de resistance had to be (and are you ready for this?)…

a used condom.

In all it’s mangled latex glory, we at the quaint brick house off Parker Avenue had to now deal with a fucking piece of latex that no doubt has dangled off the tip of some penis. And there it was, nestled in the poor pudding bowl that had gone astray.

To complicated matters, the cum inside (yes you sort of tend to notice these things when you’re the nominated person to dispose the damn thing) was a tad brown in colour.

…

I think at this point in time, half of you are probably thinking "but isn’t spunk white?"

Exactly.

Lord knows how long it had been in the damn bowl.

We confronted him about the awol items and instead of apologizing like any normal human would, he’d place blame on his partner mistaking the towel to be his and therefore using it. As for the condom in the damn bowl, we got no apology whatsoever.

He brushed it off like it never happened.

It’s times like these I tend to wonder just how hard it is for some to have a shred of decency and the adult ability to step up and apologize when they’re in the wrong. I’d ask him previously whether it was the case of him not being in the know or that he just didn’t care and he insisted that it was the former.

…

Question to the good Lord himself:
Just exactly how many extremely stupid people are there on this damn planet?

Would it be forever?

Hello. I’m in a melancholy of some sort. You know how when the little facets of your life start shutting down retardedly, you sort of feel that everything and everyone is against you?

Well for starters, I had a crap ending to my work week. I couldn’t seem to get out of this work funk that I was in and eventhough I did all that I was supposed to, I didn’t get to see as many clients as I wanted. I’m like 10 away from hitting my target and it’s driving me spare. Only one more week to go and I freaking hope I make it so I get to hit the shops when I visit home. Btw did I mention that I’m popping by Malaysia to see my folks?

=)

Training-wise, I’ve been real tired no thanks to my stupid boy flatmate (did I mention that boys are mentally-challenged little creatures?) who’s a complete nightowl and has no considerate sense to shut the fuck up at night and therefore causing a ruckus at like 3am in the damn morning? I had kickboxing training the next day and almost got smacked in the face. No wait I take it back. We’re sparring you see and eventually I WILL get smacked in the face but I’m counting on not getting smacked for now. Besides, I’m usually good at not dropping my guard. David my trainer noticed my sluggishness and asked me what was up with me. The only possible explanation I could come up with was that my sleeping patterns over the past week have been ruined by my fellow flatting fuckwit (try saying that 5 times fast).

What else?

Oh yeah, my love life.

No wait, what love life? I’m married to work.

Truth be told I was sortakindamaybe seeing this guy but I decided not to go ahead with it once I found out that his ex-girlfriend-now-turned-bestfriend is still in love with him. I’m friends with the both of them and while she didn’t know we were dating, she sort of gave me the whole sob story on how they were supposed to go get hitched at the end of this year and now nothing’s come to fruition. He of course being the boyish mentally-challenged little creature that he is, denies it. Whatever. I spoke to my girls and they said that what’s in the past should stay in the past but it just didn’t sit right with me. Okay so she exaggerated and lied about how long and recent they dated. Still it just made me ill. I mean, I might be a cheeky little flirt, but boyfriend stealer?

I ain’t that.

So yeah.. just everything has turned a tad sour this week.. so here I am now, sitting in my wee kitchen, listening to every form of jazz imaginable-from good ol’Miles to Krall, Herbie, Hawkins, Buble and Stigers- and feeling absolutely sorry for myself.

No matter. My girls are taking me out tonight and are hoping for a hunt.

We’ll see.

To be honest, I’m not really in the mood to chat up some bloke who before the break of dawn, will be gunning to bone me.

I get horrid idiots like that at my workplace already.

*rolls her eyes*

Keep you posted.

Luff you.

xx

It’s Day 3 of our little mini gateaway and by far the most active!

…

That’s right I sortaKindaMaybe didn’t tell you guys that I’m actually out of Auckland at the moment. Drove 5.5 hours north of Auckland on Thursday night after work to this beautiful place called Mangonui. Why Mangonui you ask? Well simply cause Joss’ (my flatmate) parents reside there. Their house is on a hilltop and it overlooks the bay (Doubtless Bay to  be exact).

I’ve actually taken a couple of pics so I’ll upload them later when I get back to Auckland tonight.

What’s up with the grubby shoes then you ask?

