Back Now, WTF Is Going On!!!!

Have I been hacked to death by some psycho who lives in Wisconsin while I have been away for the past month??

No.

(Nick is a lovely person, and he would never dream of turning me into minced meat. I am very much alive.)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Bloody hell! Just got back from the US (2 weeks ago) after visiting Nick, and I see that: a) many people have left a comment, b) people have a strong opnions/views about Katz & Dawgs, c) the Pope is dead, d) the Chinese populous is protesting about our occupation in the middle of the last century, e) the stock prices are taking a "scuba" dive, f) the "beef crisis" and the trade deficite amongst Japan, US and China is looking about as appetising as my cat's fur ball, g) the pharmeceutical industry is still making money/profits out of sick and dying people, h) my good friend and neighbour Kim Pong Pill (Kim Jong Il) has made another lot of cheap nuclear bombs, etc. Shit!!! I just can't keep up!!!! Maybe I should leave my topics to a narrow spectrum and start a detailed, scientific observation on canines vs. felines, re-evaluate the relationship between China and Japan, or perhaps expose my new company about its dubious business practices!!!

(For those that are new to this site, I work for a big pharma/medical devices company, but I ethically oppose the industry's practices... yes I prostitute my knowledge and services: "Would you like me to put in some sand in the vasceline while you shaft my rectum with a barge pole???")

Ummm..... Ok, seeing as I had a bit of a break let's begin by filling in some of the gaps. I'm now back from my month(+) holiday in the US. I had a wonderfully relaxing time with Nick, but in the meantime I have had many topics in my head that I wanted to cover, including the Chinese nationalist computer hackers, my new job, me and Nick, my catz, my life in Tokyo, weirdos on commuter trains, and anything else that goes on in my life.

But...*plonk* (bottle opening) Ok, I'm too tired, maybe another day.... I am only human. I can't write every day, nor can I pick up a new topic and research it in detail so that I can come up with something that I can feel happy about that I can share with you. I hate to admit it, but it's probably 'coz I don't have enuf happy pills to keep me going with the level of energy that I demand, or expect for myself.

Sorry. Shit happens, and bullshit runs a marathon. But one thing that I can say is that I am still a silly drunken wench. That's good enough, right???

Anyway, before I continue to hand out lame excuses about my 5+week absence I want to thank the following people who left their mark on my site/visited my site and sent me an email (in the order that was written):

• Oh Please Mind The Head/"JimBob"
• Saby
• Kezza/Missy
• Ogri
• Stacie
• Arc of Polaris
• Rex Venom
• Nina
• AGFH
• Miranda
• Anon (C)
• Sketchy Jeoff(x2)
• Buzzy
• Ouiji
• Anon (S)
• LeftoverJoe
• + Everyone else who read my stuff but didn't leave a message, or to those that I have missed in my list so far.

Phew!! Being fucked up and depressed isn't easy, huh???

*Right, let's crack open another bottle of CabSauv, and start on the next bit.*

Cheerz everyone!

Katz vs. Dawgs

Nick is a dog owner. He owns a large, hairy dog. And this is the first time in my adult life that I have had the chance to closely study the behaviour pattern of dogs. Yesterday I had the opportunity to take Nick's dog for an hour's walk, and discovered that dogs are very, very different to cats. Very different.

Cats always go to the toilet in the same place, and bury their shit, piss, whatever, in kitty-gritty. The owner (e.g. me) merely has to get a pooper-scooper, remove the deeds, and throw it away. One can clean up kitty-shitty on auto-pilot, or totally hung over, coz they always shit in the same place. Dogs on the other hand shit whenever and wherever they feel like taking a dump; whether it is on the pavement, on someone's front garden, or even in front of a restaurant. If a dog wants to crap itself, it will. The owner therefore has to walk around with a bag of shit while the dog happily continues on its search for another location to take a dump.

Cats have an acute sense of smell. They use their olifactory senses to make sure that they do not eat rotten food, or to go anywhere near smelly things like fecal matters of other species. Dogs too have an acute sense of smell, however, they use this hightened sense to search out smelly items, like other dogs' shit, or dead cats, and get a really GOOD whiff of it. They sometimes even rub their body parts in smelly things so they can take the stench back to their homes.

