I dreamt about smoking and it was wonderful. The birds were singing and I could smell the roses; I am pretty sure it was pale pink roses. It felt so real that even my throat felt raw when I woke up. I remember when I was in Italy last summer and I smoked not too much, less than a pack a day. It was my favorite ones – American Spirit, the colorful pack with a native Indian on the front. One morning I looked into the mirror and I had these horrible rash that looked liked small stone pimples all over my face. The same day I quit, without any patch, spray or gum. Just like that.

I forgot my patch this morning. This resulted in one cup of boiling green tea spilled all over myself, hating some people at work and a stupid pharmacist that insisted on giving me 20min lecture on how to handle my patches. This is even worse than smoking I thought; let me add another patch to my collection, ladies and gentlemen let me introduce the Hope-patch. And let’s say that I will stick that one close to my heart.

What I need is to find a valid reason for not taking up on smoking again, so here are my valid reasons: Better skin, brighter eyes, nicer body, and looking younger. Plus that I am finding it hard to find new places to stick my patches. Well, there is cancer and heart disease and bunch of shit but the shallow ones just works better on me. And for now, anything that keeps me from falling back will have to do. I even pulled a dirty trick on my shrink Dr Ong. I called him today and he actually remembers me! He asked me if I am feeling better now and if I still feel like throwing up now and than. I wanted to tell him that I need him like a whore needs crack, I wanted him to tell me that everything is going to be fine and that it is totally accurate for me to “just have one last cigarette” every time my whole body turns inside out on me…. Yeah, that’s how it feels like. But instead I lied and said that I get anxious when I fly and I am flying off to Europe tomorrow. “Is there any medication for that?” Like I didn’t know what I was asking for, VALIUM Doc, please give me VALIUM. He said that he can give me some Valium and because he wrote out 28 tablets last time (actually it was 5, maybe he was testing me) he will do it again. I just kept my mouth shut and thanked him and told him that I will come and pick it up tomorrow morning. Sweet!

in the mid of the night

Carin

She called me! And she was not drunk. Its 2.30 am, I dont care, I am happy!

Chanel for Sunday

It's slow today, major hungover from yesterday. Will post about it later

Weed-patch ©Johan.aka.Bagarn

Me and Dog a lonely womans best friend

Some people need nicotin-patch, some others need weed-patch. I need both. But that´s because I live in Singapore where anal sex and sex toys are illegal but you can buy old Indian pussy for 5 bucks and have it in a tent next to the highway.

I was on my way to the city to shop cause the patches is not working OKAY, need to find another vice or relive an old one. Instead I am sitting on MSN chatting with my ex-bf in Stockholm. He tells me not to steal his expressions for my blog because he doesnt like when people freerides on his ego. "jag ville ju bara knulla" "jag saknar picnic på din balkong" in eng. "I just wanted to fuck" "I miss the picnic on your balcony". I tell him I am giving up on men and wants to get a dog. He tells me that I am a pervo and a freak.

Goosh I am late again. Need to get a cab to see my friend Cliff the 3rd( his dad is not the 2nd)

Laters

Thank you for smoking

Okay, I can't take it anymore. I don't even enjoy the smell,the puff nor the social content of this habit. But my body is screaming for it. The sweet sweet nicotine, mmmm. I can't think, my mouth is dry, I want to kill all the people that are being annoying. Actually all the people ARE annoying. The whole world is falling on me and the only solution is to inhale some shit...and everything is going to be just...fine.

Robert Downey Jr once said that the years he was a non-smoking vegetarian was the most boring period of his life. Who the fuck wants to wake up at 6 in the morning, do yoga and drink Ginseng tea. Honestly I never been much of a morning person and I rather sit on my balcony in the mid-day and puff away six stodgys with a burger in my left hand. I feel ya Downey.

According to the Quit-smoking guide the first step is to imagine yourself as a non-smoker. Great, I can't even IMAGINE myself being a non-smoker. I asked AJ if I he consider me as a smoker, not to confuse anyone but I always thought myself as a social/weekend smoker. AJ: Since I've known you, you've ALWAYS been smoking. Great, another issue in denial.

I can't imagine myself as a non-smoker but I think I can try the patches, they are kind of hot don't you think? It's like a light version of Metadon for Heroin addicted. And only really interesting people do Heroin! Singapore is great, you can't buy gum without showing ID but you can get Nicotinell at 7/11.

