Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Pride and Prejudice
Obviously my wicked reputation precedes me.Or maybe it's just my avidly ogling eyes - though I seriously doubt it. Whatever it was, when I walked into the on-call room this evening, I found McWacky in a state of undress. Seems like the sultry weather outside had forced him to abandon his clothes in a freakin hurry. Now now... don't get too excited. I certainly wasn't.
Firstly, it's McWacky. Like ... huh? Let's be honest here - McWacky's built like a skinny stringbean straight out of the cruel depths of some wartorn, starving third world nation - certainly no shiny buffed-up Chris Evans for me to drool over.
Secondly. It's only his shirt off. And it was certainly not some cheap come-on.
At least give me something to ogle - like this fella!
Certainly see no reason for our freakish McWacky to screech like a defiled Victorian virgin caught en déshabillé to reach for the blankets to cover up in a hurry. Probably would have clung desperately to the chandeliers - if we had them.
Gobsmacked yet again by his unpredictable reaction, I was caught between the sudden urge to laugh in derision - or to bitch-slap him repeatedly. Come on, I might be a lusty raging perv ( and seriously sex-deprived ) but even I have my standards! Swear I didn't even ogle for a second! Hell, I'd have told our capricious friend to keep his clothes on if he hadn't gotten to it first. :P
Labels: Me
Posted by savante at 10:37 PM
2 comments
Monday, May 12, 2008
Ready to Rumble
Today the earth literally moved for Charming Calvin. Right under his feet.Unfortunately I wasn't the cause of it. Swear not even I could make the earth shudder at a magnitude of 7.8 on the Richter scale. Hell, I'm just not that good. But Mother Nature certainly can make things rumble and she did so just this afternoon in Sichuan Province, China.
Even hundreds of miles away in the northern capital of Beijing, Calvin felt the resultant tremors with the rest of his panicked colleagues who all rushed out of their vulnerable glass-and-metal skyscraper to hurry haphazardly to the open areas below. That - and he sent an urgent message to me.
So how would you reply in the event of an earthquake? I know sentimental folks would sent weepy mushy mawkishness across the bandwidth but I told him to head towards an open area far from any falling debris - and if not, to hide under a sturdy table or doorway. Then I started googling for precautionary measures to take in the unlikely event of an earthquake.
Would hiding in a bathtub help?
Hell if I ever knew all this. We're fortunate enough to live in the Malaysian peninsula - situated on the relatively stable Sunda Shelf a hairsbreadth away from the infamous Pacific Ring of Fire - hence the relative lack of natural calamities such as earthquakes and volcanoes. Turns out I was actually paying attention during those interminably dull geography lessons.
Those mild tremors felt by us in the past few years are nothing in comparison to those felt right up close at the epicentre.
Faced with such an unexpected catastrophe, I'd probably allow myself a moment to start screaming hysterically for a brief second ( maybe two ) before ruthlessly slapping myself alert to start barking orders. Seriously, I'm a man of action. I don't do wailing endlessly like an idiot wringing my hands helplessly - while a huge chunk of brick and mortar falls unerringly towards me. And that's if the earth doesn't crack open to swallow me.
Horrifying thought. There's rumour that another slight tremor might follow tonight so here's a quick prayer to the folks over there hoping that they make it through alright.
Posted by savante at 10:21 PM
7 comments
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Crouching Tigress, Hidden Witch
Usually one to play fair, Mother Nature has a way of offering sufficient prior warning ( or at least a sly hint ) when it comes to the dark and dangerous - especially when it comes to the plant kingdom. From afar, elegant long-stemmed roses are pretty enough with their velvety blooms and distinctive fragrance - but step a lil closer and you'd be sure to take heed of the prickly thorns that surround them. Despite their seeming fragility, it's quite obvious that roses are blooms you don't trifle with. Easy enough warning to keep us away lest we get hurt.But sometimes Mother Nature likes to throw a curveball. Despite the name, the noxious weed poison ivy appears relatively benign. Almost deceptively harmless with its shiny leaves of three with berries of white. You'd never quite believe that such a common lil country weed could cause such apocalyptic mayhem to the vulnerable immune system.
Certainly a much more evolved, far more dangerous villain if you ask me. Of course we can draw our own parallels in the real world amongst us.
Paul and Jared have a chat
You see, Jaunty Jared - a recently converted devotee of Gossip Girl or what I'm starting to call the Gos 'Mos - has developed a healthy fear of resident bitch Blair Waldorf. Or at least that's what he confided to me over laksa and pie tees during tea ( they really have to coin a name for late lunches! ).
I also confirmed that he has a cute tight tush but that's something else entirely.
Jared : But she's a bitch!
Paul : So? I heart Blair Waldorf!
Jared : But she's a bitch!
Paul : Tell me something I didn't know. Honestly, I'd rather have a straight-up biatch Blair Waldorf rather than a crouching tigress, hidden witch like lying, stealing two-faced social climbing Jenny Humphrey.
I am an opinionated sort. Certainly not a surprise.
I'll admit I like bitches - at least those who are pretty open and honest about it. Like the prickly rose, that nasty mean-girl attitude is right out there in the open so you know not to mess around without chink-free fire-proof armour. See that queen bee with her coterie of plastics in high school - don't cross her or learn the consequences. So that makes her ineffectually harmless. You don't go near an open flame without getting burnt after all.
