רּ (rĕsh)

A couple of months back, there was this big hoopla in the media about I.C.E- an in-case of emergency contact person to add in your cellphone under the (stupid?/smart?) abbreviation so that there was someone to call (and no, not the GhostBusters *dryly*) if you got into an incident/accident of some sort.

Meet Grant, my I.C.E buddy.

Now smart single girls will tell you that the I.C.E system has long been in used before the media-hype. We’ve got ICE buddies for sex, for the car, to cook, to go clubbing with.

Before you conclude that "oh yeah, they’re just normal guy friends," these ICE boys will go to that extra mile to see to it that you’re okay in whatever calamity that you (yes you know you’re always the one that starts the B.S) get yourself into.

In short, they’re an absolute gem to have and an absolute tosser to others.

Tehe.

Well Grant’s my ICE buddy at the gym. He absolutely saves me when some of my clients just don’t get it.

And they don’t (seriously Pri).

Like I understand how some guys might argue that us girls saying "no" sometimes would mean "yes" but if I said no, and I said it with a frown while in a standoffish position with my head cocked to one side, you’d think they’d get a clue and put 2 and 2 together.

But no (and I don’t mean yes).

So the boy had to save me today. I honestly think it’s riot how I was just making up our history and our future plans to the troglodyte who couldn’t fathom a simple 2-lettered word.

And no, he didn’t sign up in the end.

Tart.

I’ve given up on Malaysian men.

Not because they’re Asian and the whole they’re "small" myth (see I still have faith), but because Asian guys are generally fussy about physical aesthetics to the point where it borderlines sheer stupidity.

Their outlook on good aesthetics?
a) If you have a pretty face but are on the heavy side of the scales (psst when I mean heavy, I’m talking about 50kgs+ which is like oh what, 99.94% of the world population? This figure included the population of Ethiopia btw), then, you’re ugly.

b)If you have a slender frame BUT an Elephant Manish face, then you’re STILL considered pretty/ beautiful/ damn-br8k-me-off-a-piece-of-that-choco-chip material.

So my point being is that as long as you’re skinny, thin and anorexic like then yeah, you’ll be the most popular thang since sliced bread.

…

Yes I’m hating and don’t deny it. I’m not skinny and certainly not thin by Asian standards and it makes me wonder when you get a substantial amount of (superfine superhot) boys asking me out here wherelse I was once considered "plain" by the boys in my hometown (that’s Malaysia for the lot of you that are lost by now).

So yeah, in short screw the lot of you.

I’ve given up on Malaysian men.

Except for this ONE boy who btw is in my network who’s moniker is the title of this damn entry.

I think it must be YEARS now that I’ve had a crush on him and it was utterly hillarious talking to him on MSN.

Like me, he’s in a diff country at the moment and we seem to just miss each other when visiting home. Nyways I told him that I’d  be back in Dec and was game on catching up if he too was home.

You know what my schedule’s like. Heck I’m never at one place for more than an hour (unless it’s at the gym) and so to be coming back after like what 3 damn years and staying at home for a month, that’s big.

But what does he decide on doing?

He decides that he’s NOT going home and is going to instead party it up at a nearby state in this foreign country of his.

E-yah.

Like hello, have you not seen my photos?

My one flicker of hope of dating a Malaysian boy just died out.

*sighs*

PS. See I told you I wouldn’t say your name.  >)

So I piked out on the date in the end. I got too nervous and freaked (in summation, tired ms.thang here didn’t really give her pick-up addy to the uber shy boy cause he asked her the night before to come out and have a drink with him.. and his folks)…

*ahems*

What, Date 1 and it’s Meet-The-Parents already?

Um right.

So INSTEAD, I ended up going Simon’s bday dinner/party/soiree.

and partying with the boys.

Now what cracks me up (and I admit I’ve done this myself in the past) are friends plastering their network with pics of their boyfriend and themselves in every location, position, dimension possible.

WELL, I’ve decided that I’m going to start up a project where I end up taking photos of all the boys in the gym.

With me.

Just randomly and at the end, compiling the lot of them in the good ol’ Friendster photo album for the world to see.

Starting right now..  >)

OMG so the principle itself is worth telling…

Malaysian journalists need to go back to journo school and learn to correlate their freaking news pieces. I’m talking reporting/grouping similar stories together so it blends well… like peanut butter and jam, Kool Aid and soda or tuna and cottage cheese.

