Monday, July 17, 2006
♥ My Ideal Boyfriend

Today, I'm here to blog a long long long long and useless entry to make up for the days I haven't been blogging. I kind of missed blogging. My com's down with Spyware and Trojan horses and whatever but obviously I aren't giving a damn, as usual, because as long as I'm Meigui, my brother is in charge of fixing the com when it breaks down. Ah ha.

DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO.

To entertain you (I know many of you read my blog solely because you find it entertaining), I'm going to blog about MY IDEAL BOYFRIEND. There, see that's the reason why I said this entry is going to be long long long and still long, because the criteria will go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and... you get the idea.

The 20 qualities he must possess:

#1 I must think he's good looking.

You know what I mean by good looking. Note I didn't say "He must be good looking." I said "I must think he's good looking." And for the last time I'm going to repeat myself, LUIS FIGO IS SHUAI. He may be a little old uhm, matured in age but he's NOT AN OLD FAG. The next time I hear anyone say that, I swear I'm going to hire Sokmui to kill he/she. SOKMUI okay. I mentioned the killer's name. SO don't you dare say Figo is an old fag, never ever again.

And other than Figo, I think Cristiano Ronaldo is shuai too.

And of course, Jay. But wait, I think Jay is more shuai than Jay. Wait nono, Jay is the shuaiest. But hey, I think Jay beats Jay in terms of shuainess. Erm, I change my mind. I think Jay is the shuaiest of all.

So, you qualify only if you look like this:



That's with Figo's nose and Ronaldo's mouth and Jay's everything else. But then again, I DON'T THINK THAT'S GOOD LOOKING. In fact, NOT good looking at all. That looks like a total freak. So, too bad. No one's good looking enough.

HOWEVER, I may consider this...



That is, if he look exactly like that. Exactly, including the way he holds the mike and the way he tilts his head when he smiles and the way he just simply melts me like I'm ice cream.

#2 He must know how to drive.

By drive, I don't mean Daytona or Crazy Taxi. I mean the real car. Because I'm depending on somebody to chauffeur me in future, since I don't intend to learn how to drive and put others lives on danger. (Yes, I know I'm going to be a reckless driver, for sure.) So, he must know how to drive. Bonus point if he can RACE. Like Jay in Initial D. And he cannot curse while driving. Because I'm vulgar enough.

#3 He must not over use hair gel.

I'm okay with guys styling their hair with gel. BUT I absolutely hate it when guys use gel on their hair like today's the last day they have on Earth and they must finish the hair gel they spent their 50 years allowance on. Unless they're performing in a school play and they're acting at Hitler, that I can understand. But STOP IMITATING PORCUPINES!!!

Unless, of course, your name is Jiahao and you need that extra 2 or 3cm to make yourself APPEAR taller. But other than that, NO NO NO NO.

You know, they don't actually harm anybody right. They have their hair high and their spirits high, why not? But the problem comes when these porcupines look-alikes take MRT.

They. Like. To. Lean. On. Glass. Panes.

And make the glass panes shine. With their disgusting hair gel.

I know what you're going to say. I won't be tall enough to be affected by that, anyway. True, I don't, most of the times. But there happens to be short porcupines around. Like COUGHS Jiahao COUGHS. Yah. And although I enjoy experimentating to be a porcupine using Gatsby at home, I don't enjoy getting somebody else's hair gel all over my hair.

SO, my guy must not over use hair gel. Okay, wait. I change, my guy must not use hair gel AT ALL. Because the only person who uses hair gel and I have nothing to say about it is my dad, because if he doesn't, he may be mistaken for David Beckham Asian old version. You remember Beckham used to have this cock hairstyle? The one that looks cocky, as in, look like a cock. Uh yah, that's my dad's usual hairstyle. And because I abhor Beckham, I agree to him using hair gel. That's all.

#4 He must watch soccer.

Okay, not necessarily watch soccer. But he must at least KNOW soccer. Because any guy who doesn't is gay. Generalisation? I don't care. Any guy who doesn't watch soccer is gay. Tadah. :D

I know Jay doesn't watch soccer. But he's an exception. :D

#5 He must not have long fingernails and toenails.

If there's one thing I'm extremely anal about, it's nails. No such thing as easier to type, easier to pry open cans, easier to this easier to that. Short nails, fingers and toes. I can't even stand girls with long fingernails, what's more boys? Therefore, any guy with long fingernails or toenails is gay. (By the end of this entry, you'll realise lots of people fall under my category of gay. But too bad. I love talking cock.

