Ms

Hey! why arent you reading this anymore! Dont. it hurts when you do that. and you dont want to hurt me because i react very violently to such things.

anyway:

H1N1

Been in Singapore a few weeks now. Thus far largely has kept out of my way but Singapore being the size it is and being as dense as it is, its bound to reach home soon. Its inching its way to me, i can feel it. Already Nini’s cousin has it. the cousin was with Nini’s gran when she caught it but not knowing anything, the Gran went to visit Nini on Saturday evening. We saw Nini on Saturday night. Now Nini…has the flu. And Beverly who was also out Saturdy night has the flu. And Chlamydia feels sick too. Im perfectly healthy of course, because i have the immunity of Zeus himself! You think something like a mere virus can take down the Manisha?!

Rain

and offering salvation from this evil Satanic heat…there was a torrential monsoon downpour this morning. I woke up to thick fat grey clouds and felt sad because i love being in bed when it rains. Then i ran the fuck off to the train station and, quite literally, as i put one foot into the MRT grounds, it started absolutely pissing down. I brushed it away as a fleeting storm but when i reached the work station 15 minutes later it was still bitching down. What chaos rain throws us sun worshipping Singaporeans into! The train entrance was packed with people with but a flimsy newspaper to offer any iota of protection. I was intending to use my Draft Closing Submissions but instead approached a lady and asked her if she was going across and she offered her umbrella, which was a bit wonky on my side and my head was basically wedged under the umbrella, for which the lovely lady apologised but i brushed it off thanking her for her kindness.You see there are 2 kinds of rude, the way there are 2 kinds of manslaughter,: the act and the omission. Singaporeans aer rude not explicitly but are rude by failing to act polite. And in this girl offering her umbrella i was deeply touched and i pray karma blesses her the same way karma is going to kill Toby with a lethal combination of AIDS and dysentry.

Gyming

i now do High Intensity Interval Training. I used to do regular interval training which was 2 minutes at a base speed of 8.5km/h at a 1% incline with intervals of 1 minute of sprinting at speeds ranging from 9 - 10km/h at inclines ranging from 3-6% all for 30 - 35 minutes. NOW with HIIT its the complete reverse keeping my base speed of 8.5 for 1 minute and lengthening the intervals to 2 minutes. LET me tell you this…its HARD. My body hurts and its only my third try. FURTHERMORE near the end of my run last night my chest tightened and started hurting followed by pain shooting through my left arm. I think thats an affliction which the commoners describe as a “heart attack” but im still alive! woo hoo!

Work

last 30 days before i start my HOLIDAY!!!
well technically its 3 months of school. But its a holiday! School takes the PISS compared to work. im just sad about the 3 months of salary im going to miss out on but on the plus side i spend more when im not making any money. i dont know HOW thats the plus side…

My Last Words

i want a book on famous last words. i have been satiating my curiousity by reading last words on Wikiquotes and i have realised maybe people are the most sincere on their death beds and i have also realised i think most last words are bullshit because its IMPOSSIBLE that people are so fucking eloquent and erudite on their deathbeds. Wont most people be screaming “WHY ME WHHHHYYY MEE???! BEGONE DEATH!!!” 

So i have decided since im probably going to be screaming “WHY ME WHY MEEEE” on my death bed or asking for a cigaratte and a martini, stirred not shaken, i should  decide on my last words PRONTO, write it down and maybe tattoo it on my forhead. i think, what encapsulates me - that is depraved, sullen, misantrophistic, cycnic, beautiful, sexy, intelligent, mostly perfect, really i should be canonised - is: 

 Manisha:  Ah. 
                So what they say is true.

Followers weeping around my death bar (you think im going to DIE on a BED?! fuck off!): and what is this my Lord? Oh Wonderful Rai? Thou art as beautiful and sweet as a sweet and beautiful rose-like object…

Manisha: Shut up! my ass is dying so stop kissing it!

Followers: sorry. what is true O Queen Of Perfect?

