Modern Day Contraception

Me: "When did you last have sex?"
She: "Three days ago."
"And before that?"
"Two weeks ago."
"Did you use condoms?"
"No."
"Are you on any form of contraception?"
"No."
"So you're trying to fall pregnant?"
"Oh, no!"
"Does he come inside of you?"
"Yes."
"Uh, so you have sex without condoms, you're not on the Pill, he comes inside but you're not trying to get pregnant?"
"Huh?"
"Does he want you to be pregnant?"
"God, no! He'd be terrified!"

One month later...

She: "I'd like a pregnancy test; My periods are two weeks late."
Me: "When did you last have sex?"

A Q&A session proceeds along the same lines as above.

The pregnancy test comes back positive.

"You're pregnant."
"I'm pregnant?" in disbelief. Now crying, "How can I be pregnant?"

Auf Wiedersehen

So, so pissed! Am getting ready to go out after a farewell and would like nothing more than to strip off and get into bed. Will have to carry my pen (as self-defence weapon 'cos they say you shouldn't carry anything that obviously can be used against you) on the way home...in a black cab if one would be kind enough to stop for me.

Shit! It's only 9.20pm and I am maggot!

I Remember When

Thabo and I went to a farewell for a former work colleague who is moving to Australia. A bar in Soho. Music was cool, venue was cool, drinks were cool. It was loud in the way that you couldn't carry forth a smooth conversation or be spontaneous. How do you be spontaneous when every little quip or witty remark has to be repeated? Talking was such an effort to the point where you'd only say something after some thought was put into it, so as not to waste words and breath. It was also one of the few times that I've ventured into a bar stone-cold sober. Nothing like sobriety to emphasise how uncool I felt. And in an instant, I felt 40 years old.

For years, I've been stuck at 27 (I still look it), but suddenly I feel aged (and not in a good wine and cheese kind of way).
"The music is too loud."
"It's too crowded."
"I'm tired."
"I've had four beers and I'm still sober and I still can't hear what you're saying, and this is eating into my sleeping time."
"Look at all those kids swivelling lollypops (ooh, it's so obvious you're off your titties - such an unclassy drug-pig look)" - something that I myself used to try with great effort to hide. No lollypops, just lollies, gum or incessant and furious application of lip balm, and occassional break-through lip-smacking.

When did I suddenly get so old? So weary and scared to venture from my daily routines? I used to love big nights out, getting wasted or consuming anything I could, orally or intranasally (never ever intravenously, vaginally or rectally - my friend took an E once rectally - he said the effect was very smooth and long. He's also gay. But he has settled down with a "husband" and their surrogate twins, now.) Even more telling is that I insist on letting people know that I'm too old for -insert activity-. I don't even try to convince people that I used to be a party princess once. In fact, I could get away with being a 60 year old nanny nodding wistfully, "Yes, I remember back in my day..." Except, I'd say, "Remember last month?"

Potato and Rice - It's All Starch To Me

What a hoot! The All Men Are Liars blog in recently featured two topics which I found to be breathtakingly amusing and poignant (?). Yes, because it was as if all these strangers had stolen my recollections of various stages of my life. How is it possible that we have the same memories and experiences? My ultimate dream is to write a memoir/novel in the style of Nick Hornby's medical recollection, on what life was and is like. Probably, only Asian-extractions, their relatives and partners would be interested...but that makes a lot of us.

Particularly funny from, "Why Don't Aussie Girls Date Asian Men?":

There are two types of Oriental Asians: FOBS (Fresh off the Boats) and ABCs (Australian Born Chinese). FOBS are most likely to drive skylines or integras filled with stuffed toys and Honky/Korean pop music. These guys have a clear preference for Asian girls (preferably the Louis Vuitton totting toting

The ABC's on the otherhand are the Asian yobbos of the world. They will approach any girl of any race if she has the right attitude and looks good. I'm dating one at the moment (6 Ft 3 who can easily intimidate in a dark alley). Perhaps white girls are more accustomed to associating Asian guys with FOBS and therefore ruling out all the eligible ABC's? Could be good fodder to feed a man drought!
Posted by: Chop Suey at October 17, 2006 03:31 PM

From, "How Do You Say 'Yobbo' in Vietnamese?":

... You can't change human nature - a lot of people get freaked out by individuals and customs that are different to what they've grown up with. I don't know why. A thousand years ago it was the people from the next valley who wigged us out, now it's people from across the other side of the world. The thing is, as 'newcomers' blend in with 'us', we can't help take their pigment into the cultural mixture. In twenty years, a white kid will pull a rice paper roll out of their lunchbox, sitting next to an Asian kid chowing on pita and a Lebanese girl picking the cheese off her pizza pie. This is good. This is very good. Maybe we're not as tolerant and accepting as we should be, but evolution will force it upon us. My uncle always tells me that in 200-300 years, Australia will be the first true Eurasian race. We'll be identifiable around the world because of our beautiful caramel skin, almond eyes and thick bloody accents. Wish I was going to be here to see it - Sam

