Top 10 things I like on women

Well, here we go. In no particular order.

1. The tramp stamp.

No further elaboration necessary.



2. The belly ring.

Looks best on tanned women with flat bellies.



3. The tongue piercing.

Looks best when glimpses are made possible with an open-mouthed laugh.



4. Cleavage.

Boob cleavage or butt cleavage. Just bring it eh? I must confess to liking boob cleavage more though!



5. Low cuts on slim hips.

One of the better recent trends. I remember the first noticeable one. Britney Spears in the Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman video. She must have had to get out a Gillette to pull it off. Of course since we've learnt that her Gillette does get regular use.

As Levi's put it on their lowcut jeans webpage: "Well below the natural hips."



6. Short shorts.

The original woohoo! hot pants, cutoff jeans. Though I must confess to liking black skin-tight shorts more ala Mutya Buena in the Push The Button video. Catherine Bach as Daisy Duke first set loins aflame with the cutoff jeans. Recently the torch was passed on to Jessica Simpson.



7. Tan lines.

Tan lines are sexy. I like tanned women. They look healthier and sportier. Swim suit lines with a sexy top is a great favourite.



8. Confidence.

Confidence as in a woman who knows herself and likes herself. Does not need to impress or be impressed.



9. Vivaciousness.

Happy. Fun loving. Cheerful. Sexy.



10. Natural look. Less or no makeup.

A woman who's beautiful without makeup is a beautiful woman. Full stop.

Your hand! No no! Your HAND!

I was reading Mischique's blog and I had another one of them famous flashbacks.

Flashback #26B532

My very first job was with an IT department in its infancy. Early on I was tasked with my colleague to prepare a room for training purposes. This involved setting up PCs connected to a server. Lots of wiring required. I had a colleague with me. Young, female, Chinese-Malay hybrid. A bit skinny but had a nice rack on that frame.

We were working late and the warehouse had shut down. When we were done the guy that was locking up came upstairs to shut up shop and my colleague and I headed for the stairs. I made it, she didn't. She was right behind me and I had my feet on the top stairs of the staircase. That's when the lights went out.

It was like being in a cave. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

She was a bit freaked out cos she knew the stairs were just in front of her but she couldn't see anything. One wrong step and she'd have gone crashing down the stairs and probably taken me with her too. I told her to chill out and to give me her hand which I would put on the banister for her. I reached out, she reached out and somewhere along the way we missed each others' hands while groping about. Grope indeed. I groped around and put my hand square on one of her lovely breasts.

The next few seconds were chaotic.

She screamed. I gasped.

Since I knew where her boob was, I could locate her shoulder, then her arm and eventually her hand. I placed it on the banister for her and thundered down the stairs in the complete darkness.

She came down the stairs at a more sedate pace and nothing more was said, mentioned or hinted.

She did buy me dinner though!

Need a new drug

It's a former lover's birthday today. I sent her a message wishing her a Happy Birthday. She called me almost immediately. I was surprised. It's not like her. Then I found out why. She didn't know who the message was from. Hey it's cool. I haven't seen her for 3 years I don't expect her to still have my number. Not at the rate she loses cell phones anyway.

Later I got an SMS from her thanking me for remembering her birthday. Actually I didn't. It was a friendster reminder but hey, I made it a point to send her a b'day wish. I sent back a message (admittedly a few hours after) which read, "No worries. Hope you had a good birthday."

Which she replies almost immediately. It said, "Huh?"

Either one or the other reason but I remember why it was so hard when we were friends. Her mind's everywhere. Never mind marriage, I should be thankful I never reached the dating stage with her. I didn't mind where we were. She has a body only God himself could have sculpted and skin any female human being or gay man would commit genocide for.

Darling. Lay off the fucking drugs will you?

I'm an Imposter!

Greg just pointed out to me (like 10 minutes ago via Messenger) that there's another blog called Brain Spillage.

And I thought I was being original.

I assure you I didn't know about this one (which precedes mine actually).

