A friend of mine, Elle, suggested a social experiment that I should try. All I have to do is go up to random people on the streets and tell them that they look gorgeous. The experiment, like many social experiment, is mainly pointless. You want to see people reaction, and that is pointless. So, this suggestion reminded me of a group of people I hate. I hate gorgeous people. Yes I hate them! I'm okay with beautiful people who are nonchalant and demure, but I hate gorgeous people who strut around, thinking they rule the world. Well, guess what! They don't, and I hope they die!

I don't see the point of strutting down orchard road showing off your Monolo boots or YSL t-shirt. I don't care. The world don't care. And you shouldn't care either. See, gorgeous people do not know the point of fashion. And unfortunately, too many gay people do not know the point of fashion too. When you are wearing that latest skinny fitted D&G jeans with your Prada snickers, you do not need to strut. You do not need to more self conscious. You do not need to cat walk down the street like a broom stick up your ass. Models catwalk down the runway, because its a show. If you are wearing that latest fashion threads, walk normally. Walk normal! Because when you walk normal, and act like you don't care, honey that's fashion. Walk like you don't care about that five hundred dollars snickers. Walk like you are not aware that you can fit into a skinny D&G. Walk like you are born to wear D&G, Prada and Gucci. Don't strut. Because if you strut, you might as well die!

Another thing I hate is gay men wearing t-shirts that 2 sizes too small! What's the point of that? You look GAY! We know you are gay, but you look too gay to be gay okay! And I hope you die too! If you are an XL wear an XL. If you want it a little tighter, wear L. That's okay. Fitted t-shirts are acceptable. But if you are an XL, don't wear S! Or XS. You look like a ridiculous stupid faggot that should die. I don't care if you spend 5 days a week in the gym, consuming only protein shakes. First of all, if you spend 5 days a week in the gym, consuming only protein shakes, you should die! A good body, only looks good if you are wearing clothes your size. If it feels too tight, most probably it is. So if you are an L no amount of exercise is going to change that. That's because you have broad shoulders. That's good! Wear an L. Trust me it would look good. Don't be wearing no XS now. Some people are big. Some are small. Some bitches are skinny and tall. Learn to love yourself!

We all hate stupid people. We hate stupid people who should not be talking. We hate the obvious stupidity of obviously stupid faggots. We hate them. And I hate them. I hate stupid labels that are obviously stupid. Like recently, my sister bought a new pair of shoes. And in that shoe box is a little packet with the label "Do not eat!" Now I know that is for children, but come on. In what way is it logical that when you buy a shoe, that it comes with something to eat with. When you buy a shoe, do you go thinking, hmmm.. I hope there is a chocolate snack. If a child that is old enough to read, eats that packet of Silica, that child should die. Cause then, there will be less stupid people in the world!

/ends weekly hateful rampage.

You know what. It has been difficult. I always try and try, give and give. There is no way. No way, I could update this blog and my other design blog, religiously like I used too. Even my design blog, I been having difficulties updating. And to think that having two writers, would make updating frequent. Apparently two lazy ass writers still isn't better than one. Oh well, life sucks. We live on.

So today I felt compeled enough to write. Because something yesterday my honeys. Oh something horrible happened yesterday. My beloved Nurul Maideen of Singapore Idol, had been voted out of the competetion. She may not be the best singer. But that bitch can sing. And she ain't so bad looking either. I would do her, if that hot sonofabitch future ex-husband of mine, Jonathan Leong is not around. I would not be so furious if Nurul Maideen is voted out towards the last leg of the competition. But shit. That bastard half-bred korean boy, Joakim Gomez had to still stay around. It's horrible. Isn't outing that divalicious singer, Mathilda enough, Singapore. Singapore please. Vote correctly my honeys. And goddamn that Jacintha bitch of a Judge. Stop praising Joakim already. What dusky quality of a voice? Are you deaf Jacintha? You are a record labeled, well respected Jazz Singer Jacintha. Stop being a pussy and just say what needs to be said. Goddamn!

Talking, about horrible things and divas, lets talk about Osama bin Laden. Yes that motherfucker who lives in a cave and happens to be the leader of the terrorist group Al-Qaeda. Well, apparently that bearded bastard, fancies our coke-head diva, Whitney Houstan. Oh honeys. When he looked at cracked-out Whitney Houstan, and said "That's what I want!", we can't help but feel sorry for him. You know what. The USA should just use Miss Houstan like a bait to draw out Osama. Just tie her up like that bitch in King Kong and draw him out from that cave.

