Yesterday, as I pulled Lorraine into the bridal house’s ceramic tiled car park, cold sweat trickled down my forehead. I had just awaken from my deep afternoon sleep — and was dragged into making this trip to the slaughterhouse — still in the state of recuperating from my tiresome weekend. Feeling a bit woozy and zonked, I slopped across the cramped carpark with Emily (signs that i’m not the only victim) towards the door of tempered glass … unsure of my fate as I took one step after another.

Then a blonded chinese version of a skinny Rod Steward bloke opened the door for us .. chanting the butcher’s mantra under his tobacco reeked breath - “Welcome…welcome” - a tradition of sorts to bless the butcher of safe slaughter job. The chant sent a chill down to my very spine, as if Death itself is blowing his breath cold with a mouthful of Ice blended Mocha into me …

We were then settled onto a table … a table that looked so evil as if we’re being judged … and weighted of our sins. How slowly should I die under the cleaver of the blood sucking bridal house ? How should the succubus they hired which hailed the name BHA (Bridal House Attendants), suck our blood dry ? It was a terror of unimaginable fuck lollipopsicle (i’m trying to make the sentence sound real enigmatic, complex and hard to understand..)

It was then, out of my sheer terror, I took the courage to ask my first question :

Me : “… may I ask you … why are we here today ?”

BHA : “What ? You don’t know why you’re here ?”

Emily : [glowers at me...]

Me : “Err … not really. I was dragged here actually.”

BHA : “Aww.. how could you forget… you’re here because we wanted to show you those Super VIP clothes .. remember ?”

Me : [stress veins start popping up on my temple..while I repeatedly swallow my saliva and gunk alike]

Emily : “What ? Memory loss aa ?”

To which, both the species crossfired me all direction with their gaze of blame and prosecution. I was PYT-ed (pei yan tiu). Was then towed like a lifeless rag doll up onto the Super VIP room … where I was ravaged of my sanity and tormented of my soul.

I was then shown something beautiful, something that would make me feel euphoric all about it….Then to unconsciously sign all pacts and agreements to rob of all my belongings just to be able to own that piece of short-lived happiness that was to be freeze into a small expensive gloss book on June 10th. It was as if I’ve been drugged out of my conscious mind. Oh goddamn it.

Now, the price tag of the piece of “frozen moment of youth” stands menacingly at 3 grands. I don’t know how deep am I gonna fall into this chasm full of blood sucking leech … but I know, it will be over soon. May the force be with me.

Had been very busy as of late. Why ? Because I now fucking work as 3 different functions. That spelled as “pretty bad” if you do not have an idea what’s the magnitude of the seriousness I’m trying to depict here.

It’s almost like working as a prostitute — having sex with old farts … while giving off blowjobs to nerds … and driving a taxi around town — ALL AT THE SAME TIME ! Only that, my job does not involve sex, fellatio and driving. It’s almost as bad as that.

So, why am I still blogging in the office if I’m so busy as per claimed ? Well, it’s because I’m fucking exhausted and needed a break. The only way to relax without arousing suspicion that I am shirking … is to look serious in front of my PC. That’s exactly what I’m doing now … I tried to blog. I looked quite serious when I blog …

The guys would probably think that I must be typing somekind of a very techical report now … to hammer my keyboard away so rhythmically … Never had they thought that I could be doing something so trivial right now … muahahahh … Will blog more at home tonight.

Someone dragged me to watch that movie “The Day After Tomorrow” after my trip back from KL yesterday.

Maybe I was too freakin’ tired or something but, THE MOVIE SUX ! Don’t watch this fucking movie ! Avoid it at all cost ! Not worth a DVD .. or even pirated camcorder recorded VCD.

The story : It’s about a scientist who has a theory about some global warming shit that won’t be happening for another 10,000 years or so. Apparently, he was jinxed, and it happened right after he presented his theory.

Then when everyone gets panic and started to call him up … he decide to get panic as well… and instead of worrying about anything else, he started to worry about his son who happened to be in New York (who’s after a girl he likes). The story then follows the scientists to walk from an end of a continent to the other in a few days … looking for his son who’s trapped in a library (who isn’t actually trapped at all). And after he found his son, the fucking storm ended … and before u realized if it actually makes sense, the movie ended…. abruptly.

It’s a damn ludicrous movie .. i tell you. It’s worst than that movie “Secret Window”. In this movie, no one on planet earth could actually do something about the hefty weather change … not even god i reckoned. So, basically, those guys are just running around trying to look smart with a stupid plot.

Just … don’t watch it. You’ll fucking regret.

I finally knew how wearing a thong (G-string some may call it ..) felt like. An unintentional discovery.

You see, I was wearing this worn out underwear of mine yesterday - u know, the type where it’s latex had lost it’s elasticity… and was loose at basically almost all the 3 sides. Particularly the part where it’s suppose to hug my balls, gooch (got to watch Jackass to learn this word), and my ass.

The thing’s so loose, that it almost felt like wearing a boxer short, minus the length. Can’t deny that wearing a worn out underwear always felt better and comfortable than wearing a new one. And that’s probably the reason why I’m still pretty much reluctant to throw it away.

Alright, I was wearing a fitting khaki to work yesterday and somehow, I didn’t realize that a fitting trouser with a worn out underwear would always be a bad combination. And I found out soon as the day progresses.