Cats do not like to get their fur dirty or wet. They spend a good part of their waking day grooming and cleaning their coat. This is true for both indoor and outdoor cats, but in particular indoor cats are very fastidious about maintaining the condition of their fur. Cat owners of course can assist their feline friends and brush them, but in general cats can take care of themselves. Dogs on the other hand (if they could) would make the most out of their days trying to get their coats as filthy as possible. The wetter and the muddier the better. It is almost as if dogs wear wet mud on their fur as we women wear make-up on our faces. Muddy Dog = effort at looking attrative to the opposite sex. However, just like with some women, make up, or no make up, a dog is still a dog.

Cats require vertical exercise and therefore their linear territory on a map is usually small. Castrated male cats in general hang around a territory no bigger than 400m in diameter, and of course a feline "stud" will have his harem within approximately 2km sq. Cats are often seen on people's car bonnets, walls, even on roof tops, which is a very sweet site. Yesterday I was soooooo happy to find out that dogs do not exhibit these feline traits, and that they require *horizontal* exercise , i.e. dogs stay on the ground. I would have been at a complete loss if Nick's big, hairy dog started to climb onto people's homes; that dog would surely put a hole in someone's roof, and I know it would have been a peculiar site had the dog decided to take a dump right there and then.

So Where The F@K Am I?

Ok, so three days ago I got on a plane from Tokyo's Narita airport which took me 15hours back in time. I decided to take this bold step in time travel to see someone special who has been in my life for a while, but has always been half a day behind me. We used to leave each other messages online, or in the form of email, so that when the sun knocks on our bedroom windows we can see the shadows, the imprints, left behind from a different time and a different place.

Time travel? Shadows and imprints from a different time and space? WTF, DWR?! It sounds like a bad script for a B-grade science fiction/love story (i.e. total feckin' madness), but I kid you not. Nick lives in Wisconsin, and I live in Tokyo. That is the story, and this is where I have been for the past 2 or 3 days. (Can't seem to work out what time I am living in.)

Ok, so now that I have travelled 15hours back in time do I look and feel younger? No... In fact I am still combating not only the ugly hives that manifested itself after eating dodgy seafood, but also:

1. Dry skin caused by the excessive tanning in Thailand and the freezedry conditions of the 12 hour flight on the 747 (oh yes, I know, it takes 12hours to travel 15hours back in time -- go figure! Who came up with the concept of time?!)
2. Tight hamstrings caused by being carted in the foetal position for half a day on "No-I-Don't-Know-Where-Your-Baggage-Is-But-It's-Somewhere-In-The-Western-Hemisphere" Airlines (and why do I need flexible hamstrings? go work it out for yourself!)
3. Jet lag, or some other form of sleeping disorder that is biting heavily into my month's worth of benzodiazepine supply (not a good sign coz I need my jellies.)
4. Dry eyes -- dunno the cause, but it could be something to do with the horse tranqs that I am using to combat #3 (kiddin' -- not using horse tranqs, yet, but if this sleeping disorder does not fix itself I am going to have to turn to my old friend, rhohipnol which is bad news coz he's bad company, and would probably make me lose ANOTHER 15 hours and I'll end up in Ulanbatur, or something. And that would not be good coz I came all the way out to Wisconsin, not somewhere along the silk road.)

Thankfully, Nick does not seem too bothered, or in the least bit concerned, about the above symptoms so that is one salvation. (Who is Nick? If you don't know? Here, read this.) My other consolation is that I made an extra looooooong booking at Boudoir BEFORE I came to the shores of Lake Michigan, and did some serious body maintenance. Luckily I am realatively youthful not to warrant major roadworks done on my body, but there were a few potholes that had to be fixed and "grass cutting" at the day spa. Nothing major, but enuf to keep the list to a minimum for now.

Phew!

(Post script: I am not particularly looking forward to travelling 15hours into the future again in a month's time -- reason? I'll age once more, which means that I will have *additional* items to add to my "fight aging" list, and I will have to resort to leaving little time capsules for Nick like I used to...)

A Little Journey?!

Why is it that everytime that I travel somewhere I encounter a semi-drama. It is not as if these incidents that I write about (like the time the Japanese drunken businessman collapsed in front me at HK airport) are all part of my expansive imagination; these things really happen all the time to me and I don't know why.

