Tuesday, May 26, 2009


Me: I'm sorry to hear about the bill situation.
Mom: Yes. Nasty Africans.
Me: Mom! That's racist. And by the way, your tenants were Arabs, not Africans.
Mom: Arab is part of the African continent what.
Me: No, mom. It's in the Middle East.
Mom: Oh, ok then. Nasty Arab girls.

Mom has got to learn that the word 'nasty' has got a cruddy connotation in the 21st century, especially when paired with the term 'girls'.

s w e n @ 12:18 PM | |

Monday, May 25, 2009


In what ways, can I tell you that you could be perfect for me?

That you have a wonderful laugh?

That you're amazingly committed?

That our paths could have crossed in so many ways?

That seeing you just makes me happy?

And that, if only you knew.

s w e n @ 12:36 AM | |

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

The Hoot

Some people just cannot help informing others about the jealous-worthy events in their lives.

I don't care if you have an awesome social circle.
I don't care if you have spectacular events that you go to.
I don't care if have 1,196 friends on Facebook.
I don't care if you have every guy in town at your beck and call.
I don't care if you turned George Clooney down on a date.

Frankly, I really don't give a hoot about what you do and who you do it with. So would you please kindly, shut up.


s w e n @ 9:03 PM | |

Monday, May 18, 2009

Confucius say, "Shit happens."

Some people just lack the sensitivity chip. Or, they are just socially inept.

A: You can't fit a size 8.
Me: I know. I'm a size 12.
A: I'm a size 0.
Me: I can see that.
A: I'm much, much thinner than you are.
Me: Gee, no kidding.
A: You know, you can, like, go on a diet. An intensive diet.
Me: Or, you know, you can, like, fuck off.
A: I'm born with good genes. I don't need to diet.
Me: ...
A: I'm a size 0.

s w e n @ 11:45 PM | |

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Big "Bang" Theory?

Well, here's a funny story.

After two months of being hopelessly hooked on the relatively obscure TV series, Big Bang Theory, it frustrated me to no end that after all these while, I still couldn't decide between Leonard and Sheldon. As to which was, for the lack of a better term, hotter.

(L: Dr. Leonard Hofstadter; R: Dr. Sheldon Cooper)

After observing this unnerving behaviour of mine for a couple more webisodes, I started to notice a trend. Apparently, my see-sawing preference between Leonard and Sheldon was not random and whimsical. No. It had a more deep-rooted, Biological reason:

My alternating attraction to the lead male casts of BBT mirrored the contrasting phases of my menstrual cycle.

Yup. Apparently, BBT was like a litmus test to my pre/post-ovulatory sexual preference. All I needed was a laptop, the internet and BBT (and of course, a functioning hypothalamus). And I found out, that during the pre-ovulatory phases (two months' worth of BBT is a pretty poor sample size but I'll give it a shot), I was more drawn towards the Leonard character. And then, after swooning over Leonard for a couple more webisodes (across a period of 2 weeks or less), bam! Suddenly, Sheldon's hot. And that's when I'll know I'm done ovulating.

Pretty awesome, eh?

(Disclaimer: This is a pretty pointless observation, with no actual proven scientific backing and hence, should be taken with a pinch of salt. And sorry that I made numerous references to my menstrual cycle. It was uncalled for, I know.)

s w e n @ 11:24 PM | |

Sunday, November 09, 2008


I dreamt of you yet again.

I don't know your name, neither do I know how you look like. Heck, I don't even know if you exist! But in my dream, there you were standing right next to me, breathing in the same air. I know I've met you before, somewhere in time. It's weird, i know. And somehow, i kinda get the feeling that you're out there, 'knowing' me too.

Who are you? No. I think the question should be 'Where are you?'

It would be a pity, if I carried on not meeting you in this lifetime. Wouldn't you feel that it would be such a waste of breaths and heartbeats? To have lived a life and not getting to know the person you've been dreaming about? And i'm not talking about daydreams, which are merely bullshit fantasies. I'm talking about full-blown, subconscious-fueled , interpretation-hungry d-r-e-a-m-s. The ones where you wake up from, wondering if you've left a life (albeit a more meaningful one) behind.

You had these hands that would hold onto mine so tightly, it was as if you knew you and I were in a dream and that you'd lose me again if i woke up. I held on too. We were running, through a labyrinth of corridors and alleyways. And you did not, for once, turn and look back. You kept running and I followed.

We were always running in my dreams. What were we running away from? What were we running towards?

We finally came to a place surrounded by people. Your friends, i presumed. We were suddenly not running anymore. Yet, you held on and i clung onto you for dear life. I stood there, drinking in your smell, your presence, while you mingled.

Am I going crazy? Are you only a fragment of my imagination? ('Fragment' would be an understatement at this point.)

My questions beg to be answered.

s w e n @ 4:45 PM | |

Tuesday, November 04, 2008


I finally saw you. You. For who you are, who you have been all these while.

I can't say that i'm absolutely certain about what you've said. What you've written.

I'm merely guessing.

But if i'm right and if it's true,

then, yes.

I miss you too.

s w e n @ 11:19 PM | |