Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation: Day6

Koh Phi, Ghost Iamd

Koh Phi means the island of may ancestoral spirit. Many believe that there were executions being carried out during the Second War. I have also heard of many elderly when they have no contributions to the local economy being sent to Koh Phi to spend their last days, away from their loved ones. Most of the locals will go nowhere near the island especially at night. There are no inhabitants apart from the lost souls of those that have burning passion, something to say to the living. Today I dove the seas of the Ghost island to hear the messages of the dead; I saw many creatures that crossed into the path of my torch as I dove 20m, if that. The visibility is too low. Perhaps those from the past do not have a message for me, for they have clouded my vision all through my night dive on Koh Phi. The ancestors have a message for others I think, but they keep reminding divers like myself that they do have a message.

A message for the living.

The sunset on Koh Phi will continue to shine as in the picture I took until all its messages are heard, I am sure. Unfortunately the message is not for me, but for their lost decendants who have left the islands and pursued a life life in the big cities. The spirits of Koh Phi miss their loved ones.... not occational visitors like me.

Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation: Day5 (Pictures)

Deck Chair In Paradise

This was a photo taken from my sea-side view bunglalow just before midday. The beaches are empty, and no one is in the sea. What a wonderful site to view from your verandah, heh? So who's up for visiting Koh Maak with the DWR the next time she goes on holiday???

Aaahhh..... do you now see why blogging took a back seat for a while there?

Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation: Day5

(Warning, I have only notes and my memory, vivid or not, to guide me thru the envents of this day. Sorry.)

Time unknown, but defo very early. This morning I was woken up by the happy-go-lucky photons that were playing Cricket on my eyelids at 5:25am. This is an unholy hour for those that get up at 7:30 to 8am during our suit days, not holidays. As soon as I opened my eyelids I realised that they were the only muscules that I had any control over. I could not move my body, for it ached and felt like there was a boulder strapped to limb.

Before my 7:30am torture session at the Shala, I was sensible enough to seek and to locate a slight, Thai lady with the words "Thai Massage" above her seat in the Gazeboe. (Look, the massage lady!!!) I hobbled over to her and asked her to make me an appointment today.

Can Lah, 12:30 OK? Lah?

BRILLIANT! I need to be pulverised and contorted (oops, I do that in yoga!) by a professional Thai Massage lady who is half my size. I cannot wait!

The morning practise went reasonably well; everyone from the Shala, after we finished, were squeeling in the clear blue seas, and the white sandy beaches. This place has beautifully maintained infrastructure, and are really into eco-tourism so everthing to the east of the resort, where our bungalows are located, is remote, and idylic.

Warrior Pose 2 At The Shala

Unlike my fellow yogis I ran straight into the shower, got into my clean clothes, and RAN to the Thai massage lady... and for 2 hours after that I had turned into putty by a woman who is probably 1/2 my size, but has the strength of 3 oxen. Deep tissue massage when doing excessive excersise just increases the rate of recovery. All the lactic acid in the world would not expel itself from the human body unless aided by a smiling, slight, feminine, warm, Thai massage lady. Dear readers, if you have never had a good proper Thai massage, and you need one, I will suggest 1) Wat Po Thai Massage Teaching School, 2) TMI teaching school in Cheng Mai, 3) Thai Massage on Koh Maak 4) Thai Massage at Kata Beach Resort(in that order). Try to avoid any massage palors that hire men in thick makeup who try to sign language you the menu, and graphically show you the services they offer. "Yes, we have for you, goo massa, por you, sexy, sexy, me love you long time 5 dala fuki, fuki" will not relieve you of sports injuries. (Just a heads up.)

I think I will visit the massage lady every day during my visit to this island. All these treatments cost less than US$5 for a 1.5 hr session, and she just does a wonderful job for anyone who needs CTRL+ALT+DELETE on a hard day at the Shala.

Wow! I never thought I would say those words today "hard day at the Shala??"

How can a day at the shala possibly be hard?!? Ohhh, I think that it is the tropical breeze and the spicy aroma of the rice being cooked that is going to my head. And with that, I am going to drink a bottle of mineral water -- Cheerz!

Mr Bean The Yogi

Prezel Pose

This was the yoga position that I managed to achieve on day 4 of my holiday. I am sure that there is a proper sanskrit name like Garba Pindh Asana, or something, but it is easy to remember it as the pretzel position to remember the flow of the primary series.

So why are my pictures not in my writing? "Hello" playing up again.... sorry

(on a smaller note, this is a picture of the grandson of Shri K. Patabi Joice, the Guru of Ashtanga Yoga -- don't you think he looks like Mr Bean???)

Leave Me Alone I Am On Vacation: Day 4

9:44am: Once again I am sitting at one of the tables on the pier. The warm wind coming off the ocean is gently tickling my sun-kissed arms and cooling my warm bare feet. By my side are my two new writing companions -- a Dalmation and a brown puppy with short legs, and standing ears. The puppy, a local breed, is playful, and has not stopped following me since I made the fatal mistake of sharing my "Yam Chips" with him. I have never owned a dog in my adult life so I guess you can call me a "puppy novice" -- remind me, dear readers, to 1) never feed him again, and 2) never look at his eyes even if I accidentally forget 1). He is very sweet, but I don't think that he's supposed to eat yam chips. I hope they do not block his system up and cause him some harm. Oops.

Our daily practise started at 7:30am and lasted to about 9:35am. We did the full Primary Series of Asthanga Yoga which I had never completed before. I was helped by my yoga teacher to contort myself into a pretzel shape, to rock around 360 degrees, and to balance upright on my butt in this position. (I will post you the photos later -- you will laugh!) If my teacher was not there I would have either fallen flat on my face, or fallen back, stuck, unable to get up like a tortoise on its shell! Standing upright looks silly enough, but being stuck... well, I don't even want to go there.

After our practise we had some free time before breakfast. Outside our "Shala", where we do our yoga, there is a beautiful, hexagonal wooden deck that overlooks the sea. A-K and A-M found the morning ocean's invitation a bit too tempting that they lept into the water in their yoga wear! They were running, jumping, splashing with joy while the rest of us, although very exhausted laughed at the two of them. I think we all felt that small sense of joy in accomplishing something today.

