Social Mistress

It has been a while since my friends the Lushes have all been together in one place.

As usual, work, family and life has served to distance us all from each other - at least geographically wise. Fortunately these days we also have an increasingly wired world to bring us closer on our frenetic chat groups. Guess you win some, you lose some. I do miss them dearly but regular follow-ups on their lives and happenings keep me smiling, especially with the sight of newborn babies gladdening their already lush lives.

Not content with risking her life serving with Medecins Sans Frontieres in the wartorn fields of Iraq, Statuesque Sarah has decided to take up jumping from planes instead. Ostensibly learning all about air ambulance medicine but most probably the mid-air daredevilry would be the draw. Can't imagine what her long-suffering mother would think of her next adventure!

That didn't stop Sarah from having a little party of her own before leaving.

Sarah : Yes, I'm not always sociable all the time but that evening I was the perfect social mistress. 
Paul : Did you just say social mistress? 
Sarah : Yes. Me, social mistress. 
Paul : You know when you say that, everyone conjures up images of leather and whips? 
Sarah : Eeew no!
Paul : Just ask your housemen. 

Somehow I can't picture Statuesque Sarah as the perfect hostess in a frilly pink dress queening it over a garden tea party.

Sarah : Social mistress I tell ya.
Paul : Oh in that getup, I definitely believe it. Hell I wouldn't argue, you might break out the whips. 

Prissy genteel? Maybe not.

Something a lil more risque with a hint of the dominatrix while the petty house officers cower beneath their her spiked stiletto, far more likely. Although Sarah repeatedly announces on Facebook that she's a far more benign presence these days, we all know better. No doubt quite a few incompetent interns have been lacerated by her painfully scorching glares - though maybe they aren't immediately incinerated but left to gradually charbroil instead.

Humane, no? We are mellowing after all.

Part of Your World

When you're in love and thinking of wedding rings, don't ever believe the entire shlock about only marrying the person. Short of performing a Mafia-style wedding massacre or falling for an unfortunate orphan, you will not only be joining hands with a bride, you'll be joining the family.

At least if you're Asian.

And after being privy to the entire clan she is marrying into, I fully understand why Lissome Lorelei had her niggling doubts about the commitment she was making. It was clear that her sea-witch mother-in-law was part of what my ISO begrudgingly used to call the Socialistas. Very little to do with socialism, everything to do with the social scene.

No, the Socialistas are out to outwit, outlast and outplay all the others in the upper crust social scene - basically a cross between Gossip Girl and Hunger Games. Calling them just plain old socialites would be an awful disservice since that just doesn't give them enough of a mean cachet.

Shalom : OMG are they gonna fight?Should we stop them?
Paul : Meh, it was gonna happen eventually. 

My ISO should know. His patrician mother was a card-carrying member as well. And though she thankfully wasn't part of the scene here at the wedding, it was as if she was here in spirit with all the bouffant updos, the heavy mascaras and the conspicuously fake smiles.

And the prerequisite air-kissing.

Lorelei's mother-in-law was all that. And more.

Paul : The mother-in-law looks formidable. Don't think our poison would kill her. 
Shalom : We'd probably need a barrel. 
Paul : Probably what she wants to shove Lorelei in. 
Shalom : And toss her back into the sea where she came from?
Paul : Judging from the terse smiles, the mother-in-law will probably never accept Lorelei into the family.
Shalom : She's looking at Lorelei as if she was an unwelcome sea slug. 
Paul : Doesn't approve of ambitious sea creatures? 
Shalom : Looks like she wouldn't approve of anyone.
Paul : Let's hope for the best. L'chaim. 

With such a peevish mother-in-law, there's certainly no welcome into the family with open arms. Fairytale wedding might be over but I think our little mermaid is gonna be walking on sharp knives for quite a while.

Kiss The Girl

Like all cherished fairy tales, they all end with a happy ending where the lucky pair walks off into the panoramic sunset hand in hand after their various trials and tribulations. Though we had our doubts about that ever happening for our wandering sea urchin Lissome Lorelei, it turns out that potions and charms actually do work out fine at the end as she finally managed to walk down the aisle to the sound of a hot crustacean band.

On her two feet.

With the rest of the Lushes dressed up to the nines in attendance. Not forgetting our Charming Calvin as my plus one yet again. Turns out life truly can be the bubbles under the sea.

Sarah : The wedding went off smoothly! Time for champagne!
Paul : Phew! Thought we were going to have to break out the poison instead!
Calvin : You brought poison again?
Shalom : Abuthen?

With all the trials and tribulations right before she set off on her voyage into the sunset, could you blame us for doubting? As soon as the wedding date was set, problems seem to plague the wedding planning from bridezilla botherations to parental predicaments. Have to admit there were even times when I wondered if the little mermaid would end up returning the favour by poisoning the shockingly perverse sea witch mother-in-law.

Can't say I would blame her.

