Archive for the ‘2-of-us’ Category

June 17, 2004

one fine saturday morning

My relationship with Emily has always been a fun-going one. We always call each other names… and always play pranks to each other. It has always been like this ever since I met her 9 years ago.

There was one particular mischief that I always liked to do around her – was that whenever I am outside her apartment (back to the days when we weren’t living together), I would hide myself and then call out like a cat in a falsetto voice instead of knocking. Whenever Emily hears that, she would then hop out happily to greet me with a hug and we’ll have passionate sex right at the entrance… Alright, I made that having sex part out. But you get the idea.

Of course, I had to make sure that she is alone before I fucking do that. To be caught in an act like this would be catastrophically embarrassing. It is a very private kind of thing that you do not want people to know. Never been caught doing that… except that one fine Saturday morning.

On that fine Saturday morning, as usual, I had an appointment with Emily… and I was suppose to go up to her apartment to meet her. I called her on the previous night, and learned from her that there would be no one around her apartment that morning. So, my plan was set – I’m gonna purr at her as usual… and we’ll hug and do cool stuff that lovers do. Like squeezing zits and removing gray hairs… (hey, what the fuck were you guys thinking?)

Once I was there, I tip-toed myself around the corridor towards her apartment, like a very stealthy ninja. My objective was not to assassinate anyone or anything, but to ensure my presence go unnoticed… and I’m gonna go ‘meow-meow’ at Emily. I took a peek from the corner of her unclosed main door from outside — learned that she was not in the living room. I could see that her room door was half open, and I was sure she would hear my feline call. I then opened up my mouth, and purred like a fool, the most affectionate call of the cat ever — meow-meow — in my most impersonation of a delicate voice ever (that I reckon could make a gay cat cry)

A short pause, then I took another peek to see if Emily heard my call. She was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear some friction against the floor of someone moving… but obviously not a sound of someone walking. WTF – I thought. She probably didn’t hear me, and so, I gave another call. Meow-meow… and hid myself again.

I heard some movement after that, and took another peek. But before I could see anything, I was blinded by a sudden flash of an object. Something that appeared right in front of me (at the entrance) when I was peeking out. It was Emily’s sister – checking out some weird noises that she apparently heard. There were approximately 3 – 4 seconds of stunned silence when we looked at each other in the eyes. I was frozen and she was dumbfucked. She was looking at me with an expression words cannot describe… the kind that tells me she’s ready to blast her spit and phlegm laughing out.

It was such a fucking embarrassment. If I were to be a real ninja, I bet I would have performed seppuku on myself right on the spot. I was uttering some profanities under my breath for that, but didn’t say a word. I was too fucking scared to even talk… and pointed inside – gesturing that I was looking for Emily… not her. And then, she gave out a smirk and called out loud for Emily … that “Michael is looking for you!”

The episode ends here… for everything went black and white from thereon. I told Emily the whole thing… and she laughed shitless like a hyena with a brain damage. For sure, if I have a mobile phone back then, this probably wouldn’t have happened. Goddamn.

*apparently, Emily’s sister filed for an emergency sick leave that day… and that was why she’s there…

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June 16, 2004


Last night, inside my car.

Emily : “Dear, promise me one thing. Drive carefully in Austin.” [I’ll be flying there for a business trip this weekend]

Me : “I’m always careful. Don’t worry, baby.”

Emily : “Refrain yourself from picking your nose or teeth. It will affect your concentration.”

Me : “Did you just say ‘don’t pick my nose or teeth’?”

Emily : “Yes. Don’t do that when you’re driving..”

Me : “Oh pleaseee… I’ve never done that sort of things before! What makes you say that?”

Emily : “Yes you did.”

Me : “No I didn’t. At least not when I’m driving! You’re sick!”

Emily : “Whatever”

Me : [picks my nose and flicks some micro-boogers at Emily] “You asked for it.”

Emily : “Eeeeek!!!” [responds with a smacking reflex at the same time]

Girls… they always misunderstand us guys.

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June 12, 2004

my wedding photo

June 10, the day I had my wedding photos taken at the bridal house…

9.20 am – arrives at bridal house. We’re 20 minutes late. Greeted by a blimp chick – who is our makeup artist… I forgot her name, but let’s just call her, Fifi. Quite a friendly girl she is.

9.25 am – Fifi starts to work on Emily’s face. She has a big black case with all her tools and brushes … and she dons an apron. I asked her if she’s preparing to clean some seriously clogged sewage pipe… she then laughs like snorting hog.

9.35 am – Emily tells me she forgot to bring her black panties to suit one of her black transparent night dress. I have to go back home to get it for her. I then tell Emily I won’t be back and bid her farewell. (I am just kidding, of course)

10.15 am – I return to the bridal house with the black panties. I couldn’t find Emily in the place. There is a chick sitting in front of our makeup counter though. Where could Emily be?

10.15 am – It turns out that the knockout chick sitting in front of our makeup counter IS EMILY. I vociferate at Fifi… “Is that my wife??” Fifi then tells me that she painted her face white with foundation and some other type of chemical, a pair of fake eyelashes and a few dozen cans of hairspray. Emily now resembles Kelly Hu from “The Scorpion King”. I then tell Fifi and the gang of blood sucking bridal house attendants — “Now… I am fully aware the harm that we men are exposed to… this is so fucking deceiving!!!”

