Rainsong's Birthday

Rainsong is dreading the fruit basket I have promised him for his birthday from our conversation about a week ago. Very rarely do I yield to a birthday boy or girl's polite request: Really, there is no need to get me a gift... . But for Rainsong, I shall make an exception.

And because Rainsong knows I'm no cheapskate, so my repute - as a pretty decent giver of gifts - isn't compromised. However, one might ask: Jael is strangely obliging, and why's that? Simply because:

1) Rainsong would feel bad if I 'trouble' myself to get him a gift.

2) Rainsong means what he says, and if he receives a gift from Jael, he'd probably do a research on the source of purchase; get the refund (highly doubtful) and return it to her.

3) Rainsong might not enjoy his birthday cake very much because he feels bad and in that, Jael would feel bad for the cake-giver.

4) Rainsong might see Jael as a liar from then on.

So, it is an arbitrary risk and probably not wise to wager her minty friend-status in exchange for something else; like, an unreliable person. But I tell myself, it is after all just a bloody fruit basket, probably very old fashioned but it is still a gift. Maybe I should remove the papayas since Rainsong might be allergic - for aesthetic reasons - to those heavy looking fruits, and throw in more peaches since he seems to like them; a matter of good taste on his part.

But, who would send a fruit basket as a birthday gift? I wanted to send a card, with my signature doodles but I'm not inspired to pick up the pen. However, this piece was inspired by Rainsong's 25th which is today. Don't be surprised, because you did inspire me to write this line that day on this thing called love: It's gonna be hot and you won't be given gloves for it.

Finally, to Rainsong, Happy Birthday. I kept my word, no gift, but how is this one?

Why _ needs a Jael Bag

The Jael bag tames loose notes into a back sewn pocket. The bag is resilient come rain or shine. Even an unexpected spill of cranberry juice, can be easily salvaged with simply soap and water and adequate airing time – no manhandling and it will be as good as new. It has several zipper compartments: Long ones and short ones, so that organizing of contents, both light and heavy are neatly stored. The fabric is moisture-wicking, environmental friendly and durable. So durable, it can withstand heavy load without giving way at its handles or bottom – the strength lies in its even stitching. The look and feel of a Jael bag is not easily duplicated thus creating a sense of scarcity. Resilience, authenticity and its hard to pigeonhole characteristics makes the Jael a valuable investment only the trained eye can see.

Friendships: The New Commodity

Rainsong* said to me that gullibility is the number one factor of innocence. So, hypothetically speaking, it is intrinsic to be duped, lied to, cheated on by people closest and dearest to you, for example, your friends.

Friends come and go - a timeless phrase and a cautious one. Some friends hang on a little longer while others pop by only when it is blue skies and sunny outside your porch - the fair weather friends. The porch has to be clean and dry before they decide to pop by with a thermos and look you up. If its a stormy day, or a humid one, they probably won't be seen hanging at your porch. They always check the weather report before deciding if they should pop by. So it is no surprise when you realised, your so called friends decided to single you out even on a fair weather day.

Perhaps the group is ballooning with new faces, and that particular car isn't able to accommodate more than five bottoms or your social status is close to zero - that kind of reasons. On their slick faces, everything is fine and dandy, light and gay, sweet and soothing. Singing praises to each another like little sparrows but really pooing on your heads when you aren't noticing.

These are often some of the most eloquent folks - highly articulate but empty hearted. It is mostly a feel-good session when they gather. Wordplay turns into merry singsong, and glides on to aphorisms dish out in spades and you don't really need them. They do it all the time, those. Singing praises for no reason.

How did they do it? Selfishness and self-gratification seems likely. Selfishness, for more room in a car. Self-gratification, for basking longer in the limelight, or simply the 'Look at me!' sort of thing. It is vital that he or she gets to trumpet a new catchphrase, so if you are more of an original sort of person, they might not like you very much. They picked leftovers from others and reinvented it to make it 'The New Cool'.

It is nauseating when fawning is overdone on a new friend - who is socially and financially enviable - because the poor sod is merely another ticket to the Rich and Famous Club for the rich and famous wannabes. Admirable goal. The newly initiated sod of a friend will be showered with love and attention - it is servitude on their part really. A quote from a book by Ambrose Bierce to go along nicely:

'If servitude is a high honour," the Gentleman said, "it would be indecent for me to seek it; and if obtained by my own exertion it would be no honour.'