Just two weeks before swamped by all the pre-wedding chaos, a jittery Lorelei stood inches away from leaping back into the indigo waves for her beloved fathoms below. Land and shore be damned. It was all I could do to talk her back into her well-appointed suite with all her whosits and whatsits galore. Not forgetting her prince.

But she seemed perfectly composed by the time we finally caught up to her the night before the wedding. Though I found myself astonished to find myself standing beside a distressingly fragile Lorelei.

Paul : OMG have you been starving yourself?
Lorelei : Just a little bit of stress with the wedding.
Paul : So you ate only salted seaweed for six months?
Lorelei : I'm not that thin, am I?
Paul : You're almost a 2-D animated character.
Lorelei : I could still smack you with the conch shell. 
Paul : Sure you could even lift that? 

Think half her weight was her voluminous hair. I was this close to stuffing her with a kelp sandwich.

Lorelei obviously didn't need to have wasted herself worrying since the wedding went on smoothly without a hitch. Each little clam there knew how to jam there, each little slug there cutting a rug there... the little mermaid needn't have worried. Even the sea witch behaved herself relatively well.

Though I was ready with darts in case she didn't.

And we finally had the prince kiss the girl.

A Lush Garden Wedding

Well it's about time someone tied the knot :)

In a surprisingly sweet turn of events, turns out Fabulous Fiona is the first one down the aisle. After receiving the all important proposal from her longtime beau, she set out efficiently organizing her own violet-and-olive themed wedding, planning everything from the lunchtime menu to the dinner dresses.

All I had to do was get my suit ready - along with a suitably matching batik bow with both those colours.

For the rest of the Lushes, we were just too pleased with her choice in men. Sweet, easygoing, unassuming prince of a fellow. Always makes me smile thinking of the first time Fiona brought him over for the introduction.

Paul : Wow, amazing name!
Fiona : Yeah, he's great as well. British Thai mix. 
Paul : OMG He must be incredibly hawt!
Fiona : Umm...
Paul : With the winning combination of Thai and British genes, he must be tall, fair and undeniably gorgeous!
Fiona : Not really ... though from my point of view, he is handsome. 
Paul : That's really all that matters. 

Then again I'm a half-Thai troll myself.

What I initially expected! Ashita Xu Chaemchamrat, far from a troll.

More importantly though, the planned wedding gave us all a chance to get together after so many years apart. Shameless Shalom finally back home in Malacca in our old stomping grounds, Statuesque Sarah creating a fearsome legend for herself in Singapore while Lissome Lorelei does her usual swimming to-and-fro between Penang and Kuala Lumpur.

And me languishing on the other side of the Big Puddle.

So we made the most of it by renting an apartment together for two nights of dinner and drinking. Not to mention dozens of embarassing selfies hours before the wedding. I had to make my new bespoke suit worth it, didn't I? 

In-Laws Outlawed

Pretty sure quite a few of you out there are wishing that would come true.

Lissome Lorelei amongst them. Yes, the wandering sea urchin has resurfaced from the mysterious fathoms below with some pretty dismal news; seems not all is well in fairytale kingdom with her happily-ever-after prince. Life isn't the bubbles, especially since her fairy godmother never told her that princes actually do come with royal parents in tow.

Lorelei : Damn him!
Paul : For having parents!
Lorelei : Yes! Dammit I mean no! He wants to go back.
Paul : Go back where? Under the sea?
Lorelei : Yes! I don't want to go back under the sea with him! Especially not to live with his parents.
Paul : Well you always knew he would one day return to live with his aging parents.
Lorelei : Umm... well they are pretty old so I was hoping...
Paul : Those poor unfortunate souls!
Lorelei : Ye Gods, I have turned into a monster.
Paul : Worse than Ursula the Sea Witch.
Lorelei : Can't be. That's his mother.

Not the first time I've said it but I'll probably say it again. And again.

Seriously. Is it really that hard to understand? Marry the boy - and expect to get the whole baggage of crazed in-laws. That's why the sweet fables we read always end right after the prince carries the bride over the threshold. No one wants to hear about the shrewish mother-in-law who's even worse than the witch.

Then again it could be commitment jitters - since mermaids do like their freedom - so fret not, young prince.


Lorelei : Am I doing the right thing?
Paul : The dress or the wedding?
Though I would never claim to be bffs with my own erstwhile mother-in-law, I would say our relationship has remained relatively cordial. With my neverending attempts to sweeten her up, Madame Borgia has had no valid cause to rally the irate townspeople to storm my estate with blades and pitchforks. Undoubtedly Madame Borgia has reason to question the suspicious liaison between me and Charming Calvin - but to even mention it would make it all too real.

Her son... a homosexual? With a lover?

And that would obviously lead to the end of civilization as she knows it.

So denial plays a significant role in keeping my relationship with Madame Borgia surprisingly amicable.

It's a Lush Christmas

With my new colleagues generally being saintly do-gooders ( not to mention regular church-going, God-fearing Christians ), it's quite obvious that we share nothing in common apart from work. Even cracking an inappropriate joke at wholly appropriate moments would earn astonished stares from the grim lot.