Manisha: what they say is true. life is a bitch…and then you actually DO die.

oh my work is so hard…i hate my life…wah wah wah
 toby doesnt love me, hes stinking his thingy into some English whore’s va-jay-jay wah wahh wah
oh no my life is SO hard because, you know, im not poor, im so attractive, i get anything and everything i want, i have a great job, wonderful family, amazing friends, a terrific solid education…wah wah wah
oh i went out and i got drunk oh how ORIGINAL

sweet mother of chicken pot pie…there are other things to talk about in this world.

Now. here is a DILEMMA. what if you are on the train, sitting down because you ruthlessly fought for your seat and then this woman appears in front of you and you are about to stand up and give her your seat because she looks pregnant but you have a nanosecond of a pause because she just MIGHT be fat? Then you sit there staring at her belly deciding your options: if she is fat and you give up your seat then she might think you think shes fat or old or disabled. BUT if you sit down and not move and she actually is pregnant then you are a bad human being. so i got up anyway since i was 2 stops away and nodded at her and then at the seat. Then i was a bit horrified when she hesitated in taking the seat and i was all like “OH SHIT shes just fat!” but she sat down anyway and i thought “ok maybe shes pregnant but im going to check anyway” so i was staring at her belly, until she realised i was staring at hery belly and she put her bag over it and then i just felt weird and skipped out of the train. DONT tell me there is a difference between fat and pregnant because i have some days when I actually look pregnant. on the few days before my period i BLOAT up so much i look very unattractive and very pregnant and i have to resort to wearing my fat clothes. and some women can look disproportionately fat…like having a skinny upper body but a little pudgy on top? then what are you supposed to do? i contemplated and gave up because my head hurt.

Left work at 6 on the dot. Met Adrian who promised me free drinks and food as long as i can pretend i had US$10, 000 to spend. Got free wine, champagne and Sri Lankan canapes. Adrian says he has no dinner plans so i ask him to join the family and myself for dinner at Arab Street. Adrian asks me what Satan’s like. I fail at giving a rosy description. more like “oh…he is quite the biggot. And really looks down on people who are still dependent on their parents, or are lazy or arent academically qualified, or are not doing anything with their lives. he looks down on people who arent professionals or who are professionals but suck at what they are professional at. he hates everyone i think. but hes a sweet man really.” or “yeah he was a military man. he can probably kill a man with his bare hands. but he is a sweet man really.” Had nice Arab food. went home and had an early night. cried on the phone to Lydia over all the frustration of all the horrid things Toby had done like *CENSORED - out of respect to that asshole because i made him promise not to talk about me to others* People like Toby are bound to die of AIDS. i hope he gets AIDS. him. not someone else who does not deserve it. and dies the painful long drawn out lonely death he deserves. OR i hope i can assasinate him. wont it be ironic if he DOES get assasinated by someone shooting a dart poisoned with AIDS at him? wont i be a prime suspect. Sigh restrospectively i deserve all of it because of what i did to Stuart. So now ME and KARMA are EVEN and now Toby will be shot by a dart with AIDS. oh jolly times.

Saturday woke bright and early! so proud of myself. had an awesome work out, hung my washing, cut myself shaving, bled all over my yellow bathrobe, admired the colour contrast. got ready, hot hot day, took hour long train journey to Chlamydia’s house. Nini and her bitch Calvin. joined us for lunch. had lots of wine. watched Marie Antoinette. nice film. “let them eat cake”. Convinced Chlam to come home with me and head out later. Met Satan who brought Chlam and I out to buy dinner. Retired to the room after dinner and watched movie trailers on Stevie. get ice cream with Chlam and head out at 11pm to Clark Quay. was so sleepy had great plans to leave at 12pm. ended up in China One where i dance against my will. Again made plans to leave at 130am but the the live band at China One came on. they are awesome! as soon as they came on the sexually charged dancers left because you CANT rub groins to The Killers and soon it was me and Chalm jumping around screaming the words out, sweating like swines, stepping on the toes of many unfortunates. and finally at 330am i skipped on home, my throat very scratchy and my heart very high.