And the only difference between my blog's URL and Rachelle's is that I have a hyphen in my URL. Strange world.

brainspillage.blogspot.com

So.... That IS Grey BUT....

I walked over to 1Utama for the first time yesterday for dinner. No. I'd still have walked even if I could drive my car. It's that near.

Shortly after I'd walked into 1U, my cell phone rings. It's the delivery guy with the faulty x-ray vision. He says he's here to make the exchange so I tell him to wait 5 minutes and I'll be there. I go in and grab the box containing the tap. It's a little box (about 1' x 1') how big can a tap be? And the guy is walking in from his van carrying a BIG ass box. Stunned, I ask him what the hell is that? It's a grey sink. I explain to him kindly I've already got a grey sink. It's the tap that I want changed. He grumbles a bit. There's a 'Miss X' involved in his mutterings who is surely the charming young lady I spoke to yesterday over the phone.

I think I know who Miss X is. I've seen her and spoken to her at the shop itself. Shame really cos she's a bit of a hottie. She's quite sexy even without the tattoos on her neck and lower back. Viva la tramp stamp!!!! She just doesn't seem that bright that she doesn't know the difference between a basin and a tap. Then again, my only interest in her would be happy fun time not engage in a discussion about medieval poetry (and other brainy stuff). That and I'd like her to get my order right, dammit!

Confound It!

I'm the best of friends with a girl. She's tall, attractive and intelligent. We have a very strange relationship. We call each other dah-ling, sweetie and all that mushy mushy stuff. We also think the world of each other. We know each other's deepest secrets and we can tell each other anything including things we can't or won't tell anyone else. Yet we've never been an item, a pair or anything remotely close. Apparently it's because she's afraid we could not have the friendship we have if we took a step in that direction. Oh, and it's the same reason why we've not been to bed together before. Anyway, there's too much baggage on this girl for me. It's not her fault. It's circumstantial. We have this pact we made when we were about 27. If we were still single at 35 we might as well marry each other. You'd think two people that age would have a bit more sense and that brings me to the topic of this post.

I've met a number of really intelligent people who have sometimes done the stupidest things. Take the girl mentioned in the paragraph above. She always and I mean always chooses the absolute wrong man for a boyfriend. They're all fucking mental. You don't know possessive till you've encountered her boyfriends. She seems to like damaged goods and once actually told me she picks these crack pots to try to better them.

What?

What???

The last two are nutters though the most recent one takes the prize for being a complete nutter. Needless to say he wasn't very happy about me. Fair enough. None of my girlfriends particularly like her either. Anyway she did the splitsville on him and he went fucking mental on her. Stalking had a new disciple.

Anyway, all that bits not the point I'm trying to get across. Remember the bit about smart people doing dumb things? Here's the bit that left me aghast and speechless.

She and psycho had sex during their relationship.

That's fine. I've never had a girlfriend I didn't have happy fun time with. I don't expect these things not to happen. No one has a celibate relationship. Except for Sam (him of the cock cheese posting). Fair go.

The guy has quite a questionable sexual history and here's the bit that had me reeling. She was shown his medical test results. I thought it was a HIV test. It wasn't. It was one of those that show blood cell count, cholesterol, liver function and crap like that. It was all normal. She figured that a person who had something like say, HIV, would have abnormal medical test results.

Oh really?

Can anyone shed some light on this because I think that test proved fuck all.

Stamp Update

Was out partying last night with my friends. Was a fun night. I got an update for my stamp posting.


This is Natalie's tatt. Taken with permission I might add



The birthday boy's 9th flaming of the night. How the hell was he still standing?

I Love Tramp Stamps

You may or may not know I just got back from Ipoh on Tuesday night. I did my usual things. Eat a lot of food, bitch about the quality and quantity of babes and buy myself a new Perak FA footy t-shirt from Yik Foong.

What is it with people Ipoh mali? We're really clannish and proud of our origins. I have a friend whose entire family is here in KL. Still, whenever they buy a new car for anyone in the family, it's back to Ipoh to register the car there just so they can have an 'A' plate on the car. My car has a Perak plate as well but that's cos the car was bought in Ipoh.