Belonging as they do to a previous generation - yes, they are men of a certain age! - they have different preoccupations in life.

Paul : Good God. I don't think that crotchety old lady would survive a sneeze!
Doctor : But we must try our best. God willing she will survive!
Paul : God willing she would be having tea with St Peter's right now.
Doctor : Goodness gracious me! We cannot speak of such things!

Definitely a tough crowd.


Time to synchronize our schedules!
So I knew I needed to touch base with more like-minded folks. Or at least ones who didn't think Lady Gaga was the name of a toothbrush brand. Hence my annual Christmas dinner with the Lushes.

These days though it's getting ever harder to round up the entire lot. Takes a whole lot of time, patience and serendipity to get us all in the same place. Statueque Sarah busy tormenting the interns down south while Shameless Shalom's terrorizing her share up north in the land below the wind. Fabulous Fiona's busy canoodling with her newfound beau McThai.

And of course Lissome Lorelei's nowhere to be found. Though last we heard our lady of leisure had rejoined the ranks of the working class!

Still they all managed to make it down for Christmas - something I count as a miracle all in itself.



Me, I had news about my new career. Statuesque Sarah talked of her daily work garrotting feckless interns while Shameless Shalom shared with us her news of travelling in search of Christ ( or his hunkier servants ) sometime in July.

And from out of the cold, Lissome Lorelei appeared with a Christmas fruitcake baked with her own fair hands. Without setting the house on fire. Now if that's not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is.

It's Not Christmas Without You

Christmas is always a time for those close to our hearts. Friends, family and yes, those significant others special to us.

Conveniently flexible hours during the holiday season only provides a reason for us all to spend the time reconnecting to one another. And to share just a little bit of gossip. Me, I had a half hour chat with one of the Lushes to plan our Christmas getaway.


Paul : Run! I see McThai coming with a big sack of toys!
Fiona : But I want to help tie him up... oops, I mean tie his gifts up!
Obviously I had ulterior motives at hand. Yeah, I needed my lil wrapper girl, Fabulous Fiona to do some giftwrapping. Which she thankfully offered despite the fact that she has double the wrapping to be done this year! And yes, folks, the faithful boyfriend's still in da house!

Fiona : Someone said my boyfriend's a little clingy.
Paul : Well I don't think so. I think your boyfriend's lovely.
Fiona : Oh yes, I think so too. Hee hee. I was just wondering.
Paul : Guess we are both a little bit commitment-phobic. All depends on how you lool at things. I mean would you call Calvin clingy?
Fiona : Well, I don't see how he could be anything but clingy. You walk too fast all the time! Surely Calvin has to hang on somehow.
Paul : Heh heh heh. Never looked at it that way.

Just to put things into perspective.

A Lush Christmas

It has been a long time since my friends - the Lushes - and I met up. Getting together has become quite a logistical nightmare recently. What with Fabulous Fiona away in Shanghai playing with needles and moxibustion, Statuesque Sarah avoiding bomb-wielding terrorists to rescue the needy in Iraq and Shameless Shalom desperately finishing her final year thesis.

And Lissome Lorelei vacillating between work and a life-time commitment :)

Of course not forgetting me stranded in the faraway island of Borneo.


And yes, we'd like some of these for Christmas. No need for matching wrapping paper even.
So you can imagine that it's been a while since we've sat together at the same table. So it was a miracle indeed that they all managed to come down to my place for Christmas. Since we'd been communicating regularly online with the minutiae of our lives ( some better than others! ), catching up didn't take all that long.

After all I had so many things to share about the eccentric vagaries of the folks in Miri :) From the endless roundabout dilemmas to the dour-faced service staff.

Then Statuesque Sarah managed to add a few shocking titbits about her time in post-reconstruction Iraq. Bullet-ridden houses and blown-up victims? Sounds horrifically traumatic. Instead of heading for the hills after her harrowing experience there, our intrepid Sarah only seems revved up for more. No doubt I'll soon be hearing of her in some war-torn God-forsaken banana republic.

Biggest shocker was the news that Fabulous Fiona's brief acupuncture stint in Shanghai has actually turned her on to sultry almond-eyed Chinese fellas. After her experience kissing frogs from every other race and nationality, this comes as a welcome surprise to her doting dad - who is no doubt congratulating himself on coming up with the acupuncture suggestion. Have no fear, we will turn her into a patented rice queen yet.

Messages off the Bund

Electronic mail. Instant messages. And now twitters.

Seems like the more advanced technology gets, the more distant we get from each other. And yet we try our best to connect with the increasingly sophisticated means available to us. Without the usual communicative nuances present during a face-to-face conversation however, quite a lot can be miscontrued through such electronic devices.

Case in point, our wandering sea urchin Lissome Lorelei who tries her best to maintain contact with her prince waiting by the distant shore. Daily messages and nightly phone calls are the best she can do since she's stranded miles away from him. Despite ( like all her mermaid ilk ) having a morbid fear of commitment, Lorelei has defied all expectations by remaining steadily landbound in his castle for quite a while.

