Rants & Raves of Jasmine’s Fiction

Ding Dong alright.  Wedding bells.  It’s that time of year again - love is in the air and it spills forth the froth of lace, bubbles, balloons, wedding marches, cake, declarations of undying love, sappy love songs and Ding Dong.  Some starry-eyed people find it to be the most romantic thing on earth – the smells of sweet flowers, champagne and the cake topper couple exchanging ‘till death do us part’ vows.  Other cynical people find it to be the most nauseating fiasco on the planet – the plastic smiles, the hypocrisy, and the possibility that the those vows would mean nothing and end up in divorce.

I for one believe in the sanctity of the sacrament of marriage but the circus of a WEDDING is what gets me…  C’mon, do you have any idea the kind of planning one of these things take?  From the moment you announce the engagement it becomes like a guerrilla tactical assault plan. You start with the blocking of the actual date(s) and then the booking the church, priest/pastor/celebrant, the registry and the reception venue.  It doesn’t stop there!  There’s the dress and tuxedo, the limo, flowers, rings, attendants, seating arrangements, menu, music, invitations, hair & makeup, gifts registry, cake, thank you cards, party favours, bridal shower/bachelor party, dance lessons, alcohol, speeches, honeymoon arrangements of airline tickets, passports, holiday destinations & hotels, permits and supplies for tranquilisers for the more unruly guests, this list never ends! 

Not only that, having so many family members together in one room and giving them alcohol a recipe for disaster.  Inevitably you end up trying to make everyone happy and consequently driving yourself INSANE.  And you think these things are CHEAP???  Weddings cost from around US$10,000 to about US$10,000,000!!!  Oh that doesn’t include the divorce lawyer.  That costs extra, hehe.

Sigh.  I am unfortunately at that ‘age’ where all my mates are slowly but surely getting hitched and those of us that are left feels the pressure to jump on the wedding train.  I get the *nudge nudge* and the *wink wink* “when is it your turn?” speech at every event I attend and frankly, its starting to get really irritating.  The other irksome matter is when its time for the bouquet toss us single (and rather mortified) girls are herded like cattle to the slaughter/dance floor…

I think that when my time is up and I’ve been cornered with nowhere to run, I’ll elope.  If that is not an option then it’ll be SIMPLE.  No frills, no ‘extras’ and certainly no excessive cost!  In the meantime, at every FUNERAL I attend I’m going to do the same *nudge nudge* *wink wink* “when is it your turn?” speech to every single person who’s ever asked me that!

Ding Dong you hear?  I hear the Hunchback of Notre Dame shouting “Sanctuary!  Sanctuary!”  I agree with him.

Contrary to popular belief I do not have penis envy.  I thoroughly enjoy having all my girly parts and I thoroughly enjoy being a girl and doing all the girly things like gossip and shopping and the like.  Occasionally though, when the beer is flowing and the cigarette ashes are flying when I’m hanging out with my male mates, my inner man comes out.  And then my testosterone spikes when you put poker into that equation…

Just to log a poker conversation I’ve had sitting around eating carnivorous pizza, drinking beer and smoking with my 4 mates (Aaron Collingwood, Oliver Brown, Justin Bassi & Michael Dore), it really shows that men really are from Mars and women are from Venus; unless you’re a girl with enough Martian hormones.

Aaron Collingwood: What you all be drinking?

Me: BEER, because no one is allowed to drink anything sissy.  Smoke anyone?

*offers a pack of cigarettes around*

Oliver Brown: Since when did you start encouraging this habit?

*takes a stick anyway*

Me: Pfft, its poker night.  And poker nights are supposed to be all beer, tobacco, crass humour and men.  Grunt.  Grunt.

*flexes her bieceps*

—–

Justin Bassi:  Now see this is where you all know f**k all.  Jazza probably has more testosterone than most of the members of this table.  Gimme two.

*trades 2 cards and puffs on his cigar*

Me:  Wow thanks Basso!

