Carrying on from this previous post, here are more "whatever" sayings that will tickle anyone remotely dirty-minded...which means these entertained me to no end when I found them in www.urbandictionary.com. Let your filthy mind go and enjoy!
Whatever blows your skirt up (a hat tip to the infamous blonde, no doubt)
Whatever bums your mum
Whatever chunkays your dahl (ok, can't find a dirty association here; I just liked the ethnic adaptation, a la "Whatever gorengs your pisang")
Whatever creams your Twinkie
Whatever humps your camel
Whatever kills your baby (who the fuck came up with this one??)
Whatever mows your lawn
Whatever peels your banana
Whatever sizzles your bacon
Whatever takes you home
Whatever tickles your oyster
Whatever tingles your jingles
Whatever wets your harbour
And when I looked up "Whatever floats your boat", I found an alternative dirty explanation to it - while Jon had enlightened us on the male interpretation, here's what Urban Dictionary has to say about it: "Comes from the term "man in the boat" referring to the clitoris and the female genitalia. So, if your boat is floating, you are quite happy."
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Translate men
Saw this 'women's talk translator' on Tanya's blog, and have seen it as a forwarded email before, thought it's high time someone came up with a man's version too.
*Disclaimer: This decoder is an indicator of reality only 70% of the time, bearing in mind that statistics are accurate only 20% of the time and that 45% of all statistics are falsely quoted.
**Disclaimer 2: This applies to straight men.
FINE
Don't care. Don't wanna deal with it.
FIVE MINUTES
If he's doing nothing: half an hour. If he's on the computer: 40 minutes. If he just told you he'll be 5 minutes late for your date: 1 hour.
NOTHING
Nothing. (As in, there's absolutely nothing going through their heads at that moment - this has been verbally verified by males.)
GO AHEAD
Don't care. Don't wanna deal with it.
LOUD SIGH
Whatever.
WHATEVER
Don't care. Don't wanna deal with it.
THAT'S OKAY
I'll be the generous matyr and lower my pride to forgive you your unforgivable wrongdoing. Just don't call me "Pooky" in front of my friends again.
THANKS
So you're finally doing it my way.
THANK YOU SO MUCH
Thank you (really).
*Disclaimer: This decoder is an indicator of reality only 70% of the time, bearing in mind that statistics are accurate only 20% of the time and that 45% of all statistics are falsely quoted.
**Disclaimer 2: This applies to straight men.
FINE
Don't care. Don't wanna deal with it.
FIVE MINUTES
If he's doing nothing: half an hour. If he's on the computer: 40 minutes. If he just told you he'll be 5 minutes late for your date: 1 hour.
NOTHING
Nothing. (As in, there's absolutely nothing going through their heads at that moment - this has been verbally verified by males.)
GO AHEAD
Don't care. Don't wanna deal with it.
LOUD SIGH
Whatever.
WHATEVER
Don't care. Don't wanna deal with it.
THAT'S OKAY
I'll be the generous matyr and lower my pride to forgive you your unforgivable wrongdoing. Just don't call me "Pooky" in front of my friends again.
THANKS
So you're finally doing it my way.
THANK YOU SO MUCH
Thank you (really).
Saturday, November 18, 2006
Akan datang
T'is the season for stories galore, and everywhere I look, suddenly there are so many possibilities, which is unusual for me since I'm not terribly creative with stories.
New story brewing already currently, but probably can't pen it till the next one or two crazy weeks are over. Watch this space.
Meanwhile...
Sean update
The little prince is now past three years old and has discovered new oral skills, such as pestering his very pregnant mum to the point of insanity and singing long, originally-composed songs (that are tuneless and lyric-less, but hey, we all start somewhere). I'm convinced he's the cutest little nephew that ever lived.
Enjoying a long-distance phonecall with grandma. I can almost imagine him in exactly the same pose when he's sixteen and on the phone with his girlfriend.
Taken during a very happy (and brightly-coloured) trip to a pumpkin patch during fall.
No idea what that grimace was for, but oh-so-adorable.
New story brewing already currently, but probably can't pen it till the next one or two crazy weeks are over. Watch this space.
Meanwhile...
Sean update
The little prince is now past three years old and has discovered new oral skills, such as pestering his very pregnant mum to the point of insanity and singing long, originally-composed songs (that are tuneless and lyric-less, but hey, we all start somewhere). I'm convinced he's the cutest little nephew that ever lived.
Enjoying a long-distance phonecall with grandma. I can almost imagine him in exactly the same pose when he's sixteen and on the phone with his girlfriend.
Taken during a very happy (and brightly-coloured) trip to a pumpkin patch during fall.
