The ornament girls

Season Greetings :)

Ohmijaad!

I know the paparazzi likes me and all, but this is just too much. I mean, i knew my pink party was fabulous, but being featured in MSN NBC...oh you must be joking!

Click to enlarge. I meant the picture, you cheeky chinchillas.

Christmas Mission 02 : organizing a Pink Party

Mission Two have prove to be quite a challenge. It was never easy to organize a party at the first place. Worst still if it's a full on A-listers-only party. There's so many things to be organize. And everything needs to be perfect right down to the choice of toilet paper worthy for the guest.

I had the pleasure of going through sleepless night and endless worries while planning for this particular party. It was truly an honour to slave for your friends. Nevertheless, i pull through it like any gay man would, with pink feather boas and shots of malibu sunrise. I knew instantly that my party was a hit when the visitor's parking at my villa is fully occupied. Talk about my connections, girlfriend!

A shout out to all the celebrities that turn up. It wouldn't be a night to be remember if it wasn't for each and everyone of you. Special thanks to my three babelicious co-host, without them, the party wouldn't have any utensils, pillows and vodka. How dreadful! And to the line up of fans and paparazzi outside my villa, i can only sign so much autograph. Oh...it's like winning the golden globe again. Only this time, i got better shoes!

It's so hard to be a socialite.
Hmm. Anyway, enjoy the snap shots.

* fabulous friday, lil miss mei & mr wanna

* fabulous friday, code name kandy & kinky callie

* code name kandy, fiona, lil miss mei & poochi

* fabulous friday, sare 'the alcoholic' & amigo

* happy campers & disco ball

* connie the cow, disco ball & mr wanna

* willy wonka, mr wanna & nigger

* the boys and mr wanna

An act of unshameful self promotion

I think i can be quite cute if i want to. It's my blog and i can very well say what i desire to say. So leave me alone.

Christmas Mission 01 : visiting Mr Muddy

Christmas is coming soon. And in the spirit of christmas-ty, lil miss mei, disco ball and the-ever-glamorous me have decided to embark on a few goodwill mission to spread joy and happiness. Mission one would be to visit Mr Muddy, the cat.

Who is Mr Muddy? Adopted son to a wealthy father and a notorious godmother (that would be lil miss mei), Mr Muddy live a glamorous life in a guarded mansion at a hillside residential area. Being the envy of most cats, Mr Muddy has a maid, rides in a flashy bimmer and only dines on the finest cat food. And whenever daddy goes outstation, he check in to the prestige PET Hotel at downtown Bangsar, to enjoy the comfort of room service and the occasional bubble bath.

This time around, daddy is off to yet another business trip, leaving Mr Muddy all alone in his penthouse suite. Knowing how lonely it would be, we decided to pay a short visit to see Mr Muddy at the hotel. We even brought him his own santa hat!

Merry Christmas Mr Muddy!
Merry Christmas Everyone!

A very late Valentine message

Love. I've only been in love once. And the feeling is like no other. It sometimes give me goose-bums just thinking about it. I met him when i was twenty. At that time, i just started college in the city, eight hours away from the little island i call home. I met him through a friend. According to him, he was love struck as soon as he lay eyes on me. He even remember clearly the way my hair was tied in a half pony tail, or the way my dimple appeared each time i smile at his little joke. To be honest, I didn't even remember how he look then. I just know he's slightly cuter than the average guys back home. And a lot more knowledgeable.

He called the next day, asking if i was interested in going out for a meal with him. I agreed and the rest, as they say, was history. The first few month of courtship was filled with endless phone calls, nightly dinners and weekend drive to the nearest hill top. We had such fun. But beneath all this, we had our little problems too.

I know that to others, he's not a very likable person. He can pass out as a very egoistic guy. He won't talk to you if he don't like you. He's blunt. Straight forward. Insensitive at times. Rude. And can be rather hot tempered if he feels like it. In short, most of my friends hate him and I don't blame them.

But what they won't understand is that, he have always been there for me. He have always stood by me. Hold my hand when i'm lost. Talk to me when i'm down. Push me when i'm lazy. But most of all, he have never stop loving me.