Me- I need patches for stop smoking.
Annoying shopgirl- what dosage?
Me- the strongest one!
*gives me a pack and I examine them carefully*
Annoying shopgirl- you use one per day.
Me- what if I put two?
AS- you will be "oversupplying"
Me- what if I put one but I keep on smoking...but less of course
AS- well, than u won't be quitting right....
Me- listen honey, I don't think you understand. This is 15mg which is less than 3 stodgys, I smoke half a pack on a good day and one whole pack on a better day. Using one patch per day would be like smoking 2 per day so maybe I can just ...let's see...*using iphone to calculate* stick on 5 patches per day eh?
AS-...you will be "oversupplying"

I was on the phone with Ryan later on and he happily wished my good luck on this and asked me kindly not to gain any weight cause he only likes skinny girls. Great, I will just start a diet on Nicotinell patches.

Fake Tan doesnt fade...just like relationships

Year 1
This is the year of "The crush". Excitement, energy, hot sex and hope infuses every aspect of the relationship. Making the possibilities seem limitless, rosy and un-put-downable. Not much to say beyond that.

Year 2 pt1
Some afterglow remains. You begin to perceive shortcomings in your partner's psyche, which will severely limit your ability to "grow" as a couple. You get pissed, you argue. Make-up sex make things better. You start to notice how good food tastes, how interesting books are, how marvelously distracting distractions can be. You might rediscover masturbation and think, " Hey, I'm a pretty good masturbator!" The relationship is tumultuous, but in a classic pop song sense-this is pretty fun, actually, you sort of feel like a tortured artist, except that you are not creating art.

Year 3-9
This is where I am suppose to leave it blank due to lack of information and experience. But I am pretty confident that I can fill in all the gaps and drama within my second year of relationships. So let us continue.

Year 2 pt2(most people would consider this year3 and up)
Your friends tell you to get out. His friends tell him to get out. You relearn each other's emotional limitations and psychological shortcomings on a daily basis. An hourly basis. He consider therapy, you go to therapy. You take Prozac, and later on discover how wonderful life can be if you mix it with Valium and Merlot. This is good, this is the beginning of a choice(see solution) growing inside of you. The boredom of the relationship is tarnishing, which maked you suspect that it is not actually made of gold, but brass. Here is what you will find out: It's not even brass. Your relationship is made of mold. what you are seeing as tarnish is actually more mold breaking down and feeding on itself. Fucking mold DUDE.

Year 2 pt3
Some ups and downs, mostly downs, even the ups are a bit downish. You try to use your partners shortcomings to your advantage. Good for you. You will fail. Your friends will tolerate your relationship like they tolerate the clanking sound in a car engine. After a while it's just there, no reason to ackonwledge it. You go on a trip with friends, without your partner. You have a real good time. You go on a trip, just you, without your partner. You fuck some random guy from Sacramento. You have a really good time.

Your mother tells you to get out(read year 1). You begin to consider divorce, but then you aren't really married yet. Your partner think, well maybe we should get married and with that commitment we can finally relax and let go of the "fantasy" of a happy relationship and find real happiness in reality and a promise of undying okayness. The word "okayness" make you wanna vomit. This is a good year to rediscover the artwork of Edward Hopper. There is something about his clean lines and composition that speaks to you.

Year 3 pt4
Just doing time. You are going strong, avoiding your partner as mush as you can, not asking too much from the relationship. You go to Sunday brunches with Champagne. The thought of doing it sober makes you think about African pot-belly kids. You plan a long holiday to Maldives. The thought of doing it sober makes you consider going back to Dr Ong for some more Valium. Dr Ong tells you to not give up, too soon! This bad relationship needs to run its course, and it is marathon. A hell of a fuckinglongbloodsuckinghappinesschokingneverendingtheracefromhellmarathon.

Fake tan doesnt fade, so you wimps out there just getting it real and you two will be crushed!

Could I, should I, would I?

Imagine an Asian version of Tyra screaming at me -"do you really want this?!"

My agency wanted me to go for this video casting for Asia's next top model and I was like holy crap I am never going to put myself through that shit again. I went to the casting. They practically told me that they love me and wants me, so here I am sitting in a pile of shit and has no idea what I should do. To be honest with you, I know exactly why they looooves me. I am no Gisele Bundchen but goosh if I make good tv. I can give you bitch, girl-next-door, slut, girl-next-door-easy-slut. You name it!

I had planned to entertain my friends in May, going to Indonesia and Korea and Shanghai. Now I am like fuck the duck, why does life have to be so hard and unpredicable.

Seriously I have to say no to this, I miss my friends so much and if you are reading this - Bonnie, Aaron, Karen... I want to suck donkey cock with u guys on a beach in May rather than being locked in a fashion house with 9 other obnoxious girls that thinks that Karl Lagerfeld is Coco Chanels husband.

