Tacky Wedding of the Year of Princess Wannabe
Actually I have no mood to write anything. Especially today. But am stuck in the office because the driver is late. Of all days - today....the day of the so called "Wedding of the Year" of the Village Vestal Virgin to her sleazy looking beau. Our office staff said "put him in a Pagoda Tshirt and dump him in the Felda estate somewhere and he will blend in very well with the people who live there. He won't look like an outsider at all."
The Firm is located near the KL Convention Centre where what I call "Tacky Wedding of the Year" is being held. So now that the driver is late, I'm sure I will be stuck in this stupid wedding traffic. I am sick and tired of this media obsession over this Village Vestal Virgin. From the snippets of conversation I pick up from the pantry between our Malay staff in the morning, they too are sick & tired of Little Miss Perfect who wants a fairy tale princess wedding in a horse drawn carriage. Our big boss' secretary said "They should be put in a bullock cart - that would suit them better - soooo kampung these two!!"
The day after their engagement or akad nikah or something the papers plastered her photo everywhere....Ayo....Tacky Tiara over a Tudung Clad head....might as well complete the picture with a pair of Bulgari diamond encrusted dangling earings attached to her tudung! And wear a hairband whilst she is at it! It's equivalent to me wanting to show off my La Perla lace underwear by wearing it outside & over my dress!!! Our staff tells me that they read in the papers that our Tacky Bride of the Year vows to wear the tudung now that she is married. I'm wondering if she will be sporting the kind of tudung that was the rage some time back with those dangling tassles making the women look like mobile lamp shades....
In her efforts to portray a "princess bride" she painfully reveals her very common background. It is very crass to go into the financial details of one's outfits, jewellery etc and the whole media razzmatazz .... This woman should move to Hollywood at the rate she's going. God!! I hear the police outriders' sirens blaring outside - don't tell me this nightmare has started!!! Where the hell is this driver???? Those of you who don't know me - let me explain - I don't know how to drive.
Speaking of tacky behaviour, this morning as I was getting into the car, I noticed a flower arrangement at the back of the car. This really puzzled me. I asked the driver "what is that?". He told me "Flowers". Now that we had established the identity of the offending item, I said "What is it doing at the back of the car?". The driver said "I put it there - I thought it would look nice." I told him "Please remove it - it looks horrible!" He tried to protest "But its real flowers". If it was plastic flowers, I would have insisted my father sack him...but since it was real flowers I only asked him to remove them before I stepped into the car. I'm wondering if I will be greeted with lace materials draping over the car seat head rest by next week. I cannot understand people's need to decorate their car as if its an extension of their house! Should we have an ensuite bathroom attached next? This reminds me of my horse riding days. One day I was waiting for my friend Zoe to pick me up from the riding club. Zoe is my robust looking friend who drives a menacing Pajero and dumps hay, horse feed, horse tack, saddles etc at the back of her Pajero. As I was standing outside the Clubhouse waiting for her, this lime green car with matching lime green wheel covers shuttles towards me and halts. The driver of this astonishing car winds down the window hastily and says hello. Its Zoe!!! I am stumped. "Whose car is this???" I asked, incredulous as I surveyed the interiors...yes it has lace materials draping the head rest of the car seats, crochet tissue box cover....the car rather stands out ...amongst the other cars parked outside the humble wooden Clubhouse. The patrons of the Club drive their Porche, Ferrari, Rolls Royce, Z whatever BMWs (I don't know much about cars...) and park them in a row outside the Clubhouse. These are their Chick Mobil or Babe Magnets....sigh....when will they grow up these men... Anyway, Zoe hissed at me "Shut up and get into the car quickly...I don't want anyone in the Club to see me." I hopped in as she sped off explaining that her Pajero is in the workshop and she borrowed this luminous car from a DBKL officer. I was even more amazed "this car belongs to a man??" She said "You haven't even seen the Love Cushions yet! I've thrown it onto the floor!" Sure enough there were these red satin heart shaped cushions on the floor.... God! How can a man drive such a loud utterly tacky car??? Ofcourse, with the loud colours I assumed the man is of a certain race (not Jamaican...they too seem to have a passion for rainbow colours... I shouldn't be throwing stones...my colleagues say I am the only person they know who wears more colours than a rainbow in one outfit) but Zoe corrected me ... the man is of the same race as our Village Vestal Virgin....