It has been six years now. And even though the phone calls has lessen by the years, and we're not as close as we used to be, i still adores him to pieces and will always do. Because, i have not only found love in him, i have found my soul mate within him. You will always be my poochi.

Cinta Means Love

Being in the same industry myself, i think it's only fair that i give 'CINTA' an equivalent attention as i would give any hollywood blockbusters. Saying so, fifteen of us step into the theater last wednesday, each with an opinion of it's own, to let this latest homegrown movie swept us off our feet with it's whiz and humour. Talk about being supportive of our local film industry!

Personally, i think the first couple of minutes was the most attention-seeking-borderline-confusing moment in the tale. It's when all ten characters are being establish into it's five love stories. Nevertheless, i was blown/swept/vacuum away as each stories unfold itself into heart warming tales of it's own.

CINTA means love in malay. And in this movie, love is shared between strangers, siblings and husband and wife. The main cast was remarkable in bringing out the soul in each character, making the story so real and true to the heart . And i have to personally thank the casting director for scouting such remarkable extras. Never have i seen such courage from an extra to pursue the true meaning of acting even with the knowledge that they will only be a blur in the entire movie. In fact, at certain scene some of them practically stole the limelight of the main cast.

Sugar coated words aside, a review would not be complete without some diva-like throat cutting criticism. Many, i repeat MANY moments of the movie is so cliche and over the top, that you just feel like slapping both the director and script writer for coming up with such idiotic scene. Candle light dinner in a park with their own symphony orchestra! What were they thinking? That is like so 1960's for god sake. And don't let me get started with those hideous flower that eizlan gave fasha on their first date. It's suppose to be for a love one not for teachers day! You goddamnit! And what about those raining scene. Why must it always rain when someone is crying or slightly sad? Why? And did i mention, continuity barely exist and the sound design felt half done, even though the selection of tracks are fantastic.

I know bernard did a great job in localizing 'legally blonde' into 'gol and gincu'. And you would have thought that would be it, no more copycat remakes. But no. Boom came CINTA. It's like watching 'love actually', '50 first date' and 'wicker's park' all in one movie. Talk about value for money!

On a last note, i think CINTA still deserve a three and a half star out of five for it's great storytelling, ingenious cinematography and notable cast. Well done.

And eizlan, i think you better speak to your dietician. Love handle and double chin is not, in anyway, the new fashion must-have-it accessories.

Colours

Last saturday, being the glamorous me, i was given the assignment to cover an event in my beloved town. The international buskers festival. For those like me who might not know what buskers is, well they're basically street performers like clowns on stilts, fire breather, jugglers, magicians and man in overly decorated leotards. Interesting :-)

Just for the record, i had my hair blown an inch higher that usual, dress in my finest t-shirt and jeans with matching tiffanys. I guess you can say i was rather excited.

Thou shall not tell.

Today have been awfully boring! It's like the most amazingly boring day ever. And on a day like this, i think it's only suitable that i share with you a little secret of mine. Something that have been a part of me since forever, but not known by many. This might come as a shock, but just take a deep breath and embrace it. What i'm about to tell you is something sacred to me, something personal. Something real, A fact. And i hope you can accept me for who i am and not be judgemental on what i'm about to tell you.

The truth is i'm actually a socialite. And not just any socialite. I'm THE socialite. The core of all socialite. The person that miss hilton consult on what to wear in her debut 'one night in paris' home video. The one that advise a certain miss aguilera to glam it up and ditch the dirrty xtina split personality. And do you think, miss simpson would be able to cope with the divorce if it wasn't for me, asking her to get those LV's. A little retail therapy can cure almost anything. Beside, i told her that her mister is a bit of a muscle mary and it's not worth abandonning a whole forest for just a tree. But that's a different story. If you know what i mean.