(Maybe it's because I am always fashionably late, but that should not be the only factor as to why things happen to my on my journeys)

Take for instance my most memorable, and possibly most disturbing incidence that happened to me while I was travelling through Europe on a train with my then boyfriend. We were travelling on the cheap with our inter-rail pass, and just like any poor student in order to cut our accomodation fees for our journey we would always take the night train (second class carriage where everyone scrambles for a cubicle and locks themselves in, even if the ticket collector asks for your tickets) to our next destination. We had travelled from Sweden through Denmark and onto Berlin in as many days. A day is enough in all these places, for it was not the first time that I had visited these places, plus even in the summer the weather was not warm enough.

Back in 1993 not long after the Berlin wall came down and the before the first Balkan conflict between the Croats and the Serbs, many of us were attracted to visit extotic Eastern European cities like Prague, Dubrovnik, Mostar, and Budapest. Our first port of call on the night train from Berlin was to Prague; now in those days anyone travelling on a non "European" passport required a visa, and a lot of bribery to get into, none of which I, nor the three Australian travel companions that we had met in Coppenhagen, had with us at the time. At around 2am as we approached the Eastern German border town of Dresden there came into our carriage three uniform clad relics from the communist past.

Yup, they were the boarder patrol. And yes, we got kicked off the train because we didn't have the right documents, enough German Marks, or Polish vodka to pursuade these manequin like officials who didn't seem to understand the universal language of "you scratch my back, and I will give you a huge kick-back".

The cold floors of Dresden station at 2am even on a summer night is not the most friendliest place on the planet. The five of us huddled together, smoked all our dutyfree Samson's Blue pouch, and looked at the train timetables to get us out of this hell hole as soon as possible. Dresden was a city of culture, a city with many gothic architecture, a city of beautiful museums and galleries, a city of cutting edge industry back in 1945 just before the allies had blitzed the place to rubble, and not a single piece of renovation had happened in since the end of WWII. This was not a nice place to stay overnight especially for a group of five people who spoke little, or no German, and had no money.

It was also not a good place for prostitutes to do their business.

In the 4hours that we spent on the hard stone floors we saw 3 prostitutes who were soliciting potential clients that were "pulled over" and taken to a special room where the station guards beat them up, took their belongings (including their shoes), and possibly sexually assaulted them. I met one of the girls in the toilets crying, tending to her black eye after she had been released from the "Polizeistation" with her money, her bag and her shoes confiscated. In my limited German I could make out that she had some trouble sitting down, and that she had to walk home with no shoes; I had enough sandles and shoes on me so I gave her my raggedy Espidrills that didn't fit her too well, but I will never forget the sunken look in her blackened eyes that said: Thank you for your kindness, and you want to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible. Otherwise they will take your passport and your money.

That night we had too much tabacco and not enough booze, but we still managed to take the first train out of Dresden which took us to Genoa, Italy without being assulted, or having our possessions taken from us.

*************

Today I can live to tell the tale and call it the worst journey so far in my life; however my trip to the land "12hours away" to see Nick was not exactly uneventful either. A certain airline carrier (which I shall not name, but starts with North and ends with West) managed to lose my luggage during the transfer at Mineannapolis. Even Dresden's rigid boarder gards managed to keep all confiscated inventory in check, but not these airlines... no. I bet you anything that the Dresden guards had properly barcoded and sorted all the belongings that they took from the prostitutes, and even took physical inventory on a daily basis. Perhaps the "No-Way-Am-I-Competent" Airlines should learn a thing or two about keeping tabs of one's luggage, and the guards at Dresden should learn to smile and take a few bullshit from unsatisfied customers.

The Last Supper With The DWFs

Sometimes you need friends to keep you in check, to make sure that you are making the right choices, or eating the right foods. I have DWFs, Y and A, who do just that. Two nights ago I had my official "Last Supper" with the DWFs as colleagues, for I will no longer be working for the same Pink Elephant as them. We sat together drinking distilled alcohol (or something), singing silly Japanese love songs, and discussing my new job and my 12hr trip to see Nick.