Because its a collective blog of both Kristen and me.

It is also not a place of personal ramblings, but our opinions and commentary on Arts and Design.

You can learn from us.

You can also teach us a thing or two.

If you are a designer or artist, you should visit us, because we rock. (at least we believe so)

Coffee Banana

As much as I would like to deny it, I am broke. I will be broke anyway. It is inevitable. By the end of the month, I will most probably eat into my savings, funding my unnecessary splurges. I simply have no discipline to live within my means. My mum once said to me that if you are able to live within your means at the age of 20, you will be able to live within your means in your thirties, forties and fifties. I am the anti-thesis to that statement. $200 belts? Just get it. Its pretty. $159 shoes? That's not that expensive. $20 drinks? It better be nice. I just pay and pay and buy and buy. At the end of the day, I regret my purchases and promised never to do it again. Of course, promises get broken and the cycle repeats. So I decided to do it. I decided to get a savings plan, where part of monthly income gets taken away and placed into savings insurance plan, and I can't take it out (well I could, but that's part of the flexibility of the plan). Long term savings. Something we all need. Something I desperately need help with.

It is said that overspending is the downfall of the Malay community. (among many other things, but that's for another blog entry) For some strange reason, Malays in general spend too much on smoking, shopping and eating. We malays tend to overspend and its difficult to pinpoint out the reason. Malay youths must have better shoes, must have better clothes, must have better bags, better handphones and must smoke. Take my brother for example. He bugs my mum and works part time to fund his some what luxurious lifestyle and his smoking habit. Yes, my brother is a smoker and I am ashamed of it. I am not all innocent of course. I spent too much on clothing and its about time I stop. My brother threw an unreasonable tantrum during his birthday when my mum told him that she can't get him the handphone he wanted - some N series Nokia phone. Of course the next week, my mum surprised him with a V3X , a cheaper but still expensive and unnecessary expense. He has a perfectly fine phone and is just in school.

My mother despite all her wise advises about financial stability is still guilty of not following her own advices. She still funds my brother's luxury expenditure even though he is working part time. She practically gave up trying to make him stop smoking. My mum asked me to help my brother - you know, advice him, be a good big brother. But honestly, if a son refuses to listen to his own mother what makes you think he will listen to his overly dramatic and eccentric big brother. I'm afraid of my brother's future. He is on the slippery slope of the typical failure of a malay youth.

I believe the only way for my mum to help my brother is to stop funding him unnecessarily. My brother once chalked up to $800 in handphone bills in a month, taking to his girlfriend non-stop even while overseas. My mum scolded him and paid for the bills. She cut off the line and my brother went mobileless for only a month. The following month, my mum funded a new line and a new handphone for him. Guess what? He chalked up a bill of $500 in a month this time. My brother still has a line (a prepaid one this time) and still has a great new top-end handphone. My mother needs to stop. My brother needs a punch and a bloody nose to wake his bloody idea up. (Omg I just used a famous army line)

It is sad, but this scenario is repeated quite frequently throughout many malay families. Though it's difficult to understand why this is particularly pertinent in the malay community, it is obvious that this problem, is the root to many other problems of the malay community. I unfortunately offer no solution to the problem I just stated. However, I think its important that individually we start to be financially responsible. Financial problems is the root of many other problems and its time I start acting.

You know what's wrong with size 32 jeans? Nothing. It's just that I can't fit into a size 32 jeans! Even after much struggling, pulling and unnatural sucking in, size 32 simply won't fit anymore! I have a gigantic waist! LIKE BIG MAMA! The jeans fits up to the legs and tights then the last button simply refuse to button up! Size 32.. sheesh.. nobody wears a size 32. Though its my dream to fit into a size 32. Why? Cause I have no butt, and a size 34 makes me look like I am wearing baggy pants, even though the cutting is not suppose to be baggy. Its like girls with no breast and have to wear dresses, and the chest area doesn't quite fill up nicely. I need to get rid of these crazy love handles, or just push them down to my butt area.

I think I'm getting the flu. My nose all stuffed, and my throat is all dry. I have been drinking lots of water. It's a good preventive measure before I get a full blown flu/fever/sore-throat/feel-like-shit sickness. That and Vitamin C. I never like feeling sick. Silly. Who does?

