Snippets from the Cutting Room Floor

A short excerpt from the cutting room floor of my latest, desperate grab at straws to produce a proper story. Bear with me.

As far back as I can remember, my best friend has always been- intense, shall we say? She has the tenacity of the pit bull, , the unconditional love of the Jack Russell terrier and personifies unwavering loyalty like a border collie. Yes, she is a bitch and I don’t care who knows it.
“How was I to know I wasn’t allowed to drink that?”
“You knew!” Cypher yells back, adding a totally overdone sniffle whilst cradling the half-full (well, less than half-full now) bottle of soda that had once touched the sanctified lips of Rex Wong. Ew, ick. Have to rinse out my mouth now.
She trails petulantly behind me into the bathroom, glaring daggers at my back all the while as I rinse my mouth out exaggeratedly. “What?!” I snapped, “Is this mouthwash his too? Or did you filter this stuff out of his sink’s U-bend-“ I freeze suddenly, the thought making me nauseated. God, there’s not enough mouthwash in the world to deal with that. I made a face at her and try not to think of all the backwash I’d consumed earlier.
“You knew I was going to keep it as a, a… well-“ she struggled for the term.
I didn’t know what to call it either, so I settled for giving her a look that clearly communicated how insane I thought her to be. “Woman, these things go into the glass display where you put you other Rex Wong-“ I struggled for a polite term, before finishing weakly while waving my hand in the general direction of the shelf “-stuff. That bottle of soda was in the fridge- where the other things you can drink live.”
Long silence. I glance at her and realize that I was being given the silent treatment. This is even worse than the time I’d recorded over her Oprah Winfrey interview of John Travolta. VHS sucks. Shrugging, I regarded her display shelf with as dispassionate an expression as I could muster. Movie ticket stubs, glossy photos, magazine cut-outs, and a sock which I pray had just ended up there by mistake.
We call having someone’s pictures and posters keeping memorabilia, having lit candles make it a shrine and keeping the guy’s underwear makes it just creepy. Cypher stops shy of lighting candles. If it were not so socially unacceptable and off-putting, she would already be lighting candles to little homemade stuffed plushies in the likeness of her heroes.
She’s actually surprisingly well adjusted despite her obsessive-compulsiveness and anal retention. But then again, in the immortal words of my other best friend, ‘I’m not into that sort of thing’. Cue eyeroll.

Sanguine stretched lazily in her chair, waiting for the post to upload. She drummed her fingers impatiently, inwardly cursing the slow transfer rate. Maybe the next post would be an investigative report on her housemates' Internet download activity and the dangers of pornography, she thought.
“What’s th’ what, ladies?” Nick saunters into the room, full of unwelcome pep and vigor.
“You downloading porn, Nicholas?”
He dodges a rolled-up sock thrown at him by Sanguine. “No.” Nick musters up a properly affronted air. Darting his eyes from one girl to another, he surreptitiously fiddles with his download manager.
“Oo- comments already,” Sang pronounces happily, clicking at her blog. Cypher’s computer makes a rude sound on cue. She ignores the raspberry and reads out loud, “Lessee- hm. You. Suck. Very mature, Cyph.” A clatter of keys and a suitable response about Cypher’s dubious parentage was sent.
A louder rude raspberry and Cypher turns to Nick, “You know about that bottle of soda you got for me at the party last night, right? Rex’s?”
“Um, yeah?”
“See? Everyone knows about it!”
“Uh- what?”
“Sanguine drank from my bottle of Rex Wong soda.”
“For the last time, woman! It was in the frakking fridge!”
Nick’s face takes on a rather alarmed look for a split second, “Hmm…” He nods with a carefully schooled expression of neutrality.
The other balled-up sock hurtles at his forehead with unerring aim and bounces off lightly. He turns to narrow his eyes at Sanguine, who merely raised her eyebrow at him. Cypher glares from one person to another. “Oh my god, you *both* suck!” She storms out of her bedroom in a huff.
Sanguine grins after her and called out- “No, we both *swallow*!” Nick graces her with a disgusted look. “What d’you look so squicked about, babyman? We both consumed soda pop with essence of Rex Wong.”
“Oh. Ick. Where’s the mouthwash?”

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Quotes from the as-of-yet-unnamed Story A of a play which will, sadly, never be published or performed.

Cypher : What the heck happened to you?
Nick : (mumbling around a coldpack) My face had a meaningful encounter with someone's fist. It was beautiful.

Nick : So I met this chick, right? At this party last night?
Sang : *You* get invited to parties?
Cyph : A *LAN* party.
Sang : Must be some real hot chick, then.
Cyph : Oo- did you get her e-mail?
Sang : Good Lord, you people are such losers.

Alex : This really is two candles short of a shrine.

And, because you are all really special for still being my friends despite my lack of update... a REAL quote, from real life : "OMG, you're like, really anal retentive, aren't you?" "Er- I'm not into that sort of thing-la." Yes, cue eyeroll and headslap... preferably his.

