tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44616256973758551862024-03-13T10:13:35.523-07:00The Last Happy Single GirlWhere you can commiserate and celebrate the fate of the number One.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.comBlogger125125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-9278951941595585422013-07-19T01:11:00.001-07:002013-07-19T01:13:07.541-07:00A Short Story About a Boy <div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHMJ_YWQEJsXZlfFBP2WGuZA6jhLLE70w8A9jXLCrfscpQxdP0kSYgF675E9rvlO865zMHZKekylEsEEwk4tudV2NAPZYgVSdvfTk4EsoGewIjM0wUaieDV0ohEPZHsTezF1z8ruf_CrY/s1600/page11_sidebar-olympic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHMJ_YWQEJsXZlfFBP2WGuZA6jhLLE70w8A9jXLCrfscpQxdP0kSYgF675E9rvlO865zMHZKekylEsEEwk4tudV2NAPZYgVSdvfTk4EsoGewIjM0wUaieDV0ohEPZHsTezF1z8ruf_CrY/s320/page11_sidebar-olympic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<h2 class="_5clb">
</h2>
<h2 class="_5clb">
About a Boy Who Is and Isn't</h2>
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<b><i>A short story about a boy and a girl...</i></b><br />
<br />
<br />
One
day, a boy came into a girl's life and funnily enough, it wasn't until
awhile later when all was still, that she realised that he was there at
all and that his presence, so quiet, had made such an impact that she
had inadvertently started to refurbish her entire universe to
accommodate him. It's funny...how the most unexpected thing or person
presents themselves to you and suddenly everything is different,
shifted...out of whack...but better.<br />
<br />
So many of us
romantics at heart grow up believing this beautiful person will come
along one day, see us, believe in us enough, love us and save us. So
many of us meet the person we think is THAT person. So many of us find
our happiness. The girl did. For awhile at least. He walked out of the
black and white, out of her imagination and landed on her doorstep. He
held so many perfect things in the palm of his hand that for awhile
there, she thought he held her universe too. So many of us find out
later that happiness was a bit of a sham and that you had been fooling
yourself into believing in it, so desperate were you to find it. 'Oh
well', thought the girl.<br />
<br />
You go through phases of
course...anger, desperation, grief, sadness until one day, quite
gradually, you find space between you and everything else. A own private
universe. But in that space, you find peace. And that peace is where
you start to find love and joy in so many other things. That happened to
the girl too. Space made her suddenly realise how much of it there is
out there, how much she was yet to grasp, to chase, to appreciate.<br />
<br />
So
the girl found herself meandering along her universe, appreciating
space, feeling at peace, when a boy presented himself to her. He was so
fundamentally different, so strange, and so ridiculous that
contemplating him was out of the question. He was opposite to everything
she had thought she was. An Opposite Boy.<br />
<br />
The girl
went on believing in the things she did. She thought surely by now, when
she was so at peace someone else would come along. Someone who fit.
Someone who was the same as the other but better. Subsequently, some who
fit the bill did come along and the girl was surprised at how easily
they materialised, these better boys.<br />
<br />
The Opposite Boy
however, hung around in the corners of the girl's universe. Everything
he was, was opposite. Light to her dark. Big to her small. Quiet to her
noise. Obtuse to her clarity. Brightness to her gloom. Ridiculousness to
her sensibility. Beautiful to her ugly.<br />
Every step she took to avoid him, he would take a step toward her.<br />
<br />
The
girl was so busy trying to figure this boy out that one day, quite
involuntarily, she woke up and instead of the lost boy, or those better
boys, or space, or peace, she was contemplating him. She would
contemplate him when she worked. She would contemplate him when she
dreamed. He confused everything that she thought made her up.<br />
<br />
Funnily
enough, he also made everything better. She started to laugh a lot
more. She started to see his light in her dark. Hearing his noise in her
peace made things exciting again. His ridiculousness brought humour to
her sensibilities. His beauty made her want to be better.<br />
<br />
Quite
unwittingly, the girl had started to change her universe. Quite
unwittingly, the Opposite Boy had saved her. Quite unwittingly, she was
happy.<br />
-----------<br />
<br />
<i>These days, I am quite
content being in love with a boy who lurks in the fringes of my universe
but really, has no business being there. Who he is or what or where or
how this will pan out...I really can't say. He is difficult to explain
even to myself. Hell, he is difficult to understand as it is. Why
though, the Whys I can explain. He makes me happy. The kind of happy
that doesn't need anything that you think you need to make you happy.
The kind of happy that makes your happiness infectious, allows you to
make other people happy, to want it for everyone else. The kind of happy
that makes you want to be better, stronger and consequently, I believe,
makes you love in the truest sense.</i><br />
<br />
<i>And for that alone...please, let this and us (the boy and the girl) be. </i><br />
<br />
------------END------------<br />
<br />
<br />happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-8507708338047739672011-11-03T01:45:00.000-07:002011-11-03T01:51:38.991-07:00How to be Happy (and Single)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.ampedasia.com/article_images/HumorWomen/humor-attraction-001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.ampedasia.com/article_images/HumorWomen/humor-attraction-001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I apologise...I have been rather intermittent in my blog posts. And no, it's not because I stopped being single. Or that I got caught by some buff Korean boy and disappeared. Very much the opposite. I am still very much the single girl. So fret not, I still have reason to continue this blog. Heehee.<br />
<br />
I wrote sometime back that maybe the reason I am a happy single is because I never set myself up with the expectation that I would NOT be single later in life. I also wrote that the secret to being single is to have an I-Bf (Imaginary Bf) which works, but only for those brave enough to admit to being nut-jobs :) <br />
<br />
But I've given it some thought. There IS a way to be happy and be alone. So here's how it has worked (in the past year or so) for me.<br />
<br />
<b>1) Love. </b><br />
Believe in it. Find it wherever you can. In your family, in your friends, in religion, in the things that make you up. If you start to understand what Love is, in the biggest sense of the word, then you will find that you are never really alone and that if it is in your life, in any form, you can't be unhappy. <br />
<br />
<b>2) Like what you do.</b><br />
It's simple. If you're sitting in an office hating every hour that goes by in a job you can't stand, evidently you'll be wishing twice as hard for someone to whisk you away to something, anything else to preoccupy yourself with. Find something you're good at, do it well, and you'll find it hard not to be satisfied.<br />
<br />
<b>3) Have faith.</b><br />
Everything will work out. You'll see. Believe that things will be ok. With or without a man. With or without a partner. Have some faith that you're good enough for you.<br />
<br />
<b>4) Go places. </b><br />
See the world. There's so much of it anyway. The more people you meet, the more amazing adventures you go on, the more stories you will tell. Witnessing how hard or wonderful it is the way others live will teach you that finding one true life partner may not be the answer to all things and that soulmates come in many shapes and sizes.<br />
<br />
<b>5) Fun, fun, fun.</b><br />
Above all, the real secret to being happy and single? Have a ton of FUN. Enjoy your life as it is. Don't regret, don't hesitate, go forth and enjoy yourself...Laugh. Whatever situation you may find yourself in, whatever heartbreak, get over it, laugh it off...if you're dancing your way through, someone just might dance with you.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-32405030079358596612011-07-27T02:58:00.000-07:002011-07-27T02:58:53.961-07:00How it's done in Seoul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.aroundseoul.com/images_est/071509000408main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://www.aroundseoul.com/images_est/071509000408main.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
So here's a baffling one...<br />
<br />
While partying in Seoul, what happens is some big buff not too ugleh dude (because most dudes in S.Korea aren't ugly anyway) comes up from behind, engulfs me in a big bear hug, gives me a pat on the head a few times and then off he goes. That's it. Not a word, not a dance, not a smile. Bear hug, pat on head, byebye.<br />
Mind you, Korean dudes are respectful enough not to let their fingers roam even when you are trapped in the clutches of their big buff milky white arms.<br />
<br />
Baffled, I asked a male Seoul-ite friend and apparently, that's how it's done. Bear hug to letcha know he's erm... THERE, pat on the head to letcha know he thinks you're cute and then that's it. Up to you to pick up on the game. Except I was in too much shock horror to respond in any appropriate fashion other than to shout "OMG WTF IS GOING ON?"<br />
<br />
