Tag Archives: humor

Low Maintenance

My father once told me that I need to marry a rich man.

When he said this, I didn’t quite grasp what he meant or what he was trying to imply. It took me five decades to understand where he was coming from but it doesn’t mean I agree with his implication.

True, when I was young they had to coat me with baby oil before I could walk the six kilometers wasteland between our house and the only primary school in the neighborhood. I was or rather my skin was and still is allergic to grasses of any kind among so many other things. Even to these days, my naked skin cannot have direct contact with any surfaces that meant for public use like park benches, restaurants tables and chairs, buses seats and so on. I get itchy bubbles on my skin the very minute I come in contact with I think full of germs surfaces even though at first glance they look spotless. I bruise easily as well.

Oh…yeah
My skin is like a map, where my heart has been
And I can’t hide the marks, but it’s not a negative thing
So I lay down my guard, drop my defenses, down by my clothes
I’m learning to fall, with no safety net, to cushion the blow
I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There’s a mark you leave, like a love heart carved on a tree
I bruise easily, can’t scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath I bruise easily.
No, just kidding.

Prolonged contact with hard surfaces always resulted in bruises that never fade but turn into leathery skin like an elephant hide.

And I don’t know why.

I could not help our mother to wash our clothes either for I was allergic to any laundry detergent, liquid or powder. They made my hands look like raw meat. Which reminds me of the time I was on a cruise and tried Yves Saint Laurent products from the ship’s cosmetic sections. That was a big mistake. My eyes looked like someone had punched me and my lips will pass for a Botox treatment that had gone horribly wrong.

Another thing is I cannot sleep with someone next to me. Not then, not now. I always get the only bedroom in the house when we were growing up. That or I stayed awake whole night fiddling with the priceless possession of my father, the radio. Two husbands and I never managed to share a bed/room with any of them. I can’t stand the smell of another person on the pillows and bedsheets. I can’t stand them breathing next to me. I can’t stand their presence in the room. In short, I want to sleep alone.

Someone once remarked that I remind her of the story about the Princess and the Pea because I can feel every single tiny grain of whatever on the bed whether it is particles of dust or one single crumb.

How much I love working in the garden I could not do it without surgical gloves under ordinary garden mittens. I can’t stand the feel of soil between my fingers but not as much as I hate dust under my feet. Anywhere but not under my feet and between my toes.

Again, I don’t know why.

You might say my father is right. I have to marry a wealthy man, but let me tell you the other side of the story.

I am low maintenance.

Lower you cannot get.

First of all, I don’t like bling-bling or branded items. Don’t get me wrong I have them for sure but I hardly or don’t use them at all. They are given to me as gifts, from people who thought like most women, I wanted to own few if not all. I don’t go to the hair salon. I cut my own hair using ordinary household scissors that meant to be for papers. I do it in just three moves. I bend down, cut my hair straight, then trim both sides to frame my face. That’s all. I don’t wear make-up and just discovered lipstick when I was forty-eight. I don’t polish my nails, either. Heck, I don’t even shave my legs.

I don’t even need sex.

I don’t go out, rarely drink alcohol, I hate restaurants and dislike parties. I don’t even have to tan my hide, literally. I know… I know… I am already tanned by nature, so…

I don’t gamble or smoke, no expensive hobbies because my hobbies are reading, walking, writing and gardening. The last one is probably the only thing I splurge money on. When it comes to plants… I will gladly skip dinner.

So, how can my father say I have to marry a millionaire? I refuse to believe that was the (only) reason why he sold me to the highest bidder. That bidder once told me that simple things make me happy, and that is the most difficult thing to achieve because simple things are hard to come by. For him at least. When another bidder who outbid him confirmed this, I begin to consider the possibility that probably there is some truth in that claim. I am not convinced so far.

And I don’t know what to write anymore because it is a full moon and I can’t sleep and my thoughts are muddled and I want to take a bath but it’s midnight and my hair will not dry properly and I’m against using a hair dryer because it dries my hair and if I lie down with semi-wet hair I will wake up with semi-dry flat hair that is so brittle I have to take a bath again.

That’s all for now and till the next full moon.

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Trip Down Memory Lane

I was so excited when I came across this image.

It catapulted me back to that one summer day many years ago when I was driving a Porsche, his Porsche, and his hand slowly crept up along my thigh. 

I could not do anything. 

I could hardly let go of the wheel so, I said:

“Yeah baby, a little bit higher.”

Suddenly, he withdrew his hand and didn’t utter a single word anymore for the rest of the journey.

He dropped me off at the village church and I never saw him again.