Sunday woke at noon. Made usual Sunday breakfast of deeply fried eggs. This time was 2 sunny side ups and bread smothered in butter and green tea. Watched Friends and Simpsons. went back to bed. woke up watched a bit of The Kite Runner. worked out. cleaned my room. had dinner. watched The Reader. read a book (haha get it?) . went to bed.

and now is Monday. another week. another week of working and working out and wishing i didnt have to wake up. another week of wondering what to have for lunch, thinking maybe i should be adventurous but always ending up with Subway or Racist Sandwich Shop. another week of wondering who Toby is fucking now, and what bullshit he is telling her. Another week of planning his STD related demise. Another week closer to The Inheritance Threat returning home (4 weeks). another week closer to ending full time work (4 weeks) for 3 SWEET months. going to Bangkok to get smashed with TIT (6 weeks). starting school (7 weeks) meeting new people. my BIG BIRTHDAY PAR-TAY ( 2 1/2 months) and all sorts of exciting adventures.

ps: do you realise that by HATING Toby with PASSIONATE RAGE and VENGENCE i am one step closer to erasing him forever? I just wish he would pay for what he did. anyho im off. to find a dart.

So when i was 13 i sounded like a Valley Girl…like i had just wandered off the set of Clueless or The Hills. stuff a Mocha Frap and a nicoise salad in front of me and then have me discuss how hard my life is because, like, high school is so, like, hard…and i FIT.

anyway i toned this down over the years, went to Australia and then England and picked up accents across the board not limiting myself to the local accents, but expanding to sub conciously picking up accents from whoever i met. 

really the situation now is a bit messed up. My Greek international law lecturer thought i was an American faking an Australian accent, the English think im American, the American think im English (whereupon Chicago will quip “cheerio!!”), the Singaporeans think i sound ‘ang moh’, the ang mohs themselves dont know what to think, and the entire situation is not ameliorated by the fact that whenever im drunk or sleepy i either talk like a white supremacist misogynist chav, a black man from da hood or a French who is an all round misantrophist. it really confuses people and becaue i thrive off confusion im happy. i love my accent. 

The plan when i finally have a reign over earth is not to change the Singaporean accent - because thats just my personal preference to dislike the accent - but to change the way some Singaporeans PRONOUNCE certain words. really it makes me want to take a large melon and hurl it at them. examples include not pronouncing the ”s” at the ends of words eg “overseas” becomes “overseee” thus “im going overseee”. and ”things” becomes “theeng” ergo “im going to buy theeeng.” And never have i observed this more often then the one place which is the portal of truth, happiness and pepperoni: Subway. Examples include:

“mayonnaise” becomes “MAH-YO-nees”

“lettuce” becomes “lechase” or  ”lech-CHUSE” 

“cheese” becomes “chis” 

“tomatoes” become “to-mah-tos”

and all the while in the background im twitching away, looking for my gun.  

ANYWAY

how ya’ll doing. this week thus far for me was alright at work but a bit shit when it came to matters of the heart. however my friends rose to the occasion grandly so im quite pleased and of course whenever im sad i try injuring myself while working out and now my knees hurt so im happpeeee becaue pain is good.i know this does sound a little psychopathic but those who do work out…isnt it kinda oddly nice when after a long tough work out you wake the next morning feeling like someone had decided to declare your muscles to be enemy of the state and killed them? it actually feels like you DID something worthwhile.

watched Changeling. Jolie not that bad an actress.

not planning anything fun this week. saving my money bit by bit for when The Inheritance Threat returns next month and also i need to buy clothes and shoes since I am down to one pair and its been about 6 months since i bought either. yeah im one of THOSE girls…i dont like shopping. i prefer spending my money on legal recreational drugs!