After my breakfast I decided to take a walk on the island to look around, and to take some photos. We get a lot of free time in the afternoons until our meditation session and technique classes. Today we learned how to suck our tummies in (Uluyana Bunda) and wiggle the stomach musles around -- I know it sounds silly, but it really isn't. (looks fun tho!) I have been doing Asthanga Yoga since August last year, but I still can't get this technique right. I will have to work a bit more on it, I guess.

All in all today was a hard, but fun day. Tomorrow will be even harder coz we will all be aching -- I know. On a closing note, I will not be visiting Mr. and Mrs. Benzodiazepine to help me sleep tonight, for Mr. Sandman brought me a bag of sweet dreams together with the warm sea breeze.

Good Night.

Leave Me Alone I Am On Vacation: Day 3

10:46 pm: I am relaxed now. It's been a long day. I was hoping that today's journey to the island would be uneventful unlike the two other days that exposed me to high adrenalin levels that should *not* have been part of a yoga retreat on a tropical island with white, sandy beaches.

The day started off just like any other morning would for a beautiful, asian lady, like me, with large tits, wearing a t-shirt that says "Sugar", staying at a swanky hotel in downtown Bangkok. I took myself to the buffet breakfast area only to be greeted by every Western man who didn't come with their wives, or their girlfriends. "Well, Good Morning"s with their lustful eyes stroking my breasts.... Pathetic beings; do they thing that I don't know what is going thru their dirty minds? Its not good morning that I hear, its "Nice tits, Babe." And I bet I am right on 9 counts out of 10. If only my Honey was with me -- he would put those creepy, overweight slobs in their right places.

Their Kennels.

The chartered minibus and my fellow yoga retreat participants, R, A-K, A-M, and M met us outside the hotel lobby. There were 6 of us: Dan, R, A-K, A-M, M, and me. The seventh person, Y who is my room mate for the duration of the retreat, was to meet us at the ferry terminal at Laem Ngop. And so our journey to the island of Koh Maak just in eastern Thailand, just off the coast of Cambodia began.

The minibus lelft promptly at 11am-ish, just according to our schedule to leave at 10:30am. I suppose we are on holiday so there is no rush, apart from the fact that we need to catch the only afternoon speedboat which left at 5pm; we hit peaktime traffic in central Bangkok, but soon we were on the highway with not much to look at apart from rows upon rows of rubber tree plantations. The journey was quite uneventful; most people fell asleep apart from me, for I was disturbed by the loud Thai music the driver was playing. Thai pop music sounds like a cross between those tunes you hear at your local Chinese store, and Bollywood theme songs. Oh and a sprinkle of Eurotrash from the early 90s. At 98DBs this is enuf to keep me pissed off for a while.

We stopped at a roadside cafe for lunch to eat some spicy, Thai-style "something-that-you-point-at-and-nod" with rice. We arrived at the pier one hour before the speed boat was scheduled to leave. Considering that we left slightly late, we got stuck in traffic, but we stuck to the speed limit (a rarity for any Thai driver), we did fine.

So far so good. What can go wrong. The boat looks in pristine condition, our luggage all loaded -- a bit crowded -- yes, but nonetheless we can all fit into without sinking the boat. The airport is at least 30mins drive from here. The probability of crazy shop assistants, and drunk businessmen ruining my holiday is remote. At least 30mins drive remote. What can possibly go wrong.

Well. The my room mate Y has not shown up. She is flying in from Koh Samui to that bloody 30min-drive airport....

Grrrrr!

(*On this journey/holiday I am haunted by episodes related to airports, what is it!!!*)

Luckily there were more people who wanted to get to Koh Maak than expected so they brought out a second speed boat to even the load. My room mate in the meantime was on her way to the pier; her flight had been delayed at Koh Samui. She eventually managed to get to us looking even more stressed than I have been for the past two days. Poor thing. I hope she can chill out.

It is now nearly day 4. I am sitting on the wooden pier on the island of Koh Maak looking up at the stars drinking my "Virgin" cocktail. The soft waves gently brushing the sandy beaches is my music right now. Everyone has gone to sleep so I am on my own. With my own thoughts. There is so much peace here.

Now I feel truely relaxed.

Leave Me Alone I Am On Vacation: Day 2

8:13am: Yeah so I was wasted last night with my HK version of the drunken wench friends: J, E, and S. I'd like to think/say that it was the first time in ages, but I am going to give you, dear readers, the raw story. I got wasted because its the last time I will probably be getting any booze for the next 9 days. I am going to be on a vegitarian yoga retreat with my yoga teacher Dan. I'm fucking lucky that I am not going on one of those "hose up your arse" yoga retreats, for I have heard many trippy stories about them. I'm very happy that I am not going to the "Octupus's Garden In The Shade" where I am gazing at "Marmalade Trees With Looking Glass Eyes" with my friend "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" learning yoga from "The Fool On The Hill"... if you know what I mean.

Shit! I wonder how my body will take the detox!!!!!

I woke up this morning to J's two little dogs that were whining. I thought they were hungry (just like the cats back home when they meow incessantly when their bowl is empty), but it seemed that only wanted attention. They wanted to play. At 11 and 9 years old TinTin and Fritzy were really excited to see me at this unhuman hour.

Me. TinTin. Fritzy. No J. And no Mr. and Mrs C. (yet).

I played with the dogs for a while; they seemed to like the "sit, stay, gooddoggy!!" game. They can go for hours!! I suppose dogs are very unlike cats; Belle and George constantly request a different version of "moving stringy"...

Oh, I miss Belle and George.

Oh yes. I forgot the Wench Mum!! I wonder if she is missing me?

6:08pm: Phew! That was an ordeal! Shit I am still shaking from the experience of nearly having missed my flight coz I thought that someone was going to die! Fuck!!!! Ok, lets take a step back and I will tell you the entire story, but let me first order a Bloody Mary to calm my nerves. What is it with airports and the DWR? Why is it that I have for two days in a row had some *event* at the airport that is worthy of a mention?

WTF? All I wanted was a holiday, none of this shit!!!

