Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The Evil One's Wife

The night was calm. There were the low, quiet whirring of the fan, and the continuous drone of the TV. At my laptop, I was relaxed and content to be spending the evening so casually. Yes, casual and uneventful the evening was - until at one point, something showing on TV caught my attention. I turned towards the TV and back-faced my laptop for quite a while.

"Hey, look!"

Before I actually turned back, I could see, out of the corner of my eye, a searing glare from the most menacing creature. Its strong, evil aura, thick and enveloping sent tingles down my spine. Once I was face-to-face with her - for it was a she - and fully perceived her horrifying countenance and being, I did not wonder at the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

Upon my laptop she stood, with the most cruel smile upon her emaciated face. She had a mass of red hair, a billowing cloak which hung about her shoulders, and glowing red eyes that pierced right into mine. Her evident vicious ferocity sent chills into my heart.

There on my laptop she stood still, maintaining her intense stare upon me. I sat, frozen, and marvelling at how one so tiny could reek of as much wickedness as she did. I'd wanted to resume the use of my laptop, but she stood firm, unwilling to relinquish her hold of it.

Staff directed towards me, she seemed to warn me to stay away, that what was mine was now hers, and I wasn't to attempt to regain it. All the time throughout, her son sat on one side, a cynical smirk on his face, as if daring me to defy his mother.

"Who is that?"
"The Evil One's Wife."

The Evil One, pictured here atop the tower, whose Dragon is attacking the King's castle.

Saturday, September 19, 2009


These are some interesting sights from various places, taken with my humble mobile phone.

My friends say it is because of signs like this that women make better sales than men. You can say it is gender discrimination, but you must also admit that not many can say "No" to a pretty lady.

For a while, I considered censoring the number depicted in this ad, seen posted on a lamp-post, but it wouldn't be fair to show people what they could have possessed, and then deny them the means to securing it, would it?

Please don't jump. This place isn't for jumping. If you must jump, find another more suitable location. Not here, please. Thank you.

I suppose the owner of the place in which this notice is found wanted to make sure that his outlet wouldn't be labelled as the regular haunt of school-going (or school-skipping) teenagers. Of course, as long as they're not in their uniforms...

Jason Mraz crossing! Well, of course it is! See a hat, think Jason Mraz! I have made it a point to drive past this sign at least once or twice a day, every day - who knows, I might actually bump into him crossing the road!

Thursday, September 17, 2009

The Hardest Thing

... about surprises is keeping them. I don't know about people in general, but I find it terribly hard to keep it quietly to myself once I had, say, purchased a really extraordinary birthday present, or started making something as a gift to someone. The moment the idea is conceived, nevermind whether or not it has materialised, the excitement starts building. It is most of the time impossible to contain - that crazy, overwhelming, unbearably strong urge to just tell it!

Some may, though most won't, recall the very slight allusion to something pink some months ago. That was somewhere near the moment the idea of a pink unicorn dawned upon me. It is unbelieveable how much effort it took to kept it a secret from the birthday girl I wanted to surprise with it. In a way, I risked failing because somewhen along the way, I did tell her I was going to give her two presents - one I bought, and one I made. Thank goodness the handmade item was something so unexpected, that even though I dropped a hint of its being, it still managed to surprise her into a screaming state:

One of the reasons I get so excited when I knew just how surprising the surprise would be, is this:

This million-dollar smile on a loved-one's face, which definitely is worth more than a million dollars (right, you don't have to try to make sense of this nonsensical statement). Note: photos taken from here.

The risk of spoiling the surprise is only one of the disadvantages of leaking surprises-in-the-making out. Another is that sometimes, the project never gets completed. Well, it happens to me rather often. I have lost count, or rather, lost the courage to keep count of how many abandoned projects I have with me. The oldest is a half-finished piece of cross-stitch design, which I received as a birthday present when I was 20 or so. It was of a baby Minnie Mouse, and due to extreme lack of skills and/or inability to count stitches, and/or innate carelessness, its nose turned out skewed to one side. It looked awful and would not do at all - but I was too lazy and/or apathetic and/or bored with the piece by then to undo the stitches and correct the mistakes. And I couldn't go on because it looked simply... awful. So it remained, thereafter, half-completed, skew-nosed. As usual, I digressed.

Lastly, if someone were planning something for me, and I was given a hint of the surprise in the making, yet was not of the finer details, I am quite certain the suspense alone would drive me out of my wits. The anticipation would build to such a level that my expectations may become unrealistically high - and then...? It might not be, but I'd rather not even the slightest possibility of my loved-one being disappointed by the result of my effort, simply because of over-expectation.

By now, are you wondering where I am heading with this post? You might have guessed it, but I musn't tell! I mustn't say it, mustn't breathe a word, musn't allow these reckless typing fingers to reveal the remotest hint! Musn't, musn't, mustn't! Argh!

Monday, September 14, 2009


There was once I couldn't fall asleep, not just because I wasn't as tired-out as I'd usually be by bed-time. The hamsters were running on their wheels, the squeaking and creaking soft, but very audible. The rabbits, though mute, contributed to the breaking of the silence of the night by gnawing on goodness-knows-what, and hopping noisily around in their cages. The fishes' repeated attempts to leap out of their watery home included distinctive splashing in the symphony of sounds. Add to that the dogs' occassional barking and howling, and the incessant ticking of the clock, I did not wonder why I couldn't fall asleep. It wasn't always that I had to sleep surrounded by so many nocturnal creatures, so until then, I had never fully appreciated just how active they get at night.

It did strike me as odd, that I had never felt so disturbed by nocturnal pets, though at one time in university, we had a rabbit and a hamster in our room. I never remembered them having ever disrupted my sleep at all. Chip Chip, the rabbit, only made noise whenever her food ran out - she would take her food bowl between her teeth and scrape it against the metal cage. Baby, the hamster, slept all day and well, ate all night. And it wasn't just me - I had never heard any of my roomees complain of having their sleep disrupted by our nocturnal pets. Thinking it further though, with all the Sims-playing, last-minute studying and assignment deadlines chasing, we ourselves were nocturnal most of the times.

Well, that was then. Now is now. Good night.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Obnoxious

I refer to those who are so proud of talents or achievements they may, or imagined, they have, that they go about engorged in conceit and self-importance; those who think so highly of themselves that they place the whole world below them, who would not be seen walking around without their mighty noses in the air, who deem it beneath them to even spare a glance for someone not up to their station in life, which is practically everyone else; those who take it that they ought to be unconditionally worshipped for their beauty or intelligence.

I refer to such. These are people who do not understand that the likes of me - that is, the general population sufficiently sensible - much prefer humility and genuine niceness to unparalleled gorgeousness or genius. I do not care a whit for arrogance, neither do I appreciate snobbery. They may be of all the qualities they, or they think, are, but if they have not basic manners, politeness and courtesy, they are not worthy of my respect. If in mood, I would perhaps strive a little to hide my contempt, but otherwise...

If reading this makes you feel that I have written it because I am jealous of them I wrote about, kindly take a moment to think about what makes you assume that I don't measure up to them. I hope you are not one of them.