Last I heard she's even considered buying new tiles for the castle ramparts. With no talk of stealing away for the deep blue sea.


Lorelei : I see the sea. Maybe I could make a run for it.
Paul : Not on your life, missy.
So much so that we've started teasing her about connubial bliss. Could it be that our naiad has given up her roaming nomadic lifestyle? If only we'd known that our jests could turn out to be shockingly prophetic.

Lorelei : Oh My God. Look at what you guys did!
Paul : What happened?
Lorelei : See this message. See what he wrote.
Paul : Oh My God. Is that a proposal? He wrote.. 'It says you're engaged.'
Lorelei : Engaged! Married! I wanna see the world. Up where the people are. I wanna see, wanna see 'em dancing.

Obviously she went to her happy place.

Seriously though. Our little sea urchin was this close to leaping impulsively into the Huangpu and making for the wide open sea. Practically had to jump to hold her down before she could make her hasty escape from the Bund.

Since they've been walking out for just a while, it wouldn't surprise me if her young prince felt the same. No wonder his immediate reply came just a brief second later stating that it was sent by accident. Can already imagine him slapping his forehead in horrifying dismay after mistyping the information.

Ye Shanghai

Seems like everyone's going Ye Shanghai these days.

So my friends and I - the Lushes - figure we might as well join the hip, happening crowd making their way to that great metropolis of the East. Providentially enough Fabulous Fiona's been busy studying the arcane art of acupuncture in a local university there so room and board's taken care of.

Despite the open invite, I actually thought it would be only Charming Calvin and me walking the streets of Shanghai. Didn't think the impossibly fickle Lissome Lorelei would actually stick to the original plan to travel together. Even at the last minute at the airport, I half wondered whether she would make it :)


Paul : Good God. You look terrible. Are you sure you're well enough to go?
Lorelei : Always!
But undaunted by her persistent flu-like symptoms, Lorelei persevered. Obviously trying to prove to us that she's not the frequent flyer ( fong fei kei ) we're starting to think she is.

Lorelei : I am *cough cough* here.
Paul : Obviously so is the seasonal flu.
Lorelei : I am *hack hack cough* fine.
Paul : You look like death warmed over. Make that just plain death.
Lorelei : I am... *ack*
Paul : Was that sign language? Did you just lose your voice? Are you sure you won't be deported?

Even after losing her voice, our capricious mermaid made her opinions clearly known with an upturned middle finger.

So it was that the three of us travelled to Shanghai. Lorelei sans voice of course. Possibly hacked out half a lung on the way as well.

Fortunately Fabulous Fiona stood waiting for us on arrival with acupuncture needles at the ready. Supposedly a remedy for hoarseness of voice. Of course the sight of pointy sticks aimed at her LU10 Yu Ji Acupuncture point proved too much for our ailing maiden and Lorelei fell into near hysterics. Resisting the urge to offer my Five-Fingered Palm of Recovery, I decided to offer myself as a guinea pig for Fiona's amateur acupuncture show.

Turns out it wasn't as amateurish as I imagined. Once the needle went in ( and yes it was ouch ) seriously I could actually feel chi flowing. Certainly cleared my lung heat.

Then again it could have been my screaming nerves.

20th Anniversary

Seems like even our hags are starting to notice the ephemeral quality of our fleeting relationships. After all most gay couples tend to last but the flicker of a candle. All it takes is the mere whisper of a tempest to snuff it out.

Sad fact that.

But what made me smile just the other day was a passing comment from Fabulous Fiona. Teasing her on her recent penchant for all things Bollywood ( including the men ), she tried to distract me by talking about Charming Calvin instead.

Fiona : You've been dating like forever!
Paul : Doesn't seem that long.
Fiona : Well for gay men, a year of commitment's like five!
Paul : Ooh. Since we've been together around four years, can I start celebrating my 20th Anniversary?
Fiona : A china wedding! How appropriate!

One year is like five for a heterosexual commitment? Ouch.

But well, 20 years. So what to do to commemorate this momentous day?


Paul : Wow. 2 decades! Who'd have thought!
Fiona : An old married couple?
Paul : No complaints there.
Fiona : Time for a baby?
Paul : Maybe. A Penan baby perhaps?
Not that we've settled on a particular day. Unlike some cooing lovebirds, neither of us can recall the day we got together. Being the indolent sloth that he is, I doubt Charming Calvin even remembered to note down the date.

Fortunately we managed to get this far without being ascribed one of those annoying hybrid names given to couples such as Brangelina or TomKat. Or even my adoring friends Jelanis. But maybe for the china anniversary, it would be fun to try a combination.

Calvin and Paul.

Maybe Palvin? Paulvin? Caul? Calul?

Eh. They just don't have the wow factor. Maybe an autumn honeymoon in Shanghai to celebrate instead? :)

The New Mrs Robinson

Does age really matter in a relationship?