So. Unlike my usual self I am *not* running fashionably late for my flight from Hong Kong to Bankok. I checked all my luggage in at Central Station by 2:30pm; my friend, R, offered me a ride to the spa so that I could have some last minute "alterations" just like bridesmaids that have had one too many Guinesses in the past few weeks/months leading up to the wedding.

I was sitting by the airport internal shuttle stop when an old, oriental gentleman walks off the escalator, trips, spins around, and falls flat on the hard marble floor hitting his head really hard!!

Just like that.

My mind just suddenly went on autopilot, and before I knew it I was speaking to the people around me to watch his vital signs, "Can someone ask him if he is OK. I don't speak cantonese. I will call for help!!", and with that I was running to the nearest emergency phone giving the airport security staff details of where we were, what had happened, and how he was doing. (Luckily, no blood, in and out of consiousness, at the bottom of the entrance for Shuttle to gates 33 - 80).

The old man was speaking Cantonese to the 7 people who had enough sense to make sure that he was OK, and that he kept his eyes open till security came to see if he was OK. FUUUUUUCK!! I was on the line to security to give a realtime update of the man's situation. Luckily by the time that they arrived the old man was able to stand up, only to sit back down on the nearest chair banging his head on the wall behind him. *ouch, that must have hurt*

It turns out that this man (who had a cut on his nose, another recent injury according to him) was a 64 year old, Japanese businessman, who probably had spent half his life in a constant state of alcohol intoxication. He had been propping up the bar (again), realised that his flight was about to take off without him, and rushed to the terminal only to fall over in front of me. By which time I myself was running VERY fashionably late because this old Japanese geezer decided to fake a heart attack in front of me.

Great. Fucking great.

Why is it that my fellow countrymen HAUNT me with the stupidity even when I am on holiday when I am abroad? I thought I escaped the Chunder Trains, and the loud, Karaoke-microphone weilding "businessmen"? This is appauling!!! I just cannot wait for the next Bloody Mary, and the warm, welcoming greetings from the Thai people. Oh wait, I still have to endure the rip-off merchants who claim to be taxi drivers, asking for stupidly rediculous prices for a ride to my hotel.

Great. Fucking great.

11:00pm (or there abouts): I am in Bangkok now. The cabbie *did* try to rip us off as I had expected, and ran for about 5 mins without turning the meter on. "Oh, I take you 350baht, meter service charge 50baht."

No. Fuck off. It does not cost 400baht to get to central Bangkok, now put the metre on. YES?

In the end it cost us only 149bahts to get to our destination. Why am I haunted by silliness. I just hope that things improve from tomorrow. The weather is nice though. That is a consolation. Now I am off to do other things... like chill out?!

Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation: Day 1

(Oh dear... I don't even call my holidays my "Vacation", but what the hell.... My honey and I chose it together, so here we go. Oh and appologies for an incomprehensive post to all who saw my site yesterday. I came back after a heavy night with my friends and hit the "POST" button instead of "SAVE DRAFT". Jeezus I was wasted last night... Fuck! Just look at the time that I posted!!!! Fucking wasted I must have been.)

6:58am: It is snowing in Tokyo right now, and I'm sitting in the bus on my way to the airport. The lady at the counter at the ticket office is telling me that it will take 2 hours to get to the airport today. Great. Fucking great. I left the house at 6am -- didn't sleep coz I was chatting online with my Honey -- and now they are telling me that I may be running late (again) because of the snow. It's my first holiday in a YEAR and I could potentially miss the flight.

Wonderful.

*SLEEP* + 1.5 hours later, I am at the airport.

9:25am: Managed to make it on time -- phew. I am sitting at the airport lounge/restaurant area eating Caeser salad and toast for breakfast after having had a huge arguement with a shop assistant when I went to buy sake for my friend J who I will be staying with when I stop over in Hong Kong for one day. The stupid bitch charged my credit card for two bottles instead of one! When I politely pointed pointed out that I waned only one bottle, not two, she just got all pissie with me, telling me that she chated for two coz I *asked* for two. (No, I didn't. I brought one bottle to the counter, love. Just one bottle. You were the one who brought out the second bottle, not me. I thought you were going to get me a nicer, not so dusty bottle coz I asked for it to be gift-wrapped.) I'm sorry, but by no stretch of the imagination can the words "can you wrap that coz it's a present. Can you make sure you remove the price tag off, please." sound anything remotely like "oh, yes, I would like two of your fine bottles of expensive sake, even though I am holding one bottle in my hand." in any language that I speak. After she reprocessed my transaction I said to her in my most calm, deep, and slow tone: excuse me, is it not polite to appologise for mistaking the transation instead of sitting there being rude to your customer. First things first, appologise, reprossess the transaction, and tell me that you have fixed the mistake. This is what customer service is all about.

She didn't listen to me and started to be on the defensive, so I got pissie with her. Serves her right for fucking up the first few hours of my long awaited holiday. Narita airport is a "Private Company", so unless they shape up and improve their services to the "CLIENTS" I'm taking my money elsewhere. And why the fuck are prices inflated at airports anyway? I just paid 1,025 yen for a small caeser salad and two peices of bread. In a country where 60% of our food is IMPORTED. I'm sure that they can keep the cost down for a salad!! I mean, perishable goods like a lettuce *must* be flown in. I can't possibly imagine lettuce being shipped from China by sea. I'm at an airport that is the hub for overseas cargo. So theoretically the "cost" of the lettuce that arrived at the cargo section of this stupid soooo out of the way airport must be minus the "logistics costs" of a lettuce I can buy in central Tokyo.

So why am I paying double the price for half the size?

And why am I exposed to silliness and stupidity when I am on my holiday. I am put thru this at WORK!! I am no longer sitting next to the UEPEs; I'm on holiday. Can someone remove the "work" elements from my holiday?

Please? Pretty Please?

No More Pink Elephants! It's Holiday Time For Me!!!!

So. Many of you know that I work for the Pink Elephant, right? Well I finally got that offer from the company that I have been interviewing for a while; and now I am getting ready for my yoga retreat/diving holiday in Thailand. (My favourite, favourite holiday destniation!).

Today, to celebrate my new offer, I was drinking with the drunken wench friends who so kindly reminded me about the "holiday title" competition that I had put up on the blog a while ago.... back on Feb 6th actually.