They wished me well, and left me the bill, but here's to my DWFs -- now that I could potentially be your client, you better start learning how to kiss my boots and brown-nose me arse. Oh, and don't even think about expensing all our drunken sessions onto my corporate card, coz I will be up shit creek with my new boss. You guyz can go and talk to that crazy boss of yours to write it off on the business unit; I know the drill so don't even bother cheating me, babes.

Nah, honestly, Y and A, cheers for all your support, I am doing well here. I am not chopped up, nor am I sold off as slave labour, yet (unlike you.) Love ya both, and see you when I get back!!

(Post script: I'll come clean, I voluntarily (happily) picked up the bill that night, not that my DWFs ran off and left me with the bill. I was more than happy to treat them. On a different note I think there was something funny with the food that night, coz Y now also has hives like me... Or maybe there was not enuf alcohol consumed to disinfect the allergens, whatever they were.)

Hives

Fuck!!! I cannot believe this! I started to pack for my holiday/break to see Nick tomorrow, and I noticed that my back was slightly itchy. There is also a slight itch near my belly button and also the insides of my arms -- all places with sensitive skin...

I am covered in fucking HIVES!!!!! It must be that fucking mackrel sashimi that I had for dinner -- there I am packing my skimpiest, sexiest underwear and my body is covered in some disease looking red rash. If those anti-histamines do not work by tomorrow morning, I am fuckt coz I have a 12 hour flight to endure, and no one is going to want to hug a woman who just came back from a holiday in Thailand, where they have had cases of birdflu, covered in red blotches.

I am doomed. Doomed, doomed, doomed... I hope the hives disappear soon.

Making That Leap

I discovered the other day that I can no longer be a blood doner in Japan because I spent more than ONE DAY in either Britain, or France, in between 1987 to 1999. And why am I, a universal donor (almost), not allowed to help people who need some fresh blood? Because the risk that the recepient may contract the new varient of CJD, often linked to consumption of BSE (aka. Mad Cow Disease) afflicted animals. It doesn't matter that I was a vegitarian at that time, nor the fact that I am lactose intolerant, I am simply not allowed to donate blood "just in case. The risk is too high..."

Well today I would like to point out to both the Ministry of Wealth Thru Slave Labour, and Cuts in Healthcare, and the Ministry of "Everything is Foreign to Me" Affairs that tomorrow I am taking the biggest risk I have taken in my entire life, and whatever the outcome I am going to hack into your site and post a huge message saying:"I Did It My Way!"

Let me take a few steps back -- maybe a couple of months -- to tell you my story. I met someone online; this online meeting was not your average online dating where you put profiles up of yourself, pictures, hobbies, likes, dislikes, "looking for a longterm relationship. Email with photos pls." This was even stranger because I was approached by someone who liked my Blog. He had never met me, and yet he was drawn to someone who had openly admitted that they were bulimic, that they have feelings of wanting to fall in love, that they get angry about human rights abuses, that they were just writing because they liked to write.

It is not everyday that you meet a person who sees your heart before your face; in most cases whether you meet someone at a bar, at a booksigning event, or even at a friend's party the first piece of information that you have about another person is what they look like, not how they view life. All my ex's have been the former type -- I know what they look like, then I find out what makes them laugh.

Imagine being blind, and the only information that you have of another person is how they sound, what they are saying, how they smell, and how smooth their skin is; I have even less than that. For the past 2 months I have had romantic feelings about a man who lives 12hours away; we are like the sun and the moon, when I am up, he is asleep, and when he wakes, I am tucked away in bed. What little time we have we spend chatting with our webcams, and that is pretty much it; but this is the last day that I will be resorting to playing catch up, for I will board a plane tomorrow afternoon to see this person who has been part of my life for the past 2 months. Tomorrow I am making that leap....

Today there is a shortage of blood in Japan. My blood type, O positive, makes me pretty much a universal doner. I usually give blood once every 6 months, because I know that somewhere someone needs blood, my blood, to survive. The risk of me, an ex-vegitarian, being a nCJD carrier is slight; why don't they make that leap to find out if I can continue to donate blood, just as I am making that great leap to travel to see the man in my dreams.

Sometimes you have to face fear and believe in yourself to make changes to your life.

Ecowarriors In A Suit

As an ardent tree-hugger in a suit and with a penchant for fuck-off infrastructure, I have always admired organised liberal ecowarriors who make SENSE. I was just doing some research when I came upon this site:

BOO!