10.30 am – Emily completed her makeup session. Fifi then asks me to sit in front of the makeup counter… which surprises me. “Me? I need to makeup as well?”. Fifi nods. Not wanting to upset Fifi, I reluctantly get myself to sit in front of the makeup counter. She then smears some transparent cream on my face and following conversation takes place…

Me : “What’s this ?”

Fifi : “Amp-puse”

Me : “Amp-puse? What does it do?”

Fifi : “Amp-puse makes the foundation stick better to your skin …”

Me : “What’s a foundation?”

Fifi : “The powder that makes your face fairer…”

Me : “Why do I need to make my face fairer?”

Fifi : “To look better in the pictures …”

Me : “Do I need to wear a skirt? Shave my armpit? Bra?”

10.35 am – Fifi takes out a sponge and starts to pad the so-called foundation onto my face. It feels weird. And the sponge stinks. Imagine the same sponge that has been used to pad countless of faces of soon-to-be housewives… a perfect sanctuary / breeding place of bacteria and parasites… It reeks like an unwashed sock that could literally kill a full grown leper skunk.

10.40 am – Fifi asks if I want to spray some dye onto my hair. I vehemently declined. I tell her that dyeing one’s hair is immoral and is an insult to a guy’s decency. I quote the adjective of being – Ah Beng. Right at the time, there is a guy next to me having his hair dyed (some shit brown color) and he isn’t very happy about what I said.

10.45 am – Finally get to meet the photographer – which is a young lass. Not very good looking but, she walks like a model. Then, there is this tomboy female assistant of hers who resembles David Finch in many ways. And Finch is the one that will be helping me to put on my tie and shits like that. I then discuss with the photographer about the kind of poses we wanted. I give her a few key words – “simple, natural and yet elegant”.

10.50 am – In the studio. The place is very stuffy and warm. I start to sweat like mad. Finch says she’ll help me to wipe the sweat. How I wish that she is hot with big tits.

Alright, for the entire day (until 7pm), both myself and Emily was made to act in front of the camera like a puppet. It wasn’t pleasant at all. The studio was really warm and stuffy… and poor Finch had to wipe my sweat as if I was a leaking roof.

Upon completion of the photography session, I brought Emily out for a great dinner to celebrate… and when we reached home, I had to immediately clean off the excessive mousse and hairspray from my head. Feeling really exhausted, I fell asleep after stumbling out from the bathroom… and never regained consciousness until the next morning.

That was my day at the bridal house.

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May 31, 2004


Yesterday, as I pulled Lorraine into the bridal house car park, cold sweat trickled down my forehead. I had just awakened from my deep afternoon sleep – and was dragged into making this trip to the slaughterhouse – still in the state of regaining my composure from the tired weekend. Still feeling a bit woozy, I slopped across the car park with Emily towards the door made of tempered glass. A feeling of unsureness hovered above me as I inched towards the foyer of the establishment.

Then a blond 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 to bless the butcher of a safe slaughter job. The chant sent a chill down to my spine, as if Death itself was blowing his cold breath with a mouthful of Ice blended Mocha into me …

We were then settled in a table… a table that looked like a giant chopper board to prevent the money sucking cleaver from getting blunt. How slowly should I die under the blade that day? How would the succubus they hired that 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 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?”

One of the succubus there then answered

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 dresses… remember?”

Me : [stress veins start to pop up on my temple… as I repeatedly swallow my saliva and gunk alike]

Emily : “What? Memory loss aa?”

Then, both the species fired me from all direction with their gaze of blame and prosecution. I was PYT-ed (pei yan tiu). I was then dragged like a lifeless rag doll up to the first floor into the Super VIP room… where I was ravaged of my sanity and tormented of my soul.

I was then shown something beautiful, something that made me felt out of this world… Then, I was mind tricked into signing all pacts and agreements to rob me of all my possessions just to be able to own that piece of short-lived happiness, that was to be freeze into a small expensive gloss album 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.

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May 26, 2004

last night

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 our wedding photos taken. Well, not exactly a photo taking session yet but, yesterday was the day for us to choose what to wear for the wedding photo, which will probably occur next month.

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

This was what happened yesterday,

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

1845 hours – I finally head my way to bridal house after the phone call.

1900 hours – Emily’s mood turns bad when she found out that we will be late. She starts to curse at anything in our car’s way… cars, drivers, pedestrians, stray cats, dogs, etc.

1935 hours – Finally arrives at bridal house. Bridal house attendants (BHA) resembled a bunch of cash deprived werewolves waiting to mug someone… and innocent me walks into their lar… and had my destiny changed forever…

1945 – 2100 hours – The BHAs starts to dress Emily up with various selections of bridal gowns, dresses and other flowery paraphernalia’s that makes her look like an entirely different person. As for myself, I’m suppose to sit by the side and give shit ass opinions about all the dresses. – eg: “wahaggghhh !! You looked like a Fabuloso container on that dress! It’s going to spoil the film and blind the photographer!!”

2100 – 2130 hours – The BHAs decides to mug me more by bringing Emily to a VIP section that features designer ranged dresses/gowns (which translates to EXTRA FEE, if you want them…). Emily gleefully put on one that she likes and ends up choosing it. I instantly turn into a zombie – livid, blank, emotionless, and moan instead of talk.

2135 hours – The mugging ceremony adjourns… but only for a short while, as the BHAs arrange for another session again this coming Sunday and Emily signs up for it. Reason? MORE VIP dresses to come… *tears seep out from my eye pockets and shimmer like Japanese anime school girls

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

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

(leave me alone, I am actually pacifying myself with ridiculous excuses)

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