*BURPS disgustingly*

Aaron:  I’ll say!  That was nasty!

*waves his hand around to make the smell of the burp go away*

Michael Dore:  Basso’s right though, butch as you are I’m surprised that you’re not a raging dyke.

*sticks his tongue out between the cigarette*

Me:  Pfft at least I don’t mistaken for a faerie everywhere I go!

*flips Michael the bird*

Micheal:  Haha yeah how’s that going for you Liv?

*slaps Oliver hard between the shoulder blades*

Oliver:  F**u you.  I’m out.

*twitches a grin between puffs and throws in cards*

Aaron:  Still I’ll say, it ain’t truly poker night if there’s any female present, one of the guys or not, sorry Jazza.  Call.

Me: Your prerogative.  No difference to me.

*puts down a full house*

Justin:  BLIMEY!  Where did you get these cards?  Trust me Collar, she may have the girly parts but she ain’t no girl.

*tosses in his cards*

Aaron:  If you’re so manly why you in a skirt?

*throws cards in, disgusted*

Me:  Laundry day.  And it’s a KILT!  Besides, you’re just upset because you’re getting your head beaten in by a girly.  HAHA come to daddy!

*collects the pot and the cards*

—–

Aaron:  Last game boys, I’m done for the night.

*pretends to stretch while leaning in to take a peek at Jasz’s cards.*

Me:  You’d better be trying to look down my shirt Collingwood, and not at my cards.  Sneak!

*folds her cards together and prods Aaron in the chest*

Aaron:  Haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about.  And I prefer the term cheat.

*bats his eyelashes innocently*

Me:  Fine then CHEAT!  So now you caught a glimpse of mine, you have to flash me yours.

*grunt*

Aaron:  I always knew you were a filthy bastard.  I’m sorry but I’m just not that kind of girl!

*hugging cards to his chest, makes a girly pout*

Me:  I’ll make a hussy out of you yet.  Now c’mon babe, give us a peek!

*twitches a finger*

Aaron:  Are you all listening to this? Its sexual harassment this is!

*feigns a hurt look*

Justin:  You might as well give ‘the man’ an eyeful sugar, ‘he’ won’t let up until you do.

*mimes quote marks between a beer pull*

Me:  Damn straight Basso.  Now give it up you frigid wench!

*smacks the table*

Aaron:  I’m sorry I will not stand for this kind of talk.  I’m a lady and I deserve some respect!

*Michael snorts into his beer*

Me:  I’ll respect you in the morning, I promise!

Aaron:  That’s what you said the last time!  I never received a phone call.  You can’t treat people this way you know.  I have feelings!  I thought you were different.

*pretends to sniffle sadly*

Me:  What can I say baby?  I’m a bad man.  Now give it here before I take it for myself!

*the other three are cracking up*

Aaron:  I could never resist your charms.

*shows cards to Jasz*

Me:  Thanks babe.  Wasn’t so hard now was it?

Aaron:  Call me?

*mocks desperation*

Me:  Grunt.  You got it toots.

*pulls on a cigarette and gives a curt nod*

Michael:  Liv, Jazza.  Call!

*faces off Jasz and Oliver*

Oliver:  Straight.

*puts down cards with a self satisfied smirk*

Justin:  Not by much!

*strikes a really girly pose*

Oliver:  Hey it’s called METROSEXUAL!  At least I don’t smell bad.

*punches Michael in the shoulder like a girl*

Michael:  Uh huh right sweetheart.  My turn for the full house, tens over!  And it’s called a manly smell.

*spreads out cards and lifts arms in celebration, sniffing his armpits*

Me:  Pfft.  I don’t know about the four Jacks but the King is pretty high.

*casually tosses down cards*

*all the men groan in defeat*

—–

For the record, I won 57 games out of 60.  Poker anyone?

Aah, I love the smell of summer blockbusters.  The smell of sticky popcorn, leaky hot dogs, spilt cola, air conditioner and fabric cleaner lingers in the darkness.  Just the way I like it. 