Yup, I'm a softy in someways but I like to find a place to vent out on anything from food processing to Microsoft products. I think that I have found the next Onion and the Viz for my resources and outlets. (Ok, the Viz is just sooo unserious/sarcastic/ironic that I should not even consider it, but nonetheless up there as one of my favourite comics along with Lobo.)

Let's see if I can dig up a few articles and "FRAAGGG 'em" as dear Lobo would say; may his soul rest in peace.

Memories

I am always fascinated by the concept of human memory, both conscious and subconsious. I am blessed/cursed with a good memory for totally irrelevant detail to most. The simple reason that I remember things is that I associate either a thought or an emotion to something that "sicks" to my mind. For instance there is a brand of shampoo that I cannot bear to use simply because it is associated with a very painful breakup with one of my first "loves". I will never forget the time I was in tears, after my breakup, washing my hair with a specific brand of shampoo thinking "why? why did he break up with me? what did I do wrong?". Nearly 17 years on, I cannot even look at that bottle of shampoo (I'll give you a hint, it's distributed by P&G)

I also conversly have good memories that I come back to all the time: music. Even after I break up with a man, or is in love with a bloke I will listen to the same song frequently to resurrect the good memories of holding hands in the park, kissing in the cinema just before the film starts, singing to a tune when we are both doing the washing up. Yes there may be some negative memories that will return, just like the shampoo, but there are times when I listen to old CDs, sing along to it, and remember his tender touch.

Right now I am listening to a song that I have a memory for someone I have not met. The lyrics remind me of the situation that we are in right now, for we are apart. It is by a group called Blue Six, and it has already made memories that have not been actualised simply because we live on different continents, in different timezones:

Five O'clock I don't know what to do, It's much too late to
call and it's soon to go and see you. If I arrived with a suitcase at your door, would you throw your arms around me, would we make love on the floor

Different lives, we sleep in different beds, we sleep in differnt
countries while your voice plays in my head, If I tried to be smarter than before, would you tell me that you missed me, would you love me even more

It feels right, won't you remember me, It's alright, just
think of me and you're always close to home. Little lies. And feelings of regret from wounds that never heal, from memories I'd fled. Windy night and touble at the door, hiding in the quiet I remember where you are.

It feels right, won't you remember me on
cold nights, just think of me and you are always close to home

Think of me

I am not usually an emotional person, nor do I give my heart away to too many people. I have more FBs-- men who I sleep with on a regular basis (only one at a time tho') -- but do not give my heart out to FBs, for it is fear of losing my control of my emotions that makes me chose these types of relationships with men.

But this time it seems different. There is no pressure on my half coz if all goes wrong I can just hop on the next flight to wherever and visit friends, go trekking, go diving; mentally there is no obligation to stay with this one man that I chose to stay with for a month...

But these lyrics haunt me everyday and the more I think about it I know I will regret it if I put in a half arse effort and do not put my heart on the line. My heart has been broken many times, once more is not going to kill me, but what will kill me is my regret for not going for it, for he has opened his heart to me. This is something that I value more than all the Sonnets in the world. I have lead a life of celibracy and self-induced isolation for more than 2 years in the fear that I will lose me, my integrety, and my persona. But can one live on their own with their cats/dogs for the rest of their lives? Can I go without creating more memories, either good or bad, till the day that I die?

Do I want my last breath on this planet to be filled with regrets of the memories that I have not made? Good or bad? Will I be able to leave my existance knowing that I could have done something about it and changed the course of my life?

I want to make mistakes -- all the mistakes that I can. I want to fall in love with the wrong person, I want to escape on the most mind altering drugs possible, I want to have a holiday home where I can lounge around and not think about anything, I want to have sex with a woman just to see what it is like to fall in love with a woman, I want to go bunjee jumping knowing that there is a risk of dying in the process, I want to travel the silk road on a stubborn donkey that won't listen to my directions, I want to visit the MachuPichu and get altitutde sickness, I want to climb Everest and clear up all the rubbish that people left up there, I want to go to Mysore to be taught Yoga by Patabi Joyce, I want to go diving in the great barrier reef, I want to go and see the Komodo Dragons, I want to sail across the globe on a little raft with only a fishing line and dried lemon, I want to see the great wall of china from space, but most of all I want to wake up next to Nick on a sunday morning to stroke his hair and say, "Good morning, hun, would you like some coffee" only to turn around and make love to him...