Yesterday evening I consciously, without an iota of regret, used my big blue bag and toned brown ass to push a woman who was elbowing her way to a seat which i was first in line to get. She was attempting to use the diversion, created by a waddling pregnant duck/woman who had, in her waddling, caused me to slow my steps, to squeeze between me and the pole and take the one remaining seat left after some ugly little ho had squashed her squishy butt onto the seat and slammed her bag down on the next seat for her lover in order to suck the lips off his face the rest of the journey. I, of course, would have none of it.
 
Oh yes. 9 months ago when i first started work i would have let her have the set…chuckling knowingly to myself, marvelling at the lengths people will go for the victory of a seat. oh yes. 9 months ago i would have deemed it unnecesary. Thought myself above such petty competition, didnt i? I would have patted myself on the back for being the bigger (wo)man.

But that was 9 months ago.

Yesterday and today and the rest of my life which i will spend travelling on public transport will be a perpetual battle with only ONE victor - he who gets the seat and only ONE consolation - he who gets to lean against the glass panel on either side of the doors. Everyone else loses.

Ergo. In the dog-eat-dog, survival of the fittest world of Public Transportation, there is only one rule: if you arent disabled, with child, with children or old, the coveted seat is fair game. and there is a very liberal meaning accorded to FAIR.

i won the seat. she had to settle for a seat only after the stop at City Hall. Sloppy seconds. in my head there was a little voice sounding alot like Super Mario going “I win! I win!”

FRIDAY started with me being pathologically SICK of work. It was lucky i could leave early. I ate a sandwich at 10am, bought a chocolate cake from Coffee Bean for me mam at noon and left at 2pm. The Strumpet brought me out for lunch and we went home and i collapsed on my pretty bed, fell asleep on my hand and drooled a little puddle into the cup of my palm. I woke up and shared the cake with the Strumpet and watched Simpsons waiting for Chlam to come over. She did and we watched Stardust on the telly until the Strumpet kicked us out to clean her lair. Whereupon Chlam and I walked out to Ichiban Boshi and got take away salmon sashimi don. always a good choice. also bought some sweet sparkling white wine. We got home, sat in the balcony and drank our wine trying to decide where the night should take us. We decided on Mimolette because Grandpa (this is a new character on my blog. a 27 year old banker dude who thinks he is superior and more worldly due to the 5 measely years extra he has been around on gods good green earth) was a flamboyant spender and we were likely to scam free drinks off him. Chlam and I got dressed and looked very classy and bounced off to Mimo where, true to my hypothesis, Grandpa DID buy us drinks before he commenced on his strange mating ritual of grinding his groin against some girl he knew who, for some reason, refused to utter any words to Chlam and I beyond “Hi” and “oh really”. I suppose Old People do not have much flair or erudition to conduct a course of conversation a Young Un like me and Chlam may expect. Grandpa’s other Old People friends were alright, capable of conversation and were not groin grinding (which incidently is NOT a dance of my choice.) ANYWAY, we ditched Grandpa and his posey, and met up with the guy who ran Mimo who, though was an Old Person, was excrutiatingly cool because (a) he got me and Chlam drinks (b) he got me fries loaded with mayo (c) he LOVES mayo and told me about mayo fondue (d) we had a looooong conversation about wonderful food. AFTER WHICH, Chlam and I decided to hit up Supper Club to join Grandpa but half way through Grandpa was at the Marriott Hotel so we went to some bar/club there which, Chlam and I realised, was a high class brothel, more like. We left when Grandpa’s friends ditched him, Grandpa started his mating ritual using his groin and “Oh Really” decided to completely bypass Chlam and I by dragging Grandpa off to rub his groin. Chlam and I, nevertheless pleased with a good night out, headed home and finished watching Bride Wars in bed. We discussed when, if ever, we will get married and went to bed at 5am.