I read a link Pri had put in her latest entry about an 8mth preggy-bellied Malaysian that was not only caught in an org fest but was also high on syabu(btw wtf is syabu?).

So being the curious kitty that I am, I clicked and read it…

Midway through I started frowning for in the same news column and under the same heading (Pregnant Women Among 12 Addicts Held @ Orgy), was a story about Siti Nurhaliza’s wedding to some Datuk.

For those of you who are not in the know, Siti Nurhaliza’s like Malaysia’s equivalent of Beyonce. She’s the inspirational Queen of Dangdut and Soul who can do no wrong and has the squeakiest image since sliced bread.

So why was news of her wedding tied to such malarky?

…

*ponders*

Unless, the 12 addicts including the 8 month preggy-bellied Malaysian caught high on syabu (wtf is is it??!) were listening to her songs while the org festivities were being carried out.

…

Eww. 

http://www.thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2006/8/1/nation/15005012&sec=nation

So it’s Tuesday and already I’ve been through a kaleidoscope of emotions:

Where Dogs Can Hear Me
Have you ever caught an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S (c’mon now’s not the time to be bashful)? You know the one where Monica locks herself out of the apartment on Thanksgiving and goes hysterical cause the turk’s still cooking in the oven?

E-yah.

We’re at a point where only dogs can hear me now.

*sighs*

In the spirit of one of the promotions we’re having at the moment, the Jam team has decided to put on 2 weeks of themed classes. Mine kicks off tomorrow and it’ll be a retro revival. I’m talking multi-coloured tops, afros, big daddy gold chains. =)

The outfits are the least of my worries (although I hope my ‘fro arrives on time tomorrow). A mate (is she really?) has just decided to pike out from teaching at the very freaking last minute.

SO here I am, getting ready to take on the crap and trying to learn the rest of the horrid choreography. Hurray.

I’m going to be in studio practising from 6 in the damn morning. Basically it’ll be a 2 hour rehearsal and then a weights session and a run. I’m working right up til 6.30 in the evening and then getting ready for my class at 7 at night.

And yes, you can be sure I’m so looking forward to it *dryly*

Huh..? (Are You Talking To Me?)
On a more spirited front, I got asked out yesterday by one of my friends whom I least expected.

Boys, I’ll never figure the lot of you out. Especially the uber shy and non-conversationalist ones. Remember my "Hunting" blog?

E-yah, that one.

It’s amazing cause he’s finally asked me out. And that only took like what, 3-4 weeks? I choked on my drink when he did and actually turned around to see if it was me he was talking to and not some passer-by. Nevertheless I’m curious to see how it pans out cause at the moment he’s being very forward with me.

Apparently he’s going to pick ME up and take ME out and that saying no, was not an option.

Oh.

Now the question is, what the hell do I wear?

As pri would tell you, in the wardrobe of Reshmi, our clothing line’s divided to just 2 categories: Training and Killer Clubbing Wear.

There’s no in-between, no grey spaces and most certainly, none of that casual, dress down nonsense.

Just training and clubbing.

In the gym environment, wearing  nothing is of the norm but as he’s not from there, I don’t really wanna freak him out. I don’t know where he’s taking me but I know that I’ve got a couple of other engagements to attend to later on in the night so I can always dress up early for that. At this point in time, I’m thinking, my short lil shorts, black silk Oriental top and my stillettos (I haven’t decided which pair).

Too much for a 8pm catch up?

Where Are Them Damn Kopiko Sweets When You Need One?
It’s now 7 past 11 at night and I’ve actualy got a 5am wakeup call. It’s the never-ending saga of sleep deprivation. I’m actually contemplating on getting my iron levels tested as these past 2 weeks I’m suddenly overwhelmingly tired 24/7.

I initially thought it was due to my nocturnal outings over the past couple of weekends but alas, it can’t be purely because of them.

Just to let you know, over the weekend I, Reshmi Revi, actually attended an Asian rave.

E-yah, Malaysia represent alright. It was quite funny to tell you the truth cause I’d never seen so many asians (predominantly Chinese people) in one vicinity and no bargaining/haggling taking place.

It was like a scene from Tokyo Drift except that you had crusty white guys trying to scam on no-speaker-no-Engrish asian girls.

Gross.

It’s Called It’s Over For A Reason.
So like I said, it’s 7 past 11 and suddenly I’m getting txt msgs from this guy of mine whom I used to date.

Refer to one-word adjective before last subtopic if you please.

>)

Exactly.

Aiights, I’m outs. I don’t know how to end this so I’ll just kill it here.