Now I wonder, is this behaviour appropriate if done the other way round? If say, erm, someone I know might want to run up to a pretty boy and try engulfing him in a bearhug and pat his head? And if so, can we adopt it in less forward Asian shores?happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-6773893051165165782011-05-25T12:24:00.000-07:002011-05-25T12:24:52.863-07:00Template of a Love Letter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCvAbdD3maezHgxc1hdRCWqTkJ9YwYjNYdZ3PY6ebTdYOFg2l9PRR-2OzXd64UsbXwwkS1vS4weVbz3KMzcA5o_GDGsI2j25_87Dy8PZyG1YpkhsljHMDs5OQlRr7bcq0ptz3TmOmY_4/s1600/loveletters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCvAbdD3maezHgxc1hdRCWqTkJ9YwYjNYdZ3PY6ebTdYOFg2l9PRR-2OzXd64UsbXwwkS1vS4weVbz3KMzcA5o_GDGsI2j25_87Dy8PZyG1YpkhsljHMDs5OQlRr7bcq0ptz3TmOmY_4/s320/loveletters.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
For those of you who ever find yourselves at a loss .... here's a template where you can fill in the brackets yourselves. <br />
<br />
<b><i>Dear you,</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>Before, I didn't know you. I didn't know anything about you. I didn't know your face, your name, where you came from, what you did, who you were. </i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>I didn't know</i></b><br />
<b><i>The way you .... (walk, with slight misstep like a little boy)</i></b><br />
<b><i>Or that.... (silly face you pull when you stick your tongue out)</i></b><br />
<br />
<b><i>I hadn't memorised</i></b><br />
<b><i>your .... (fingers and the way they bend slightly backwards)</i></b><br />
<b><i>or your .... (spine and how it curves when you hunch over your late night work)</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>I hadn't counted on</i></b><br />
<b><i>the sound of .... (your voice - distinct, lilted, safe)</i></b><br />
<b><i>or the way you .... (wear your head - crazy hair, slight frown, preferably with hat)</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>It wasn't etched in my mind</i></b><br />
<b><i>your .... (silhouette, standing in the rain as you watch me leave)</i></b><br />
<b><i>or that .... (line on your cheek I like to trace)</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>There wasn't space for...</i></b><br />
<b><i>your .... (history - how it grounds you)</i></b><br />
<b><i>or the way you .... (place your hand on the small of my back)</i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>Before...I did not know you. </i></b><br />
<b><i><br />
</i></b><br />
<b><i>Not one thing about you.</i></b><br />
<b><i> </i></b><br />
<b><i>But now...here it is. I know all about you. </i></b><br />
<b><i>And my love, how wonderful...</i></b><br />
<i><b>That all I know now, is you. </b></i><br />
<i><br />
</i>happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-56756603329154714182011-04-19T20:22:00.000-07:002011-04-19T20:22:40.736-07:00Ode to the Good Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://dc-mrg.english.ucsb.edu/WarnerTeach/E192/Images/SW.market.girls.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="http://dc-mrg.english.ucsb.edu/WarnerTeach/E192/Images/SW.market.girls.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
It is becoming increasingly clear that good girls are hard to come by and sadly for the good girl, she gets dismissed even when she is ever present. I want to celebrate the good girl. The one you missed. The girl who is right in front of you but whom you simply look past. The one that you know is good for you but don't really want. The girl whom you think you're too good for. The girl whom you think is too good for you. I want to celebrate the girl who is more real than anyone else you know. The good girl.<br />
<br />
<i><b>*Dedicated to all the single, fabulous, good girls I know :) </b></i><br />
<br />
<b>WHY YOU SHOULD FIND A GOOD GIRL...</b><br />
<br />
>> <b>She is real.</b> The good girl doesn't seem to flit around a daydream. She is in your face, she is vocal, she isn't afraid to get her hands dirty. She doesn't have time to play up to a fantasy because she is here, she is now and she is present.<br />
<br />
>><b>She has heart</b>. What I mean is, she has a good heart. At the base of it all, the good girl cares more about things than she lets on. She wants to save the world and you to help her do it.It is not her that you need to save.<br />
>> <b>She is animated.</b> The girl you see isn't afraid of showing her feelings. She will tell you if she likes you or that she is sad or happy. The good girl feels and acts, sometimes on impulse but at least you will always know that she is a red-blooded, living, breathing person. <br />
<br />
>> <b>She is happy.</b> She likes to make the most out of life and she won't shy away from making a fool out of herself or to celebrate all the wonderful things that make her happy. She will laugh at life and she will make you laugh.<br />
<br />
>><b> She is strong</b>. Which is why most probably you never really gave her the time of day. The good girl will pick up the pieces not fall to pieces. We all know boys want girls they feel the need to save and unfortunately, the good girl doesn't need that because she's been too busy building a life not ruining one.<br />
<br />
>><b> She won't break your heart.</b> Chances are, it's the good girl who will be the one who will stand by you and fight your battles with you...loyal to the end. Chances are, she will be the one left behind when you decide to move on. And, chances are, she'll be the one with the broken heart.<br />
<br />
So give the good girl a chance, guys...They might be the best thing that could happen to you.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-23976147082834420342011-03-15T19:38:00.000-07:002011-03-15T19:38:25.320-07:00Reading and DatingRead a rather lovely post today, HERE:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://melodygodfred.com/2011/03/01/why-you-should-date-a-girl-who-reads/">Why You Should Date A Girl Who Reads </a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://hotfile.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/girl-reading-newspaper_mg_2542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://hotfile.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/girl-reading-newspaper_mg_2542.jpg" width="220" /></a></div>Which got me thinking about how we spend our time....when you're single and really have nothing better to do, it really comes down to two things doesn't it?<br />
<br />
Reading...<br />
<br />
and<br />
<br />
Dating.<br />
<br />
Lately, because I've been working so much (both mentally, emotionally, and for the most part physically) I haven't had time to do either. Which I suppose has led to the rather sad neglect of this blog. <br />
<br />
I used to be a girl who read. Really, I read a lot. At least 2 books a week! But now I can't even be bothered to pick up my juicy copy of Grazia (the best guilty pleasure EVER) and as for dates...nada. An FSG (Fellow Single Girl) said to me the other day, she can't remember the last time she'd been on a proper date. I thought back to the last time it was for myself...and I think I stopped trying to recall after it reached more than 1 year back. Which brings me to being roped into the horror of horrors that is <b>Speed Dating.</b> Yes, folks, I shall venture forth into the world of speed dating.<i><b> Please someone tell me if this is a good or bad idea. </b></i>I don't know. I'm scared. But also, I think it will be REALLY funny.<br />
<br />
And as for reading, is there a speed dating equivalent of reading? I'd really like to be considered a reader again...for want of nothing else, to get me back to being a girl people would want to date. Nyak nyak.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-82487656001268178222011-01-25T02:21:00.000-08:002011-01-25T02:21:07.172-08:00Why Virgins Are In<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpWWDLa1xDOXW97OjPIeFKv5lB5LI6MRpLc9swZIKGlGArk33QA4gSdZ4MXx6mmhyphenhyphen5btv42yIpdszf8tSrsCFObhqs5d08_UiVdfjFBNAoFoPE7SgWTf5wIPxOCLHD2e_ask6EAC6Pdo/s1600/taeyang09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpWWDLa1xDOXW97OjPIeFKv5lB5LI6MRpLc9swZIKGlGArk33QA4gSdZ4MXx6mmhyphenhyphen5btv42yIpdszf8tSrsCFObhqs5d08_UiVdfjFBNAoFoPE7SgWTf5wIPxOCLHD2e_ask6EAC6Pdo/s1600/taeyang09.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A virgin. No, REALLY.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
The lack of good specimens in our vicinity has started to grate on us Happy Single Girls. (in more ways than one, I'll have you know...hurhurhur) Which has set us on a path to look for greener, fresher, riper....pastures.Unfortunately we have come up short. Men in our vicinity are either taken or too dirty. It really has come down to those two categories. Taken or Too Dirty.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Men in our vicinity... and why they aren't options:</b></i><br />
<b>Specimen #1:</b> Cayenne Client<br />
Well he's sort of the right age, drives not one but TWO Porche Cayennes (kaching!), is well spoken and well dressed...<br />
<b>Verdict:</b> Too Dirty (he also happens to voice out his desire to see you dressed as a mermaid in very public very serious meetings and can't control himself if you wear a low cut top)<br />
<br />
<b>Speciment #2: </b>Nice Bone Structure<br />
He is lovely really. Nice guy, nice cheekbones, nice voice...nice nice. And cool too. Cool friends, cool style, cool house.<br />
<b>Verdict:</b> Taken ( by an equally nice girl with probably cooler friends and cooler clothes...*pout*)<br />
<br />
<b>Specimen #3: </b>Sport Supahstar <br />
Hot, sexy, young, makes a pretty decent living....Oh, and famous. Did I mention Hot, Sexy AND Famous?<br />
<b>Verdict:</b> Too Dirty (To be expected of a hot, sexy, famous and young boy I suppose. Too many skankyhobagalots where he's dipped his famous marker pen into) <br />
<br />
Which brings us to wish and hope for the one thing that isn't taken or dirty....<br />
The virgin.<br />
At least...with them...you're guaranteed some form of cleanliness and since the skankyhobagsalots haven't gotten to them yet, they are single and ripe for the picking.<br />