But it's the sweet-faced Jenny Humphrey ingenues with the hidden cruel intentions that you gotta watch for. Or even the seemingly harmless fella with the religious turban and the goatee combo. Hell, the more pious they look, the more suspicious I get. You never can tell what's hidden behind that deceptively innocent, butter-can't-melt facade. Like the poison ivy, you never quite know for sure till you've gotten stung. And boy, it hurts like hell.
Hurts all the more when you're ill-prepared to deal with the unexpected stab-in-the-back.
So which would you rather - the rose or the ivy?
Labels: Friends
Posted by savante at 10:15 PM
8 comments
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Java Me
I'll admit that i used to be a caffeine addict.There was a time when I downed enough java to help support a struggling coffee-bean growing industry in a small third world island nation. These days - after my semi-successful coffee embargo - I limit myself to a cup or two a day. Though I do fall off the wagon every now and then - especially when I'm staring sleepy and bleary-eyed at the blurring monitor at 4 in the morning. Nothing like a quick pick-me-up like a deliciously brewed cup of hot coffee.
Or two. Or three.
Even if I'm forced to subsist on the overly sugary, sadly inferior 3-in-1 sachets that are stuffed in our pantry cabinets at work. Certainly no coffee snob with filters and French presses stuffed in my backpack but the instant sachets are an insult to my delicate sensibilities. I'll admit to needing at least a hint of the sultry Amazon in my beans - rather than the faint whiff of lab chemicals in the sachets.
But beggars can't be choosers.
That ain't what I ordered.
What do I have to do to get my coffee here?
Unfortunately even the shockingly ubiquitous Starbucks hasn't seen fit to open its doors over in the general hospital ( at least a makeshift stand dammit! ). Not sure why though since it's common knowledge that medical staff - doctors, nurses and all - are all obsessed caffeine addicts who consume the black stuff by the gallons. Don't they know that their tables would be forever crammed with drained, insomniac physicians with laptops and PDAs in tow?
And in between patients, I could carry on a flirtation with the cute barista.
Barista : Would that be a venti for you?
Paul : Why? Think I can't swallow something that size?
Used to chug expresso shots back in medical school cramming over dull-duller-dullest textbooks but I think I'm already hyper enough without an overdose of caffeine. Anyway these days I need my java fix with at least a pinch of sugar. Hence my regular caffe mocha.
Some folks say that the type of coffee you drink tells a lot about a person. Or at least that's what my ISO has heard.
Paul : Then what am I?
My ISO : An anal-retentive control freak?
Paul : And you can tell that from my cup of grande caffe mocha with whipped cream and cinnamon sprinkles on top?
My ISO : Nah, that's because I know you - not because I read coffee beans.
Paul : Well my psychic powers tell me that delicate girly lil cup of caffe latte is so not you.
My ISO : But it has a phallic cinnamon stick.
If I recall, Charming Calvin takes his poison in the form of a light, frothy frappucino.
Labels: My ISO
Posted by savante at 10:19 PM
5 comments
Friday, May 09, 2008
Lickin Lando
Sexual deprivation can certainly drive a person up the wall. Makes a reasonable sorta fella start to thinking all sorts of nasty sexual fantasies over the most innocuous matters.Makes ya see things that ain't there, I swear.
Even when it comes to my poor, innocent - and newly married - friend. This delicious lil mocha-skinned Orlando Bloom lookalike with the bashful smile and the puppy-dog brown eyes. Known him for a while and I'll admit to the fleeting fantasy of me playing grab-ass and wrestling him in the changing rooms. Nothing too substantial though.
Of course once sexual deprivation hits like a sweltering summer heat wave, anything fleeting starts becoming all too real. And far too persistent to be dismissed.
Over a dining table griping about his wife, just mild teasing humour, Lando started telling us stories about the minor adjustments after saying the sweet I dos. Pledging commitment's easy enough but sharing a home takes some compromise.
Lando : Life's certainly different these day! Came home all hot and sweaty after a football game. Then she complains about the sweat stink.
Paul : Damn. Well I never would complain about a hot sweaty guy after football.
Damn. Newly married wives can be picky. Sorry but I'd have better uses for my wayward tongue than to complain.
Come lick my sweat!
Reason being.... hell, I'd be leaping on him to lick off the sweat. And in my current sexually deprived state, I'd probably lick the mud and grime off too. Boy was just sitting there innocently stirring his coffee and there I was, thinking of munching on his nips whlie he writhed helplessly on the table. Come on, hot sweaty guy after football? I'd be all over his cleats in seconds. The heavily sex-soaked porn vision was so high-definition clear I could practically taste his salty sweat on my tongue.
Of course I didn't tell him that. I doubt Lando would wanna know more of my kinky alternative sexual mores than he needs to. Would probably scare the poor fella off.
Then again, bet he has an inkling about my dirty thoughts though since he smiled when he saw my drooling tongue. Fortunately for the sake of his unimpeachable virtue - and his budding heterosexuality, there was an unappreciative audience around so I refrained from falling over to bite his neck.
Gosh.
Labels: Friends