12.35am

It's Saturday night and I am sitting home watching Less than Zero while AJ is snorrrrrring on the sofa. If this is it, than please kill me now. Earlier we went to Oso and had a pretty good four course meal, AJ asked me if I wanted to have kids and if yes he suggested May would be a good month to "seed" it. I told the waiter I probably will not have more than one glass of wine and ended up drinking up a bottle of Chianti. When the dessert came in I was sure that I ordered a blueberry ricotta cheese cake and NOT some fucking faggotory flan, the kid thing and the flan just freaked me out and suddenly I couldn't breath and ran to the cigar room to gasp for some fresh air...

AJs pal Bomba called him from Portugal and they were talking about....kids....on the phone for like a whole ten frickin minutes before we ran into Paul which is Alex client. Paul was with this beautiful Brazilian woman that apparently is AJs client as well. The thought of her having an affair with AJ made me somehow feel better about the whole situation and I could finally find some sense in me. The Brazilian woman got a kid as well and he is retard or something, but she seems to be a good retard-mum, at least she is good looking and that kind of kills the theory about goodlooking people having good looking kids. Too good looking people=down syndrome kids.....or something

But now I am sitting here panicking again.. gasping for air. There is no fucking air in this fucking country. Probably all the little bastards kiddos took it all. Grinch never stole Christmas, the brats did.

Over n out

AIR AIR AIR AIR AIR

Blindness

Illustration By Garance Dore

Last xmas in HK I litter ally tripped and felt into my suitcase because I can't see shit without my contacts...I was laying in my suitcase for like 10min because the fall was so hard and sudden. So I was laying there with at least 55 broken bones and a nice concussion on top of that all because I am nearsighted?! Wtf, I got bad sight not cancer! I am sick of being blind and always has to think about where did I put my contact lens cleanser, did I bring extra contacts, where are my glasses, oooooohhh sorry can't smoke "that" today cause it my contacts dry. If anyone out there have good experience with this surgery please drop me a email!

TGIF

My imaginary office


My real office...actually it's only a desk with shitloads of papers

I just spent one hour in the gym trying to look like I am busting my ass on the treadmill, instead I was watching Style.com on my Iphone and occasionaly sweated some calories...I think...I can't figure out all the buttons on that machine. I think I don't need to go back there for another 3 month, I just don't like the whole concept of fitness...

Alex is having lunch with the other coaches at this Thai ladys place close to our house. Apparently she is married to this 100 year old german guy and she is fucking the polish coach from Polo club. I had to call Alex during the lunch to tell him something and I couldn't resist to scream on the phone

Me - " DO YOU THINK RAPHAEL FUCKS HER FROM BEHIND? Just say yes or no!"
AJ -"...no..yes..haha..."
Me- "DO YOU THINK SHE SAYS *both hands closed infront of her chest* SAWADEEEEEE AFTER HE FUCKS HER?"
AJ-"......mmmm....aren't you suppossed to be playing tennis with Mira now?"
Me-" SAWADEEEEEEEEEEE..."

Sometimes I feel that the world is just too small for me.

Feed me a stray cat

屌=Diu=fuck=fuck you=fuck off=big fuck....

The best word on the whole planet needs it's own post.

The written form [+] is mainly seen in Hong Kong, for example, on graffiti. In Cantonese, it is used as a transitive verb meaning to copulate. In a manner similar to the English word fuck, it is also used to express dismay, disgrace, disapproval and so on. For example, someone may shout "diu nei!" ("fuck you!" or "fuck off!") at somebody when he or she finds that other person annoying.

"Diu lei loh moh!" ( "motherfucker") or "Diu lei loh mei" , a euphemism, is a highly offensive profanity in Cantonese when directed against a specific person instead of used as a general exclamation. In Cantonese, the meaning "I fuck your mother" is implied, as opposed to English, in which the phrase "motherfucker" is an imperative.

The form is absent in the Big-5 character set on computers. The Government of Hong Kong has extended Unicode and the Big-5 character set with the Hong Kong Supplementary Character Set (HKSCS), which includes Chinese characters only used in Cantonese, including the Five Great Profanities. The government explained that the reason for these characters being included is to allow for the Hong Kong Police to record criminal suspects' statements. Consequently, these characters are now also in Unicode.

In English, "damn" gives birth to its euphemism "darn"; similarly in Cantonese, especially Hong Kong Cantonese, diu has yiu and Tiu "siu" as its euphemisms.