27 years old, blond blue-eyed and an only son of a wealthy factory owner.

No regrets though. Besides, I’m not into blond.

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A Penny For Your Thoughts

There was this cartoon…

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That sparked these reactions…

“That’s body-shaming, racism, sexism, judgmental, prejudicial and a million other things in one tiny strip.”

“You’re all getting the wrong message from this. The girl was completely dependent on her body for confidence, like its the only asset she has. But when she found a book, gradually her world view changed. What she thought was her only power, didn’t matter anymore, because her world was enlarged.”

“And it is racist. The girl gets lighter skinned as she gets “smarter” and more clothed. As if whiter people are less promiscuous and self-respecting. This is gross.”

“No, that’s reality: when you’re smart you don’t waste your time (and money) in frivolous things like false appearance (makeup, brand clothes, jewels), plus you don’t serve your body for eye candy cause you know you worth more than a free slut.”

“Where you see racism I see a woman who is relying on her physical image to satisfy herself where she then finds self-confidence by finding a book and becoming successful through getting an education. The “dark to lighter” I interpreted as layers of spray tan being worn off to the woman’s genetic skin color over time as she did not worry so much about her physical appearance as time went on.”

“Only too a touchy inner judgmental little soul.. why not just see past your emotional reaction and see a message that intelligence can be just as sexy.”

“I’m trying to figure out how you came to the conclusion that she was dependent on her body, it the only asset she has. That’s a pretty profound thing to assume about a woman solely based on how she’s dressed, which you might have done without realizing.”

“So we turn white when we do good?”

“APPEARANCE HAS LITTLE TO NOTHING TO DO WITH INTELLECT”.

“You’re all wrong, it’s the line to Starbucks. How does anyone think this is the same girl 5x?”

My own thoughts, I will keep for myself.

How about you?

What do you think?

Seems kind of pointless to be honest

It’s all about this picture quote: (featuring a battered foot of a ballet dancer)

“Everyone wants to be successful until they see what it actually takes.”

One Ian Patrick Pearce said:

“Some of us wanted to do what it takes until we saw what “successful” looks like. 
Not many people who give me advice have lives I want. Almost no one does. 
Redefining my own personal meaning for success has been a much more worthwhile endeavor.”

Which a Roylee Walker answered:

“So you basically mean lowering your standards until you are satisfied.”

And Ian retorted:

“No, I mean redefining our own personal meaning of success. Which is what I said.
For me, it meant only competing to be better than the me from yesterday, and no one else. For you, it can mean lowering your standards, and that’s okay.”

A William Albert chimed in:

“We don’t need to be successful, we need to be Happy.”

Hetha Smetha (I wonder if it is really her name) thrown in:

“I’ll take mediocrity…those who want it can have it.”

And others contributed their unremarkable thoughts. Some of them downright stupid but C’est la vie. Me, I learned a lot from listening and shutting my mouth, unless I have something meaningful to say.

And life goes on.

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A Christmas Story

Up and down the streets she ran
With a black satin sack in hand.
Filled with sharp knives
She planned to end lives.

From house to house she crept so quietly
Looking almost, no, indeed shadowy.
But she was not alone with her sack
There was something riding on her back.

Green eyes gleamed riding through the night
Glaring around so full of spite.

“Who are you?”
A man’s voice asked
“You don’t know? I am not masked.”

“Get out of here! What do you think you’re doing??”
“Out of here? I think not. You are the one I’ve been pursuing!”
“Pursuing? You’re nuts! Get the fuck outta here!”

“Right now I can feel your fear!”
“Ha! That’s rich. I’m not scared”
“Like I even really cared”
“That’s it, I’m calling the police. They’ll have you pinned.”

The shadowy girl just grinned.
The man went for the phone
In one second he hit the floor with a moan.

Those green eyes glared down
“Ha! What a clown”
What a sweet voice.
The man looked up at those eyes
“Time to say your goodbyes”
With one swift move of a vase that man was gone.

“This isn’t so hard now is it?”
The shadow shook his head
The blood flowed red
“We have a long night ahead.”
He kicked the pieces of vase
“Yes, I know, Sweet face.”

With that the shadows did flee
That man didn’t even get a chance to plea.
Hours passed
This town sure was vast.
They went tapping down the road
Carrying the sharp load.

“Let’s go home now, honey.”
She huffed. 
“Quickly now, before it gets sunny!”
Up the stone pathway she ran
At the door they gave the town a brief scan
“I’m dreaming of a red Christmas.”

She turned the handle of the door
“This time of year is always such a chore!”
He sighed as he hopped from her back
She tossed down her big black sack.