Anyway, as I was saying, I was in Yik Foong. Just before I left I popped into the tattoo shop on the ground floor. It's really nice, looks professional. They used to be in the basement of the complex which any Ipoh Mali will tell you is dingy, dirty and questionable. So they've made it up and out of the basement. Tattoos used to be cool cos they were non conformist. It's so damn trendy now. Fuck it. There were two girls behind the counter in the tatt parlour. I chatted with one, Tiffany, 20s, slim, not bad looking but slim with full boobs in a top that gave a hint of what-lies-beneath. Woohooo! She said she was one of the tattoo artists there. And I thought, "What the fuck?"

Tiffany was in a sleeveless top and jeans. So fair go. There's still a lot of skin covered but from what I could see, I did not see a single tattoo on her. It's like going to the hairdresser and finding her bald even though she still has every hair follicle. But honestly, she's the type of person that can't wear a lot of tattoos. She's the type that looks demure which is always the best thing when you least expect it and discover that she's got a tramp stamp. Like in Cars, when Lightning discovered that Sally the Porsche had pin striping when her active spoiler was raised. It's so ironic that one of the most evocative things in my book was depicted by a CGI cartoon.... about cars.


Viva la Tramp Stamp!


Pictures from ilovetattoosandpiercings

Paris This, Bitch.

Stuck in Ipoh till tomorrow. Not that I'm complaining. It's been very very chilled out for me while I'm here. Just laying back and relaxing when I should be panicking actually. I just got told my wiring work alone in the new house is gonna cost one thousand six hundred smackers. Fuck. Do I ever need to get back to yell, abuse, plead and cajole the bastards working on the house.

I was channel surfing the other day, yesterday I think. I came across this program on MTV called My Super Sweet 16 which should be retitled, "Spoilt Rich Detrimental-to-Society Little Cunts' Birthday Parties". If MTV ever wanted to push things further, this is it. Never mind The Pussycat Dolls, Fergie, Nelly Furtado and Tata Young.

Nelly Furtado deserves a mention and a welcome to this club. She finally realised that (i) she's quite fuckable and (ii) she'll sell more CDs if she exploited it. Promiscuous Girl? That one basically means:- Guy: Hey! You could be a slut. Are you? Girl: Why yes!. Are you a man whore? Guy: I am indeed. Wanna fuck? Girl: Sure!

The rest of them? I've whinged and bitched about such music before. The formulas are quite similar but predictable, (i) wouldn't you like to fuck with me? (ii) wouldn't you like to fuck me instead of your girlfriend? (iii) work hard for this pussy (iv) you'd like to fuck me wouldn't you? Ya can't! Haha! (v) I wanna fuck you (vi) I want you to fuck me. Can't run far from these themes.

It's all starting to work. Even on me. Sometimes I don't even need to know the words. I saw Tata Young's video for El Nin-Yo! I still don't know the words but do I ever want to fuck Tata Young. Damn. She's got me by the balls man! The clever little ho'.


Tata Young. One clever lil ho'.

I've decided that I've changed my mind. I don't hate these songs, I love these songs. I'm going to steal all this shit off P2P networks and burn CDs I'm going to call, (i) Mind Control, (ii) Pussy Control and (iii) Music To Fuck To. If I ever lose my vision and can't watch porn anymore, I'm going to put these songs on the player and have a wank instead.

Oh yeh, back to it, that Sweet 16 shit. Damn, is it ever offensive. Personally I wouldn't care very much but does it means that this is the trend that the current new generation coming up is going to adhere to? Such blatant arrogance, frivolity, expenditure and Paris Hilton. Very soon everyone's going to have a neighbour called Jones. Also 'Paris' is one day going to be a verb, a noun and an adjective, depending on how you use it. e.g. "What the Paris?!?!" and "Paris this, bitch!". Additionally, one day someone's going to say, 'Gee, they named a city in France after her.' That or 'There's a city named Paris??'. Paris fucking Hilton. Damn. What is the world coming to? Best thing that ever happened to her was having the video of her cock smoking and shagging made available to the world. She should have government warning stickers plastered all over her. Knowing her, it'll become her statement. She'll appear at a swanky gig just wearing the warning stickers over her naughty bits. She's the archetype of what's going wrong. She and MTV's little rich cunt's birthday show are what wrong with the excesses of the world these days. They make rappers on MTV Cribs, respectable.