There, i've let it all out with the knowledge that paparazzi would be haunting my park avenue apartment, invading my pilates classes, threatening my poor beagle 'stella' and worst of all, i may have to reschedule my weekly botox session with mr hasselhoff. But it's all good, cause i need to set the record straight. Socialite are just like any other ordinary individual, maybe with a bit more jimmy choo's. Okay, a LOT of jimmy choo's.

KLFW 2006

Kuala Lumpur Fashion Week. Been there. Done that. Like duh!

Hellowin

Halloween in asia can be a tricky affair. Trick or treat is a definite no no here. The only bit of halloween that we do is dressing up for a night out with friends to the trendiest clubs in town. And this takes courage, tremendous courage, courage that i wouldn't have. Imagine you're all gear up as the kinky Red Little Riding Hood, and you're hitting Zouk for the night. As you enter the club, trying to make your way to the bar for a drink before you strut your stuff on the dance floor, you realize all eyes are on you. The music is still pumping at the background, but everyone seems to be just staring. Wide eye. Open mouth. In awe. You know why, cause, i can easily say, ninety percent of them are costume-less, and the balance ten percent are partially in-costume (which includes those wearing only a devil horn head band or those in plastic fangs) You might be the only one brave enough to venture into a full costume parade. Like a male peacock among a swamp of doves. Lonely. Border line pathetic. Sad.

But this year, in the spirit of halloween, my girlfriends and i tried to be as halloweenish as possible. We tried. (at least give us some credit for that!)

What i do on a hot sunny afternoon?

Eating red jelly in front of an open fridge! Ever since i could remember, dad have always prefer to buy those small one door fridge. At the age of ten, it stands slightly the same height as me. I used to sit down in front of the open fridge, digging into a bowl of mum's home made red pandan jelly. With the freezer slightly above my head and the cool kitchen tiles chilling underneath me, it's my own little north pole in Asia.

How do i take my aspirin?

Mum's secret recipe; melt it in a spoon with warm water. Then mix it with any preferable beverage like orange juice or warm milk. It really helps when you have a sore-throat. Best of all, it kills the bitterness of the medicine. I just love aspirin after that.

I did Bali!

Bali is by far the most gay friendly place i've ever been to so far. It screams GAY, loud and clear. My four day trip was filled with endless sun bathing, man in low riding board shorts, southern comfort with sprite, shopping, massage, man in really low riding board shorts, midnight swim, club hopping and did i mention man in low riding board shorts? :) Well, there were really low...

It was during last mid october that me and a girlfriend, lil miss mei decided to visit bali during the coming november. It was our little year end trip away from work, ex boyfriends, the ever hazy kuala lumpur and most importantly, we couldn't afford Paris or London just yet.

Before bali i was rather skeptical in going to a neighboring country for a holiday. My idea of holiday have always been somewhere far away from the flaming equator. A place where the temperature is way below 15 degree celsius, a place where you could only see chicken at the supermarket or the zoo and basically a place where i wouldn't look silly in my miu miu neck scarf, underneath my never-been-worn-before pink nautical wind breaker. Somewhere not tropical.

But upon arriving at bali, i understand why i have been so wrong all this while. The theory is, at a tropical country, the weather is usually hot. Very hot. It gets so hot that most of the foreign visitors, those pure meat heart throbbing caucasian man, takes off their shirt willingly. These are the places where you'll get a buffet of half naked well built man, and a free flow of testosterone. It's like heaven for gay man. And at such warm and humid weather, plus the over dosed of sun tan lotion, their judgment are usually weak. They can't focus well, and thus any tom, dick and harry would look gorgeous. beautiful. sexy. I would look like a superstar, shinning away in broad day light. I was like Miss Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde. Desire by men, envy by all women. I was number 1 on the us billboard chart. I was hot, and it was not just the weather.

Despite all this, i didn't score. It was not because i wasn't attractive. or cute. or desirable. Oh trust me. Those 70 years old man on the beach was just drooling at the sight of me. But i guess it was because i had such a blast with my girlfriend that i was blind to all this temptation. Fun had over conquer my boiling hormones. At this point of my life, i would say, having a man is not so important compare to the companion of a friend.

BUT, if i do go bali again, i'm definitely going alone!