#6 He must agree I'm reasonable, always.

Because I'm extremely sexist, I think females are always right. Just like females are always on the right of population pyramids, like what Mrs Theresa Lim said. Females are always right. So even if I'm not talking sense, even if I'm talking nonsense, even if I know I'm being unreasonable, even if I wake up one day flare up for no reason, I'm still reasonable, even if there's no reason for me to be reasonable.

(I advise all males to stop reading right now, because I think all of you will stop befriending me by the time you finish reading the last word of this entry.)

#7 He must wear pink shirts.

Now that's not gay. Pink is a nice colour, actually. Although I don't think I'll ever be in the right mind to wear a pink shirt, but I think guys who wear pink shirts are worth looking up to. (Okay, I know, I'm not beginning to talk sense already...) Aiyah, I just think pink shirts are nice. And although there's no reason why a guy wearing pink shirt should be attractive, he just is.

#8 He must not have long hair.

There's a reason why I hate F4 that much okay. THEIR HAIR. I don't know why, but guys give me an idea they don't go about doing facials and going for a hairwash at the saloon. Thus, I think girls give more of a damn about hygeine that guys do. SO, with long hair, it just gives me the creeps because headlice can grow. And one headlouse means I can go round screaming and Aceing my 2.4km run.

Plus, long hair is a waste of shampoo. And I use alot of shampoo already. (I wash my hair three times a day.) So I don't want see somebody else who wastes as much shampoo as I do. Yah, which brings me to another point.

#9 His shampoo must smell nice.

I know that's a super lame quality. It's not even a quality, lah. But having a nice smelling shampoo shows you're detailed, which shows you care about the slightest things, which shows you're a caring guy, which shows you're nice? Uh, link very far. But aiyah, the shampoo must smell nice, lah.

#10 He must not be afraid of worms.

Because I am. If a worm appears and both jump onto the table screaming for help, then what? Cry into each other shoulders? And wait for the freaking disgusting thing to finish crawling the ground? What if it crawls onto the table...? AHHHHHHHHH.

But then again, not afraid doesn't mean love. No wait, which guy will love worms? Farmer John? Because earthworms dig holes in the soil and help to loosen the soil which helps the soil to better absorb the nutrients. What a pathetic life. Imagine digging holes for life. Meaningless insignificant creatures. They shouldn't even have the right to exist. Tsk.

By the way, I was saying, he must not love worms. Because if he loves worms, and he loves me, then I'm equal to a worm. Which just typing out that phrase makes me feel like eating the keyboard. Thus, he must not be afraid of worms, and he must not love worms.

#11 He must not laugh at me when I laugh at cartoons.

Self explanatory. I feel extremely retard when I'm the only one out of 10 people watching Dexter laughing like crazy. And just when I'm feeling overjoyed that someone is actually laughing as well, I realise that person is laughing because of how retard I am. That makes me feel like a worm. Ew.

#12 He must have odd-number of eyelashes on each eye.

I'll tell you about that at the end of this entry.

#13 He must have a nice name.

Imagine. You're walking alongside your boyfriend in a crowded shopping mall, and you bump into your old old old friend. Okay, not exactly old, in fact same age as you, just that you haven't met her for a long time. And she comes over and asks you what's your boyfriend's name. And you go, "Oh, I forgot to introduce. Sandy, this is Aliytghsiiimmhjeri Kiysdnbyerwiiop, or you can call him Ali."

That aside, the children in future will have to be named Jay Kiysdnbyerwiiop. Which makes the name Jay look so retard already. And Jay is actually a not so complex name. What if you want to name your child Alex Michael Sheldon? Then your child's name will become Alex Michael Sheldon Kiysdnbyerwiiop. Which means you have to pay the price of two nametags instead of one in future. And most probably the form teachers will come looking for you because they ran out of space to type his name in the class list.

Okay, long names aside, the name must sound okay too.

Imagine dating Lucky. The last place on Earth you can go with him in the park. There'll be SO many Luckys around. Dating Lucky doesn't mean you'll be lucky you know. You'll catch the flu from him every now and then, because he's always sneezing (someone's talking about him, again). Someout out there just lost his dog again, and is desperately looking for Lucky in the void deck.

#14 He must know how to cook.

