i need the wrinkled moon man!

hi all!

am feeling much better today, really. unfortunately after taking a day to settle my errant thoughts and putting them firmly straight where they belong (in the trashbin :D ) I am left with 1 day less to mug like all other lesser mortals than Thum. So floundering along with chemistry alpha helices and some funny female hormones for the greater part of the day I decided to give myself a break and hence I went to the fridge.

No marks for guessing what I did at the fridge. (not masturbating of course.) :)

Anyway, after the brief sojourn to the chilled cupboard full of goodies (well not full anymore - burp) :) i thought hard about my future. And when a girl thinks about her future, one thing will never cease to lurk at the hind of her brain like a piece of kangkong never ceases to reside between your teeth.

the spouse. or, prior to that advanced stage of infection and disease, upon which there is no cure and no escape except death (either physical or financial, haha), the boyfriend.

anyway. i am so happy today i keep diverging, but then again the catchphrases in today's severely managerial society are convergence and integration, so divergence need not necessarily be a bad thing. ah there. i diverge again. *grins madly* anyway. i was talking about the guy who stands, sits, eats, drinks, breathes and just about excretes next to you whenever you're in the "attached" mode, aka the bf or hubby.

i was thinking, i'm so fat and ugly and depressing and stupid. so i won't marry. that's logical right? but then this idiotic little voice came and kachiao me: hey, you'll get married.

yeah right. *creates a monsoon with the speed of eye-rolling*

actually to speak the truth, I'm not so much convinced that i won't marry but rather i'd not be happily married. as in the "pushing 35 and still not hitched" kind who gets punished by grandbaby-insane parents to go for matchmaking sessions. and as you know, the most infamous matchmaking centre in Singapore is... SDU. *cue symphony no. 5*

I thought of the ulu little hut in Stevens Road where SDU is located (just right opposite my alma mater) and a shudder went down my spine. It's horrendous to think that I'd be consigned to the fate of being forcibly engaged to a stranger who would spend the rest of my miserable life with me whilst my happy, slim, pretty, ATTACHED juniors across the road cackle themselves into chicken-hood regarding my sad plight.

I'd be resigned to the sad fate of being mug-shotted and given a case number like your run-of-the-mill imprisoned Ah Beng. Then SDU will organise a "garden party" after randomly assigning you a mate that "best suits you, dahling" - i.e. equally fat, ugly, stupid and broke. then i'll sit down to a candlelight dinner with the man of my dreams, except that the dream is an utter nightmare haha and the man is not a man so much as a short, squat version of balding R2D2 in Star Wars.

The cheapo budget dinner will comprise of charred, not charbroiled as advertised, chicken, so I'll choke to death on it and have to gulp down jugs of cheapo beer cos SDU doesn't have the budget for wine, so the balding, wrinkled museum artifact proposing to me may actually seem pleasing, or horror of horrors, even appealing.

Meanwhile the candle is cheapo as well, so it belches forth huge volumes of thick grey smoke and u can hardly visualise the silhouette of the ah pek eying ur cleavage with a nosebleed opposite the table, much less appraise his relative physical assets (e.g. aquiline nose if we push truth to the wrong side of lying) :)

so you sit there dying of carcinogenic chicken and candle smoke as you contemplate your future with this guy who looks like he'll drop dead straight after saying "I do". and dream that u're angelina jolie and he's brad pitt and you guys are just enjoying a night together in some obscure, quiet, smoke infested corner of paraside-like hawaii. and before you know it, you've nodded off to sleep and the old coot opposite thinks you're ready to be his wife, so he hugs you like his beloved toilet mop and asks you when he can meet the in-laws to discuss the dowry.

and around me, 40 other 35-year-old-and-unhitched aunties are probably doing the same.

oh wow. *shudders* haha. well, that's Singapore for you. at least you can hope that being chubby (from me) may iron out the wrinkles my baby gets from his wrinkled balding old dad. hoho. such a sobering thought. *stands to throw away the snack wrappers i've strewn all over after thinking such angst and anguish filled thoughts*

:D why can't they photocopy brad pitt so i can get to marry him too? it doesn't matter if he's made of paper. i can always go to the fridge and masturbate. :)