What's a danger to young starlets in Hollywood? Sex, drugs, alcohol and Paris Hilton. But I love Paris Hilton. Without her, we'd never know what Lindsay Lohan's and Britney Spears' punanis look like.

You go girl.

What was that again?

Originally posted in Strange Highs and Strange Lows, September 30th.

I was in Subang Jaya on Friday. Was there in Subang Parade to buy a TV and a home theatre system for the condo in Mont Kiara. Being a cheapskate and really hating Parade's parking payment system I parked in Carrefour (free!) and walked over. As I crossed the road I came across quite an attractive girl. Have no idea why she looked slightly alarmed and quickened her pace. I walk faster than most people myself and I wasn't keeping up. It's all okay in the end after all as I got to ogle at her ass in the tight skirt and the half sprint greatly increased posterior sway and shake. I am startled though. I was minding my own business and I certainly didn't give her a funny look nor did I leer at her. The tragedy of being a cheapskate, and deliberately walking faster and clomping away behind her just to let her know I was still there, took me to the doorway of the mall. That's when I realised my cheque book was in the glove compartment of my car which in turn was in another building entirely.

D-oh!

Once I returned with cheque book, the damn shop wasn't open. So I killed time by going upstairs to MPH. I found 'Thud!' (I actually wrote it as 'Bonk!' before remembering that wasn't the actual title; Thud, Bonk; what's the difference eh?) in paperback. Something I have been looking for for about a year now. Quite a lucky thing then since I wouldn't have visited the MPH if the electrical goods store had been open when I got there. The hardcover copy is all I've seen up to now and being a cheapskate, it's RM99.90. Hooray for paperbacks! I had a theory once that the book was only released in hardcover because of the title, which is 'Thud!' (not 'Bonk!'). So all good. I found a book I'd been wanting to find for ages.

I also searched the store database for Durrell (G. M.) books. Grand total: 2. I spoke to the guy at the customer service desk about it and he said they would be ordering more Durrell books which delighted me no end. But then the guy said that Durrell had a new book coming out soon. That's when I blinked and informed the guy that Durrell died years ago. Jan 30, 1995 to be precise.

What was that again?

Angry Cunt Music

Someone, I cannot remember whom, remarked that all the angsty music ranging from mildly annoyed to angry to raging was brilliant. He called it 'Angry Cunt Music' and absolutely loved it all.

There're quite a few categories of Angry Cunt. From being pissed off with life and people to the world in general. The biggest category of ACM is however, "Being Pissed Off With Men". Alanis Morrisette started it going big with You Oughta Know. Of course she made it happen by using the word 'fuck' in her lyrics. She sang it at the Grammys and probably got a standing ovation for being a chick with balls. Hell, they give you a standing ovation at Grammys just as long as your song is angry, demanding change or about homeless and/or abused people.

We then encountered the strong female lead by Shania Twain. If You're Not In It For Love, You're Outa Here. And she'll probably kick you outa wherever 'here' is. With a chick that looked and had a body like that, not every guy woulda been in it for love actually. Personally, I would have been there for the money. After that came That Don't Impress Me Much. Which was good for people like me who couldn't compete with other guys who had the looks, money and muscles. Along with all that came The Sensitive Male Poofter who would swear to love some girl forever regardless of her looks, intelligence or state of health. You know what? Neither Angry Cunt nor Sensitive Poofter ever believed what they were singing.

Shania Twain earns enough not to give a flying fuck about some guy's wealth, looks or car. Also she's married to her producer and songwriter. Better not piss off the goose with the golden eggs.

Sensitive Poofter just wants pussy.