I want to make these happy memories, not the smelly shampoo that I will never touch.

How many shampoos, like me, do you have no courage to touch?

Facials, Writers' Block, And A Piece Of Paper

Today I went to Boudoir for a facial and for some "maintenance" which I have been doing on a monthly basis for the past 7 years. After my treatment I had some galettes at Le Bretagne, in Omotesando, and had my combination of pancakes and camomile tea al fresco. I think that today was the first time in ages that I had some time to myself to think about the many things that have been happening in my life. As some of you know, I handed my resignation in to the Pink Elephant the day before my 10day holiday in Thailand. I will be taking up a new post with the Baby Extract manufacturers from the middle of April, which gives me nearly one month of no work/freedom.

So why I am not rejoicing and writing every day? Why am I stuck each day in front of the PC writing drafts after drafts of empty words?

Why?

The reason, I suppose stems from a very important path that I have decided to take in my life. All is emcompassed in a piece of paper that puts me on board a 12hr flight to meet someone special in my life. As the day draws near my mind is full of excitement and also of some fear... and I cannot concentrate on anything right now. I have much to write, and even more to research, and yet I look at my passport and my flight voucher every day and imagine what it would be to be on that flight on the 19th, to meet someone that has become so much a part of my life that I cannot even sit down with my own thoughts. With my galettes and my camomile tea in peace.

I suppose the other party also feels the same way too, and I know that he will read this post and will agree with me that the source of my drought may due to me thinking too much of him. But is there such thing as thinking too much of a person one cares about? If there is, I am guilty of that crime; but I have my moments to myself where I can reflect upon many things that I see and feel. My inner thoughts will never betray me, I guess, even though I have moments of distraction once in a while.

Out Of Blogg Reply Do Not Disturb -- Yet... I have an RFI For Serious Readers

It has now been over a week since I came back from my holiday in Thailand, but my mind is still in holiday mode. WTF?! I am quitting my job, and now I find out that my big-boss is also leaving the company so no one is doing anything much in the office this month. Does that give me an excuse to be unmotivated? Hell yeah! If someone told you, "listen, I want you to sit in the office for the next 2 or 3 weeks, min. 30mins/day in the office, and we will make sure we pay you your full pay cheque" would you put in more than 31 hours per day? And how productive do you think you would be?

Today I was helping out a colleague who was consulting a company that makes crisps/potato chips. The fellow consultant was unsure about how they managed to pack crisps without it breaking up during transport. Surely they must be crushed, and who checks the quality, DWR??

A: Nitrogen Flushing

These words I use casually coz I know that in any bag of crisps/chips there is either a combination of only nitrogen and/or CO2 to eliminate oxidation of the contents. But how? How do the food processing/packaging companies put only nitrogen in the bags? OK so it's probably fully automated, but from which process onwards, and who the fuck checks the quality of the out put i.e. are we sure it's only Nitrogen in there???

Many questions, but not enuf answers.... if anyone is familiar with the food preservative/packing process, please enlighten me before I lose anymore sleep!
With great appreciation, DWR

Turning Back The Clocks...

I am back from my holidays now. I am missing all the posts and photos from Day 5 to Day 11 of my holiday: Leave Me Alone I am On Vacation. It is now 3am, and I am only 14% finished with the sorting of my holiday pics.

I have been to paradise only to come back to hell and stress. Do I wind myself up over irrelevant shite?? Probably... probably.

On a different note, I am reading Paulo Coelho's The Devil And Miss Prym right now. Many of the die hard Coelho fans gave it a poor review, but I am going to finish it before I make my own mind up about it. I like his concept of working on the idea of good and evil in man, and to explore the workings of the human mind in the realm of temptation.

If you were approached by darkness and offered something that you have been longing for, would you take it knowing that it may be evil? Or would you chose good over anything else? Or worse still, let fate make your choices and do nothing about it?

These are tough questions that I have no answers for... I wonder if Paulo Coelho has one.

I doubt it...

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?