She has it, I want it.

She has it, I want it.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Behind this innocent face, you'll find someone who is dastardly dirty-minded.

But despite all that, I am still considered lukewarm. -ish. Hmm..

So there I was, at my Rounding duty, standing at the staircase with Mel, both of us having the most severe case of the doldrums. Then, Julian came down the stairs, carrying a bag.

Me: Hey you!

Ju: Hey.

Me: And where're you headed with that bag?

Ju: *grins* this is my laptop. My WIFE.

Me: Haha.

Ju: Me and my wife cannot be separated.

Melissa: Eleh, if I pull that bag away from you, you'll already be separated.

Me: Haha.

Ju: We STILL can't be separated.

And so they went through the normal round of good-humoured bickering.

Then, Ju walked away, claiming ardently still that he and his wife can never be separated. Me and Mel stood against the metal railing and stared after him.

Me: I wonder how they have sex.

Mel: ...

Me: Nevermind.

A second later:

Me: Ewwww, that is so disgusting! xD

Mel: Tau tak pe!

Hahaha. We had quite a laugh. Sometimes, it's hard to pick away at my words. It just slides out, without me realising. And when I do realise, I ease into it, looking deadpan. Because since it's already out, no use acting as if nothing happened, eh?

I read Ruz's blog. That is so not fair, Ruz. I haven't even compiled my list. Come to think of it, it's rather embarrassing for me to actually list down prerequisites like that.

But heck, might as well plan out the checklist now, huh?



Man of My Dreams.


Is too much of a paragon to exist.

So, I suppose I'll lower the standards. Because after all, I want a man made of flesh and blood. And a raw sexual appeal.

This is clearly the result of reading one too many *cough*educational*cough* books.

Alrighty-o. He must:

• be taller than me. A must. A few centimetres would still be acceptable. Come to think of it, he must be tall enough so that when he places his arms over my shoulder, I can actually feel comfortable instead of feeling pressured to lean sideways to accommodate.

• be the talker between us two. It takes time for me to open up, and heck, if he doesn't speak, I'll start spouting the random things I am oh-so-famous for.

• be thick-skinned. Because sometimes the things I say are just so bloody embarrassing. Imagine if I said something outrageous in public. It's bad enough that I'd be wishing for the ground to swallow me up, but if he really started urging the ground to swallow me up, I'd pack him a whopper he'll never forget. And my sarcasm can sometimes bite bone-deep, so if he's thin-skinned, as opposed to thick-skinned, he'd cry foul within a few days and pack his bags and leave. Sadly.

• like to pat my butt. Hahahahahahahahahahahhahahaha. Oh my god, that just came out of nowhere.

• have better English than me. Because if he doesn't, I'd start driving him crazy with correcting his English every few seconds. And heck, if he had better English than me, I'd spend most of time involved in the somewhat childish game of one-upmanship. Of course, it might not be so good when I start consulting the dictionary every time he says a new word, or phrase, but he'll keep me learning, and I'll love him for that.

• be able to turn a deaf ear on my singing. Because occasionally, I'd get off-pitch, sing tonelessly, or sound horrendously dreadful. I'd even sing a particular verse over and over til he'd get sick of it. So yeah, an internal ear plug would be a prerequisite for my man.

• be understanding. And not afraid to touch *cough*. What I meant was that he's not afraid to show affection, la. What la you people.

• enjoy it when I massage him. If he doesn't, I'd smack his head off his oh-so-deliciously-broad shoulders. Nah, I'd enjoy massaging him. If I do it wrong, he must be able to gently (or humorously) tell me how he prefers it.

• at least offer to do the laundry. Eventhough he doesn't actually mean it.

• at least defeat my father in cooking.

Wait... wait just one minute. I have actually done this before. As an answer to a tag. Eeek. Why am I doing all this? You know what? Scratch all this: I am never getting married, so what's the point?

Once I sit down and really think about it, I have to really wonder what's the point of having a significant other. Sure, the mushy stuff is a plus, but... overall... don't you feel ... limited? No more flirting with anyone besides him? No more... affairs? Oh the horror!

But if I said this to Kye Li, she'd go: "No la."

Of course, she has Jun Ying. Eeh. I'm jealous, but I don't particularly want a significant other. It's the if-she-has-it-I-want-it syndrome.

And I used to think my brother is lousy because he had said syndrome.

Karma, you bitch.





Don't clip my wings;
How am I supposed to leave you?