A friend's alternate take on servitude: 'They sa ka (carry balls) all the time.'

Either takes, servitude or sa ka, isn't much of an honourable activity. However, it is a make or break situation for the sa ka folks. I say, grab the bull by the balls, be the master not the slave.

*S, a friend who is still in denial of his guitar chops.

Watch Out, It's A Dogface!

This one's dedicated to a good friend, affectionately known as my queen. I know she hates the royal status but it is how she will always be to me, queenly. And before the intended subject, I wish to make a proposal to the queen. Walk up to the office-Judas' cubicle or doghouse and say to her: Suck it up bitch. With a smile please; assertive but dignified. Before I continue, the queen will be read as a 'dogcatcher', purposeful and practical. She has a mission: To capture the bitch, literally, from her doghouse.

Words of comfort are useless at this point because when you have to get back at someone, you just have to - no qualm about it. The bitch in question - a half wit and probably four-legged - fed insidious misinformation to the boss on the dogcatcher. She probably crawled on fours to get to the boss before lunch (fast and cowardly, and its canine-height is quite tricky to notice because everyone in the office was too busy with work to care less about the dogface) before the dogcatcher could nail her down.

Watch for the bitch or dog face colleague among you. Who knows when you might be thrown to the dogs - or are you one yourself, dogface?

PS I'd love to smite that bitch down for ya - with gloves and thongs.

Conversation with Shammy: Deadly Neon Yellow Ballies

Coach was tall, very tanned - a chocolate man really - and he played a mean game of tennis. Coach was a man in his dignified fifties, gliding through his twilight years. He was also the officiated Terror of the school that I had attended during my blossoming years - bras and boys. But, like all classic tragedies, even a dignified disciplinarian like him had fallen at least once in their lifetime. A 'ballbusting' incident took centrestage on a certain court many years ago.

The old skool incident was reignited through a conversation with Shammy.

Shammy: ... how to prevent tennis elbow..

Me: hmmm.......

Me: erm, i don't remember... was on the team in sec days, but i dont remember now.. avid player?

Shammy: not really... baby bounces are my favourite... dun go vitch-smacking me on the ball ...else i'll cower..

Me: WAHAHAHAHHAHAA

Me: i hit on my coach's balls during practice once.. he squealed

Shammy: ouch! just like a bitch huh? lol

Me: and that incident became a sec-urban legend, spread like fire

Me: it was an accident

Me: we were practising our serves. and coach was on the other side of the court tossing the neon yellow ballies to us

Shammy: you must have hated him :-)

Me: i was too eager i guess

Me: nooooooo i don't hate him... or maybe a little bit

Shammy: you must have been really cute... lol

Me: but who knows? it was bingo just like that. easy does it.hahahahahaa

Shammy: little jael smashing her coach's balls...

Me: i stood where i stood after he got hit. i didn't know what to do LOL

Me: Everyone was aghast

Me: i thought i might had gotten detention. he was the discipline master. but it was smart of him not to because it would have given me more reasons to spread the news that he couldn't take the 'accident' like a man and abused his authority on a 14 year old...hahaha

Me: still, the legend circulated by assembly time.

Shammy: haha... damn it must have been cool..

Me: erm no... i didn't feel that way... but i was made secretary of the tennis club shortly after that incident. how strange hahahahahhaa

Shammy: i guess balls and balls turns him on...

Me: *covers eyes and laughs****

It was an accident that was more than a decade ago, however, the kodak moment of Coach succumbing to his knees was a painful one to indulge in. His hand went over the vulnerable spot protectively and he couldn't moved for a while. His prized Prince racket was abandoned by his side amidst the languorous neon yellow ballies and one of which was responsible for scoring a home run on Coach's 'diamond', so to speak. I should have picked up that nasty neon yellow ballie and kept it as a sort of memento.

Fraternally Yours

The brother. He prefers to exploit technology - MSN Instant Messenger - than to come round and talk with me face-to-face in my room; which separates but shares the same wall. He watches 'The Family Guy' like the stock market, religiously. He philosophies Peter Griffin's inane lines like Plato's dramatic dialogues, which is admirable because he remembers them by heart and recites them with conviction.

A few days ago, I did a little test on him, ever since I purchased a deck of tarot cards with Paris*, who insisted that only the ones with the best art work was worth putting your money on it. I took his advice. Occupational hazard I call it; he works in the design industry.