I contacted my co-judge and we sat around for a while till we came into agreement of a title for my holiday blog. And here were the runners up (in no particular order):

Death to the Pink Elephant
I'm a Drunk Wench... and I'm Still Better Than You
Causing Traumas in Thailand
Sunbathing Scandals
Holidaying Hos
Perpetuial Bliss

But the final judgment went on: "Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation."

Thank you "o" for the for the title. My honey and I decided that this is the best one of them all -- considering that I am one of those "irritated people" at times. But thank you all of you for handing in your submissions, I really appreacate your efforts!!!

Right, need to pack my bags in 15mins before the taxi turns up!!!

80's Toys

Now as a wench with permanent residency in the independant state of "Da Gutter" when I first read the Title on Summer's blog, I was thinking: "Oh what was different about the sex toys in the 80s compared to today?" only to realise that she was talking about some quiz that you can take to find out what kind of 80s "KIDDYS" Toys your personality fits.

So what toy am I? An Etch-a-Sketcher...

You're an Etch-a-Sketch!! You're the creative,
artsy type who doesn't need to actually utilize a single muscle group in order to have fun.
Doesn't matter though, you're still cool.

What childhood toy from the 80s are you?

Well, I suppose it has me summarised in 4 lines. I am not a doll, nor am I an action man. Nothing personified -- just an inamimate object. I'm quite surprised that they didn't come up with the Rubiks Cube, Space Invaders, or Cluedo.

(Post script: Thank you Summer, my twin across the pacific, I love these funny quizzes that you find! They are fantastic!!! DWR)

Wheelchair Warriors: Shall I Stop At Being A Messanger?

Today the temperature in Tokyo was no more than 6degrees Celcius according to the weather reports. I know not to trust people too much so I am going to tell you, dear readers, how it felt. All the bones in my digets and metacarpals - left and right - were in pain. My cheeks had lost sensation and my pen was not working, the ink probably was too viscous to make an appearance on my paper because of the cold, and it was raining/snowing. But warriors are warriors. Whether they are sitting in an expensive, 300pound electric wheelchair, or dorning the cheapest fake Nikes in their silicone legs, they were out there in force yesterday and today. I had only a small glimps of their overnight protests, but the 30 minutes or so I spent was enough for me. I feel ashamed that I do not have the energy and the vigor to fight for their cause alongside them.

The Wheelchair Warriors are stronger than the DWR.

Of course they are; they have had more barriers and stigmatism than me, a "haafu". I only get looked upon as weird, the WCWs have in addition to that a physical obstacle on top of the stares. They get experimented upon, charged through their noses for basic human rights like "the right to freedom", and now they have to sit in the cold rain to be heard....

I want to help the WCWs as much as those who were kind enough to make a comment about their plight, but the opposing poweres are just too overwhelming: I am not strong. However, I have allies, and with the power of the masses and the media in Japan we may be able to move that boulder, to pave a way so that the Wheelchair warriors can march on without any barriers in their way.

I have an acquaintance in the media industry, and I have passed the batton onto her to cover the story. She works for one of the major terrestrial TV stations in Japan.... she took an interest in the Warriors and has been interviewing them the couple of weeks. I hope that what she produces can reach out to a wider audience than me.

C, I pray for your success. I know you are bound by sponsers, producers, et. al, but just as we spoke today about the WCWs we feel the same way about what is going on in our world. You and I are "haafu"s we have only one foot in this madness. Let us make sure that we keep the other foot rooted on solid ground. Just as Onoue san has his wheels firmly fixed in front of the ministry.

In the pouring rain.

You're My Lady, Brown Sugar

No it's OK, I have not turned into a lesbian, or a bi-girl. I have not started to date a beautiful, Sub-Saharan Rose, or someone of that heritage -- sorry gals/boys, perhaps in the next life time. I'm not good at muti-tasking. Sorry! (But if you are interested - boys'n'gals - I know several beautiful, black beauties, who I can never, ever match, who are more than happy to look at your resume's if they have the time.... I think. They are high class and picky, but I can always try asking them.)

No. "You're My Lady" is the title of the song that I am listening to right now. It is from D'Angello's first album "Brown Sugar" (which I *think* I am, but I am neither as gospel, nor smooth as he claims his "brown sugar" to be. Nonetheless a good singer, and mellow tunes, just gets me going -- WOOF!).

Ok, so I have been writing too much of my personal stuff lately: 1) my honey's valentine's floweres, 2) the "Love Bird" that is sitting on my shoulders whispering sweet sonnets into my ears. (Even if it shits on my ego right now, I'd still have a *grin* on my face. Sorry, I am goofy!!!) 3) The "Get Da Fucky Out Off Da Payroll Of Da Pink Elephant That Bought Our Company Out In A Strategic Alliance (cough, cough) ". The plan has gone soooo well to the point that I am going quit this week before my holiday in paradise (HA!), 4) Da Wench-Mum is out of my way (the absence of wench-mum posts is always a good sign) 5) The Drunken Wench Friends are on form again (they are always positive) and 6) Umm.... my honey?! (Hey, don't knock my long distance relationship with my hun, OK? It's been over 2+ years since I have been in LUURVE, right? U Don't like it? Well sod off!! My man is good to me -- even if he is 13hrs away)

Why am I writing crap?

Weeeeeell. I have no good excuse, but let me introduce to you the stories about the Wheelchair Warriors, just so that you know that I am not completely lazy....

Honest. I promise!

(Now off to my research into Lock, Stock, and... um Martin?! Upcoming serious post on politics and aviation....)

Out of Office Reply: Suit Back In Wardrobe

I am so unmotivated today. I can't be arsed to do any work. I have less than a week before my holiday in Thailand, and I have not had the chance to go and see the Wheelchair Warriors yet. My Big Boss (1) gave me grief about today's presentation with the client, and I am sitting here thinking "WTF! I am going to leave this company in a few weeks (hopefully). Can't be bothered to listen to the likes of you. I don't want to sit next to the UEPEs anymore; they are draining my energy like venus flytraps when they dissolve their prey...."