Just when I though it was cool to be anti-catholic (blame Dan Brown), the most unlikely person in my group of friends have converted to "the one true religion" - according to Kristen and Maryann anyway. When enquired why he, once a free-thinker radical anti-religion buddhist zen hippy would convert to Catholicism, he answered with much self-convinced faith - "Because of God". Well that's silly I said, seeing as how someone as skeptical as he is, would require much more than that. "Well Islam doesn't allow me to drink." He added jokingly. Silly boy. Much more was said, along the lines of being expose and staying with a catholic friend, but non of it was convincing. Oh well, at least it was convincing to him. Be a good christian dude!

I want those really long scarves designed by Heidi Slimanne. Those scarves are like so long, you have to twirl them around your neck thrice before getting them to a reasonable hanging length. Of course those scarves are ridiculously expensive, and the only one I can afford are from Zara. And Zara's scarves are sadly short and normal. I need rich parents! Or a better paying job. Or both. Long scarf, t-shirt, torn fitted jeans, leather wristbands and canvas high cut shoes. Mod Fashion perfection!

Singapore IDOL was such a pain to watch! First of all, no cute people! Jonathan is the supposed hunk of the show. Are you people like blind? He looks like a 'kentang' reject from Project Superstar. The girls have not performed, but from the looks of it, not many hotties there too. Then there is Daniel Ong. He have this silly smile all the time. Spots a ridiculous beard that needs to be shaven with a 6 blade razor. And keeps calling Gurmit Singh, GURMS! And back to you Gurms! OH MY GOD! Stop it! Call him Gurmit already!

People I have been going to gym thrice a week, doing both cardio and weights, and I am still not looking any smaller! I need help!! Is it genes? Am I fated to live with this wide shoulders, flabby love handles forever? Or is there something I am not doing right? Drink more water? HELP!

Fahion design – unlike Graphic design – has a refreshing honesty about its sense of aesthetics. It understands, values and believes in its power and that aesthetics – beautiful things – makes people react. Not like graphic design, which burdens itself with the intellectual need of an underlying concept and ideas. Graphic design without a concept or idea is reduced to the state of mere decoration or ornaments. And that designers apparently don't do decorations. That is why, graphic designers get a little worked up when you call them graphic artists.

Graphic designers have been battling the idea that their jobs can be replaced by secretaries who knows how to use photoshop or that super intern who knows the secrets of the pen tool in illustrator ever since the computer come loaded with such software. An IT specialist in my unit, was messing around with photoshop to create graphics for their website. Quite neat work I must say. Of course if I was a 'Real' graphic designer, I should dismiss these supposedly 'conceptless' work as hacks. Mere decorations. But I couldn't. They were really not that bad. Maybe a few kernings problems here and there. Bad color choices somewhere. But they were not bad. The said IT specialist were actually looking for my approval and comments. I sort of became the resident graphic critic. But this time, I kept my mouth shut, smiled and nodded my head.

The start of the month of May turned out quite freshly weird for me. Firstly, my mum woke up thinking she is the hybrid of Naomi Campbell and Shakira. Yes, the combination of the two probably most perfect women in the world. My mum has been strutting around the house declaring to the world that she has the front of Shakira and the behind of Naomi. I laughed of course. I don't have the heart to ruin one moment of hotness. Maybe this is my mum desperate silent cry for help.

Secondly, another strange anomaly happened while I was in Town with my greatly eccentric friend Joseph. I have many eccentric friends, it just happens that Joseph is the most eccentric of them all. He wears pink sneakers with Fedora hats for crying out loud. Not that it's a bad thing. Joseph's eccentricities somehow overshadows my own and make me appear rather tame.

Anyway, while walking about trying to find our way to Far East Plaza - yes we were lost in Orchard Road - we were stopped by a young chap with a name card in his hand. I was expecting this guy to be someone asking for donation to build some grand home for homeless children with no hands. I was ready to just wave him away, but before I could say not interested, he asked - "Would you like to be a model?" .

"Who me?" my eyes widen. "Yes you. You look like you are in-"

Before he could complete his sentence, I burst out laughing. Joseph giggled like a typical eccentric.

"Are you serious?" I asked again, trying to control my laughter. "Yes." he said, handing me his name card.

Joseph's giggles are now full blown laughters. Trying to save myself and Joseph from further embarrassment, I took the card, gave the guy a fake number and walked away. Joseph continued laughing as I dragged him away.

Before Joseph could open his mouth to give me his smart ass opinion like I know he would, I told him to shush it! This is my moment of hotness! And no one is to ruin it. I spent the rest of the day (okay 30 mins - I got tired cat walking around looking for Far East Plaza), strutting around like a hot model that I am. XD!

This May is going to be great.