Well this morning after going for a run about the bay, we decided to go get firewood as winter’s just arond the corner. I don’t know about you but I had loads of fun getting grubby and icky in the mud-and no I’m not being sarcastic at all.

There’s something special being in the depths of the woods and having to get down and dirty and use thy limbs that god gave you. It was just so raw y’know?  I thought it was awesome and kinda like fulfilling my fantasy of working on a rig or something gritty.

We went to their piece of land at Keao (about 90+ acres) and instead of using an axe as I originally thought, we went in fullforce with 2 chainsaws and was there for a couple of hours chopping wood and stacking them at the back of their trailer!

My firewood experience was further authenticated when I had to pee (hello, my blog, my choice of words aiight?). 

E-yah.. copping a squat in the middle of nowhere…

Nothing special or awesome about that.

For some reason Indian boys have this tendency to pick on me. Now before you yell "what the hell you racist fuck," let me assure you that this conclusion isn’t based on fairy dust but rather endless altercations that have risen over the last couple of years. If they’re not picking on me over my accent, or the fact that I can’t speak whatever they’re speaking (I’m halfcast you ass, what did you expect?), they’re just picking on me, period.

Why the last one was just this Thursday at my workplace and I’ve decided to treat it as sexual harrassment. The bloke in question is a new member that actually personal trains with a friend of mine. Anyhow while he’s at the gym, this fuckwit has made it his civic duty to torment me. And when I mean torment, it’s not funny-haha-torment rather let-me-aggravate-you-to-the-point-of-no-control torment. He’s done it a couple of times and even when I’m actually with clients and eventho I told him to quit it the second time around, he hasn’t listened to me.

E-yah.

Now what was Mr.T famous for saying?

I pity the fool?

Exactly. You gotta give the idiot credit as he’s new and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s getting into. Plan of attack: I’ve notified my club manager of this idiot and the next time it happens, I’m notifying the club and treating it as sexual harrassment. Like honestly, I’ve never spoken to the retard and here I am coping flak from him.

Now you may think I’m overeacting (as said by my friend who personal trains him) but the botton line is I don’t give a flying arse. I mean haven’t YOU heard of rape cases starting from lewd comments or something minor?

Precisely my point.

And secondly it’s at MY workplace and I don’t think I need to be aggravated in such a manner when I’m at work. But I think the ultimate reason why I’ve decided to bring it up as a serious charge is cause on Thursday when he had a go at me, I was almost decked him.

Like no shit.

I had a client and had to go to reception and was on the phone when I spotted the fuckwit on his way out. And he said a comment and for a split second I had to steel myself from kicking him. I honestly was so consumed with rage and all I wanted to do was hold him down and hook the mofo. Like what did you expect me to do?

a) I have horrid anger management
b) I’m kickboxing and wanting to compete/fight

Did you honestly think I’d sit and not lose it?

*sighs*

But alas at the end of the day, I’m a lady (who cusses okay? I AM trying to cut that down) and I think it’ll be pretty stupid should I lose my job over a simple retard.

…

See but that doesn’t mean that he’s not going to get his beats.

Just because I can’t get blood on my hands doesn’t mean that no one else will at the rate he goes on about himself.

So yeah, watch this space. I might get a photo of the idiot and then you can decide for yourself.

There’s something utterly sexy being the apple of one’s eye.

I had a date tonight and aside from the realisation of how detached I’ve been from the whole dating fiasco over the last few years, I still managed to have fun and get my goodnight kiss to boot.

Now the goodnight kiss is THE most important aspect to your typical date.

I mean, having no proper goodnight kiss is like having your favourite Ben&Jerry’s ice cream with shoddy dodgy looking chocolate sprinkles on top or a wild night out dancing but with a broken stiletto.

Get my drift?

And like how we girls tend to remember every goddamn minute detail, that one goodnight kiss WILL be the clincher in determining whether you’ll see her again- or not.

So there we were standing at my front door in the dead of the night (like I said- every goddamn minute detail) with me being a bit hesitant. I mean I had fun. We had takeout and a late session at the movies and before you could say "ur-rah" there we were, standing at my damn porch with me looking down at my toes and my Chris Brown album turned up in the background.

To all my girls, I’d like to say that the brother executed that goodnight kiss in hard-out style.

In the midst of CB’s "Ya Man Ain’t Me" track and me thanking him for a lovely night, he sorta did this usheresque move (he’s a dancer, you see) towards me and closed the deal..