Speaking of my lack of knowledge on cars, before her Pajero, Zoe had this little green car which I take a ride from frequently. One night we were at the Club till late and Zoe gave me her car keys and asked me to wait in the car whilst she goes to the loo. She handed me her magazine to put in the car. It was some woman's magazine - Female or Woman's Own or something like that. She pointed to the general direction of where her car was parked. It was quite dark but I could still make out the car shape, colour & number. I opened the car door, dumped the magazine on the back seat and sat at the passenger seat in front. After a long while I started to wonder where Zoe was. I stepped out of the car and I saw Zoe at the other side of the Club standing next to another car "What are you doing there??? My car is this one!" She was incredulous. Not only was her car a different make from the one I was sitting in - it was also a different colour. So I quickly ran over with her car keys. The next morning after riding my horse, I trudged to the Clubhouse for my breakfast. I noticed a group of women (the regular riders) crowding at the bar listening intensely to Uncle Lim the bartender. As I reached there & plonked myself next to them I asked "What happened?" thinking that someone's horse had died or someone was killed from the expression on their faces. This English lady said to me "Ooh, someone broke into Uncle Lim's car last night....imagine that! Its not safe anymore in this Club. We must ask the Committee to step up the security around here." Alarm bells started ringing..."Err...what did they steal?" I asked. The English lady replied "Well, that's the strange thing... they didn't steal anything but they left a magazine behind! Who would want to do that to poor Uncle Lim??" Later that day Zoe stomps to the Club and asked "Zita where's my magazine!??" I never owned up that it was me who "broke into" Uncle Lim's car that night.... Finally, my driver is here...Ciao!
Hello again people, its lunchtime the day after the Tacky Wedding of the Year of Princess Wannabe. I didn't watch the live telecast of this spectacle of Princess Tacky with Dato Nouveau Riche nor did I watch the screening of a chat show of some Felda singer & his estranged fiancee. But when I opened my papers this morning I was assaulted with pictures of both events. Groan.....What is wrong with our reporters... buying into this crap and our people in general. "She looked every inch the princess" was reported.... no Malay princess of royal blood would be grinning from ear to ear at her wedding let alone belting out a song & dance number at her own wedding!! Conduct unbecoming for a bride indeed. This is beyond tacky, it is gross!!! I can just hear my mum & aunts witnessing such a scene at a wedding "Awat kelaku dia ni tak senonoh betui..." they would be saying. Looking at the photos and their body language I can tell this Princess Sh-i-ti is in for a rough time with new hubby. She is looking adoringly up at him, clinging on to his arm and leaning on him and he is not even facing her or leaning towards her, looking at the world at large with a smug look on his face as though he had just conquered the Roman Empire. He has reason to look smug - he's on to his next cash cow. No more Pagoda Tshirts for this one. My colleague Michele says that he must be an insecure man becoz insecure men are playboys and need to conquer lots of women to prove themselves. Sigh... get a bright red Ferrari lah if you are so insecure. I suppose that's all they can do these days. In the old days they used to go out and conquer other countries. Nowadays you can't do that so you restrict yourself to conquering women only - except ofcourse if you are an American President or an Israeli....then nothing can stop you invading other countries on stupid pretexts.
Then in the next page of the paper you read about this jilted fiancee who harbours hopes of getting back with her singer ex fiance who dumped her via sms. She is in tears professing she still loves him. He is nonchalant and says he just wants to get on with his life. Yeah what a bastard but then this pathetic woman should get a grip on herself and move on. The guy dumped you via sms and you still want him back??? Women are their own worst enemy. Have some pride woman - you are giving the rest of us a bad name! Stop being soooo blooody pathetic!!!! Aaaargh!!
Merdeka Day - Independence Day cannot come at a better time. I need the break to meditate....