<br />
Need we say more?happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-68508293734378670962011-01-10T02:39:00.000-08:002011-01-10T02:43:16.863-08:00Year of the Number 1<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8mNXa3lfJb_h6cAyZ6RG4QjdAmCOgKT76Yq1rKGAiYAe9pzvUkvSJbbwwBVHyr_I0LTTyGvZrwSHyrVYohl5ar5tAyc-5VrtzzCTZflE9-2AEJjB9irHWCfEOoM7XcsCNfEIyGIkVNs/s1600/bbcyonps-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt8mNXa3lfJb_h6cAyZ6RG4QjdAmCOgKT76Yq1rKGAiYAe9pzvUkvSJbbwwBVHyr_I0LTTyGvZrwSHyrVYohl5ar5tAyc-5VrtzzCTZflE9-2AEJjB9irHWCfEOoM7XcsCNfEIyGIkVNs/s320/bbcyonps-10.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My I-Bf, TOP</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<b>Happy New Year folks! </b><br />
I declare 2011 officially as the Year of the Number 1. Singledom reigns this year and I for one am undaunted. I think I can safely say I have never been happier as a single and I have to say, this is all due to the fact I have found the secret to being so...well, damn happy.<br />
<br />
The answer folks is simple...an Imaginary Boyfriend. Yes yes...I found myself one. I always dreamed of Imaginary Husbands but an Imaginary Boyfriend is so much more fun. Husbands, albeit imaginary require some degree of commitment but I-Bfs require no such loyalty. You can have him for as long as you want, flit between his friends, marry him some days...dump him on others for other obsessions...Splendid arrangement really.<br />
<br />
<b>Why I Love My Imaginary Boyfriend (I-Bf) </b><br />
<br />
<b>>> He is handsome. </b><br />
(Obviously when choosing the I-Bf you probably want to go with someone who makes your mind go blank at the mere sight of his face.) My I-Bf has been declared the Hottest Man in Korea 2011, so we know his beauty is palpable. This also ensures that there is no shortage of his image in every imaginable pose being thrown at you on a nearly daily basis.<br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
<b>>> He is a superstar. </b><br />
This is the I-Bfs most important quality. He needs to be so famous that there are always people out there happy to document his every move and activity for your viewing pleasure. The more famous and stalked he is the better for me I say. It feels as if I'm REALLY part of his life because I know his schedule better than say I know my own.<br />
<br />
<b>>> He has cool friends. </b><br />
I'm lucky. My I-Bf has a bunch of friends just as famous or probably more famous than he is and all are just as pretty as he. It's important because should you tire of your I-Bf, here are his friends to distract you while you take your time out from your beloved. Sometimes, I cheat on my I-Bf with his best friends...It's okay. Having an I-Bf allows you to do that. He will never know.<br />
<br />
<b>>> He makes me laugh.</b><br />
My I-Bf genuinely makes me laugh. Sometimes I'd remember some stupid thing he said or did and literally start guffawing. I'm again, lucky. It just so happens that my I-Bfs sense of humour really appeals to me and that he seems to have turned into a comedian of late. Of course, if you choose an I-Bf who happens to be a professional comedian, even BETTER! <br />
<br />
<b>>> What he does makes me happy.</b><br />
He makes music that makes me happy. So you laugh, what happened to the indie girl who listened to proper, interesting music? Here's what I have to say...if it makes you feel like dancing, feel like a champ, feel like laughing, feel like having fun? It's good for you.<br />
<br />
<b>>> He is available on request. (And unavailable when you ask him to piss off)</b><br />
Probably the best thing about an I-Bf, really. Conjure him up when you need him most and forget about him when you've got better things to do. He doesn't complain. And you never have to put up with any of his negative traits. (except maybe his being TOO goodlooking and your having to read comments by hobagskankysluts who want to do rather unmentionable things to him).<br />
<br />
<b>>> My friends approve of him.</b><br />
Who wouldn't though? Some of my friends even indulge me as much as to have I-Bfs of their own who happen to be his friends. This takes the imaginary relationships to the next level because it's as if your lives are all interlinked. Friends with I-Bfs of their own is a kewl thing. Just make sure you don't have the same I-Bf (which can happen more often than not) as your besties. That can be sticky. Luckily, my friends and I have vastly different tastes. <br />
<br />
And there you have it. Why I am the happiest a single girl can be. It's quite simple. I highly recommend it.<br />
<br />
And no, I haven't lost my marbles. <br />
<br />
Ok, a bit. teehee.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-39071200944096304572010-12-10T07:27:00.000-08:002010-12-10T07:27:32.076-08:00Stories to consider<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://image.spreadshirt.com/image-server/image/composition/15891385/view/1/producttypecolor/94/type/png/width/378/height/378/chocolate-i-like-big-jugs-women-s-t-shirts_design.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://image.spreadshirt.com/image-server/image/composition/15891385/view/1/producttypecolor/94/type/png/width/378/height/378/chocolate-i-like-big-jugs-women-s-t-shirts_design.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
So I heard this story but it has to be told in the language I heard it in else some of its fantastic nuances...<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Overheard:</span></b><br />
<b>Random person</b>: So Dato', I heard you got a woman on the side.<br />
<b>Dato:</b> Ye ke? Siapa kata?<br />
<b>RP</b>: I knowla. You set her up with a place in London.<br />
<b>Dato':</b> Ah, tulah.<br />
<b>RP: </b>Who is she?<br />
<b>Dato:</b> Does it matter?<br />
<b>RP:</b> So how did you meet her?<br />
<b>Dato:</b> Jangan hebohkan ye, kat email!<br />
<b>RP</b>: You met her through email?<br />
<b>Dato: </b>Ya she emailed me. Said she interested in me.<br />
<b>RP:</b> So you started with her through that? How did you know what she was like?<br />
<b>Dato:</b> Kan internet boleh send gambar?<br />
<b>RP:</b> Oh so she sent you photos of herself.<br />
<b>Dato:</b> Ya ya. You wanna know why I started the affair?<br />
<b>RP: </b>Why?<br />
<b>Dato':</b> Kan she sent gambar...I tengok. Wah bes, Tektek BESAR!<br />
<br />
And there you have it folks...The reason men choose to have affairs. Mind you, this Dato's wife is a very classy, beautiful woman of substance. But obviously, not with a rack that can compete for her husband's attention....<br />
<br />
<i><b>Translations: </b></i><br />
<i>Dato': Malaysian term for a dignitary position</i><br />
<i>Ye ke, siapa kata? : Really? Who said?</i><br />
<i>Tulah: I see.</i><br />
<i>Jangan hebohkan: Don't spread it around</i><br />
<i>Gambar: Picture/Photo</i><br />
<i>Tengok: See/Saw</i><br />
<i>Wah bes, tektek BESAR: Wow, great! BIG TITS!</i>happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-3202827355818028542010-12-01T19:30:00.000-08:002010-12-01T19:35:48.097-08:00Erm..PS.Thought I'd just say....while I've been congratulating myself and posting about someone who finally makes me happy....the truth is, well, TECHNICALLY...I'm still very much, single.<br />
HAHAHA HOOHOO HEEHEE *maniacal laughter*<br />
<br />
I prefer to refer to myself as "Single but Taken"."Mentally Married". "Availably Unavailable"<br />
<br />
Although this may seem slightly insane, I assure you I am perfectly, if not a little kooky, sane.<br />
<br />
And although this may be a very strange way of finally attaining the impossible, I am actually still very much single and actually the happiest I have ever been as a single. <br />
Let's be honest, when I started this blog, I was pretty angry..incredulous really hence, the vent outlet. <br />
Later on, when I was sort of on my way to being alright, I started to get jealous of girls and went all insane (but funnily I might add) and ranted more.<br />
For the most part, this blog was meant to be an outlet for me and my friends (FSGs) to commiserate. <br />
<br />
Right now though, most of my FSGs are happily loved up (with nice real boys) while others are super busy and don't have time to lament their singledom.<br />
<br />
As for me, I'm very happily mentally married (to a real boy of course who just isn't physically here at the moment). A great state of mind to be in when you have great tasks at hand. Like for instance, making money.<br />
<br />
The truth is, my infatuations allow me to be so loved up that I no longer have it in me to even despair at my reality of singleness. Which is fine by me and fine by those closest to me. But what I don't understand is, why others can't be happy for me when I am so clearly, finally, the happiest a single girl this side of a blog can be?happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-25241904081782144442010-11-19T09:54:00.000-08:002010-11-19T09:54:53.231-08:00He Eats Chocolate Raisins<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4P5Bl13OjUNUe_dlhVZJ_yD-FWE9oq-72cSXF7HcF_vuijuO0KeT6l9wsKaEKYDptxpGu8grKbGc6zbfq3QKpoLEUgnvYARGCHT4G2wAece515B_QtF-0svJ_J14tKAtlcgeyLGuNyY/s1600/cadbury-chocolate-raisins-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4P5Bl13OjUNUe_dlhVZJ_yD-FWE9oq-72cSXF7HcF_vuijuO0KeT6l9wsKaEKYDptxpGu8grKbGc6zbfq3QKpoLEUgnvYARGCHT4G2wAece515B_QtF-0svJ_J14tKAtlcgeyLGuNyY/s320/cadbury-chocolate-raisins-1.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
I think I owe you guys an explanation. Apparently I complain a lot on my blog. Some disgruntled boy seems to think so since he took so much offense to my simply pointing out (in jest of course) that white boys are over. Oh well, basically, this blog IS a place to complain. If you don't complain, there's basically nothing to write about. I find usually the best things to laugh about are the situations that get your panties in a twist. If you're happy, clappy, then you aren't wry or sarky or all that interesting to read.Simple, really.<br />