No idea what that grimace was for, but oh-so-adorable.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Weird bugs
Just before moving into this current apartment, I was finding these weird little bugs in what would be my bathroom, which was then empty. At first sight, they looked like little pieces of wood chips or pulp, but I noticed they'd start to move slowly in a rather shakey, jagged sort of way. And then, on closer inspection, I noticed a little black 'head' that would poke out at one end.
They looked harmless, so I nudged one a little bit and it naturally pulled its 'head' back into what I figured was a shell of sorts (the woody looking part). To my utter amazement, the 'head' popped out the other end after some time! It proceeded to move about as normal.
I finally managed to get a decent photo of them when I found two in the kitchen last week:
I patiently waited till one of them have emerged quite a bit from the 'shell', such that I could see its legs, before taking this photo. I never saw it emerge completely though, not that it would have I suspect. I left the kitchen after taking this photo, and when I returned an hour later, they were nowhere in sight, so they move a lot faster than I thought. They're pretty small too - the entire 'shell' is only about 1 cm in length. Here's a close-up of the not-so-shy bug:
I've been trying to figure out what the heck this bug is, but haven't found anything remotely similar to these. I almost think that they use materials from their surroundings to build a shell that they can move about inside.
Anyone knows what they are? Do tell me! It's very intriguing!
*Update*
Finally, the mystery solved! Someone identified the buggers for me at Yahoo Answers: they're the larvae of a case-bearing moth. See more info here:
http://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/pdffiles/IN/IN12900.pdf
They looked harmless, so I nudged one a little bit and it naturally pulled its 'head' back into what I figured was a shell of sorts (the woody looking part). To my utter amazement, the 'head' popped out the other end after some time! It proceeded to move about as normal.
I finally managed to get a decent photo of them when I found two in the kitchen last week:
I patiently waited till one of them have emerged quite a bit from the 'shell', such that I could see its legs, before taking this photo. I never saw it emerge completely though, not that it would have I suspect. I left the kitchen after taking this photo, and when I returned an hour later, they were nowhere in sight, so they move a lot faster than I thought. They're pretty small too - the entire 'shell' is only about 1 cm in length. Here's a close-up of the not-so-shy bug:
I've been trying to figure out what the heck this bug is, but haven't found anything remotely similar to these. I almost think that they use materials from their surroundings to build a shell that they can move about inside.
Anyone knows what they are? Do tell me! It's very intriguing!
*Update*
Finally, the mystery solved! Someone identified the buggers for me at Yahoo Answers: they're the larvae of a case-bearing moth. See more info here:
http://edis.ifas.ufl.edu/pdffiles/IN/IN12900.pdf
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The night, part 2
She lay still on her side, her eyes firmly shut but her mind fully awake. The sounds of the night trickled into her ears. The muffled chirp of crickets. The rhythmic whir of the ceiling fan. The sound of him breathing deeply and softly beside her.
She lay close enough to feel his heat, but not enough to feel his breath; close enough to smell his low musk, but not enough to taste it. She realised she did not have her blanket on, and she suddenly missed her blanket but didn't dare to pull at it lest she awaken him.
He stirred and she opened her eyes, but he only sniffed for a moment, then resumed the deep, slow breaths of sleep.
She watched his still form in the gloom of the darkened room. He lay on his side, facing her, his arms folded over his chest. She noted bitterly that he slept in his clothes - he hadn't taken them off at all throughout that night.
Her own clothes were still on her as well. At that moment, she realised her panties had bunched into a wedgie, and she reached down and gingerly adjusted them. She then felt the cold residual wetness in her underwear and her bitterness sharpened.
She thought about their lovemaking just a couple of hours before. No, it wasn't lovemaking. It had been a half-hearted attempt to consummate the awkward, uneven desire between them that neither truly wanted. She hardly knew where his lips, tongue, teeth were on her skin. He had made her nipples hurt, but she kept silent, biting her lip, knowing he couldn't see the hurt he was causing. His fingers found her wet, but just barely. Their loins had met in quick, fleeting motions whose heat never reached deep enough within her.
He'd closed his eyes and tilted his head back trance-like. Their sex took on a floating, dreamlike quality that left her wondering if he was really there. Then she realised that he wasn't there at all.
They never took off their clothes.
And never once did he look at her in the eyes. Never once did he kiss her on her lips or on her face.
And he had withdrawn without a single word. It had ended with a pause, a hesitation before he pulled away without finishing. They had both lain in the stillness of their own thoughts before drifting off to sleep.
At least, he slept. She didn't.
She thought about his reasons for wanting her, and her reasons for wanting him, and she weighed the two. The sheer size of the deficit overwhelmed her and the pain began, sharp, unwelcome and intrusive.
The blackness of the room began to take on shades of royal blue, gradually lightening to fill the room with melancholy cerulean. She watched as weak colours started to emerge out of the gloom of the half-light as the sound of crickets gave way to the chaotic quarrelling of the morning birds.