He swept the dirt from his clothes
“The living should thank us”

She brushed her hair
“Those we killed were too much to bear”

She hopped up on the windowsill
“They made me positively ill”

She stared out into space
“And…back to my loving place”
She turned to her evil little doll
He leaned on the wall.

“Wanna open presents now?”
He smiled
“My goodness, child”
He laughed quietly under his breath
“What a quick transition from the subject of death!”

~Disclaimer: Though I found this piece among my old documents I doubt if it is mine. I am not this wicked 😉

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Once Upon A time

A man in his early prime contemplates on life, shattered by the distortions of society he gazes ahead in time. There were vows of happiness and fairytale beginnings. Now there is nothing of that sort; now there is nothing that started the tales so bright. It’s after all this while that he understands why fairy tales begin with ‘Once upon a time’…

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Thursday’s Artistic Hemorrhage

husband:

The Tent Pole Is Up,

The Canvas Is Spread,

The Hell With Breakfast,

Come Back To Bed.

wife:

Take The Tent Pole Down,

Put The Canvas Away,

The Monkey Had A Hemorrhage,

No Circus Today.

husband:

The Tent Pole’s Still Up,

And The Canvas Still Spread,

So Drop What You’re Doing,

And Come Give Me Some Head.

wife:

I’m Sure That Your Pole’s

The Best In The Land.

But I’m Busy Right Now,

So Do It By Hand!

~ rbxr

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Droll

If it means quaint, odd, strange, queer, eccentric, outlandish, bizarre, whimsical, then that is me. Oh, I have my own unique brand of droll self-mockery also. I laugh when I feel uneasy, I laugh when I see something terrible or read about hardship and misery. I laugh when I don’t feel good and I laugh when I’m sad. I have a very dry sense of humor and I am pretty ironic. You can say I am a droll little girl.

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Grit

“Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary.”

— Cecil Beaton from Berlin Parasites

It takes a lot of small things to create a big pile or a widespread. Take for example a beach, a bouquet, a festival, a mass protest, a chaos, a war. A fight doesn’t happen just like that. It often starts with/from accumulation of small things that become one big thing like dislike, irritation, too much or too little of something. Divorce doesn’t happen overnight unless of course, you are a celebrity, then everything is possible. Suicide, murder, cheating, quitting, being rich, obesity and global warming, those are also products of small loose particles which seem to be harmless at first glance but become a matter of importance when gathered together over a period of time. Stress (which on its own is also a substance of… fill in the blank) lack of sleep and proper nutrition, isolation, no motivation, stimulation, and inspiration can lead to… you can fill in the blank again. You can even type my name in it if you wish. You have my permission to do so. Getting sidetrack again. Anyway, I can go on and on naming examples of what I think grit is all about but I know people don’t care much about long articles. Especially Daily Prompt assignments so, I will leave it here and proceed on looking for something to fill my stomach so hopefully my brain will function normally and perhaps I can find a decent sleep tonight. Happy Tuesday everyone. 

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True Love

I thought Transformers will always be my favourite film and Optimus Prime will always be my ultimate crush and for the longest time it remained true, till I saw the thriller of Big Hero 6 and behold this inflatable white robot that resembles a snowman/big marshmallow; right there in the cinema amidst popcorn munching crowd I fell in love on the spot, head over heels.

The fact that he is somewhat naïve only strengthens the feelings I have for this Healthcare Companion. Goodbye Optimus Prime. I never meant for it to happen but c’est la vie. Not every day a girl get the chance of meeting a man who is somewhat naïve, opportunity of a lifetime, grab it with both hands.

Given his guileless, calm caring nature and the fact that you can deflate and deactivate him with this simple phrase:  “I am satisfied with my care” make him a desirable wife material if he happened to be a female. I think it’s every man’s ultimate dream, being able to send their wives inactive from time to time. Don’t you think so?

Anyhow, the thing that made me fall in love with this bot is the scene where almost deflated he rest on the stairs landing stroking the cat on his lap saying: “Hairy baby… Hairy baby.” In my twisted brain I remembered it as: “Hairy thing… Hairy ball.” Don’t ask me where I get that because I don’t know. I already said I have a deranged mind, have I?

Three of my favourite quotes from Baymax are:

“My hands are equipped with defibrillators. Clear!”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?”

“Does it hurt when I touch it?”

Imagine that… Does it hurt when I touch it… I long to say these words (and a lot more) to someone…

Bottom line is… who would not fall in love with this huggable plus-sized inflatable deuteragonist with no distinguish features? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder they say. And if your perception can go beyond the shell of appearance into the essence, then it must be true love.

Or not?

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