Nice people...and I m not one of them

Some random shoot I did with this Deutch crazy funny photographer


I totally forgot to mention what happened on sat. morning at the ferry terminal! I needed to take out some cash for the Visa-on-arrival fee and once again the fucking stupid ATM machine there Could not dispense cash. Ok, here is the deal. It is a ATM machine, the bloody main purpose of it is to dispense cash. It's like a prostitute that doesn't charge you for sex or even better...don't fuck. Anyways, I was late for my ferry and had NO cash. So I went to the ticket counter and grabbed this random guy that did the check in for me and I just screamed in his face if he knows if there is any other ATM around this area. Of course the nearest one is like 15min driving from the terminal and considering I had 20min before my ferry sails it was not going to happen.

Ticketing guy - " do u got American dollars, or any other currency?"
Me - " u don't understand. I got NO FUCKING CASH. And I don't wanna fuck with the Indonesia immigration on arrival..". *bury my face in my hand and totally going on breakdown mode*
Ticketing guy takes out his wallet and gives me some money and says - "here, take it. You can give it back to me next time you are here." And goes away.
Me - " oooohhhh, REALLY?! Thank you soooooo much. What's your name btw?"
His name is Boris and I still owe him 20bucks, last night when I got to Singapore the ticketing counter was closed already so I left a note and today I got a text back from him saying that its fine that I should not worry about it.

Seriously, when did people in Singapore become so nice?

xoxo

P.S I found the most disgusting pubehair on my desk today when I arrived yeeewwwww. And later on the IT guy came to me and was accusing me for browsing on virus sites. So before I left my office today I did a nice pass-it-on with that yacky pubehair. Buhahahahhaahahah

Lonely mini vacation

I spent this weekend all by myself in Indonesia...Some quality time with my new best friend, that would be Lucky Strike which they totally should start to distribute in Singapore. I arrived 10am and the resort arranged a private pick-up because I was the only guest arriving at that time (!). We are talking about Club Med which can host more than 400guests and considering it is Singapore School holiday and that there are only 7 resorts on Bintan Island the chances to be the only guest arriving is as small as a Japanese penis.

The moment I arrived the attention was on me and the speculations started, I have been to this resort before (two weeks ago) and the staff are very warm and nice people. Some of them recognized me and for the rest I was just "that chain smoking tall girl staying in a suite by herself". I also made the title as "that chain smoking lonely housewife whose rich husband probably fucks Thai whores on his lunch break".

While the fat dads by the pool was thinking if I give good head, their daiquiri sipping wives were imagining how my head would look like on a stick. Fortunately I had Rio. Rio comes from Jakarta and he is so gay he sweat glitter. He is also the in-house babysitter at the resort. We spent the eve drinking Gin N Tonic and smoking away one stodgy after another one. He would share his crazy stories about spring break kids in Club Med Cancun and I would ask him which is his favourite guy in The Village people. We YMCA-ed away the night until I could barely feel my under body anymore.

This morning I woke up and realized in the powder room that my pee smelled like Bombay Sapphire (Gin). I will take that as a sign for having a great weekend - by myself.

No sweat

8 Carol stomps in to the flat and starts the cleaning
8.30 I m in the shower still having nightmares about this food court guy that put his pubes into my noodle soup
10 Taking a cab to the city
11 The makeup artist is shaving my eyebrows
13.57 I am half naked and making a "natural" jump in the air while the photographer is telling the stylist to put on some more glue on my right eyelash
15.42 My phone rings and it's my tennis partner. I scream " It's a wrap!.....?" And look like a question mark to the photographer
16.25 I am in a taxi washing away my makeup and putting on my tennis shoes at the same time. And I am 25 min late
16.45 Hitting balls with Mira in the court and trying not to faint and not to mention to anyone that I only ate a banana cake today
18.00 Looking through AJs bag for cigarettes
18.45 Shoving pizza slices into my throat like a mad man
19.55 Looking through JPs bag for cigarettes
20.15 Mum calls and screams on the phone about some legal documents I should have emailed her this morning
20.45 I am home emailing Mum-from-hell the documents she so much needed
21.25 Mum-from-the-hell-of-the-hell calls me and says she doesn't need the documents actually because it's too late anyways
22.00 Packing my bags for my 9am ferry tomo to Indonesia

Whenever my Fridays will be more sane, I promise to quit smoking - for good. I MEAN IT

*call me*

+ 65 9832 4213 This is my Singapore cellphone number.

I am expecting drunken middle of the night calls from all of you from now on.