For me, it doesn't matter as much. I should know since Charming Calvin's at least four years younger. Well, apart from the slight ick factor about dating a fellow still in primary blues when you're already in secondary greens! But the age gap grows significantly narrower as we get older, and these days I can safely assure you that Calvin is all man so what does it matter!

Nothing wrong with dating someone younger ( or older ). Chronological age difference doesn't count as much as maturity of thought. After all what is age but a number? Date a crotchety, arthritic elder cursed with the immature mind of a flighty adolescent- and it comes up to the same after all. We love who we love, not matter what their age or what they look like.

Hell, might as well be dating a college boy - firm body, enquiring mind and all. And let's not forget the stamina of youth.

Allow me a moment to indulge in my randy college boy fantasies.


College boy anyone?
Of course my more prudent female friends think otherwise. Unfortunately for the Lushes - particularly Fabulous Fiona - heterosexual relationships are evidently held up to a different standard. Despite changing times and progressive mores, it's still not as easy for an older-woman / younger-man dynamic to be accepted here. Or at least that's what she thinks.

Fiona : You gay men have it easy! No one stares at an older fella with a younger one.
Paul : Chicken-hawks, you mean? Well, we don't stare. Much. But really, it's all in your mind.
Fiona : Come on, he's younger than me! He was in primary when I was already finishing form five!
Paul : So what? So was Calvin. The gap doesn't matter much at all.
Fiona : Seriously?
Paul : Nothing wrong with a bit of crazy cradle-snatching after all. I find it sexy.
Fiona : Bitch.
Paul : Cougar.

Kidding aside, I didn't think it really mattered much so I talked Fiona into letting me meet her new fella. Any doubts I had disappeared when I saw McMullah walking in. With his finely-trimmed beard, it definitely helped that he didn't resemble a smooth-cheeked teenager in the least.

And he's certainly no kid. :)

Certainly deserving of a Mc. Over sushi, our newly christened McMullah extolled the virtues of the Iranian countryside, gave away secrets about his secret shellfish allergy - and got roped into formulating a facebook game based on the Islamic clergy. Think of it as the Ayatollah School with points gained for suitable attire ( covering pertinent aurat ) and memorizing the Quranic verses.

Proving that the younger generation can be more tolerant, McMullah didn't even mind that I flirted shamelessly with the waiter. Of course he missed the earlier bit when I was talking about the waiter's thick, dripping sushi roll.

Fact is I'd date McMullah myself. If he had a gay brother. Even if he was younger by more than a decade. Just call me Mr Robinson.

Looking for Drugs in All the Wrong Places

Beaten.
Bashed.
Banged-up.
Battered.
Bruised.

All words we as doctors hate to hear. After all with our Hippocratic Oath, we are bound by our words to help the sick and the ailing. So with a battered, beaten and bruised Lissome Lorelei in our midst ( obviously enacting the pitiable role of abused entertainer Rihanna ), what else could we do but offer our help to relieve her pain?

And that we did. In multiple public locations around our fair city.


Ouch. That looks painful.
As a general rule, doctors have really lousy pain thresholds so I knew plain oral paracetamol just wasn't going to cut it.

Ever tried inserting a brannula and injecting intravenous painkillers in public? Fabulous Fiona and I have. And it's an experience we wouldn't like to repeat :)

Lorelei : I might have changed my mind.
Fiona : And suffer the pain in silence?
Lorelei : Inject it dammit.
Paul : Stop fidgeting.
Lorelei : That society matron just keeps looking at us dammit.
Paul : What did you expect? Enacting the role of drug pusher and addict is sure to gain us some notoriety.
Lorelei : How am I gonna show my face here again!
Paul : Wear a big hat.

Nothing like working out in the field to get the vaunted adrenaline moving. I think even my hands trembled a little. Talk about performance anxiety.

Lorelei squeaking audibly in distress at every juncture didn't help much either.

Surprisingly ( and much to our relief ) no one raised a public outcry as we initially feared. Paranoia making us think that we'd be summarily tossed out of popular hangouts - and clapped up in gaol, we finally settled on a quiet, dignified restaurant to go about our irregular business. Surely no starched-up, botoxed matron would lift a manicured finger in protest.

We were right. Obviously our polite society's far too blasé to bother about a banged-up babe being offered drugs by a persistent pusher.

Tampon Talk

Seriously. The Lushes and me? Sometimes when we get together the conversations we have can get downright scandalous. Enough to raise a furious blush on any of the uppity society matrons we encounter in the frou frou cafes we usually gather in.


Let's give them something to talk about.
So you can imagine what we talk about when Lissome Lorelei makes a rare appearance.

Paul : Don't you enjoy the sensation of it going in?
Lorelei : No. There's no feeling there.
Paul : No feeling there? Not even a pleasurable sensation?
Lorelei : No.
Paul : Always thought there'd be a forbidden thrill at the least.
Lorelei : No.
Fiona : Maybe you're putting it in wrong.
Lorelei : Is there a right way to put it in?
Fiona : Of course there is. Put it all the way in. As far as it can go.
Lorelei : You don't leave it hanging out?
Fiona : That would make it leak!
Paul : Umm. Eew.