<br />
So I've been neglecting my blog....And the only way I can explain it is, I guess is well, I don't have anything left to complain about....<br />
<br />
--------------------------------------------- <br />
<b>A Letter to the Imaginary On Finding The Perfect Man....</b><br />
<br />
<i>Dear You,</i><br />
<i><br />
</i> <br />
<i>I guess there never is a last letter that you write to the someone you've been pegging all your hopes, dreams and whatnots to since you could remember. So this isn't the last of course but it is a departure of sorts. I am writing to you, not to beg you or to lament the absence of you but rather, I write because I want to tell you how glad I am that you, for the time-being, do not need to exist. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i> <br />
<i>So what happened you ask? You see when I used to write to you, I lived in the fantasy that you may one day materialise into a real life boy. Someone whole and perfect and everything I had made you up to be. I needed to believe that you would save me from whatever it was that I was running from. I needed to believe that you would be there waiting for me. You just had to find me. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i> <br />
<i>But then one day while I was wallowing in self-pity at having come up short of finding anyone that lived up to you...out of nowhere, I found him. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i> <br />
<i>I found him, just like I thought I would between the black and white. He was standing, quite predictably on the ocean's edge. In him I have found someone who simply makes me want very much to be a better version of myself. In his very existence I have found an immense relief. He is real. He lives and breathes. He has a name. He even has a dog. His voice is his own. He even dreams...big gorgeous dreams of wonderful tangible things. Our worlds, although so very far apart, collide in some places. That very fact, that we collide even on the thinnest string of fate, rejoices me. This is a cliche of the most basic sort but since him, from here on out, I will never be the same. Since him, a part of me will always be whole.</i><br />
<br />
<i>And so I guess, I will have no longer have a need for a figment of my imagination to fill in that gap.</i>happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-73378984496579720172010-10-26T08:06:00.000-07:002010-10-26T08:06:12.133-07:00La La La LaSorry.<br />
This blog has been seriously neglected.<br />
I'll give you a few reasons...<br />
The first being....I've been in love. Yeah. Really. So you can't rant much about being single when you're so blissfully infatuated.<br />
The second being...I've had a break up. Yeah. Really. Same person I was in love with. Still am...<br />
The third being....well the third being....<br />
Fuck. Who cares?<br />
<br />
Here you go...my reason or rather reasons for neglecting this blog.<br />
<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://img208.imageshack.us/img208/1892/10rx3ui0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://img208.imageshack.us/img208/1892/10rx3ui0.jpg" width="242" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://static.allkpop.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/20100907_bigbang_top.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://static.allkpop.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/20100907_bigbang_top.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://ajshadowcat08.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/2jy0dh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://ajshadowcat08.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/2jy0dh.jpg" width="481" /></a></div>happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-28361617436186448312010-09-28T21:47:00.000-07:002010-09-28T21:48:31.114-07:00Why White Boys Are Over<b> It's official. White boys are over. </b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://progdes.com/blogs/media/elephant_phone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://progdes.com/blogs/media/elephant_phone.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
When you live in an Asian country. Surrounded by hot Asian chicks who are mostly gung-ho on bagging themselves some pasty dude, it's time to look for greener pastures. Thank God, I've never been one to shy away from some mixed flavas myself. Teehee.<br />
<br />
<b>Why White Boyz are over:</b><br />
<b>1) </b><b>Too pasty. </b>(unless they're blessed with skin that tans well and makes them into Golden demiGods...the only Lobsters I wanna deal with are the ones in yummeh seafood restaurants).<br />
<br />
<b>2) </b><b>Too douche-y.</b> (having sniffed around a bunch of wifebeater-wearing, no-lense bespectacled, Fabio-esque 'douchays' last weekend, I decided that douches become UBER-douches when they're surrounded by naive Asian chicks who think they could be the Yokos to the Douche-y 'Oh-Nos')<br />
<br />
<b>3) Too stiff. </b>(hurdehur. I mean, as in, white boys generally don't have smooth moves to go with the smooth grooves. I wouldn't go out dancing with a white boy unless of course, he's Wade Robson, Channing Tatum or Justin Timberlake...srsly now).<br />
<br />
<b>4) Too boring.</b> (generally white boys tend to get fun only when they're drunk or on drugs. What happened to getting high on life, boyz? Also emo white boys and their emo music...PFFT.Only so much you can take.)<br />
<br />
<b>5) Too weak.</b>(White boys in Asian countries? Weak. Can't eat hot curries. Can't smell a Durian. Can't take the boiling heat. Can't go to a squatting loo.Can't bribe the Popo. Can't whack back an angry Aunty...whiny whiny weak. Blech.)<br />
<br />
So yeah, white boys are OVER. To all you SPGs (Sarong Party Girls) who are still adamant to taste some Brachwurst in the land of Sushis and Chilli, I wish you well, I wish you luck. For me at least, I'm going to shy away from my 'roots' and sample the delights of the Fusion tables. AK AK. <br />
<br />
<i>Sidenote: Saying this, my Mental Husband it has to be said, is undeniably white. So I am a hypocrite of sorts. But then, my mental husband has trekked the North AND South pole, owns basically the world AND has a tan that makes his look like a demi-God. Oh, and he's funny too. So, basically the rules don't apply to him, because he's perfect. Except, maybe, for being white. Hoohoo. </i>happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-34165507095957012412010-09-16T23:19:00.000-07:002010-09-16T23:19:45.392-07:00Playa...Puhleasseee!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.ebaumsworld.com/picture/thirdimpact/DoucheBagmotivator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://media.ebaumsworld.com/picture/thirdimpact/DoucheBagmotivator.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Most men think we're stupid...or something. I mean, please give us *some* credit. We haven't lived this long, been through as much shit as we have, to be played by you (and in stupid ways too). Seriously. We are trains and not stations. We have places to be, things to do...we aren't your one stop joyride.<br />
<br />
A few things Playas need to regonizzzzeee:<br />
<br />
#1 >> Asking us to look at the moon at random times.<br />
<b><i>Playa, puhlease...</i></b>every guy who wants to come off as sensitive and soulful has asked a girl to look at the moon. And you know what playa, we seen da moon, we've checked da moon, and it's DA SAME every time yo!<br />
<br />
#2 >> Asking us to come over and listen to some music he made.<br />
<b><i>Playa, puhlease...</i></b>we know this implies lying on his bed and being really impressed by his musical gifts and fine, if he has real talent this works. However, if he makes music that sounds like whale sounds or if he sits around playing the bongos...we're gonna tell it like it is. Byebye.<br />
<br />
#3 >> After a night out when the mood is still high and you're not quite sure what next to do, he offers to come take you to a celebrity after party. <br />
<b><i>Playa, puhlease...</i></b>It's cool if you want to impress a girl with your popularity and connections but we also know that the *real* after party you mean, is the 'after party at my body'.<br />
<br />
#4 >> Pretend to be really concerned and try to help you get back the yoga lessons that you missed but already paid for.<br />
<b><i>Playa, puhlease...</i></b>We're all for you being cute and super helpful and the fact that you prob have a hot body from all that yoga....BUT, we also know that you trawl yoga centres looking for fuck buddies. SEEN! eww.<br />
<br />
#5 >> Tell you they feel intimidated by you because you're just so smart and they feel small around you.<br />
<b><i>Playa, puhlease...</i></b>If you want a girl to feel as if she's smarter and more awesome than you, don't put yourself down because it doesn't make you look soft and in need of saving. It just makes you look wimpy n sad. Also, let it be known, we KNOW we're awesome. 'Nuff said.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-27810913555613773712010-09-07T02:13:00.000-07:002010-09-07T02:30:38.120-07:00Bang 'EmOne morning, I woke up and decided to wipe my slate clean. That is to say, the proverbial man-slate...I decided to give it a good scrub. What happened was...I found THEM:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLbScC-wmRlCG5zt1If4ilnKtzAxOiYZ6dXHUGuAOwfJ2Lxqz-wMNwuN-g7vi1pyVil97jzmsxQchW1Ni-Nj9yneTVQIOpY5Aj_mENJpA0fcdXnK4-r6zeBRngWPTDazRc5wNzaN_ar0/s1600/normal_bigbang181280vb1co8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLbScC-wmRlCG5zt1If4ilnKtzAxOiYZ6dXHUGuAOwfJ2Lxqz-wMNwuN-g7vi1pyVil97jzmsxQchW1Ni-Nj9yneTVQIOpY5Aj_mENJpA0fcdXnK4-r6zeBRngWPTDazRc5wNzaN_ar0/s400/normal_bigbang181280vb1co8.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Ladies and gentlemen...<br />