By noon, when I was about to go out for my lunch, I somehow felt something wasn’t right about my butt. It felt .. awkward. As if it’s naked and I felt uncomfortable with it. So, I cop a feel my own butt to check out what’s wrong with it … Then lo and behold ! I could not find my underwear ! My butt cheek’s practically naked and exposed … obscured with just only my pants.

Can’t decipher what’s going on, I scurried to the toilet to check if it’s really there. A quick check by unzipping my pants to see if the sleeping giant would directly fall out dangling like an *oliphaunt trunk. Much to my relief, it did not. It’s safely parked inside … that means, my underwear’s still there. Somehow, the hind section of the underwear had settled into my butt crack like a thong … and exposed the full moon in the middle of the day.

So, what actually happened ? Explanation: the elastic strip was suppose suppress enough force to stretch the underwear’s coverage diagonally across my butt cheek …and forms the “V” shape on it. When the thing lost it’s elasticity, that means, it’ll have no retention force at all around my butt ..just like a piece of loin cloth. So, when I move around a lot, the freeplay section will actually slip across the round surface of my ass (plus friction from the fitting khaki surface) … forcing it to settle into crevice of the 2 ass cheeks — forming a virtual G-string/thong effect. That’s how it happened.

Do I like it ? Not a bit. It felt as if I’m wearing a loin cloth with a holim in front — just like those savages deep inside the Amazonian jungle. Plus, I don’t feel comfortable with something stuck inside my ass … u know .. covering the orifice and all that. It will probably distort the sound of my fart and causes some paranoid reaction from the public that there’s something wrong with my ass — which is not true.

Don’t understand why the girls like to wear thongs so fucking much. They can actually choose to wear some see thru lingerie … if they wanted to look sexy .. u know. After all, it’s gonna be off the body when it comes to humping. And I also reckoned that it’ll be quite difficult to wash off the stains on ‘the string’ that had settled on an asshole for the whole day …

*oliphaunt = the mutated jumbo size elephant featured in Lord Of the Rings : ROTK. Note that it is much bigger .. and had a longer trunk. Eheheh..

Emily & I did something remarkably important and meaningful last night. No .. we did not have sex on my boss’ office desk and squirt slops of recycled semen on it.

We went to get mugged our wedding photos taken. Well, not exactly a photo taking session yet but, yesterday was the day we went to choose what to wear for the real photo taking ordeal event next month.

History: Both Emily and I had registered ourselves as each other’s sex slave 2 years ago .. and we did not intend to make our marriage a grand one … like having a banquet and getting ourselves exhausted organizing an ego flaunting dinner. We plan to have it our way and to hell with all the traditions. Just registration .. and a meager budgeted wedding photo — the latter which have been delayed until yesterday.

Alright, since I’m a very nice guy, I decided to share my experience out in my blog, so that those who have yet to go through this kind of thing … know what to expect when the time comes for themselves.

1830 hours : appointment time due at 1900 hours. I was still on the phone with someone at work. Emily is getting nervous.

1845 hours : I finally managed head my way to bridal house after phone call.

1900 hours : Emily’s mood turned sour when she found out we will be late. She cursed at anything that came in our car’s way .. .including innocent cats, dogs and Kancil drivers.

1935 hours : Finally arrived at bridal house. Bridal house attendants (BHA) looked like a bunch of cash deprived werewolves waiting to mug someone .. and innocent me walked into their den ….and had my destiny changed forever…

1945 - 2100 hours : The BHAs started to dress Emily up with heaps of bridal gowns, dresses and other flowery paraphernalia’s that makes her looked like an entirely different person. As for myself, I’m suppose to sit by the side and give shitass opinions about each dress she’s in. Had a good time ridiculing some of the odd looking dresses - eg: “wahaggghhh !! You looked like a Fabuloso container on that dress ! It’s going to spoil the films and blind the photographer !!”

2100 - 2130 hours : The BHAs decided to mug me more (because I looked cute .. i reckoned) … & brought Emily to a VIP section that featured designer ranged dresses/gowns (which translates to EXTRA FEE if you want them..). Emily gleefully put on one that she likes and ended up choosing it. I instantly became a zombie right on the spot — turned gray, looked blank, emotionless, and started to murmur instead of talk. (only that I smelled better than a real zombie). BHA smirked cunningly when I turned into an undead.
The rest of the time (while Emily was changing) was spent on ogling other bloke’s bride and flirting with bridal house’ chick workers.

2135 hours : The mugging officially adjourned. But it was short-lived, as the BHAs arranged for another session this coming Sunday (I must be damn cute to trigger another appointment..) … and Emily signed up for it. Purpose ? MORE VIP dresses to come …. *tears seeps out from my eye pocket and shimmers like japanese anime girls

On one single night alone, I lost 2 over grands .. and more to come. If it wasn’t the girls, the boys would probably have opted for a simple Polaroid photo on a club scene background as the wedding photo instead of getting blood sucked by those BHAs. *poignantly shakes head in disbelief*

But then, as I thought deeply, for 2 grands (and more to come) … it’s well worth the suffering and tears …. to see one’s own life partner looking so effervescently beautiful and happy in her wedding dress …. freezing her most youthful smile on a glossy book ..and to preserve the proof of our love for many years to come. It’s even harder to believe that for 2 grands (and more to come)…. it can actually buy all that.