It was like having Ben&Jerrys with Hersheys.

Of course I (might) see him again.

I’m telling you about it aren’t I?…

Therefore it must have made me happy…

Like hallo?

God must have a sense of humour.

Or so I’ve concluded.

Like don’t you find that things that you’ve been wishing/waiting for, start happening AFTER you’ve thrown in the towel/declared defeat?

Take today for example- the day after I’ve sworn off men and concluded them to be complete and utter troglodytes- I had boys throwing themselves at me left/right/and freaking centre.

Okay I lie.

It’s usually an everyday occurrence BUT today was more so than usual.

I had an old fling contact me and sounding hot (resist dear resh, resist!), two of my boys wanting to take me out sometime this week and another joe bloggs whom I almost dated hounding me at my office to the point where I had to get one of the girls at reception to call me and pretend that I had something important to do.

… All and all it was a fabulous day.

>)

You can tell that I’m being playful, no?

Like I said God must have a sense of humour for the same time I’ve sworn off men, I’ve also decided to be good and well behaved-in and out of my boudoir.

And at the point of my latter decision, the neighbourhood cats decide that it’s best for them to have one more go outside my bloody bedroom window. …

Resist dear resh, resist.

Hello once again, So nice of you to join me while I jot down my rants.

Yes, if it hasn’t occurred to you by the time this sentence hits you, I’m in a very foul mood.

…

No no I take it back. I was in a foul mood and now I think I’m just a tad sad.

*sighs*

There are certain things in life that are able to bring me to the point of absolute anger. When I hit that boiling point, I either have to check myself and calm down or explode like a 2-year who got the retarded toy in her HappyMeal combo (don’t you just hate that?).

Now should we go with the 2-year old option, I usually will either:
a> pull out my Asian card and lay the smackdown
b> forgo the Asian card and go ahead with the smackdown

Now when I say I pull out the Asian card, this usually constitutes in me basically telling whoever it is how much better off I am than them-both financially as well as physically/emotionally- like the rest of us Asians do (why deny it right?). And tonight was just another prime freaking example.

Like okay, let me paint you a scenario. Me who went out with some guy for 5 years (okay pri you can stop rolling your eyes now as you cringe inwardly). Like I don’t know what’s up with me lately. Whether I wanna get back with him or not or whutthedilly but let’s just say the idea has occurred to me, okay? I mean yes I understand relationships die for a reason but what if both those ppl were just not meant to be together in that cycle of their lives? Then what?

Hey it was nice to know you but although I think you’d be suitable for me later, let’s not delve into that?

Good lord, talking to him was such a nightmare and in the end it ended with me getting a lot of attitude from him.

Girls, please note that when boys get huffy with you, they seem to have a 5-second memory span. Here I am getting a lot of crap from him and him telling me how much I don’t deserve him when really if you took a look at the grim cycle of our then doomed relationship, I don’t think you would’ve concluded the same with him.

So that’s when I went Yakuza on his ass and told him that I may not deserve him now (cause I called it off btw) but he never deserved me from the start. See my theory now?

Asian card + Smackdown. Capisce?

I’m back… after a 5mth hiatus.

And as I write this, my flatmate is trying to gas the damn house with his horrible cologne. Boys when will you honestly learn?

So I did a complete 360. Quit my job and moved away from living in the damn CBD (that’s central business district for those of you not in the know) where your typical neighbourhood consists of a colourful selection of druggies, trannies and weekend clubbers reeking of alcohol.

I now work for a company that I truly adore and live in a house with a picket fence and a dog (of all things)! Nevermind the fact that my workplace is filled with beautiful peeps and I get to carry out my passion of teaching dance. =)

And they say that contentment is hard to find…

Nyways it’s a typical Saturday night and I’m waiting for my girls to show cause we gon’be dancing!! One of my boys is having a hip hop gig @ Blend on K’Rd so that’s going to be our first stop before heading to the viaduct where all the clubs are at. Now I don’t know about you and your clubbing haunts wherever you’re at, but Saturdays in Auckland is a much better clubby day than Friday. For some reason on Fridays, you tend to get lil 12 year olds with their fake I.Ds. If that isn’t a heinous crime by itself, it gets worse when they try to hit on you.

*cringes*

Like seriously, what were you thinking? You can hardly reach the bar.

Mr.Bartender, a round of milk shots if you will…