Really too much information, I know. Even I found myself a lil ill at ease though I was still curious as hell.

Like who knew tampons could be so complex! Always thought all you'd have to do is shove the stuff in there and pray it hung on tight.

Miss Independents

Forget happy-ever-after dreams with a prince waiting to play rescue. Forget playing the submissive little housewife at home cooking and baking. Since revolutionary women's lib had them all busy burning their token bras in protest, feisty lil Miss Independents everywhere have been having dreams of climbing up the competitive corporate ladder.

Case in point are my friends the fabulous Lushes.

Though much battered, bruised and beaten, Lissome Lorelei has returned to our shores with a new song and an even stronger conviction to reach for that impossible dream. And like the rest of the girls, her dream doesn't involve sitting at home with a steaming pot pie waiting for her significant other to appear.


Paul : What's with the oversized hat?
Lorelei : I have a bandage on my head. Not chic.
Paul : Does that explain the large bow on your dress?
Lorelei : I'm not going to answer that... but yes.
Paul : Ouch. But I already popped some painkillers into your tea.
Lorelei : Thanks.
Only hitch is while she was away swimming in foreign waters, Lorelei had a traumatic tumble that left her with a concussion - and landed her a helpful hero in the tragedy. Every siren needs a charming rescuer after all. Not sure if she thinks the cut lip was worth the catch yet :)

With the princesses unsure of whether they need rescuing, knights in shining armour do have it hard these days!

You'd expect Lorelei to find her happily-ever-after in a fairytale apartment on a hill but finding the prince has only put our nomadic sea siren in a life-altering quandary! To be part of his world, does she have to make landfall and ground herself? Is it time to trade in her wandering fins for pots and pans?

Lorelei : I wanna be where the people are. I wanna see, wanna see 'em workin' walkin' around on those whaddya call 'em? Oh, feet. I want a career. I want job satisfaction. I want success.
Paul : Tending to sick sea slugs and ailing anemone?
Lorelei : Yes!
Paul : Seriously? What about hearth and home? A husband and family?
Lorelei : Umm. Don't think I have a song for that.
Paul : Maybe it's time you wrote one.

Okay, never say that to a Miss Independent. I might as well have told her to dye her hair green and sign a lopsided bargain with a seawitch instead. Still, Lorelei likes her prince enough to consider it.


Lorelei : You gotta be kidding me.
Really, has turning housewife become something so terribly awful? Making it sound like a crime exchanging our work briefcases for children's lunchboxes. Has our changing values actually turned a wonderful opportunity into something despicably low instead?

Had me wondering where have all the nifty lil 1950s homemakers gone? Stepford ladies in white gloves and frilly aprons who bake, sew and cook till their doting husbands return from the office? Have they all been packed up, boxed up and tossed out with things all retro?

Fortunately as it turns out these retro housewives still exist. These roles have reverted to gay men instead.

Seriously. How the roles have changed! Turns out amongst my ambitious gung-ho workmates ( quite a number who are women! ) I might be the only one willing to trade in the stethoscope for a frying pan. Going the family route has always been one of my ambitions. Oddly enough for a guy, a successful career has never really been all that high on my list of priorities.

But making a happy family is.

Songs of Lorelei

With all our differing schedules, it's not easy catching up with all the Lushes at the same time. Even worse with Fabulous Fiona busy seeking knowledge of alternative medicine through the annals of acupuncture in the east. To avoid being shortchanged, we obviously needed to even out the number so we tried searching for our missing partner, Lissome Lorelei.

Took quite a while since sea sirens can really make themselves scarce. Last we heard the wicked siren had been holed up somewhere up north in an underground grotto trying to cram as much esoteric wisdom into her head as she could. Believe I even heard Lorelei was boiling notes etched into seaweed in her potent magical brew to drink!

Possibly learned from her six-month tutelage under the late Ursula the Sea Witch. Not even hunky sailors with camparis could draw her away from her studious mission.


Hard at work.
But we were undaunted. Through our excellent spy network, we managed to catch Lorelei just as she emerged for a quick breather from the deep blue. So of course we snatched her from her hidey-hole and dragged her reluctantly kicking and screaming towards the surface. Been a while since she was exposed to the brilliant sights of the land so it dazzled her quite a bit.

However Lorelei started to assimilate to the sights and sounds as she strolled past the stores singing out bargains. Though she had been away for so long, it wasn't long before we heard her own siren song.

Lorelei : Look at this stuff, isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the girl? The girl who has everything?
Paul : Well, you don't have that Karen Millen dress.
Lorelei : Look at this mall, treasures untold! How many wonders can one boutique hold? I want gadgets and gizmos a-plenty! I want who's-its and what's-its galore!
Paul : You want thing-a-mabobs? It's on sale at 70% off.
Lorelei : I want more! I wanna be where the people are! I wanna see, wanna see 'em shopping!