Goodnight, Kuala Lumpur! You've been a great crowd. I love you all! (note: please comment on the K-Hell mention *only* when PeeJay becomes a city, you ulu-sticks-in-mud)

Frankie : The Early Years

"What th' heck is a Frankie?" I asked one day after being called that for the Nth time by one Mr Francis Lee. Apparently, I have a standard photographic pose much like Lyd's 'The Angle'. Thus, the Frankie Files were created to document this peculiar phenomenon.

Nobody really knows where or when the Frankie came into being, but because I'm feeling generous and nostalgic, you get to see (for a limited time only) the Frankie Evolution. Behold.



Next up- Frankie : The Next Generation.

Caption th' Pic of the Day

"Little did they know that one day, young Grac would be a Marlboro Reds girl instead. Oh, the irony!"

Who the hell was th' photographer? Had he/she no concept of composition? Why the hell am I wearing that dress? And what's with the fur on my head? Was I drugged as a child? I have no recollection of my childhood- maybe it was all that booze and cigarettes.'

Coming up next : The Drugs, Sex, Rock and Roll.

Thursday Telegraph : am alive stop cease poking stop grunt stop

Will refuse to write til holiday nonsense goes away. Am lazy. Brain as dry as shallow well in Djibouti. Quit bugging me. Eve and Cerridwen can sell pirated DVDs and Darcy can join International Red Cross for all I care.

In th' meantime, DO ME! (Anyone who gets 100... well, that means you gotta stop hanging out with me so much. Geez- have you no other friends?)

Grac Goes On A Holiday

Bah humbug. Have I ever told you I dislike celebrations of any sort? I'm going to bury my head in the sand and hibernate til it all goes away. Won't be writing unless anything particularly blogworthy creeps up on me. Otherwise, its holiday family stress and a happy new year! Hoho.

By the way, did you know Jesus was born in September in the year 4 B.C. or 5 B.C.?

"Say, Jesus- when were you born?"
"Oh, 'bout four years before... well, Me."

Weekday Postcards : Monday Morning Rain Is Falling

Obviously, I missed the nationwide memo that said to sleep in this morning since it was such a great day to snuggle in, lulled by the gentle sound of rainfall. But no, I had to go to work and make phone calls to everyone else who didn’t. This new Risk Communication program I’m working on is great- anyone wanna buy a workshop?

Communications people are so hard to get. I dunno why they’re never around to answer the phone. I have this list of the PR officers in all the government departments and they’re never in the office or they don’t pick up their phones. Hello? Which part of Public Relations in their job title don't they get? I’m a public and I want relations with you. Pick up your phone!

To Wong Foo Mun Yee, With Love...

Warning / Disclaimer : Episode 7 of Lessons. Sap/Kleenex Alert. I am not responsible if you feel squicked after reading this post. You probably asked for it. Hah. Serves you right.

“Everything’s gonna be alright.”

There was a birthday party in my house. I am not very fond of having birthday parties and I’m none-too-crazy about birthdays either. Think about it- what are you *really* celebrating? The miracle of birth is just too squicky when it involves me, regardless of whether I’m the birther or birthee. Nevertheless, I am thankful that my mother passed me through her birth canal rather successfully. Congratulations all ‘round- happy birthday, me. Woo. But I digress, there is just something indefinable about birthdays that make me solemn and introspective. (And it not the issue of aging, either.)

Anyhow, as I was saying- there I was preparing for this big birthday bash of mine in my introspective mood and close to tears (I really didn’t know why). Chan Foong Yee arrived and told me that Red was on her way. It was like a palpable weight off my shoulders and I was instantly relieved, thinking “Red’s coming. Everything is going to be okay now.” I was soon swamped with the stress of entertaining, preparing food and getting into truly heart-breaking arguments with family members- all this whilst crying like crazy in front of everybody. I mean, there were tears and snot running about unchecked and I was practically wailing. I actually cried myself awake (and I’m truly glad this has happened to me only twice in my life). The dream was just so upsetting that I was still crying softly, bewilderedly wiping at the tears. The details escaped me, but the emotions did not. Right then, all I could recall was that dream!Red was on her way and that she would make everything alright.

“Boy, I wish I could call her”

If something bad happens to me or I get into trouble- mouth dry, heart thumping, stomach in throat; all I gotta do is think “Boy, I wish I could call Red and tell her” and I’d feel better immediately (well, eventually). I’d calm down slightly and laugh at how she’d probably call me an idiot and we would proclaim it ‘The Worst Day Of My Life’ or ‘The Stupidest Thing I’ve Ever Done’. Sometimes, its ‘The Stupidest Thing I’ve Ever Done On The Worst Day Of My Life’. That’s a big one and usually requires at least two hours of being cussed out and eventually being teased over it till I laugh. If something great happens to me or I see something that makes me happy, I’d itch to call her as well to share the joy. The happy event becomes euphoric just by thinking about calling and telling her. Not that she’d be in fits of delight or ecstasies. More often than not, she’d just grunt at my tale and go “so desu ka?”