Let me introduce...BIG BANG!<br />
I've lost it. Totally lost it. Lovely K-Bois will be the death of this single girl. Fohshure!! It's so nice to wake up and think of nothing but lovely stalkable K-bois tho. Heehee Hoohoo Haahaa. <br />
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<b>My preferences from Fav to Least Fav:</b><br />
1) TOP<br />
2) G-Dragon<br />
3) Taeyang<br />
4) Seungri<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div>5) Daesung (I've neglected to include a photo of him because a) for some reason Blogger won't let me put him below TOP which is a NONO, and b) he's not cute to me anyway) <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TOP!!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmx0eD9m2yDHtENq1p3abAILYFZrmwF49AKwO4xdZ-fgFlsXIuSYnhtoff63UAxlsAC7AjwISgvHR8aoCCmcu5tSBBOGIx5b3gHiGE_ZbrUDIu8pSiXzP5QuSSTDELlTvZxyMwQtq0y4/s1600/gdraaagon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggmx0eD9m2yDHtENq1p3abAILYFZrmwF49AKwO4xdZ-fgFlsXIuSYnhtoff63UAxlsAC7AjwISgvHR8aoCCmcu5tSBBOGIx5b3gHiGE_ZbrUDIu8pSiXzP5QuSSTDELlTvZxyMwQtq0y4/s320/gdraaagon.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">G-DRAGON!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq4-ObpBtGhw5PDZpIWDVCbVj80hVteWnyU4y6w_H10I-oQStIysrr3l-mBFetTy7IyicmJ9Eii0NdG1_B87WNcU4Z776HFY1x46P65Jmk0G5g1zTEkcOdeExBLM1cd51xqaNbU61LHFQ/s1600/Taeyang_Big_Bang__21072009110342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq4-ObpBtGhw5PDZpIWDVCbVj80hVteWnyU4y6w_H10I-oQStIysrr3l-mBFetTy7IyicmJ9Eii0NdG1_B87WNcU4Z776HFY1x46P65Jmk0G5g1zTEkcOdeExBLM1cd51xqaNbU61LHFQ/s320/Taeyang_Big_Bang__21072009110342.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TAEYANG!Holy body moly!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK5UzmS53EJ-hvV7oYMRd4nG7VBC8jychRmqCieZaa48EVdV6CgXg6INyusP7Jon0Mq3yNsw2n3O-g3fSJuc-1xaKBBQFrBtIiHAM_y-skNpxH6HkTJs2MxyDzRcR1Wu6duxap8Zr-gs4/s1600/baby_seungri_from_big_bang-200901071759092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK5UzmS53EJ-hvV7oYMRd4nG7VBC8jychRmqCieZaa48EVdV6CgXg6INyusP7Jon0Mq3yNsw2n3O-g3fSJuc-1xaKBBQFrBtIiHAM_y-skNpxH6HkTJs2MxyDzRcR1Wu6duxap8Zr-gs4/s320/baby_seungri_from_big_bang-200901071759092.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> SEUNGRI aka VI<br />
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</tbody></table>happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-46555646487372024212010-08-26T03:31:00.000-07:002010-08-26T20:31:31.427-07:00How I Failed At Being A Manic Pixie Dream Girl (MPDG)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://youritlist.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/20090810-zooey-deschanel-and-m-ward-she-and-him.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="http://youritlist.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/20090810-zooey-deschanel-and-m-ward-she-and-him.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I've been contemplating the <b>MPDG.</b> That's Manic Pixie Dream Girl to you. Who or what is she? Think Zooey Deschanel, think, Natalie Portman, think Holly Golightly. Yes folks, she's that crazy but seriously lovable, impossibly pretty breath of fresh air and bringer of light and hope to all those lovely Lost Boys.<br />
<br />
Read more about the <a href="http://www.eyeweekly.com/article/71567">MPDG ...HERE</a><br />
<br />
I've been thinking about her a lot. In fact, I've been thinking about her my whole life and I've figured that my whole life has led up to my failing at being the MPDG. <br />
<br />
<b>How I failed at becoming an MPDG...a step by step analysis:</b><br />
<br />
<b>STEP 1:</b> I was ugly. I didn't start off being this impossibly pretty thing (well actually I did, I was a really pretty child if I do say so myself) but then braces, bad eyesight and a butch haircut happened. Also, there was a brief period where I did actually look like an old Chinese/Bhutanese peasant lady complete with permed frizz, scarf wrapped around my face and really pale reddish skin. Not good to the ego and certainly not good to be made acutely aware of your ugliness when you are supposed to be an unaffectedly beautiful MPDG.<b> </b><br />
<br />
<b>STEP 2</b>: I got emo. When I sorted my 'petty pretty' troubles out (ie. straightened hair, learned the use of eye makeup & contact lenses), I decided to revamp myself into being a Grunge/Goth Chick and got all existential and emo and decided to stay indoors writing my own eulogies.<b> </b><br />
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<b>STEP 3:</b> I got too dreamy. I actually got really cool at one point and pretty much as close to a MPDG as I possibly could. I lived for nothing in a really cool really posh apartment with a big cat, I partied in all the cool places, I was quite artsy and frequented little record stores, went out with a DJ boy, I even had a cool hobby like writing poetry about people I saw on trains. Yeah! But...being so cool, I started to believe I was a MPDG a little bit TOO MUCH. To the point, I became so oblivious to the real world and decided that I was in fact a character in a film. In other words, the dream girl started to live IN the dream...not good.<br />
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<b>STEP 4:</b> I got busy. See, what happened was, I got a job. It was an impossibly cool one at that, but the thing about really cool jobs? You actually have to work to keep 'em. So I started to wake up from the dream and get practical. I didn't have much time to be flighty and carefree and was too tired to be manic.<br />
<br />
<b>STEP 5:</b> I met a boy. Then obviously, I had to meet the Dream Boy. Oh you know, that boy lost girls dream about. Tall, beardy, funny, rode a bicycle, read books and played the guitar. So I became the boring girl who had the Dream Boy breath life into my boring life. Figures.<br />
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<b>STEP 6:</b> I got angry. Yeah, MPDGs are happy, fun loving people. I on the other hand, wanted very much to put my fist through a wall at any given moment. MPDG + Anger management issues = Plain ol' crazy bitch.<b> </b><br />
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<b>STEP 7:</b> I got real. Decidedly, I sort of realised that I couldn't ever compete with an MPDG nor could I be one. So I decided that if I couldn't be any boy's dream girl, then I had to be my own dream girl. As in, I'd take steps to becoming the sort of girl I dreamt about becoming. And I realised that that girl, wasn't some flighty, manic ingenue...she was someone who wanted very much to do more with her life. A girl with a plan. A girl who actually helped the people that needed help... So I worked and am working on becoming that instead.<br />
<br />
And there you have it. How I failed at being the Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Failing though, made me realise I didn't want to be some sad writer boy's fantasy. I wanted to be my own dream girl. The girl who lives her OWN dreams, becomes somebody SHE wants to be.<br />
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So to all you fabulous women who have failed at being an MPDG or are in competition with one, don't you worry. You can be a dream girl. It just depends on whose dreams you want to live/be. And hey, being a Real Girl just means you've got more chances with REAL Men. Heehee. ;)happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-78593805737439694562010-08-14T12:31:00.000-07:002010-08-14T12:31:03.829-07:00Russian Doll Situations<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images1.fanpop.com/images/photos/1500000/Flight-of-the-Conchords-flight-of-the-conchords-1585108-780-502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="http://images1.fanpop.com/images/photos/1500000/Flight-of-the-Conchords-flight-of-the-conchords-1585108-780-502.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It's all very well to have an imaginary husband but you know, imaginary marriages do come with their own set of issues. Here are some of the issues that one encounters with an imaginary hubby.<br />
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>> People are always assuming that you are single.<br />
<br />
>> Setting aside actual time to spend with your husband and having to justify spending a Friday night in being antisocial.<br />
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>> You can't bite his buns.<br />
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>> Conversations with him make you look like a crazy person.<br />
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>> Imaginary distractions such as pale, blonde, 1000 year old sex on legs vampires and scandalous sexy indie band frontmen.<br />
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>> You don't get to spend much time with your imaginary children.<br />
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>> Rogue unicorns.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-62099299658854205082010-08-06T03:51:00.000-07:002010-08-06T12:22:01.144-07:00The Unicorn Under Your Bed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://adultleisure.com/gallery/albums/obscure/tranny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://adultleisure.com/gallery/albums/obscure/tranny.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I was reading a tranny's blog when I found myself suddenly in a flutter of panic. This 'tranny' (who isn't really a tranny but a real girl who, try as I might can't be convinced ISN'T one) was getting more action than I'd ever seen this side of the Old Mother Hubbard cupboard. <br />