How was I to refuse? Short of being forcibly chained to a post with plugs in his ears, I doubt any man could say no to such a seductive siren call.


Freedom on land.
Obviously flippin' her fins, she don't get too far! Fortunately Lorelei had some quick legs - short though they were. Together with the rest of the Lushes - and Charming Calvin, we then headed for a whirlwind tour of every boutique in the valley shoving skimpy lil numbers at the siren. Think a re-enactment of the 27 Dresses.

Sirens obviously love their shiny trinkets.

Fading Twilight

There's no such thing as the perfect prince charming - that exists solely in fairy tales - so it's pretty much a futile mission searching hills and vales for him. Unfortunately despite the scarcity of princes, evil rat-bastards abound away from the pages of the bedtime stories.

And yet the swooning princesses still find themselves hopelessly charmed.

Just imagine this fella Edward Cullen.

So parchment-white that doctors would be dying to transfuse at least four pints of blood into him. So sadly gauche that he broods about with lingering looks in school while dressed in equally drab blue-black shades. So hopelessly uncharming ( despite being undead for almost a century already! ) that he tells the girl he loves that she's like his personal brand of heroin. So sadly lame that he takes her on a date up a pine tree, crawling up like a gibberish monkey - and that's after careering dangerously on slippery roads in his tiny sportscar. So terrifyingly stalkerish that he watches the girl as she drools in her sleep.

Like eeew.

Seriously. Would you even consider dating him? Trust me, a guy like that wouldn't even make it on my shortlist.


Edward? Eeew.
I'd rather go for his blond dad ( preppy hunk immediately to the right ).
And yet Bella Swan falls for Edward Cullen. Seems like not only giggly half-brained sophomores like Bella fall for the featured vamp in the latest book-turned-movie Twilight, even my serious-minded Lushes do as well. Supposedly - or at least as Shameless Shalom creditably tells me - girls like to be swept off their feet by undead fellas.

Or at least dragged up a giant pine tree in the Washington forest.

Me, I think he's just as wooden as the trees.

If you haven't heard, the bestselling novel Twilight tells the story of a modern-day schoolgirl ( a rather vapid, clumsy one ) who falls for a vampire who subsequently has to restrain his bloodsucking impulses to make her his breakfast surprise. So Hollywood took that from a much-raved novel to a shockingly edited, badly scripted movie that's just so-so for me. Most probably due to the fact that Edward Cullen did nothing for me.

Edward : Paul, we shouldn't be friends. If you're smart, you'll stay away from me.
Paul : Whatever.
Edward : I can't restrain my urges to suck you dry.
Paul : Not the first time I've heard that. But at least you're making progress from talking about mitotic phases.
Edward : I can't live with myself. I have to be away from you!
Paul : Not a problem. At least you won't be creeping outside my window anymore. Hey is your hunky dad Carlisle available?

Somehow I think they got his character lost in translation.



As princes go though, frankly I have seen better. Brooding buggers who can't manage three sentences without a mournful woe-is-me are so dead to me. Far from any Nightingale desire to save him, all I'd want to do is taser him. Someone get me a vamp with a modicum of charm ( and a sense of humour! ) please.

Shanghai-ed

The scene's chilly, dark and faintly smoky. Puffs of steam rise slowly from the grates to join the smoke from the cigars of the wearied patrons of the sushi bar. Overhead the broken neon light flashes a sign hocking california rolls to intrepid customers daring to brave this shady bylane in the darker, crueler parts of the city for a nondescript sashimi.

The almost incongruent strains of a J-pop diva crooning spreads across the smoke and a shady lady enters the scene. Uptown looks not often seen in these parts, so much so that even the jaded customers take a slow glance her way. Sleek red bob of hair paired with a scarlet trenchcoat straight out of Pratunam Market, she slinks her way down the alley carefully, trying her best to keep her expensive Manolos out of the pools of muck.

Or was that blood?

She tries her best not to confirm the fact. The lady's here for a reason. Though she's been fighting against the urge for weeks, she knows she has to have it.

A couple stand waiting in the shadows just steps away from the garish lights of the sushi bar. An unlikely couple. The average joe you'd miss even if he fell shot-gunned in front of you - if not for his fetching fedora - and the towering amazon of a dame all dirty dominatrix in a dangerous sheath of black leather.


Damn. Did I leave my fedora behind?
The lady approaches the duo. "S, you've got my goods?"

The amazon named S doesn't even deign to reply so the man in a fedora answers instead. "What do you need it for, F?

"I must have it, P. Without it, I just might die." Her voice is desperate. A ship bound for the heady lights of Shanghai waits for her at the port that very night. Her destiny awaits but without the goods, her life really could be in danger.


Anything...
P only smiled. "You know the melamine antidote costs a bit extra."

Her eyes widened at the hidden innuendo but F hadn't come so far to crawl back where she'd come from. Even the lady knew when sacrifices had to be made. "I'll do anything. You know I would. Even right here."