Hate is just a feeling

Hate is just a feeling, feelings does not exist but Singapore does and I do hate this place from time to time - more like ALL the time. I usually wake up in the morning with a nasty taste of yesterdays hate in my mouth, it is a bitter-sour taste that kind of makes you want to vomit a bit in your delicate mouth. This feeling grows expotentially the minute I tries to get a cab outside my condo ( no fucking cab at rush hours) and it always grows towards infinity when I arrives at work (the bastard driver tries to scam me by taking the longer way).

At work it is usually okay, I sit infront of my screen and pretend that I am happy and that all my co-workers are beautiful, interesting, educated people. I try to stay in my coma as long as I can but around 7pm you will find me in a stinky bus ful of Bangladeshes. And this is when I create imaginary A-bombs in my head and detonates them like it was the frickin Jihad of the century.

But seriously, if I have to tell another taxi driver that he needs to take the AYE instead of the frickin motha-fucka-slow-and-congested PIE I am going to crack his head up with my platform patent heels.

It's a bird, it's a plane, it's a MOUSE

My Swedish insurance company arranged a medical appointment for me this afternoon due to the "lump" I got in my right boobie. The doc. was a small Indian man in his mid-50s who is a specialist in Urology(!). SO there I was in his office staring at these pictures of all different kind of penises, he had numerous brochures about Erective problems and I managed to read them all. I still wonders why they sent my to him considering I got a lump in my breast and does not even got a penis issue or a penis for god sake. Anyways, there I was naked on the clinic bed with a old Indian guy touching my breast. This is actually the second time a Indian man caresses my boobie, last time I got molested by a Indian it was on a beach in Goa on NYE 2007...although it was the left one that got attacked.

Dr Bombay - "So, let's see if we can find the lump"
Me- "its close to the nipple"
Dr Bombay - " A-HA! It moves. This is usually what we calls a MOUSE!"

So now I have to arrange a time to have my "Mouse" removed. Lucky that I got another one down-under.

xoxo

12:54am

Damn it feels good to be a woman

me working the camera long time ago somewhere in hk

This week my work arranged Excel training course for me and today was the the last day. I have spent one week sitting in class learning how to copy and paste with a singlish speaking guy named Shairy,(pronounces with a silent S...) The best thing with the whole course was all the nice cookies and sweets they provided during breaks, which can not be more perfect considering I am having a frickin bloodbath between my legs this week...yeeeeew u guys must say now. Shut up and bear with me.

Last wknd I went to Bintan, and last night I got a email from the MD of the resort we stayed at and guess what, he invited me back. Is that being too presumptuous? Yeeeeep, I would love to see Alex face when I tell him that I am going for a wknd by myself to a tropic Island...or that some random guy that "kind of" works at the resort gave me a big discount because I am such a loyal customer. If loyal means you been there once per se.

So if there is anyone out there that would say yes to a weekend "with nothing but distant memories of the absolutely fabulous time you had visiting your favorite Chef de Village.." ...whatever that now means.... You are welcome to take my place and soon you shall be sipping Pina Colada on a sandy beach ful of brats.

Ants in my pants

Last weekend I did a shooting in the Botanic Gardens, the photographers name is Romeo and it’s not his artistic name. When you got a name like that you have be in the showbiz or in the prostitution sector, damn –Sector- sounds so governmental. It was so bloody hot that day and Romeo kept taking “backstadge” shoots, I will be like scratching my ass and he would scream “STEADY!”, me *pose* still with one hand scratching. The makeup artist was anorectic and shared her stories about the best way to loose the kilos, one meal per day but you might end up with acid problems…the whole team went to Pizza Hut afterwards and I still wonders if that was her first and only meal of that day.

I and the stylist shared a cab ride back and she’s been in the business quite long so there was a lot to bitch about. Models showing up for work late or drunk or both, the language barrier – Da(Russian) and Sim(Brazilian Portuguese) suddently becomes the universal words of this business, backstabbing photographers, fugly white guys with crappy agencies or even better, agencies that doesn’t even exist.

This weekend I went to Indonesia with a friend of mine without the boys, actually it was more like leave the ones at home tp get some new boys at some exotic island. We arrived Friday morning into the paradise and after 5 gin and tonic I realized how pathetic my life is, the only friends I got in Singapore is a 40 year something housewife and a 15 year old stylist that speaks like Norwegian rockabilly music. The weekend was basically; get up – gin and tonic – tennis – more gin and tonic –lunch – gt gt gt …. Throw in 5 packs of cigarettes there between and u got my perfect get away holiday.

In month I am going to Portugal, I wonder if they drink before noon. They must do, they basically consider wine as juice. Tropicana and vodka never tasted better in the morning.