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Pages and pages went on about her past relationships and her potential conquests and knowing that these aren't particular gnomes or trolls of men got me wondering, wow, what does this tranny have that I don't have...subsequently, I thought to myself, OMG, <i>Has it finally come to this? Am I, the last happy single girl, so desperate that I am in competition with a tranny?</i><br />
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To gather my wits about me, I started to make a list of why I am more awesome than this 'tranny'..Call it the <b>Perfect Girl List.</b> I suggest anyone who finds themselves feeling down and feeling jealous of either zit infested sluts, overweight hobags or well, ambiguous She-men, should make their own Perfect Girl list.<br />
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<b>Happsgirl's Perfect Girl List:</b><br />
<b>(<i>alternatively</i>: Reasons I Am Perfect and A Billion Zillion Times More Awesome Than A Tranny List)</b><br />
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1) People don't generally get a fright when they see my face.<br />
2) I have class. This is because I was not raised a hobag and I haven't been caught sucking someone's balls in the toilet of a really seedy club somewhere along a highway (a story that I KNOW is true for some). <br />
3) I am pretty smart and I don't pretend to be smart. I always own up when I don't know what the hell people are talking about.<br />
4) I know who I am. None of this I'm lost and need to be saved business unless of course, you're Eric Northman and you need to protect me from your big 'bad' sexy self. Teeheeheehee. <br />
5) Literatti Glitteratti.<br />
6) I can be quite funny. Like, some people have told me I can be TOO funny. Yah yah, like I can talk about farting quite a lot.<br />
7) I am happy. As in it takes quite little to make me laugh. Like, for instance, 'HERE'S A PUG!'...and I start laughing. See? Easy.<br />
8) I am not precious. I am perfectly capable of cleaning toilets and ironing my own clothes.I don't whine a lot. This is because I was raised by a mother who told me there is nothing tackier than a woman who doesn't wash her own underwear. <br />
9) I like what I do. My job inspires me and I like to think I inspire other people. I secretly also think my job validates me as being better than most people. HAHA.<br />
10) And this is very important, I am better than a 'tranny' because...I do not hide unicorns under my bed.<br />
<br />
<i>Disclaimer: This post is not intended to be derogatory to any real trans-gender women. The term 'tranny' here is simply being used as a derogatory term for women I have little respect for. I think real trans-gender women are a lot more awesome than the type of women I brand 'trannies' and for whom I originally intended this list for. </i>happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-5149283110387193382010-08-01T05:27:00.000-07:002010-08-01T05:27:24.379-07:00On Love.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoy5LwUeA-hJ4uir01BFLYA7I1KETJSRuhyphenhyphen9kT734IWzvp0oMjFZwaphJ_OD2fLry_DaddLOUg45QMPGpTXl7C-aCskVyJtPe48tJsOy6cgeO6Ey3MaZA-YYLZa5vyiLrjgePTem6_V8/s1600/love_is____by_bunnis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoy5LwUeA-hJ4uir01BFLYA7I1KETJSRuhyphenhyphen9kT734IWzvp0oMjFZwaphJ_OD2fLry_DaddLOUg45QMPGpTXl7C-aCskVyJtPe48tJsOy6cgeO6Ey3MaZA-YYLZa5vyiLrjgePTem6_V8/s320/love_is____by_bunnis.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Let me tell you something. Up until not so many years ago, I didn't know what Love was. I couldn't say I knew what it was because, I really wasn't sure. I had not felt it, and I was pretty sure I did not receive it. I didn't witness Love. I thought, maybe Love was just something that happened in fairytales. That Love which makes the world go round, where was it? WHAT was it? I didn't know.<br />
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Then one day, I experienced grief. The sort of grief that makes you feel as if you would give up your own life just to make sure someone else got to experience the stuff they missed out on. Grief that makes you realise how fragile your universe is and how much you were willing to give up in the place of someone else. Knowing just how much you're willing to give up was the first component of love I learnt.<br />
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Later on, I experienced loss. Not the kind of loss that makes you grieve but the kind of loss that makes you always search for something because you'll never feel quite complete again. When you lose something that made you feel complete, you realise that the thing that made you whole was also a component that made you love.<br />
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Later on still, I experienced disappointment and regret which led to disarray. Feeling as if your whole world is crumbling makes you hold on to the things that matter most. I realised from this, Love doesn't always have to apply to the things you thought it applied to. Love was bigger than that.<br />
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Recently, I experienced loss again. It is strange to lose someone you thought never loved you. Never figured in your life much. Was always thought of with resentment. Someone whom you were told you should love but whom you couldn't love because you didn't quite know how to. Someone you didn't know how to love because you weren't sure they even wanted your love.<br />
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Then one day, that person is gone. Just like that. And you go through the motions of trying to grieve, to mourn, cry a little but you can't because you're still unsure if you love or were loved at all. All there is, is space and you don't really know what to do with that space.<br />
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But then it hits you. When you're standing in a room of people who were never quite sure if they were ever loved by this one person and yet there they were, filling up the room and filling up the space, when you watch them mourn something they're not even sure about...it hits you.<br />
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It's about filling the sudden space that gets left behind. It is understanding, that after all the wrongs done unto you, that you're still here, and they aren't and that your life is yours and in order to leave something behind, you must be good and kind and grateful to those who make you up. You must Love. Because it is the only thing worthwhile that you can leave behind.<br />
<br />
And so I think, after all this, I finally found out what Love is. Love isn't about writing it down or saying it. Love isn't about expression. Love isn't even about feeling tingly or having people in your thoughts. Real Love, the Love that transcends everything else and makes your time on earth worthwhile, that Love...is a verb that fills up space.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-21775559825577355752010-07-28T19:51:00.000-07:002010-07-28T19:51:14.380-07:00On How It Was Supposed To Be & Thereafter<input autocomplete="off" id="post_form_id" name="post_form_id" type="hidden" value="5514718645026d2ef49f6d503c0027d7" /><br />
<div class="note_content text_align_ltr direction_ltr clearfix"> <div>Well, it's been freakin' 27 years and the way I reckon it should be hasn't happened. The way I thought it worked was, you grow up, you make friends and then one day, some really nice, decent, intelligent person bumps into you on a street and you realise that your whole life led up to him anyway. He'd get you, you'd get him, you'd have fun together, and one day, he'd ask you to marry him. </div><div> </div><div>You buy a house, you have children with him and your life would entail seeing your children grow up, making sure they become good people, having a laugh with him and growing old together. You'd start bickering and fighting of course, you'd even resent him sometimes and need your time outs from each other...you'd seek comfort in your work and your friends. But at the end of the day, you and he have built a home together, the two of you would be what your children see as 'home'. At the end of the day, you'd see him through to the end and so will he. That's how it's supposed to be. It's how I've been raised to believe it will be.<br />
<br />
You're supposed to have one big love. Well, at least, I am. And I'm supposed to have met him by now. It was in the plan. I was supposed to know when I met him.<br />
<br />
But then I met you. And you were kind and decent, smart, you made me laugh and, you were my friend. And I thought, this would be easy...if I knew, then you'd know too. We'd know that our lives led up to one another. We were supposed to fall in love. Have a laugh together. And one day, you would've married me and there was this bright beautiful future that we were supposed to have together. Yeah, that would've been nice.<br />
<br />
Anyway, you didn't love me back. You couldn't. Why? Your life didn't lead you up to me. It wasn't fated. It was simple. How I knew was that when you looked into my eyes, you looked past me. At someone else, who would be waiting for you. You didn't love me. It was simple and cruel of course. How could the person I was meant to be with not love me? I wasn't prepared for that. It was supposed to be easy.<br />
<br />
So what now? It's been awhile...I ran away when I knew fate had dealt me a cruel hand. My gripe is, I didn't even believe in The One. I thought there'd be a few...THREE at least! But since you, I've been waiting around. I've been waiting for someone whom my life really led up to. But yet another night of waiting around ensues and I've lost what little hope I had left in me to keep waiting. So I don't hope anymore. And I try not to be bitter because of you. I try to imagine you happy and I try to be the bigger person to be happy for you. And sometimes, when I hear or see you laugh, I genuinely can be happy for you.<br />