It’s funny. Judging by my Raving of Red, you must think we speak daily, do you not? Heh. Sorry to disappoint, but we hardly speak or even see each other online with any sort of frequency, if at all. Our phone calls to each other are mostly long periods of silence, but we try not to do it so much anymore. We met in secondary school but were never in the same classes or sports house- we suspect the teachers must have had a hand in this. The only reason why I signed up for softball was so that we could at least be in the same club before our final year. And that one afternoon a week of tossing the dumb ball back and forth for hours was our idea of doing something fun together. Actually, I think the only picture we have together is that grainy tiny-assed Kelab Softball photo in the school magazine. I don’t recall taking any other pictures together, do you? And you call yourself a photographer. Hello? Willing best friend model here!

College meant Subang Taipan for Red and smackdab downtown K-Hell for me- opposite sides of the universe. We’ve only ever watched two or three movies together (Mousehunt and Stuart Little, can you believe it?) I’ve been to her house six times and had dinner there once. She’s been to mine a million more than six times and stayed over twice. We watched Disney’s Hunchback on my cr*p VCR once, remember? We can go to Starbucks and sit for hours without talking. Dumb movies and coffee seem to be the only two reasons we go out, doesn’t it? Oh yeah. Of late, we’ve been going out for drinking sessions that once ended up with us so drunk we sat on the kaki lima of Bangsar somberly confessing our eternal loyalty for each other and our deepest, darkest fears. LOL! By the way, that was a Truly Great Night. I’m glad I shared it with you, bud.

“Oh, my best friend can do that too.”

My best friend has superpowers. She can make everything alright merely by existing. She makes me feel immediately better just by *thinking* about how good it’d be if I could call her and tell her my problems. She can make me feel like the smartest person in the universe just by asking me questions and listening to me. I know a lot of people think she does not exist, or that I have many, many best friends because its always, “Oh, my best friend is an amazing photographer. She draws too.” Or “I got a friend that plays at least four instruments really well too.” “My friend’s a bartender. In Japan.” “Yeah, my best friend can speak five languages, at least.” “Sound engineering? Hey, my best friend’s a sound engineer, y’know.” “Wow, I got a friend who’s an X-Files fan too!”. No one realizes that I am usually talking about the same person, or if they do I bet they think I’m making up this incredible person that can do everything under the sun. Probably because of this : “What she’s studying? Oh, uh- some computer thing. I’m not sure. Multimedia or something like that. Dunno.” Shrug. LOL!

“Happy Birthday, bud” “You mean, belated.” “Uh, yeah.”

13/11/2005, 9 pm (One day after Red’s Birthday, which I missed was not online for)
Red : Hey
Grac : ?
Red : how come you don't change your blog colour on my bday?!
Grac : lol- then everyone'd expect me to do it for their birthdays... if it helps, i wore red yesterday
Red : no it doesn't help
Grac : hm- i'll write ya an epic poem and post a pic of me in my red underwear for you then
Red : agreed

Ah, jealousy rears its rather unattractive head which vaguely looks like yours. LOL! Kidding, dude. How could you possibly be jealous when you know you’ll always be the only one? *snorts* (Heh. Sap Alert!) I could never write you a poem. How could I ever fit you into the confines of one? Poems mean meters and rhythm and all sorts of rules that would never fit everything I want to say about you. Thus, I write you this love letter. The first and only love letter I’d ever write to a human being not related to me by blood. And if you know me like you do, you’d know that I’d never write love letters to anyone else till I’m very certain the Husband ain’t gonna leave me and its too late to anyway. I’m not the sort who’d get a tattoo of their boyfriend’s names on their arses.

Happy belated birthday, dude. It’ll be a great year for you, I’m certain. How dare it be otherwise?

All my love*,
Grace

PS – *Not like that, you pervs.

PPS - Cheer up, They can’t be there forever… if they are, give me their address and I’ll TP their house up over here. It’s rainy season now and I’ll use good quality 4-ply toilet paper.

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Quote from our IM sessions.

Red : Dude…
Red : I can't believe that I have nothing paranoid to tell you
Grac : finally.
Grac : our lives are perfect.

Scene from real life (August 2005)

[Scene : Red and Grac meet up for the first time after a whole year of Red being in Japan. Red pulls up in her car to Grac's house. Grac opens car door with goofy grin.]
Grac : Hey.
Red : Hey. Where're we going?
Grac : Dunno. Up to you.
Red : Mamak?
Grac : Cool.
Red : Where?
Grac : Just drive.

(And I swear, I'm not making these up. I have no need to.)
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