And now that the X-Men have made their Last Stand, The Da Vinci Code has been decoded, The Poseidon has sunk, little CGI animals have gone Over The Hedge, Cars have zoomed by and the Omen has made its mark, we now await with bated breathe for the very hyped up and anticipated arrivals of:-

- The Man Of Steel complete with cape, knee high booties, blue spandex and red skivvies [Superman Returns];

- Capt’n Jack Sparrow, Davey Jones and his barnacled motley crew and the Kraken [Pirates of the Caribbean - Dead Man’s Chest];

- the lady who lives in the swimming pool and freaks the caretaker out [Lady In The Water];

- drifting, racing, fast cars and hot chicks in Japan [The Fast and The Furious - Tokyo Drift]; and

- 3 thieving boys find themselves in the ultimate kung-fu battle of good and evil [Dragon Tiger Gate]

I wonder if there are other’s out there who’s like me in the thoughts that this new Superman might not be ‘all that’.  I can’t help but think that Christopher Reeves’ knee high booties, blue spandex and red skivvies might be a little too big to fill.  Ahh well, we’ll see when the time comes.  In the case the costume doesn’t fit, Superman Returns. *lol* Bite me!

Honestly though, I’m actually only truly interested in the antics of Capt’n Jack Sparrow, Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann.  I’m also very curious to see what’s inside Davey Jones’ Chest!  I swear there’s a pirate somewhere deep down as I’m all for swashbucklin’ (these days we call it fightin’ & flirtin’), bootleggin’ (illegal copies of CDs & DVDs galore), rum runnin’ (drink up me hearties, yo ho), and generally lyin’, cheatin’, thievin’ (see my poker face)… AAAARRR!!!

So, meself, me sis and me mates will be headin’ out (in costume, savvy?) to watch the charity premiere (arr curse me kindness) on July 7^th (eat yer hearts out, ya scurvy swabs) and then the blood debt shall be paid!  AAAARRR!!!

To quote Elizabeth Swann, “there will come a time where you’ll have a chance to do what’s right.”

And to quote Capt’n Jack Sparrow, “Aye, I love those moments.  I like to wave at them as they pass by.”

Till then, We’ll Pillage n’ Plunder n’ Rifle n’ Loot; Drink Up Me Hearties YO HO!

Ever hear this joke about a sheltered young miss who got married?  She called her mother in fit of tears after only a week of matrimony saying that her husband was abusing her with dirty 4 letter words that she’s never heard him use before!  Panicked, her mother asked what words were those.  And the young lady replied tearfully, “wash, wipe, iron, cook, dust, save…”

Speaking of dirty 4 letter words; DIEt *ick* is something I never want to hear ever again.  Unfortunately for me, I have a sweet tooth, a hearty appetite and chubby genetics to combat so that’s the way the sugar laden cookie crumbles.  It’s not like I’m obese though.  I’m just a wee bit padded out around the (Buddha) belly and the (baby got) backside.  I just have to lose some weight (who am I kidding – I need to lose about 8kgs) so I have to cut back the food intake.  Sigh.  Either that or cut off a limb.  Since that is not a valid option, DIEt *ick* it is.  But I’ll be sad to lose my stacked rack and appley-dappley cheeks though…

In the meantime, no more scarfing an entire pizza by myself; no more Emmenthaler cheese stuffed sausages; no more sausage and egg McMuffins with hash browns; no more Boston Cream doughnuts; no more peanut butter M&Ms; no more chocolate truffles; no more beer battered and deep fried fish n’ chips; no more Tiramisu and chocolate banana cheesecake; no more Bailey’s Irish Cream ice cream with Tia Maria, whipped cream and chocolate dipped cherries; no more beer; no more lobsters, oysters, prawns and squid; no more Swiss cheese fondue with ham, apples and crusty white bread; no more char koey teow, mee goreng, garlic double cheese naan, roti telur, prawn mee, nasi lemak and assam laksa; no more buttered scones and shortbread; no more bacon, eggs and French toast with maple syrup; no more hot chocolate and marshmallows; no more steak with baked potatoes; no more hot dogs with mustard and extra cheese;  no more this, no more that, no more no more no more!!!!!

