As Suanie Sees It

There comes a time in every person’s life when he must sit down in his solitary self and think long and hard about the direction of his life.

Well, I am a female and I do this almost every other day.

My friends would barely lift an eyebrow, knowing that I have retreated into my own space, oblivious to much of the social scene around me. One of her moods again, they would say and duly leave me to my own devices, until I snap out of it by myself.

Often the thoughts of uncertainties terrify me to the extent of having to sleep with a night light switched on, for fear of what lurks beyond. Games of the mind no doubt; though I could imagine scenes so real that the feelings transpired linger for a long time, exorcised by the might of the sun, only to return when the pale moon beckons with her sad sad song. Sometimes when I am too far gone, I could hear them. So close, so real that the relief when I open my eyes to peer into darkness is almost too overwhelming for words. Nothingness can be gladness.

Too many demons running in circles playing hopscotch. One carries a hammer, one carries a telescope, one carries a sharp blade of grass, one carries a scepter and all of them needs Prozac. As far as demons go, all of them are most definitely selfish, seeking self-gain and self-respect the bizarre way, to the point of being absurd yet very much hurtful. Temporary help is only just that – temporary. The reason for the demons’ existence has yet to be understood. Nevertheless, there are too many demons and my glass is always half empty.

But what if daisies are meant to rule and roses take a graceful step back? An appealing thought but thoroughly unattainable. The rose has carved her mark in her own blood. In the end there will only be the red rose. Silently weeping she asked, is this blood for my fragile petals worth the anguish of the scarring thorns? Yet it has been done. Let the circus begins again.

Mark me, take me, tie me, ravage me.

Explore me, strip me, gaze at me, caress me.

Find me.

Find me.

Congratulations. You are the kiss my ass happy bunny.
You don’t care about anyone or anything.
You must be so proud.

Which happy bunny are you?
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I am.

To the fat bitch in a light purple top at Nikko Hotel on Sunday who nicked my very expensive ball pen which Chris bought in Japan and gave to me as my 22nd birthday present, I have only one word for you.

DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you are a regular shopper – or like me your office is located in a massive shopping complex, you would have long noticed the exasperating phenomenon that is your life whizzing by in front of your eyes, bringing you one step closer to god and what-not.

Is that a bird? Is that a plane?

No, it’s the fucking irritating hazardous irresponsible future generation.

We all know about the big families who enjoy walking around shopping malls with members of their big families, hogging walkways while they suddenly stop to admire products at window displays. Mushy couples sickeningly in love either holding hands or caressing their partners’ bottoms when they think no one is watching, taking their own sweet forever time strolling along. Prams with the cutest toddlers being pushed by ‘I-don’t-care-if-I-block-people’s-way’ parents. Good friends of the same sex insecure of the masses holding each other’s hands giggling at the slightest things, such as seeing knickers on display at La Senza.

Then you have the terror kids in wheels.

TV Smith wrote about mallbrats here so I’m just going to add in a few dollars on what I would like to do to them.

First I want to pick the kids up by their ankles, hang them upside them, tear the killing shoes with my other hand then smack their butts silly for causing much anguish and fear among sensible people like the rest of us. If they try to wriggle or put up a fight I would smack them harder; putting other people in grave danger was fun, wasn’t it? When they cry until they could cry no more I would make them sit with similar offenders at Midvalley’s centre stage, give them a huge cardboard sign that says “I am a reformed shoes wheeling-happy brat and I am sorry” and leave them there for 10 hours. That should do the trick.

Next the parents for failing in their duties to warn their children to be careful. Worse, forked out the money to buy these ridiculous senseless things for their kids, thus not only harming their kids who more often than not would fall and break something or the other, but also for ‘allowing’ them to end up guilt-ridden (I hope) and thoroughly humiliated at Midvalley’s centre stage.

Their punishment for this atrocity upon humankind? Very simple. Tie them up together and leave them standing at the red dots shown below.

Original photo from FreeFoto.com

Good things always come in three. Initially I wanted to inflict some misery upon the entire conception/design/manufacturing team responsible for this outrageous craze, but then I remembered another group of people more accountable.

Sweet older folks in canes and flowery prints who can bake beautiful scrumptious cookies. That’s right, the grandparents. Charity begins at home so they are guilty of not educating their children to be more responsible for THEIR children. And also for allowing their grandkids to cause havoc and terror in supposedly safe places such as shopping malls.

Least I am accused of barbaric thoughts towards senior citizens, I would like to remind you of the number of old folks very nearly knocked down by these screaming yoddlers.

But I am the kind of person who would give up my seat on the bus/LRT/MTR/MRT for senior folks, so my very kindly request for ‘em grandpas and grannies is :

Stand around in shopping complexes and hand out free packets of condoms (Durex no less) with a single leaflet of information bearing the warning below :

Oh lord, save me.