<br />
And to answer the question of how you get over the one person whom you thought would finally make you whole? Well, you don't really. You never really get over that person. But what you can do is move past them. There's a sort of joyous numb you feel when you wake up one day and they aren't the first thing you think about. It takes time of course, it takes other people too. People who act as distractions. People who make you happy in other ways. A pet maybe.A dog you love so unconditionally and irrevocably because she loves you unquestionably and makes you laugh again.<br />
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You work toward becoming the person you want to be. You travel and you watch the way the world works. You wish happiness on others. You live out of yourself because the person inside has been so sad it's best if you kept her away for awhile. But you live. You be free. You start to breath again. And after awhile, you're sort of okay.<br />
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But that's just me. I've stopped waiting. He will come if he's meant to come along...that next person. And if not, I think it's okay to be the way that I am. I am less whole, less hopeful, less of what I thought I would be, but I am also here. And that's something you know, that I'm still here.</div></div>happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-24857954087735275792010-07-15T06:20:00.000-07:002010-07-15T06:20:31.702-07:00Matchmaking the Mommy Way<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJIPCqYE2pAX94hkniUOC7VL-C0QITuX2eUneuIrPygszRZByP1inrOnnDg1EYCveWwaZZNW2yU3Z3EsW2s5WX-UEoVtmz7ewMZ-3DKUlSWLjxOZhzjgoDhNKRVQq30bWBmLiGb0sgdb4/s1600/matchamker--300x450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJIPCqYE2pAX94hkniUOC7VL-C0QITuX2eUneuIrPygszRZByP1inrOnnDg1EYCveWwaZZNW2yU3Z3EsW2s5WX-UEoVtmz7ewMZ-3DKUlSWLjxOZhzjgoDhNKRVQq30bWBmLiGb0sgdb4/s320/matchamker--300x450.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Desperate times call for desperate measures. In the news recently, I was alerted to a desperate mother who in an attempt to marry her single son off, has created a website especially to find a suitable mate for her beloved offspring.<br />
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Read about it <a href="http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/marry_my_boy_eUXJExeTb9LWLSQZsSEheN">HERE</a><br />
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All I can say is, Kudos to the dude for letting his Mom handle his singledom so amicably. It got me thinking about whether it's about time all of us go to Mummy dearest for a bit of help. If you think about it, mothers are probably the best people to help you out of your single situation.<br />
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Why we should consider Mama Mia to help us get hitched:<br />
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<b>1>>Moms know what's best for you even when you don't know it yourself.</b><br />
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</b><br />
<b>2>>Mothers are usually spot on and are hardly ever wrong.</b><br />
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</b><br />
<b>3>>Mothers know you inside out and can probably gauge the best person for you.</b><br />
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</b><br />
<b>4>> Moms are uncannily good judges of character.</b><br />
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</b><br />
<b>5>>Moms can tell the bad seeds to fuck off. </b><br />
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I read this true story about this man whose Mom wanted him to get married and asked him "So what kind of girl are you looking for?"...The man was watching TV and a popular actress was on screen, so he casually pointed at the TV and said "Someone like her would be good." So the Mom nodded and went off. A few days later, the Mom told the son, "I've set you up on a blind date, you must go." So the man went on the blind date and when he reached the restaurant, what did he find? The very same actress he'd pointed at sitting at the table. The Mom had actually set him up with the actress herself, not some chick who looked or acted like her. And what happened? He ended up proposing to the actress after just a couple of months of dating and they've been happily married for the last 15 years.<br />
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<b>Moral of the story:</b> When your Mom asks you what sort of partner you're looking for, make sure someone good is on TV.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-65083680820127453452010-07-06T00:55:00.000-07:002010-07-06T00:55:03.663-07:00Poh-Dah!I learned a new fantastic Indian term the other day while negotiating traffic with some fabulous Indian women...<br />
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<b><i>'Poh-dah!' </i> -</b> which basically means, 'WTF? GET LOST!'<br />
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It's such an awesome term. Especially...well, when men use THIS (see image below) to hit on you:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8q_lUIMSkeNEFOxfvVwoVRYAByrFnNnbd9CEPgwBwVbgHo2jn4rBScn1oe-nro5-yjO2EFT26hVlA9gtf0ivtGy9v_9qY3REGmxTHjVw_RxOijfidNQQDw9VNxezlKZdilDeLBj-e24/s1600/Image0548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz8q_lUIMSkeNEFOxfvVwoVRYAByrFnNnbd9CEPgwBwVbgHo2jn4rBScn1oe-nro5-yjO2EFT26hVlA9gtf0ivtGy9v_9qY3REGmxTHjVw_RxOijfidNQQDw9VNxezlKZdilDeLBj-e24/s400/Image0548.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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I've heard of creative pick ups but when you write<i> "Wanna go for a date, I am single, shy (so the note)....if so, if you're keen (phone number)"</i>...on a crumpled napkin, and then stand in front of your 'victim' while reciting your entire dating CV which includes the line "Do you like sweet things? Coz I'm a pastry chef"...it's time to say....<br />
You got it...<br />
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<i><b>Poh-Dah! </b></i>happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-32072410549638179092010-07-03T11:14:00.000-07:002010-07-03T11:22:00.548-07:00For the Desert Princess<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://weblogs.sun-sentinel.com/news/weather/hurricane/blog/desert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://weblogs.sun-sentinel.com/news/weather/hurricane/blog/desert.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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From today onwards, I will be losing yet another fellow single girl. There is need though, to rejoice this fact, for today, my very beautiful and brave friend will be getting married.<br />
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Although it kills me that I can't be there in person, I take comfort in the fact that at the very least I can dedicate a post to her.<br />
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For her I want to wish all the love and happiness in the world. I can think of no one better to deserve all this.<br />
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And I also want to say this to you, whoever or wherever you are, the reader...if you're single and losing hope, then it is very important that you know this...you should never stop believing that you deserve love. <br />
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Because here is one of my best friends, who is getting married not the first, but for the second time. If you asked me, it is because she never really stopped believing in the happiness that she deserved. She is not afraid of taking the leap...toward commitment, toward faith and toward love. For this, I stand in full admiration of her. <br />
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From her I have learnt that love is something that comes to you, only if you truly believe that you deserve it. From her I have also learnt that Love will come to you if you love yourself. My dear friend, who has seen me through my single years has always been the first person to encourage me toward looking for and accepting love. I am thankful I have, after all these sad attempts, someone who still believes so greatly that I deserve this great love that I don't always believe I will ever find. Through her finding it, perhaps, my faith grows.<br />
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So tonight, as this fabulous friend gets married (again!) I want to congratulate her for being so brave and for believing and teaching me to believe too. I wish her happiness, I wish her prosperity, I wish her passion, I wish her contentment and above all, I wish for her all the intense, great, insatiable love that she really, truly deserves.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-40011445038006271362010-06-30T02:40:00.000-07:002010-06-30T21:13:04.481-07:00A Tranny or a Queen to Quell Your Crush<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41rAn6%2BjpsL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41rAn6%2BjpsL.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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So ever since falling in love with the Perfect Man, I've completely neglected to blink or look at real men. This is not good. In an attempt to bring me out of the fantasy (whereby me and Perfect Man are married and sailing on the ocean) and back into reality (whereby the hottest man I've seen lately is on a Calvin Klein poster in a mall) I've decided to post a post to all the *real* and rather memorable crushes I've had in the past...<br />
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<b>1st Crush: </b>Bro's Friend (age: 13) (<i>as in my age when I had the crush)</i><br />