The amazon lifted a chilly brow while the man just chuckled through the strained silence that followed. "Sorry, babe. I don't do the ladies."

"Don't play with the lil lady." The amazon speaks. "Just take the meds and go, F. You'll pay when the time is right."

****** And cut scene.

And this all happened in real life. Well, maybe minus my fedora hat.

Eager to take up pins and needles to practice acupuncture, Fabulous Fiona's leaving the country in a desperate hurry and she needed medical reinforcements that only the Lushes could provide. But of course we all needed to trade sushi for drugs.

Me, I was only wondering why acupuncture couldn't cure a cough and cold?
Surely a jab in the right place would displace the bad chi?

Little Wrapper Girl

Come they told her, pa rum pum pum pum

One chore we all have to live with this time of the year is gift wrapping. Any other time of the year, buying only one birthday gift and wrapping it isn't such a big deal - but when it comes to Christmas time and there's a mountain of gifts lying beside my desk waiting to be wrapped... oh yeah, that's a chore.

Makes me wonder whether Santa would lend me some of his elves.

I know what you guys are gonna say. Just grab the loot, march off to the nearest gift store and hand it over for wrapping.

Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum

Unfortunately I can't. I'm a tad obsessive compulsive and possibly more than a lil anal. No surprise there. So I can't very well use generic wrapping papers from the stores that don't match my theme. Then I also need them to match all the other gifts, I need the bows to be unique, I need the gift cards to match the tree and the surroundings. It's just a whole feng shui thing.

Don't tell anyone but I even hide the uglier gifts with garish tacky wrappers under mine ( since they match the tree! ).

That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum

So you can imagine how stressed out I get during gift-wrapping season. Reason enough to start early.

Fortunately this year I found my little wrapper girl to help.


Paul : Ta-da! The loot!
Fiona : You want me to wrap all that in a week? You must be crazy!
Paul : And a Merry Christmas to you too, Dorota!
Fiona : I'd better get a hunky lil drummer boy under my tree for this.
Paul : Pa rum pum pum pum.

Seeing a friend in need, Fabulous Fiona kindly offered a hand with my troubles. Fresh out of a project - with her orphan-handling and tap-dancing days over, Fiona has decided to extend her Christmas charity to me.

Then she smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum

Turns out our little Lush is a whiz at wrapping gifts - like all good girls are - so I had one chore less to do. All I did was hand her my packages with the matching papers and I got back in return beautifully wrapped presents with all the bells and whistles.

Seriously lovely enough to have my toddler nephew poke around to see what's inside. Hell, I wanted my own toys gift-wrapped by her as well.



Now to move on to finishing the tree.

Happy Feet

Deep inside the tropical jungle of condominiums and shoplex, there lies a hidden, secluded enclave of huts where an infectious rhythm of drumbeats has started to play. Almost in unison, tribal dancers troop out in black and white eager to showcase their practised moves, clapping their hands and stamping their feet to the accompanying beat of the drums and the whooping audience.

No boiling pot full of pale-faced pre-colonial explorers though.

Only chocolates and coronas for the guests of the tap-dance extravaganza.

And we were all there to lend support to one of our own. One of the Lushes, Fabulous Fiona. Yes, it seems that our girl tap-dances in between clothes-shopping and picking up eligible fellas from various transport routes. A real Samaritan, this girl.

I find tap-dancing simply amazing. Not only from the fact that a variety of sounds can be made only from fancy footwork - but also from the fact that the dancers seem to have legs that move independently of their bodies. Really! Look ma, no joints! Frankly I'd have my legs twisted into an undignified pretzel if I did the same.


Even the dancing baby penguin would laugh at me.

Was gonna comment that Happy Feet always reminded me of the sleepy Charming Calvin but turns out he was much too engrossed with the tap. Who knows, he might be signing up for classes soon.

Happy feet wasn't exactly the drawing factor for me though since the Lushes and I were clearly distracted by the droolworthy audience instead. Obviously girls predominated the dancefloor so the cheering crowd had boys aplenty as well! From brothers to boyfriends - to some we half-suspect are possible gay buds. So I scoped out the other guys in the crowd from Drummer Dude to Tap Twinkie.

And yes, to my very own Dimple Dreamboat - who looked a tad like my once-upon-a-time wet dream Yummy Yee. Though he looked utterly bored ( seemed to have been dragged there kicking by his fearsome momma ), his teasing dimpled smile managed to save him from pure vanilla good-boy blandness.


You know I'd rather be at home, right?
Hell, I'd have done him right on the tap stage with the resin on.

But I just might get stomped on by the enthusiastic dancers. And those steel-soled shoes look awful painful.

Quite obvious after comparing notes that the Lushes and I share distinctly varying tastes. While I clearly fell for the clean-cut boys, it seems that Shameless Shalom has a wicked fetish for rough, brash tradesmen :) Certainly matches her recent rock chick look.