He ain't getting any.

The songs and videos making the big time now are black guys who may or may not have served time who want chicks to take off all their clothes (cos it's gettin hot wherever they happen to be) and get jiggy with it. This is what proves what girls have always known and guys are only beginning to realise. If a guy goes out making it goddamn obvious that he thinks a girl is hot and he wants to fuck her, chances are he is in fact, going to get to fuck her. Only these days the phrase 'fucking' is the last bit of machismo that guys can hang on to. Guys don't get fucked. Girls do. Only these days you'd better have a orgasm ratio of your one to her five or the word that you can't fuck properly is making the rounds. Guys had better walk around with chests out saying they fucked Britney or Zoe last night while they can cos the way things are going one day fucking might end up referring to guys being fucked no matter who does the actual penetrating.

Anyway. Back to the Angry Cunt Music.

Case in question: Kelly Clarkson - Since U Been Gone vs. Marion Raven - Break You.

You may call me 'Your Honor'.

Here we have two young females obviously pissed off with their ex-boyfriends. First ruling goes against Ms. Clarkson for the unimaginative Prince style spelling error which went out long ago with shoulder pads and Sensitive Black Male Poofters. In her favour, the only thing which sells the whole song is the absolutely brilliant use of the words, "yeah...yeah!" in the chorus. I love it.

Marion Raven has the unfair advantage that I've seen her in person and think that she's absolutely beautiful. More so than her pictures and videos. The blonde girl in M2M, Marit What's-her-name, is as is.

Never mind the lyrics. Not hard to figure out. Don't even have to. What speaks absolute volumes in each situation are the respective videos.

Kelly trashes her ex's place gleefully and exits just before ex comes home with new girlfriend.

Marion throws her ex's stuff out of HER place and burns the shit up.

Having seen both videos, lyrically, this is what I figure. Kelly was friends with this guy who tried and succeeded to get into her pants. I'm guessing 'that stupid love song' she fell for was by a Sensitive Poofter. Once she got dumped she went bananas and smashed up his place. Did she need to do that if she was so moving on? Opinions welcome.

Marion loses points for appearing to be a wide eyed blur girl who can't tell her boyfriend's sticking his dipstick into other cars. Gains points for the chorus bit which implies that once she's realised what's going on he can go fuck himself (or the other birds he's been fucking instead of her). Here's the thing, the setting is that the place is hers and she burns all his shit outside since he's too chicken to come back to get it. I would be too if I were him. Hell hath no fury like an Angry Cunt.

So Kelly is this whiney little bitch who'll break the toys you don't let her play with while Marion stands up for herself and gets on with it after reversing the situation.

Now, who got the Grammys?

Friday Night. Heritage Row.

Friday night. Same old same old. We start at The Ivy at 10:30pm and make our way through our favourite clubs. Which is about standard operating procedure for us now. The unpredictability of the club scene on the weekend in KL decided that that Friday was when everyone decided to haunt Heritage Row. Plenty of things going on and lots of beautiful people around. The strip was bouncin'.

Observing what was going on around me, there were underage girls at one of the clubs. Any intention or idea to follow up on them quickly evaporated when Max overheard them in the washrooms and sussed out they were 16 to 17 years of age. Right.

Another good piece of advice for anyone who's taken out a bevy of beauties is to make sure you have a bottle on the table and obviously drinks for the girls. If you don't, your harem is in danger of becoming spread out to all points of the compass in the room.

I don't get single pervs wondering around alone who try to schmooze on girls. Especially if they're with a large group which contains 75% testosterone.

It's very interesting to see social and sexual hierarchy within a group. Can be quite interesting. My role is the guy everyone likes and thinks is nice. That's not good. Trust me. It's not.

Max is a champion. He scored on two different women that night. Might have been quickies in some quiet (or not so quiet) corner but I don't think he's complaining.

Lastly, thanks to the girls for universally deciding to expose acres of cleavage that night. The prize though has to go to Nat who went as far as to have a nipple pop out of her top.

See you on the strip next week.