on SATURDAY the evil depraved bitch woke up at 10AM and after i put my gun away i too woke up. Strumpet was teaching English to the Japanese boys who were instantly attracted to Chlam. I was a bit sad because i have been seeing these kids every Saturday morning in my horrific post-coffee hungover state and they do not so much as spasm in my direction until my mum yells at them to say hello to me. fecking 6 year old bastards actually SALUTED Chlam. I made egg and cheese sandwiches for Strumpet and myself, and shouted at her asking why those boys werent saluting me?! She then asked them “Who do you like better? Manisha or Lydia?” whereupon one of the kids inquired, in  heavily Japanese accented English, “What is a Lydia?” I chortled to myself, pleased that Chlam meant nothing more to the then an OBJECT.  Chlam and I had our coffees and egg with raging headaches, watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S and pre-emptively laughing. We walked out to get Subway for lunch and felt instantly better. Ran into a group of old school friends and chatted to them for a bit before heading home to have ice coffees, juice and watch Mamma Mia!. Chlam went home and I went to take my nap. no drool. woke up still feeling woozy and changed into my PJs, made some pasta, and spent Saturday night watching 27 Dresses.

SUNDAY i followed Chlams example and woke bright and early to make Satan a Fathers Day breakfast but the Strumpet said to forget it and just make him an egg sandwich. Did that and made him say he liked it. Had a pea chappati while Satan worked out. Sighed at how age had ravaged the body of a man who once had abs which were so chiselled you could grate cheese on them, and now he just looked like cheese. I worked out, and had lunch with my parents. Chicago called asked if i wanted to go out for dinner with him and Chlam and i said sure why not. headed to Arab Street at 7, met Chicago at Baghdad Road, laughed at his overly American pronounciation of Baghdad, ordered some Doner kebabs and got cherry sheesha which really did not taste like cherry. Headed home with Chlam, parted ways and i waled back to my apartment. Ended the night on a very happy note as i watched a World War II film which is really a genre i can never quite get sick of.

And now MONDAY is here, which is all good. its the last week of June. Payday this week.Junni The Vet is back. My big plan is to get Nini The Vet smashed as ive never seen her in such a state of intoxication!

IN OTHER NEWS:

im still occasionaly sad about TB. at the stage where im all like WHY GOD WHY DID THIS HAPPEN?!!!. im not jealous anymore, wondering who he is going to suck face with. but i just hope and wish i wont erode into a mere memory. Its nothing surprising…thats my hope and wish for this life.

WORK has its depressing despondent moments and its blah moments and its light ray of hope moments. always skimming the edge wondering should i do this should i be a lawyer should i even bother with this? i dont want to be mediocre at my job. i dont want to barely make it. but then i stop querying so much and start just doing whatever i can humanly do. i have realised off late that whether eventually the answer is i will or will not, i have to know either way. its like dying…you know one day you are simply going to have to die and when you are so caught up in this realisation doing anything in LIFE becomes meaningless with this ultimate ending in sight…LIFE becomes meaningless…but its sheer curiousity as to what meaning really can i possibly render to life before i die to make this life, even with the thought of looming death, far less meaningful. really really for everything and anything i just simple have to know.

i really need a whoreliday.

I have decided i sleep far too much 

therefore  i end up doing nothing much on weekends apart from sleeping, banging on the treadmill, watching Friends for 3 hours and eating. I have started living in my own filth as a result of this compulsive swine behaviour.

 I have decided its time i follow the fine examples of my peers like Chlamydia and Jong who wake up about 6 hours earlier then me on weekends despite going to bed at the same time as me (i am convinced they are cyborgs, nobody believes me). So THIS saturday, regardless of what time i sleep on Saturday morning,  how much i drink on Friday night, how damn exhausting my week has already been…im going to wake up at 10am, clean my sty, change my mouldy sheets, transfer all the clothes from my arm chair to my cupboard, make love to Stevie, and THEN go to Chlam’s house and help her paint her room!!!

anyway today i have devised an elaborate scheme to leave work at SIX. mainly with the help of paper cuts, coconuts, a Decepticon and five chips, i am going to escape my superbly messy desk and head home to make love to Stevie and have a nice fullfilling, cartiladge destroying, ego uplifting run around Clark Quay.

yesterday i ate my body weight in that fucking addictive xiao long bao from Crystal Jade ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xiaolongbao) So i also resemble a bao now. But that really wont stop me from eating more xiao long bao because its a freaking orgasm in my mouth when i eat it. seriously, how clever is a xiao long bao?! soup…in a bao! genius!