Look no further than Kylie Kwong for your quintessential Asian Aussie chick... perfect blend of her parents culture and her own...love it.
Posted by: ramona at August 17, 2006 10:07 AM

Kylie Kwong is not the quintessential Asian Aussie chick - she is a typical Surry Hills lesbian. Posted by: Lerker at August 17, 2006 10:46 AM

I am a big fan of asian migration - the more of them in Australia the comparatively larger my penis seems.
Posted by: Paul C at August 17, 2006 01:01 PM

All well and good, but that effect is being cancelled out by the number of Sudanese migrants recently.
Posted by: Andrew at August 17, 2006 01:18 PM

So true about FOB (Fresh Off Boat) and ABC (Aust Born Chinese) these are acronyms used by ABCs; I prefer to just use BHs - (Born Heres) instead of ABC as they ain't all "Chinese"- The differences are extreme (apart from the cool Aussie accent on BHs) totally two separate human species. Clothes and style is another obvious one, but attitude is also a huge denominator. FOBs are off another planet whilst BHs are rockin' it right in the pocket with you and right back atcha! Awesome! Gorgeous gregarious and groovy 2nd-gen Asian chix are the best thing about immigration, big whoop about the so-called culinary benefits; noodles not very solid grub. Opposite is kind of true for mid-east immigrants IMHO - I don't mind the odd kebab, although I prefer the Israeli kebabs - how mad is that!?.
Posted by: marcusbondi at August 18, 2006 05:02 PM

Big Phil's Reg Grundies

This is the 3rd name change for my blog. Big Phil's Reg Grundies. Random, nonsensical and incongruous with the floral girliness with which I've elected to garnish my blog. I don't even know a Phil. I knew a Phillip. He had dark hair and brown eyes. He could run very fast and I was in love with him. We were in grade 1 and 2 together.

Maybe if one thought laterally enough, one would come to the conclusion that you might found similar contents here to what one might find if they looked in the undies of an individual known as "Big Phil,"- shit-smears, piss-stains, sweat, blood, and the odd fart-trail. And genitalia and an anus. Too many pizzas, white bread and steaks washed down with beer. Alternating contipation and diarrhoea aggravating the haemorrhoid caused by excessive straining and the pressure of carrying too much weight in fat.

Yes, far more visual, if not appealing, than previous titles:

• A Day in the Life of...(every man and his dog)
• An Indulgent Self ("Get fucked!" Way too much self-love.)

I dare say there will be variations of the current title being created over the coming weeks. I'm afraid that if I ever let my blog air in the public cyberspace, and if others actually read my postings, they'd be sorely disappointed and realize that I am quite literally just full of shit. There are some wonderfully funny and insightful blogs out there and I feel rather embarrassed by my own.

Five-Day Forecast

I have yet to awaken from my apathy, my life inertia. The dreadful tasks of house-hunting, job-searching (yep, that time of the bloody year again) and applying for the HSMP visa, are threatening to destabilise my soft cosy emotional cocoon. Being an optimistic pessimist, at least I can say that I no longer wish for my own extinction. It's amazing how rapidly that cloud has lifted without the aid of medication (for a moment I wondered if it were possible to ever feel normal again) but I can't reassure myself that the forecast is going to be fine and sunny. There's always an undercurrent of fear that any minor crisis is going to send me back there, and on the horizon, there are many things about to happen that have the potential to turn pear-shaped. I'm just waiting and seeing and living my life through a computer screen in the meantime.

Thank God for this parallel virtual universe and the millions of people with whom I share it. I'm not alone in my experiences and not the only geek who reads and writes about life more than living it. In the safety and distance of anonymity I actually feel more intimately involved with the outside world and far more honest with myself.

Brazilian Tax

What is it with Brazilians I meet and their need to be petulant and arrogant? Are they inherent traits of the people? Even a friend's Brazilian girlfriend, who initially seemed sweet as pie and so un-Brazilian in her lack of self-importance and indignation at all things non-Latin, soon couldn't contain herself any longer. Imagine my surprise (and equal parts delight and embarrassment) during a recent trip to France when she:

1. Threw a tantrum when her requested meal was not available for dinner.
2. Was challenged by a proud French waiter at lunch, who quite clearly knew how to wait and provide his service, and didn't need a spoilt princess barking at him.

My views are somewhat skewed by my occupational exposure to Brazilians, the majority whom are in London "studying" on student visas and earning tax-free pocket money in the oldest occupation. And are demanding and ever ungrateful. And I'm the one getting taxed. Surely it should be the other way around. Humility is not a sin. Saying, "Thank you," once in a while is not a sin. And give up with the poor developing nation shit - I don't regard a Louis Vuitton handbag to be a basic necessity, or the lack of, human deprivation.

Although my line of work exposes me to the sensitivities and wonderful complexities of human nature, I'm also exposed to the worst elements. I, by second nature, profile people now despite my desire to be open-minded. Walking stereotypes confront me daily (and I can't even describe them here anonymously for it means that I have to face up to the possibility that I might actually be racist) reinforcing my pre- and mis- conceptions. I laugh and jest but secretly I'm not joking sometimes. That is my secret shame.