<b>Reason for crush:</b> He looked good in black and wire rimmed glasses. <br />
<b>Reasons for canceling crush: </b>He turned out to be gay. (The fact my 1st ever crush was gay should've pre-empted me for things to come) <br />
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<b>2nd Crush:</b> Ryan Kim (age: 17)<br />
<b>Reason for crush:</b> He was Korean and looked like he could grow up to be an architect.<br />
<b>Reasons for cancelling crush:</b> His head was too small for his body, he turned out to be err, stupid.<br />
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<b>3rd Crush:</b> Nishan (age:17)<br />
<b>Reason for crush:</b> He was hottest dude in college. His name was sexy. He had a really nice neck.<br />
<b>Reasons for cancelling crush:</b> He left college. I couldn't stalk him. Last I heard, he married a friend's cousin and he's gone fat.<br />
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<b>4th Crush: </b>Chris (age:18)<br />
<b>Reason for crush:</b> He had a nice voice. He had a nice face. He had a nice body. He had a nice everything. Plus he was nice to me. <br />
<b>Reasons for cancelling crush: </b>He had REALLY bad taste in women (ie. not fancying me and fancying a girl who apparently *leaked* oil from her arse(TRUE STORY! <true story="">), and I became hotter and cooler (TRUE STORY TOO). </true><br />
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<b>5th Crush: </b>Jamie Red Hair (age: 19)<br />
<b>Reason for crush: </b>He had a really really cool dye job. His hair was jet black with striking red at the tips. He also wore an army parka and read literature. He reminded me of a vampire. I was really into Buffy at that point.<br />
<b>Reasons for cancelling crush:</b> He disappeared. *POUT* One semester he was there, the next he wasn't. Maybe he *WAS* a vampire. :(<br />
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<b>6th Crush:</b> Mike USA (age:20)<br />
<b>Reason for crush:</b> In a sea of stiff Brit boys, here was a tanned Californian who snowboarded. Also, he loved the 20th century American writers. He also made me laugh on a bus ride. *SCORE*<br />
<b>Reasons for cancelling crush:</b> He went on to date an ugly looking hobag ho bitch. He went back to California and probably got some acne infested fat American girl pregnant. (I'm still bitter about this one, can u tell?)<br />
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<b>7th Crush: </b>Eddie Hall aka Paul Frank Beanie(age: 22)<br />
<b>Reason for crush: </b>He used to hang around outside my room window wearing a lot of Paul Frank clothing. I really like the Paul Frank brand. He was hot because he wore Paul Frank. He also looked and sounded aristocratic.<br />
<b>Reasons for cancelling crush: </b> Saw him snogging the HOBAGS OF THE CENTURY who was also my dorm neighbour. He also disappeared. <br />
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<b>8th Crush:</b> Ridic (age: 23)<br />
<b>Reason for crush:</b> He's a prince. He has a nice voice. He has *twat* factor.<br />
<b>Reason for cancelling crush:</b> Found out he was a certified asshole.<br />
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<b>Word of advice: </b>It is better to have a slut try and steal your crush than to have a tranny try and steal your crush. But worst of all is to have a slutty tranny get into competition with you. TRUE STORY.happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4461625697375855186.post-43677313431409789332010-06-21T09:55:00.000-07:002010-06-21T09:57:59.831-07:00Papa Don't Preach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/chrischee18/SPbWZHRxmUI/AAAAAAAAFgg/QgOsBQHxwQc/s1600/milo-kosong.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/chrischee18/SPbWZHRxmUI/AAAAAAAAFgg/QgOsBQHxwQc/s200/milo-kosong.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
So yesterday, in case you didn't know, was Father's Day. We were hit with a barrage of public service announcements on how we should go up to our Dads and thank him, for whatever it is he has done for us, for the sake of love and for being well, our fathers. Following that, I found many a disgruntled woman who decided that they didn't have much to be thankful for when it came to their Dads. It got me thinking, when it comes to our relationships or future relationships with men, are we all ruled by the relationship we have with that first man in our lives? Are our fathers the fore-bearers of all our man-related problems? And after all these years of wisdom and soul searching, I wonder, isn't it time we give Daddy a break?<br />
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I might be talking outta my arse here if you've ever had a father who's abused or mistreated or has never met you, but as for us who have fathers who didn't do any of the above I'd like to advocate that if we at any time decided that our singledom or our misguided relationships stemmed from our father-daughter relationships and blame our Dads for it, it's time for us to stop pointing fingers and try at least give our Dads a chance.<br />
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Okay, so I'm lucky enough to be one of those rare people whose parents are still together which means I see my father often and he is by all necessary means, a good Dad. Still, I'd be lying if I said that my father-daughter relationship has been a great one. I am part of the millions of women who grow up not really being able to talk to their father and vice versa. He is of the that era of men who don't seem to think that building a communicative relationship with their children is of much importance.<br />
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I have also been angry at my father for most of my life, albeit if you ask me, I can't really say why other than perhaps, he is a difficult man to 'handle'. My father is also not one of those men who bend backwards to the whims and fancies of their beloved daughters. Though I am his only daughter, I have never felt like a Daddy's Girl. My father is strict and is not prone to showing or revealing his affections. I have never hugged my father nor has my father ever said that he loved or even liked me.<br />
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Still, after years of trying to understand my father and at the same time, trying to get him to understand me, I've decided that we should give each other a break. When you think about it, the relationship between a father and a daughter is one that contains the most levels of understanding to break through. A grown man and a little girl - there is virtually nothing that they have in common. Yet, they are expected to suddenly form this intense, unbreakable bond. Fathers don't have 9 months of pregnancy to form a bond from birth. They are virtually introduced to this baby one day and expected to look after this girl till she grows into a woman and all her life, he is expected to provide for her. Generally, men don't have nurturing instincts...what if they don't like the baby or the little girl that has suddenly come into their lives? What if they feel disconnected from them? What if they generally just don't really make friends with women? How do they cope with this one woman who suddenly expects them to provide the world? Somehow, we expect our fathers to love us despite all this, and they should but sometimes, I can't help but feel that we should cut them some slack.<br />
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There ARE things we can be thankful to our fathers for. Personally, I am glad my Dad never beat me (my Mom wielded the cane). I am also grateful to my Dad for passing me his love of books (if he had not stepped in when I was 14 and on a trashy romance novel binge and handed me instead <i>The End of the Affair by Graham Greene</i>, I think things might've turned out badly). The other thing I suspect I can be happy about is that all this time, my own father has cut ME some slack. As much as I'd like to think of myself as this golden child who grew up to be this fabulously perfect woman...I know I was and can be a nightmare. Who carried me between the ages of 2-4 when I refused to walk? Who gave me money when I sent begging letters after shopping binges in Paris? (ok, he didn't know about Paris and my begging strategy was to include subtly the line 'I don't feel like living anymore' for added effect- haha!) Who made me Milo every day when I used to be a bitch about the temperature? Ah yes, the list is long when it comes to the amount of slack he has had to cut me.<br />
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So in this post Father's Day post, whereby I didn't bother wishing my own Dad a Happy Father's Day (oh, because I had a fight with him like a month back and I'm trying to prove a point...hawhaw)(More slack cutting on his part there!) I am instead going to honour my father by cutting him the slack he deserves and imploring all my fellow single girls out there who blame their fathers for any number of reasons for their general failures (with men or otherwise) to try at least to start looking on the bright side and stop being angry with them. I know, I know, your father might have left you to fend for yourself, your father might have only said 2 words to you in the last 5 years, your father might not have liked your last boyfriend or your father might not have wanted to give you the crucial support you needed but for all our sakes, let it go. Even if it's just in your head, let it go.<br />
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If we don't start to mend (literally or mentally) this first relationship with the first man in our lives, what hope do we have of starting and building subsequent relationships with all the next men out there?happsgirlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06614625896951908241noreply@blogger.com5