DWR (Suit Version) Out of Office Reply:
Thank you for emailing me. I am out of the office until... well, whenever I feel like it. You guys don't challenge me, you make me sit next to entities that are somewhere below kittie litter on the evolution ladder, and there is something funny in the air, coz I am getting puffy eyes again. And don't even THINK about bothering me in the meantime! Oh, and have a nice fucking day, UEPEs!

I will be back in the office on monday, one of these days, to hand in my resignation, ya *peeeeeeeeeeep*!

(Post script: all you good boys and girls, please ignore this woman's ramblings about how boring her day was. The DWR will be up and early, cheery as fuck, blogging her pink fluffy self away!!

No Nutts, I will not. Grrrr! stop lying on behalf of me, you horrid wench!!!)

Lobotomised

Never in my proffessional life have I worked in a more DULL place than the "semi-cubicle" area in my old-old office building. My section, which comprises Big Boss 1, Big Boss 2, and Lil'ole Me, has been scattered like a supernova across the universe. *splat* Big Boss 1 has her own office. Big Boss 2 has his "Communal Bossoffice", and I am lumbered in the "Hotelling" area in my "Easy Recliner" sitting next to people who I assume work for the same company.

As I sit here contemplating silly things like whether "Wormholes will surpass Portals" and make sense for future health plans, especially if portal maturity is low, I realised that there is something wrong with me. My brain is not functioning properly -- it is almost as if I am on Benzodiazepines and Coffee, while I snort Prozac thu my ears.... Why?

I am surrounded by crazy people!!!!!!! AAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!

I am sitting next to people who send emails to their colleagues sitting OPPOSITE them, or even if they DO converse, they speak only in 3 letter acronyms. "Hey the PDI, and ERP are WTF'd. Can you KAT the PDA now?" The woman sitting opposite my divider has just received a call on her MOBILE from her colleague sitting two dividers down!! (try using the office phone, love, it's right there in front of you! Better still -- walk to your mate to talk to her!!!)

This is not right. I need to be moved to a different area. These crazy people are tapping their feet to music they cannot hear (maybe they can hear mine! shit!), and thru-out the day they keep looking over towards me... I wonder why? Am I paranoid? Do I need more drugs? Have they never seen a valentine's bouquet before? (yes, my honey sent me flowers to my office.) What is WRONG with these people??? Have they never seen flowers before? DO NOT EAT MY FLOWERS!!! NOT FOOD!!!

*breath, breath, breath*

If I sit here any longer, I would be lobotomised by zombie-rays emitted by the "unknown" employees of the Pink Elephant (UEPE). Maybe it's time for me to go upstairs and find the drunken wench friends. They are the only sane ones here! (Plus I want to show them my flowers -- tee hee!)

(Post script: as someone who has majored in two biomedical sciences, it gives me a perfect opportunity to examine the habits of the UEPEs. I have a client meeting tomorrow morning, but apart from that I am on my own again surrounded by these headcases, I mean, specimens. So far today I have identified 7 UEPEs that sit by me, exhibiting behaviour that can only be induced by atrophy in the hippocampus. I have also seen at least two that exhibit neurodegeneration in the basal ganglia. Perhaps I am on the verge of a break-thru in medical science! I may finish that PhD in neuropathology afterall!!! Or there again, maybe not...)

Wheel Chair Warriors -- RFP

In the world of consulting RFP stands for "Request For Proposal". Today I am using the three letter acronym to mean Request For Participation. I'm not sure if many of you remember the Wheel Chair Warriors who were protesting outside the Ministry of Health, Labour, and Welfare (aka. Ministry of Wealth Through Increased Labour and Cuts in Healthcare) back in December; I received an email from one of the organisers of the protest who I passed my business card to when I interviewed Onoue san from DPI. She informed me that they will be staging an overnight protest, because the Diet (Parliament) is about to pass a law that would in effect send a large number of people with disabilities back to the "institutions" by removing their freedom that they have today.

They are going to be staging an overnight protest outside the Ministry on Feb 15th and 16th. I don't know if any of you have sat in a cold chair all night, not being able to stand up and move about in mid winter. This is what the Wheel Chair Warriors will be doing; it takes people like Onoue san to sit in protest before they even get noticed. The local media have not really taken much notice of what has been happening so I contacted an acquaintance in the industry to see if she was interested in following their story. I spoke to her yesterday; she was up for it, so let's see how things turn out.

As for me, I will be sober, hopefully without a cold, out there on both the days getting a feel for what is happenining. I know Onoue san will be very busy so I will not ask for an interview this time. I mean, they are "Warriors", but I do not see them lobbing Motolov Coctails, or anything like that, but I know that the police can be heavy handed even towards people who are sitting in an electric wheelchare that weighs over 300kgs (660pounds). The last time they were protesting the metropolitan police deployed at least 4 armoured vans full of policemen in riot gear. Four armoured vehicles for 2000 people, some of whom cannot even turn their heads, or breath air through their mouths. Do the maths? Just picture what I saw back in December, and it's about to happen again next week.

I wonder how much of my tax money has gone into this charade -- police in riot gear after people who are wheelchair bound?? And I wonder how many disabled people in Japan are going to be institutionalised, hidden away from the public eye after all they have done to make progress that matches the West when it comes to protecting the rights of people with disabilities.

I wonder....

I Curse Thee, A, For Giving Me Your Virus!!!

It is 4am on sunday morning, and I am awake, pissed off, for this is the hour of "evil" as any asthmatic knows. I "Coughed" myself from my breathless sleep; had I not I'm sure there would be a eulogy in tomorrow's Obiturary section of the Japan Times. I had an asthma attack at around 4am -- a time most asthmatics, on auto-pilot, reach out for their "puffa's" to catch their breath before the grim reaper takes it from us. And why am I having asthma attacks when I am supposedly "healthy"?

Because I have a cold.