Not like I'll care to eat what he cooks lah, but in case of emergency mah. In times like World War 4 or something, where you can't go downstairs to buy Fillet-O-Fish or call 62353535 for Pizzahut. Then it'll come in handy. I don't want to die eating Maggie Mee everyday you know. I'm rather sick of it actually. So he must know how to cook, AND not burn the kitchen down. Otherwise we may just have to go live in the refuge camps at MRT stations. (It's World War 4...) Also, I eat quite alot. And I love to eat. And sleep. And not do anything.

In short, I'm just a pig. So he must know how to rare a pig. In a nice way. No, in a super nice way.

#15 He must cry.

Actually, I like to see guys cry. Uh, what did I just say?

I said, I like to see guys cry. Because it's rather rare you know. Few guys can actually, really, cry without feeling like they've just stabbed their ever so important ego. I mean, it's okay to cry what. What's wrong with crying?

I'm not saying to the extreme like Haobo crying by the back door when he's bullied by guys back in Sec 2. That's void. It's different. As in, I like to see guys cry, but I don't like to see guys getting sentimental and emotional too often. Makes sense? I know it don't. That's the whole point. Didn't I always say I love confusing you?

#16 He MUST MUST MUST MUST give up a seat to an old lady or old man or pregnant lady in the bus or train.

Enough said. I can't stand guys who continue plugging in their Mp3, eyes closed and pretending to sleep, hoping the world doesn't realise they're able-bodied and healthy and deserve to be standing to give their leg muscles some toning. Now sitting down and pretending the old lady isn't that old and he's the one who deserves the seat because he's tired after playing three hours of Para Para IS GAY.

And everytime I see these guys I really feel like giving them a slap in their face and demanding them to stand up that instant. But I never did. I'm so ashamed of myself. :( Perhaps one day I just might. When I'm drunk or running another fever. It's times like these I have those What-can-possibly-happen mindsets, which is good, actually.

That said, bonus points for guys who slap these weak-legged gays and make them give up their seat. :D

#17 He must not smoke.

Unless he's on fire, where I'll understand if he's smoking. Other than that, no. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. Because I love Darlie and I hate yellow teeth. Nono, that's beside the point. Smoking is bad for health and yada yada yada, you know the rest.

#18 He must not be boring.

My definition of boring can be rather warped. One thing, I don't find Hindi shows boring. I find them super duper interesting actually. So, what is boring?

Boring is when I ask you a question and you always give me the same old answer.

"I don't know." "Anything." "You decide."

These words are BANNED. TOTALLY BANNED.

I'm okay with making decisions you know. But, I don't know, anything lor. You decide lah. Aiyah, don't know lah. You decide you decide. I anything lah. I also don't know what I saying. Anything lah. You say what then what lor. Anything anything. Really anything. You decide lah, I don't know.

SEE HOW IRRITATING IT CAN BE?!!

#19 He must be healthier than me.

Because I suck at taking care of people. Really. I tried taking care of a friend who was running a fever. I bought her fish porridge, but did not make sure there's no fish bones. So she ended up choking. And when she finally got the fish bone out, I gave her medication but I realised I forgot to give her part of the medication which was meant to be taken before food. So I just gave her everything, anyway. And she went to sleep. And then I got bored so I started disturbing her and waking her up to watch VCDs with me.

So, I can only depend on others to take care of me. Never the other way round. Don't ask me over to take care of some sickly patient okay. He or she may just end up worse than before.

#20 He must play with me.

And I mean everything. From swings to playdoh to fishing games to hopscotch to imaginary monopoly. EVERYTHING. :D

Okay. I'm done with 20. Now let me explain #12. The one about odd-number eyelashes on each eye. Actually, I was just trying to be funny. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

-_-

Now acknowledgements.

Actually there's no one to thank. But I just have to include this section because Priscilla forced me to. I must thank her for her continuous encouragement and inspiration, although there are none. Encouragement maybe, but I didn't quite felt encouraged. As for inspiration... Let's just pretend she inspired me. So, thanks Priscilla.

Other than Priscilla, I've got no one else to thank already. That makes the whole acknowledgements thingy so redundant. But I can't possibly delete it. Priscilla will feel so disappointed. Alright then. I'll thank more people.

Thank you More people.

My, how lame can I get. Told you not to read unless you've nothing better to do. But I know you'll still read it, partly because you DO have nothing better to do, and also because the more I ask you not to read it, the more you'll read it. Stubborn cows.

I'm finally publishing this post. I took a long time to type these crap you know. If Blogger deletes it, I'm really going to sue Blogger in my dreams. I swear.