She could see his face now, lolling dully on her pillow. She stared at him hard, willing him to wake up and look at her. He didn't stir. She willed harder, silently calling him to wake up and look at her. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
His eyes half opened and he started to blink. She quickly shut her eyes and kept as still as she could. She heard his small intake of breath and the soft rustle of him turning his head. She felt the pillow lift slightly as he raised his head momentarily before carefully lowering his head again onto the pillow.
He was still, but she knew he was awake. She wondered if he knew she was awake, listening and feeling him. He hadn't turned, so he was still facing her - was he looking at her?
She felt the light grow brighter beyond her closed lids and it grew more uncomfortable to keep them closed. She counted. One. Two. Three. And she opened her eyes.
His eyes quickly darted away from her face. He lowered his gaze and fixed it onto the empty area of bedsheet that lay between them.
She searched his face long and hard, but found nothing. She could feel his body heat but he didn't move and she resisted reaching out for him. She could no longer hear his breath but could see the rise and fall of his arms crossed over his chest. The pain in her chest twisted and tightened as she lay there utterly alone beside him.
They lay a foot apart but she felt the chasm that plunged between them. He lay a touch away from her but felt so far away that she didn't think she'd ever reach him if she flew to him. The air between them felt cold and thick.
She knew then that he would never love her back.
She lay close enough to feel his heat, but not enough to feel his breath; close enough to smell his low musk, but not enough to taste it. She realised she did not have her blanket on, and she suddenly missed her blanket but didn't dare to pull at it lest she awaken him.
He stirred and she opened her eyes, but he only sniffed for a moment, then resumed the deep, slow breaths of sleep.
She watched his still form in the gloom of the darkened room. He lay on his side, facing her, his arms folded over his chest. She noted bitterly that he slept in his clothes - he hadn't taken them off at all throughout that night.
Her own clothes were still on her as well. At that moment, she realised her panties had bunched into a wedgie, and she reached down and gingerly adjusted them. She then felt the cold residual wetness in her underwear and her bitterness sharpened.
She thought about their lovemaking just a couple of hours before. No, it wasn't lovemaking. It had been a half-hearted attempt to consummate the awkward, uneven desire between them that neither truly wanted. She hardly knew where his lips, tongue, teeth were on her skin. He had made her nipples hurt, but she kept silent, biting her lip, knowing he couldn't see the hurt he was causing. His fingers found her wet, but just barely. Their loins had met in quick, fleeting motions whose heat never reached deep enough within her.
He'd closed his eyes and tilted his head back trance-like. Their sex took on a floating, dreamlike quality that left her wondering if he was really there. Then she realised that he wasn't there at all.
They never took off their clothes.
And never once did he look at her in the eyes. Never once did he kiss her on her lips or on her face.
And he had withdrawn without a single word. It had ended with a pause, a hesitation before he pulled away without finishing. They had both lain in the stillness of their own thoughts before drifting off to sleep.
At least, he slept. She didn't.
She thought about his reasons for wanting her, and her reasons for wanting him, and she weighed the two. The sheer size of the deficit overwhelmed her and the pain began, sharp, unwelcome and intrusive.
The blackness of the room began to take on shades of royal blue, gradually lightening to fill the room with melancholy cerulean. She watched as weak colours started to emerge out of the gloom of the half-light as the sound of crickets gave way to the chaotic quarrelling of the morning birds.
She could see his face now, lolling dully on her pillow. She stared at him hard, willing him to wake up and look at her. He didn't stir. She willed harder, silently calling him to wake up and look at her. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
His eyes half opened and he started to blink. She quickly shut her eyes and kept as still as she could. She heard his small intake of breath and the soft rustle of him turning his head. She felt the pillow lift slightly as he raised his head momentarily before carefully lowering his head again onto the pillow.
He was still, but she knew he was awake. She wondered if he knew she was awake, listening and feeling him. He hadn't turned, so he was still facing her - was he looking at her?
She felt the light grow brighter beyond her closed lids and it grew more uncomfortable to keep them closed. She counted. One. Two. Three. And she opened her eyes.
His eyes quickly darted away from her face. He lowered his gaze and fixed it onto the empty area of bedsheet that lay between them.
She searched his face long and hard, but found nothing. She could feel his body heat but he didn't move and she resisted reaching out for him. She could no longer hear his breath but could see the rise and fall of his arms crossed over his chest. The pain in her chest twisted and tightened as she lay there utterly alone beside him.
They lay a foot apart but she felt the chasm that plunged between them. He lay a touch away from her but felt so far away that she didn't think she'd ever reach him if she flew to him. The air between them felt cold and thick.
She knew then that he would never love her back.
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