On wednesday I met up with A, one of the Drunken Wench Friends. He was as sick as a drenched kitten that has fallen into an open drain in a "not-so-developed" country. He had come to see me on the 8F to pick up a PHS card that I had passed onto me by Y, who was also sick that day. While A was there, I asked him to baby-sit my PC coz my boss wanted to talk to me in his "communal office" -- to cut a long story short, I got some unknown virus from a man who travels extensively within the East Asia region. I know I washed my hands and wet-wiped the PC when I returned but obviously that was not enuf. Reflecting on the last book I read about Japan's wartime biological weapons development program, which was based in Manchuria, I am not too confident that this is the common cold. If I have the pneumonic plague from A, I will personally CURSE that man, plus the Japanese Ministry of Wealth Thru Cuts In Healtcare (who I am sure are the ones who were the in charge of Unit 731 during the war) for my poor health.

Grrr. We had a public holiday on the 11th. I was looking forward to going to my yoga class and eating Gallettes, and go see my friends L, and S. But what am I doing while A has FUCKED OFF to Korea to go and see his woman (i.e. get laid) while I baby-sit his "unknown" virus.

A!!!! I asked you to baby sit my PC, and now you are making me baby-sit your virus while you are humping 3 days in a row!!! I'm gonna curse you so your dick falls off!! You come back and make me some nice Chinese hot soup -- Shanghai style -- with the nice fluffy egg whites, and good chicken stock. I want "Pai-Tan" stock made from scratch! I want good shit, no MSG, for I am in PAAAIIIIN!!! My Chest HURTS!

Oh well, I suppose I am going to be OK coz I have enuf energy to get pissed off. Not even unknown biological weapons can keep this wench quiet. And now back to my hot Shochu and Ginger tea.

I'm Late, I'm Late, I'm Very, Very, Late!!!

Yes, I am late. I am always running late. And now I am late with all my writing and postings. Why? Weeeeeeell. Some of you already know that I work for a Pink Elephant, and that does not really agree with me, so I have been interviewing with a company that makes baby powder and cotton buds. They seem to like me (which is a good thing) and want to hire me, but it also has taken much time away from me.

I also have someone special in my life -- my boyfriend, N, who has me all googly and goofy, and I love him very much. Time? Distance? None of these things hamper my relationship with my boyfriend. Coz you see, I bought something totally jazzy and funky -- DA WEB CAM!!! Can you believe that this wench sits in her pyjamas talking to her man at 1am? Oh if only I could take my WebCam to my Semi-cubicle so that I can talk to him on company time. (Yes, I cannot be ARSED to do any work these days, coz I know my days are numbered. Oh shit, I have to write my resignation letter this afternoon! I told the BabyPowder makers that they better give me their letter of offer before I go off on my fannnnnnnttttastic holiday in Thailand.)

DWR Strategy for "Operation Quit Working for Pink Elephant":
Get offer from BabyPowderMakers, Sign on the Dotted Line, Hand in Resignation, Fuck off on Holiday, Come Back From Holiday, Buy Ticket, Go Visit My Boyfriend, N, Get Laid Senseless, Start New Job With PHAT Paycheque, Smile, Take DWF Out for Drinks, Get Drunk, And More Drunk.

And blog about it.

So yes, I have been a tad busy of late. Many, many things going on, and I just don't have enuf time to do all the things that I want!!! If anyone has any good tips on how to juggle everything -- but N is top priority, no compromise on that from the DWR -- I would be grateful if you can let me know.

Shit, am I crazy? Have I lost my mind? DWR is in love? Out of control this woman is... out of control.

And once again, I'm running late for my next appointment!!!

My New Office and My Semi-Cubicle

Oh joyous happiness! Yes I did pull that sicky on monday so today is my first day back at the "New" office. I was on the same floor, on the same side of this fucking building nearly 2 years ago before I got shipped off to Hong Kong for 8 months. And now I am back in the same place again. What is wrong with my company? Huh? All these painful "moves" from one building to another! My experience of having my upper wisdom teeth extracted was a holiday in Club Med compared to the boot-camp "move your own shit AND the department archives yourself once a year" bullshit they keep imposing on us. I have worked for this company for nearly 5 years, and I know the score. Moving day? Runny tummy. No one wants to know about your liquid faeces in detail so they just say:"Um, yes, hope you feel better. Don't come into the office, um, for a while. Hope you get better soon, um. Yes."

And they hang up, only to run to the bathroom to wash their hands just in case my "dial-rhoea" is contageous over the phone. (Idiots)

I had already "booked" my semi-permanent hotelling seat until the end of march. Unlike my previous office, in our new "joint" all the BIG-WIGS are in one 'shared' room on the other side of this building. And the small time, middle management (like us) are in a communal semi-cubicle area. This is a refreshing change from the "open planning" Scandinavian style seating that we hd in the other building. No IKEA for us here in the old building, just seats that have been cordened off by shitty, pre-fab, asbestos laced dividers.

(Please remind me to use my BioMed mask if there is a fire in the building.)

Oh, I am freeeeeeee! I am free to do whatever I like, blog, chat to my friends, talk to my boyfriend....

Unfortunately there is one small detail that I have forgotten about being in this new building. The drunken wench friends. Oh and the pub next door. Never put the DWR and the DWF in the same building next to a PUB. This is not the best of combinations...

Yes, Yes, Yes, YEEEEEEEESSSS!!!

No, it's ok, everyone. I am not having an orgasm on my blog. I'm not an exhibitionist. Nor am I getting any....

Yet.

No. I have managed to get the flights booked for my yoga retreat/diving holiday to Thailand; I'm going via Hong Kong to see my friends whom I have not seen since last March. This is my first holiday since March last year when I travelled thru China, (yes, it has been nearly a year!) and I am in desparate need of R&R. It is not normal for people to be "strapped" to their grey desks, basking in fluorescent lights, wearing a suit nearly 50% of the day in any given weekday (yes, work it out 12hrs is half a day!). Do that for a year without an extended break away from the mundane shites of life?

You go crazy like me.

Ask any of my colleagues. I *appear* normal when they shine that pale white light onto me; I am docile, obiedient, and fake-smiling while busting their balls (and no I do not work in the sex industry), but give me sunshine? The full spectrum from our closest star? I will blossom, *smile*, jump around, and become active. I start running, swimming, trekking up mountains, and playing "spiderman" on indoor free-climbing walls (I'm not good enuf to free climb outside, but will get there, don't worry!). Shine the fluoresant light, and my metabolism and creative brainwaves slow down almost to a halt. Imagine a turtle getting ready for hybernation? Well that's me in the office.

