A Little Bit About Me
I suppose most of you are wondering who I am (other than those of you who are my crazy friends reading this).
Well, this photo doesn't really do me justice...it's my passport photo (and I wonder why they won't let me into most countries...) but as you can see, I'm wearing one of my favourite polka dot outfits...
If you have been reading my previous postings you would have sussed out that I am a Malaysian lawyer practising in a law firm in Kuala Lumpur.
I spent most of my teen years in England as did many of my cousins and did my law degree at the School of Oriental and African Studies (yeah, I was such a pinko leftie in those days....).
This is a photo of me in my teens, skiving off school to sunbathe at Brighton beach.
What can I say, I was such a wild child. Even in those days I had a penchant for strange outfits. I was sent to an English boarding school at an early age - which I managed to extricate myself out of after a few years of arctic conditions living off macaroni cheese & meringue - by telling my father that they didn't have the subjects I wanted to take...parents beware of such excuses from your kids - this translated into teenage lingo means "there are no boys in this school". Aah, the English girls....they do mature very fast. This is what I discovered at boarding school:-
- They bathe once a week, immersing themselves in a tub of soapy water, then proceed to get out of it without rinsing the scum & soap suds off, leaving behind a tub full of dirty water with scum and I dread to think what else floating on top....then the next girl in line enters this same tub...yes, with this filthy water full of scum et al. No there was no water rationing at our boarding school so I really can't comprehend this fetish of theirs immersing themselves in each other's scum. Some strange form of bonding which I never indulged in fortunately. I think they were cleaner before they bathed! The Asians (not that many of us) used the showers - everyday.
- The French & Italian girls who join us in the summer term (some kind of exchange programme) were very immodest. Walking around stark naked and they don't believe in removing their underarm hair which they inconveniently expose to you - stretching their arms upwards when talking to you in their nude condition - whilst you are gulping down your curry maggi mee noodles in your dorm (dinner was at 6pm...by 8pm you are hungry again). You are left in a quandary whether to avert your eyes from this ghastly sight of their underarm hair gone wild or their muff of springy pubes....enough to put you off your maggi noodles for the rest of your life!
- As it's an all-girls boarding school, I noted that even the spotty greasy haired kitchen boy got a lot of action. I remember a time when this remotely good looking blond youth was hired to paint the exterior of the school building and no one was paying attention to our poor English Literature teacher expostulating the intricacies of the political intrigues in Julius Caesar (only an Englishman could make Shakespeare sound so complicated) - they were all gawping at this scrawny youth on a ladder outside our classroom window. Later in the common room, I overheard one of the sixth formers boast that she grabbed the poor boy (should I really sympathise with him??) and pushed him into the broom cupboard for a quick bonk. Apparently this was premeditated as she lifted up her mini skirt to reveal to us that she wasn't wearing any knickers in order to save time....Does this amount to rape(?) I wondered...Do I really want to continue drinking my coffee there or should I join the 6 year olds in their common room so that my ears would not have to endure anymore public regaling of sexual conquests...one should hope one is safe from such things in the company of 6 year olds but you never know with the Brits... Sigh... This must have been the turning point when I decided that I should leave this school before I turn out like one of them....languishing in other people's scum and molesting kitchen boys.
I escaped to Brighton...only to discover that it has the largest population of gay men and Jews in Europe. One of my best friends there was Karibo, a Nigerian born lad with the most scrumptious butt - yes, and he is gay. He was my classmate Herbie's flat mate. I used to do my homework at Herbie's place - perhaps I should say I used to go to Herbie's place so that he could do my homework whilst I muck about with Karibo in the kitchen. Karibo made the most yummy Nigerian dishes consisting mostly of okra dishes....
Then one day I turned up and discovered that Herbie had kicked Karibo out. When I asked him why, Herbie had this "horrifying" revelation to make "I found out that he is gay!!!" You should have seen the expression on my face...how did Herbie not know that Karibo is gay?? After living with him for 2 years and sharing this king size bed with Karibo?? Herbie proceeds to reveal more shocking news when I asked How he found out. "Karibo was away in London for the weekend and I was going through the cupboards and found these most disgusting things..." Sigh, Herbie found Karibo's sex toys...Let me explain something about Herbie. I reckon Herbie went straight from childhood to adulthood and missed out being a teenager. We were 17 and Herbie was very much like a professor. Very matured (but not streetwise obviously) and such a fuddy duddy. All the teachers loved Herbie. What I can't understand is How & Why Herbie did not realise Karibo is gay. Karibo had this good looking blond English boyfriend who is always at the flat and once whilst Herbie and I were doing our homework, I saw this guy nibbling Karibo's toenails whilst they were watching telly...I mean, surely Herbie doesn't think that is normal behaviour between friends...there is some level of intimacy in that act...something I wouldn't indulge in myself ie chewing of other people's toenails...or even my own! Anyway, I guess I stopped going over to Herbie's after that, it was too dull without Karibo around. No more okra...sob, sob...
Enough about me for the time being. Ciao!