Apart from the Griffin school of thought, the brother almost considered tarot reading for a deeper insight when I cajoled him to take up my offer.

The brother's complaint via instant messenger to his sister on a typical work day. He began with a 'i'm-seriously-bored-outta-my-f***-wits' at work complaint:

Brother: im seriously bored outta my f*** wits at work
(There you have it)

Brother: i don't know why im just waiting for the clock to hit 6. i hardly get this feeling
(Don't everybody get that all the time? Imagining the clock plotting against us humans, by not moving? Oh, come on)

Me: hmm... maybe its time to move on. or seek for more challenges at work. talk to your supervisor
(The sort of dull advice from an older sister to her brother. I personally find it disgusting. I would probably say 'Just get the f*** out of there' sort of advice to friends. Maybe not too)

Me: i could do a tarot reading for you sometime
(Nice maneuver I say)

Brother: ..

Me: im serious

Me: its not magick or psychic shit. it just taps into your subconsciousness to give you a reflection on a current situation
(This much is true)

Me: the other side of the mirror where its not visible to the naked eye.
(This is to kick in the effect)

Brother: hmmm

Me: ive a personal deck. i'll be home tmrw
(Brimming with excitement under a cool typing facade)

Brother: ..

Brother: so i pay?

Me: no

Me: it is out of goodwill

Brother: hahahahahahahahahahaah
(Damn)

Very quickly, I browsed from memory and remembered this line from some random tarot websites.
Me: first, don't doubt. if not, the energies coming from you would affect the outcome of the cards
(Nice)

Brother: (Y)
(Can anyone tell me what this is exactly?)

Me: you need to concentrate on your question
(This line has always been 'traditional-tarot-speak')

Brother: hmm...

Me: of course, tarot reading cannot tell you a definite 'yes' or 'no' answer. it gives you an overall sense of a situation and what might occur or what could be affecting it. and some suggestions to achieve your goal
(Give me a break Jael, I heard some groaned. How phony did I just sound?)

Me: it gives you an outlook and its also up to your own interpretation. you want good answers then you'd better ask good questions. questions that you genuinely seek for an answer. it definitely can't tell you who the love of your life is la
(You sound like a champ, Jael. To lure the fish with my fat-tarot-worm, I desperately need a guinea pig to practice my reading)

Me: these are usually symbolic more than anything else.
(I am losing ground already)

Brother: ./.
(What the hell is this thing again?)

Me: ok

Brother: (Y)(Y)(Y) out of (Y)(Y)(Y)(Y)(Y)
(And this ...?)

Me: ...

Me: anyways, the deck will come home with me

And so I used the hard sell strategy, which was the highway to failure...

Me: 'The Next Door Tarot Reader'

Brother: ..

Me: or 'The adjacent room tarot reader'

Brother: ..

Brother: stop

Me: 'the just-enter-the-room tarot reader'
(The archetypal of a Sore loser)

Brother: stop

Until...

Brother: you psycho

Me: that hurts
(It did)

Brother: hahahahahahahahaahahaaa

Brother: sai-kuo
(It got cruel)

Me: see, the root of comedy: ridicule+sadness
(Trying to rationalise his mean streak; a balm to my open wound)

Brother: no. not true

Me: some truth

Brother: wee bit

Me: it is a golden deck, so to speak. the edges are trimmed in gold, so the entire deck look like a goldbar from most angles.
(I tried to channel my 'wound' onto my beautiful deck of cards and that's pathetic)

Me: i'll bring the goldbar back tmrw

Brother: ok.
(Hope floated)

Brother: superficial
(Hope sank)

Me: i think its gold leaf. definitely superficial.

Brother: very

Brother: who WOULD buy a deck of tarot @ 42 dollars?
(He insulted you too, Paris)

Me: it has to be superficial. a pretty sorta superficiality. the sort i could flash around doing readings for friends and not worry about its safety.

Brother: ...

Me: btw, it is also called The Golden Tarot. theres nothing subtle about this deck.
(Indignant still, by his faultfinding)

Brother: ok

Brother: arghhh!!!! wtf the clock isnt moving!!!
(Bad karma. It should teach you not to be impertinent to your sister)

I went home with the Golden Deck and he did not patronise my 'stall' - my sister did. Peter Griffin for him then. Tarot reading anyone?