Anyway, yes, yes, yes, yes, YEEEEEESSSSS!!! HOLIDAY IN PARADISE!!!!!

You will not believe it! Eleven days away from the wench mum, away from the fluorescent lights, away from the pollution, away from arseholes who tell me what to do, and how much sand I should put in that vaseline, while I bend over and take it in the back door. Away away away!!!!! I will be spending 2 days in Hong Kong visiting my friends, 5 days on Koh Mak learning to contort myself so that I can fit into a match box (kiddin'). On the island I will be eating only vegitatian food in my vain attempt to reverse all the damage done over Christmas, no let me rephrase, over the past 16+ years, but no hoses pipes up my arse. I did not go for the "irrigation" option, nor does my yoga retreat offer colonic irrigation. I really do not like the idea of going on a retreat with complete strangers knowing that we collectively do yoga, eat, and have 5 litres of some "herbal" liquid agent pumped into our bowels three times a day so that I can expell all the crap that has been residing there for the past decade, or so. If I go, it is ONLY with someone that I am very intimate with coz it's kind of embarrasing to discuss matters like that. Unlike my mum and her Morning Mantras, I am slightly more modest.

After my yoga retreat, I am just going to go where the wind takes me -- as long as there is a beach and a dive shop I am THERE! I will probably spend the last 4 days reading, writing, jogging, diving, and writing some more. No mobile phones, no alarms, no hassles, no one. Just me, my thoughts, and the elements.

Ahhhh... Such heavenly bliss.

So I guess this is my way of introducing a new series (I like series, huh? Well life is like a novel right? There is a begining and an end, with chapters in between). I have not thought of a tile for this upcoming series so I'm up for ideas from readers. I will be using the best idea submitted by midnight Feb.17th GMT+12hrs, and post for the duration of my holiday (when possible). Who's the judge? My cutie and me! (And no, my cutie cannot join me on this holiday -- boo hoo, but he will get lots of updates about my funky holiday!)

So, I'm open to suggestions. Readers, any suggestions for my holiday series title? I am aaaall ears!

(Post Script: Just in case you are wondering, I leave tokyo on Feb 19th and return on March 1st. So! I will announce the winning title on the 18th and start from there.)

Is There A Doctor In The House?

I do not know what has happened to me lately. I have lost my appetite, I cannot concentrate, my stomach feels funny, and there is something not right about me. I am not seeing things straight anymore, I have started to only look at my surroundings. I could not tell you if it was sunny, or it rained yesterday, or what day of the week I went to see my head doctor. I can't remember if it's the pink pills, or the white pills, I am supposed to take in the morning, and I wouldn't be able to tell you which ones are my longer acting benzodiazepines, for my memory seems to be extremely selective over the past few weeks, and it’s getting worse day by day

Conversations seem like snapshots that you took and can't remember why you took them in the first place? They hold no meaning.

I have heart palpitations, sudden flushes even! The other day the facial muscles around the mandibles were contracting on their own; I found my self being stared at so I lowered my head so my gaze was down at the book, hoping that no one saw me. It’s ok, it's only this funny book that I am reading that’s making me smile.

I gaze out of the window and let time pass; let 13hrs pass in hope that in that time there is a cure for my ailments.

Is there a doctor in the house? I think I’m lovesick...

The Move!!!

I have now been working for the Pink Elephant for 4.5 years and in that time we have moved office buildings 3 times, changed floors within the same building 4 times, and to top it all we don't even have our own desks! We have something quaint called "The Hotelling System" where we call up the secretary asking them (sometimes begging/bribing them even) to keep a desk for us to work. In simple terms: we, consultants, move a lot, and no, we don't stop moving.

Desk to desk moves (horizontal moves) are not too big a deal, floor to floor (vertical moves) are a bit more challenging, but still it is only a half-day event, but today our department of 38 big-wigs (33 of whom were "out of office reply"s), 2 minnows, and 2 secretaries were packing and preparing to move 3 blocks "back" into the office building that we were in less than 2 years ago.

Why do we move so much?

Starting from 1pm we all got into our "movers' gloves", unfolded all the cardboard boxes stacked along the walls of the office area (and beyond), pulled out our duck tapes (wow, sounds like we are shooting b-grade porn!), and attacked the cabinets in the "archives room" . (yes, we preach 'paperless' to our clients, but we are very much "analog" -- don't ask, we sell BS for a living, what do you expect?)

Now readers, when I say the "archive room" I am talking about one of those "Host Server" rooms at microsoft or at AOL -- vast temperature regulated rooms, to keep the papyrus from falling apart, with sliding cabinets. We are talking LOADS of boxes here!! And the few directors, minnows, and the secretaries worked side by side to get them feckers out of the cabinet into the boxes. If Carl Marx was alive today and saw us work in unison he would have said:"my god, this is what I was talking about, look Lenin, and especially YOU Starlin, see this, this is what I was talking about in my Manifesto!"

In the end it took us nearly 5 hours to pack our department, throw out the rubbish and get ready to be moved by the "professionals" over the weekend. I wiped my brow sat down next to my college, chatted for a bit, only to be greeted by my personal assistant, Mye Crosof Toffice.

*Blink, You have mail, Blink, You have mail*

Thank you silly personal assistant, I am "team building" and working on "collegiality" here with my colleague, what do you want? Huh?

Shit, mail, better open it...

"Dear All Members of CB,
Thank you for helping out with the packing of our department, please be prompt on Monday morning at 9:30am when we begining to UNPACK all that we packed up today. Thank you for your cooperation.
Lovely Lovely Secretary-who-does-all-your-late-expense-sheets-for-you.

Shit! I have to unpack all that shite on Monday morning!!!!!!

Right, I'm pulling a sickie!

Mass Transit and Germ Warfare

Tokyo has a wonderful mass transit system. We have both overground and underground trains carrying its 12million inhabitants like red blood cells thru deep arteries and surface veins. It is a wonderful way for us to get where we want to -- fast. The complex delivery system of our mass transit is probably not equalled to any other city in the world.

Unfortunately viruses also think so too.