AARGH!!! I’m just about hyperventilating here.  Notice that all the yummy foods I have to give up involve dairy, sugar, oil, batter, red meat and carbohydrates?  ALL THE YUMMY FOOD GROUPS!!!  AARGH!!!  Kill me now.  Put me out of this misery.  Honestly I’d rather eat and be fat and happy than not eat and be skinny and miserable.  I swear, DIEt *ick* is the DIRTIEST 4 LETTER WORD!  EVER!!! 

I now can only drink meal replacement shakes 3 times a day, swallow vitamins by the handful, completely cut out all refined sugar and complex carbohydrates, only eat light fruits and blanched vegetables, no food after 8pm, no drinks aside from water and unsweetened tea… That’s not the end of it – I have to do this for 2 freaking months!  And after that I can’t just go back to my old stuffing-myself-stupid ways, I still have to do that ‘controlled portion’ thingy.  Sigh.  *loops up the noose, sharpens the disemboweling knife, loads the Smith & Wesson and prepares for the end*

Why you ask, must I subject myself to this masochistic torture?  Because my doctor has told me that I’m slowly but surely loosing the never ending epic of the caloric war to my seam bursting chubby genetics and with that (right alongside my unsightly fat arse, thunder thighs and loose bulges of flab everywhere) heralds my hereditary predisposition to diabetes and heart disease.

I hear a lot of you moaning that I’m not fat.  No I’m not.  Not yet anyway.  Intervention and prevention i.e. DIEt *ick* is my (torturous) road to salvation.

So next time you wanna go out with me for a m-e-a-l, please remember that I’m on a D-I-E-t *ick* and make sure that we go to a place that serves low fat, low salt and low taste f-o-o-d so I don’t have to suffer alone! 

And for the record, S-A-L-E is the only good 4 letter word out there!

So dark the con of man!

Yes we are back here as the movie runs in all theatres near you.  As critics scream for (royal?) blood (sang real anyone?) and the crucifixions of the director, script writer and producers, other parties are also lobbying hard to ban the movie yet once more.  Who can blame them?  The original book by Dan Brown was hardly historically, geographically and theologically accurate but it was still a marvellously written piece of fiction.  The movie however was a sad, sad, sad attempt at recreating the excitement of the book.

So, among the many voices shouting for a better-late-than-never ban,  I heard a voice jumping into the fray to add its pathetic 2 cents worth.  No thanks to my lame scanner, the article is illegible but no fear for I shall not deprive you all to reading about how utterly STUPID some people are…  I damn near pissed my pants cracking up!  All brickbats and comments are welcomed!

Linguists call for ‘Da Vinci Code’ ban

The Malaysian Linguistic Association (MALAS) has echoed calls by other parties to ban the controversial movie The Da Vinci Code.

The film is an adaptation of a best-selling novel that deals with some aspects of the Christian faith.  But the objections by MALAS has nothing to do with theology because, “we don’t even know who Theo is”, says its president Ambi Mohan.

The association’s chief objection is, instead, linguistic.

“For too long we have sat by and allowed language to be polluted but we have decided that enough’s enough.  The Da Vinci Code should be banned because we don’t want to to encourage youngsters to use ‘da’ as a lazy shorthand for ‘the’.

“We see this in rap lyrics,” he claims.

“All this talk about ‘hanging out with da hoes’.  You should be hanging out with THE hoes.  This sort begs the question of why someone would want to ‘hang out’ with gardening implements to begin with, but I am not here to question lifestyle choices, merely spelling, grammar and semantics.”

He said the association might reconsider its protests if the filmmakers changed its name to The The Vinci Code.

“But even this is problematic because having two “thes’ in a row look ugly.  So the film should be called The Vinci Code.”

The film’s producers could not be reached for comment.