Paris* A, a decade old dear friend, who is always gracious to my many requests and a patient listener.

I just found out that this --> (Y) and this --> ./. means 'ass' and 'balls', courtesy of my brother's eloquent way of cussing his sister on cyberspace. I was given 9 asses and a pair of nuts, just so you know. The readers were probably laughing at Jael's slow-wittedness to notice the math.

Implode

Jael might implode. The left side of her temple is gnawing and tugging the inner head-works. She decides not to move from her table. She thinks, one more time of _, she might well have imploded and her new form would be like, red wet bits of snow falling down and staining the floor. And there will be nothing more to feel. Perfect.

Hello, Dreamboat!

I had dinner with a dreamboat last night; he was late again. I didn't give him a hard time for his multiple tardiness. I suspect he was growing quite fond of doing it - intentionally or not, jams of a traffic nature or dog poo to clear. No matter, I'll grant the dreamboat that.

His arrival at C elicited varied female (muted) responses. The blatant once-over to, the good/bad girl combo: Brushing away an invisible strand of hair whilst drinking in the view. And what a view. Right, Tony? Did I just say his name? Sorry Tony, I didn't mean to.

At this point, the reader might be asking: Why did Jael hook up with a dreamboat for dinner and not her beloved? Her beloved was still at work so, Jael thought the best way to spend time on a lonely evening was to dine with a dreamboat, dim lights and the like.

Maybe not. Dreamboat needed to pass an item to me, that was all.

He wasn't perturbed by the attention yet. The predominantly glacial gait, he stood and moved like an Ice-god. Glistening jet black hair (I don't know how he can always keep it that way) and characteristically dishevelled. Let's not even start with the skin.

Dreamboat apologized.

Dreamboat: 'Sorry, I'm late... you always have to wait for me... ' (Smiled a tad self-consciously)

It was a mere 5 minutes, don't sweat it. I believe he blushed.

A wait person handed a menu to us. Dreamboat passed the menu to me, and proceeded to work his charms - to get a second menu - from the table next to ours. A table of girls, they were not very good at their espionage network: An expectant hush.

Dreamboat turned to the girl seated nearest to him.

Dreamboat: 'Excuse me, may I borrow the menu?' (Gestured at neglected menu near Girl's elbow)

Girl reacted a second slow, for obvious reason. She somehow regained composure.

Girl: '... ...' (Mouth slightly agape, wide-eyed, indicating unexpectedness of dreamboat's approach)

Her composure didn't hold out long enough.

Dreamboat: 'The menu? May I borrow it?'

Girl: 'Huh, I'm sorry... ?'

The bloody menu girl, the menu. I empathised with the Girl.

Dreamboat: 'Er, the menu... ?' (Mild incredulity swept his facial expression)

The Girl continued, one last time (huh?), her futility to comprehend dreamboat's request. I couldn't bear to watch one second longer.

Dreamboat: 'The M E N U?' (Very patiently. Bravo to that)

Girl: 'Oh, the menu!'

Hallelujah. I thought I heard the birds sang.

Me: 'You must have electrified her.'

Dreamboat smiled. The smile that said what-just-happened?

More Girls eyed dreamboat before their gazes stopped by to give me the Dirty look.

Me: 'Did you also notice the girls on theee other side of our table, checking you out?'

Sacrilegious.

Dreamboat: 'Yea... I noticed.' (Awkward smile)

I highlighted to him, how I must be seen as, an annoying linchpin of the Girls' dreamboat in the dim lit room.

Dreamboat: 'So... should I buy you a drink now?' (Clearly, he was amused by my highlight and immuned to my 'predicament')

And more spiteful stares? I really did not think so, Tony. His idea to make me feel better, or to feel less intimidated by the Girls, I wasn't sure.

So, I declined, because that unintended overture would had been wasted on me just to ward off catty stares.

It didn't help that dreamboat also picked fries off my plate. The Girls were on their best behaviour amidst the now-you-see-it-now-you-don't catty stares, aimed at the girl with the dreamboat.

PS You-know-I-already-know you are so gonna kill me.

Ignorance Is No Substitute For Stupidity

A little line excerpted from BBC News Online on our revered paper:

The Straits Times website described Mr Jeyaretnam as "pugnacious", an "old warhorse" and "irrelevant".

Irreverent more like it, The Straits Times.