Our cramped, poorly ventilated trains are a perfect means for all sorts of viruses, bacteria, even mould(!) to get from one "host" to the other en masse. Yesterday I sat diagonally opposite to a red faced man who started to sneeze perfusely.

*a-choo, a-choo, a-choo*

I was sitting at least 2 metres away from this man and I could *smell* what he had expelled from each burst of his nose trumpet, for I recognised the faint smell of cheap liquor. The sneezer had been drinking, and now he is sneezing aerosol germs dissolved in ethanol vapour, and I can smell it. This only makes me believe that the pathogen, or allergen, responsible for causing the rapid fireing of his nasal contents has hitched a ride on the "Mass Transit", tickled my olifactory sensory nerves, saying:"tee hee, it's me, *hick* I'm here *hick*" (fuck, even the pathogens are drunk, how much has this man had to drink!)

Ewww. Gross.

And today I have a slightly soar throat... I am drafting this post in my BIB on my way back from work; all I hear is coughing, snivelling, sneezing and all sorts, and it does not help me to feel good about taking public transportation with all these strangers' germs, for I am currently reading a book called UNIT 731: Testimony. Japan's Wartime Human Experimentation Program. Unit 731 was the Japanese Imperial Army's medical unit set up in the early 30s by Dr.Shiro "Mengele" Ishii to combat disease amongst the ranks against their continued campaign against the Russians on the boarders near Manchuria. Ishii quicky recruited the "silent enemy" and decided the way forward in modern warfare is to use desease (and chemicals) to eradicate their enemy. And where better than to test your cholera, plague, haemorigic fever, and typhoid samples on "Lab Rats", see what happens in vivo, and in vitro.

Dr. Ishii, with the help of the special police, Kenpeitai, had his samples: Chinese detainees and prisoners to perfom gruesom tests, vivisection on humans often without anaesthesia. His research organisation was so efficient and accurate that it attracted many civilian medical researchers to continue their "research" in optimum conditions,with very minor error rates, why? They are done on human subjects. Ishii's experients went beyond the etiology of the disease, his team of medical researchers began to refine their germs and delivery methods. Bombs after bombs were dropped on civilian villages so that the "medical team" could record the death rates, perform post mortems, and burn the villages afterwords so that no one could live to tell the tale of the strange "packages" that landed in the village. Ishii's "medical unit" may have been responsible for up to 3000+ deaths of innocent civilians during his 13 year "clinical trial" period for his biological and chemical weapons program. Just like Dr. Joseph "Angel of Death" Mengele, Dr. Ishii was never even tried as a war criminal. Critics often say that the "war crimes" tried under a military tribunals are nothing more than a court for the victors' judging the defeated, rather than an objective judgment of crimes against humanity. I agree. Ishii's crimes agains humanity can only be discribed as just that. Crimes. But the Cold War and his extensive knowledge of pathology, and etiology of various infectious agents were what saved Ishii and his team.

They say that knowledge is power, but at what cost would you, dear readers gain that power? I would like to believe that there is a force amongst humanity more powerful than knowledge.

"There will be no end to the troubles of states, or of humanity itself, till philosophers become kings in this world, or till those we now call kings and rulers really and truly become philosophers, and political power and philosophy thus come into the same hands." Socrates, Plato's Republic

Dear Socrates, was this your vision of Philosopher Kings? Those who went about ernestly seeking the truth? Seeking how pathogens affect the human body? Ishii and Mengele were as accurate in their observations as Aristotle. I bet you are shaking with anger in your grave now, for these men, as you discribe, are lovers of knowledge, and were efficient rulers, "Kings" of their medical team.

Something went wrong, didn't it, Socrates. You missed the dark side of the equation, the darker side of the human soul....

And to you, Dr. Ishii, there was no need for you to kill all those innocent people, all you needed to do was to develop mass transit in a densly populated area to be your delivery system for your germs.

Oh I do wish these people would stop coughing on me!

My Eyes Are Puffy Today...

And no, I do not have puffy eyes from crying all night, because Cutie and I broke up even if it was a brief relationship. We are still together, still a bit silly, goofy, and sleepy (for me at least, considering that he lives almost 13hrs behind me. But he still amazes me with his ability to stay awake for days), but that is not the reason why I have puffy eyes this morning.

Pollen. Cedar pollen to be exact.

There is one extra season in this country, neither winter, nor spring, which I call "orgy season" when the cedar forests located to the west of our giant metropolis decide to just go for it, full on, shake their tushes, and release in extasy their pollen in search for that, moist, wet, flower. Unfortunately those naughty pollen can't tell the difference between cedar flowers and the moist membranes of my eyes and my nasal passages. They are like stupid sperm that sitts there butting their heads, trying to release their "package of life", against the anal cavity wall. Wrong membrane cedar pollen, wrong membrane. You're not going to procreate like that.

And now, I have puffy, itchy eyes. The cedar pollen waft over in multitude at this time of the year that in addition to the weather conditions, UV. rays , and pollution levels, the weather man tells us how much pollen there is going to be attacking my conjunctiva that day. I have already seen a few people wearing goggles, much like those I used to wear during my chemistry class at school, on the trains. They look a bit silly, I know, but anything to keep those horney buggers out of my eyes. (I'm thinking about getting them too, if not I will have the drunken wench friends tellling me, "aaahh, broken up with Cutie? Nevermind, let's go out for a drink.")

My mother also suffers from hayfever so we will have to go thru a "routine" just to enter the house: first before we open the front door we brush the pollen off, much like one would brush off snow from our hat and shoulders, second we remove our outer clothing, spray it with Fabreze and hang it by the doorway BEHIND the screen, and third (finally) we have a shower to rid us of those potent allergens, and have an Optrex eye wash.

Phew. All that to get INTO the living room, to settle down after a long hard day... all because it's orgy season for the fecking horney cedar trees. And you know the irony of it all? If I go hiking in the cedar forests I do not get hayfeaver. Why? The cedar trees are blowing pollen in the WRONG DIRECTION!!!! There aren't any cedar punany in the city!!!!

(or maybe cedar trees are blowing in the wrong "hole" so to speak, and have no intention of reproducing. Shit, cedar trees are gay! They are EYE bandits!!!!)