*****post scriptum: plans to leave at SIX may be foiled by Mr Boss. he seems to have infiltrated this plan by taking an extra long time to read final draft of submissions which means hes going to fucking kill me when we discuss it. in the words of your average Singaporean…”sure die lah” / “mati laaaaaah”

*********post post scriptum: its 9 minutes to SIX. obviously i wont be able to leave. weep, weep.

**************post post post scriptum: i am apalled at the nonsense i write on this blog. really why am i so self serving.

I can confidently say its neither perfect nor good, its quite frankly cats vomit and it is irrefutable evidence that for the safety of those reliant on the legal profession, i should NOT be allowed to practice.

ANYWAY point is its 440pm now, and my dream of leaving at 6pm so that i can wear my cool shades has been destroyed. I just took a stroll around the office and realised its also quite cloudy so really does it matter if i leave at 6 or not? no, i thought theoratically, it does not. Since the SOLE reason behind me leaving at 6pm and not the usual 7/730/8pm was to wear shades, and if i cant wear shades if its cloudy, then by all reasonable deduction it does not matter if i leave at 6pm.  might as well as make the cats vomit a bit less like feline regurgitation and more like a retarded graduate’s work. i abhor leaving late only because it means i work out later which means i wash my hair later which means i go to bed with a wet head. REALLY i could use a hair drier but its just too much trouble.

ANYWAY did i tell you what i did this weekend? it was very fun. it was actually another perfect weekend! Lets think….

left work at 715pm and shared 3 JUGS of beer with Dawn. got hit on by a strange Nigerian man who gave us his card which i “left” at the beer table. Took the cab to Jongs. Tried making conversation with taxi driver, which i absolutely LOVE doing, but he would have none of it. Have a glass of wine at Jong’s. By I am drunk at that point but dont really realise it until the next morning when my head died from being slplit. Anyway. Hit up Mimolette. Met Chlamydia’s editor who gets us tequila coffee shots! marcus arrives i say hello. Half Breed’s Brother’s Friend arrives with his friend who looks like a rapist, who shall now be known as Rapist. Half Breed’s Brother’s Friend is DRUNK and hence hilarious. its probably the least annoying conversation i have had with someone of Dirty Brown Lineage (with the exception of YOU Pera!! if youre reading this…which you are…i can see you…stop touching that!!!). I buy the first round and have a shouting match with the bartender because he did not include GST into the stated price which i thought was a real dick move to pull. Chlamydia knows the guy who runs the show so we get another round of free drinks. Suh-weeeet! Rapist PISSES me off by (a) forcing me to dance and (b) carrying me. i fucking hate being carried, its just a thing. one of those inexplicable THINGS.. Take taxi back with an Australian man we met that night since we live near each other. hes very gentlemanly and pays for the cab which is great since i had already blown $80 on heck knows what.

Saturday. ahhhhh bliss bliss bliss. sleep till 2pm wake for lunch back in bed by 3pm till 6pm. have a work out and Prego for dinner. they dont serve the duck which saddens me. Realise my family is the most talkative i have ever come across. Really we talk far too much. its wonderful. watch The Duchess on Stevie.

Sunday sees another 12 hour sleep. wake up and read the nooospaper have sandwiches for breakfast. realise i have been drinking mould. surprised im still alive. watch TV for a long while. have a semi nap. work out. head out to buy salmon sashimi don for dinner. yay! the best! watch some Japanese flick. its only apt. do some office work. bedtime.

Whore of a monday is here. i should really stop referring to Mondays as a day which is promiscous. sigh. i wish. maybe if monday WAS more promiscous i would be bloody awake.

The Awesome from Nottingham:

i dont think anyone gives a damn.

Supporters from Nottingham:

hear hear!

right then. off to be slaughtered by Mr Boss. ciao bellas and bellos!