have a DOGgone NEW YEAR!!!!

Bois & Girls – we have come this far, my friends – lets take it to the next year; sit, hold on tight and ride the waves – we are not done yet! We are not done with LIVING our LIFE ~ and yes, life is very very short, children…

"I do not regret the things I’ve done, but the things i did not do"

- Lucas, Empire Records

That’s What Friends are For - Dionne Warwick.

And I never thought I’d feel this way
And as far as I’m concerned
I’m glad I got the chance to say
That I do believe I love you

And if I should ever go away
Well, then close your eyes and try to feel
The way we do today
And then if you can remember

Keep smilin’, keep shinin’
Knowin’ you can always count on me, for sure
That’s what friends are for
For good times and bad times
I’ll be on your side forever more
That’s what friends are for

Well, you came and opened me
And now there’s so much more I see
And so by the way I thank you

Whoa, and then for the times when we’re apart
Well, then close your eyes and know
These words are comin’ from my heart
And then if you can remember, oh

Keep smiling, keep shining
Knowing you can always count on me, for sure
That’s what friends are for
In good times, in bad times
I’ll be on your side forever more
Oh, that’s what friends are for

Whoa… oh… oh… keep smilin’, keep shinin’
Knowin’ you can always count on me, for sure
That’s what friends are for
For good times and bad times
I’ll be on your side forever more
That’s what friends are for

Keep smilin’, keep shinin’
Knowin’ you can always count on me, oh, for sure
‘Cause I tell you that’s what friends are for
For good times and for bad times
I’ll be on your side forever more
That’s what friends are for (That’s what friends are for)

On me, for sure
That’s what friends are for
Keep smilin’, keep shinin’

[pix : James Bond & Pussy Galore 141.2005.]

no romance for me

Lately, I willed myself to fall in love after a overtly prolonged hiatus since the last heart-bloomin-rose-smellin-poetrywritin phase. I met a someone. As much as I’ve promised myself I would never let a whimsical lass take me for an unforeseen ride round an emotional rollercoaster, I find myself falling for the very femme fatale who could make me do things. Life is so short, I tell myself. What is momentary and present pain compared to a lifetime of absolute monotony in monogamy?

Is it true, tis better to have loved & lost?

blablabla

I haven’t slept for more than 24 hours sustaining only on choc buns, lots of smokes and alcohol to fuel me from Friday to Sunday morning. I really did want Light and Easy to play Lionel Richie’s Easy Like a Sunday Morning at daybreak. They didn’t. When boys party, they don their gayest apparels and hit the most chic places for someone to bring home – I roam with them because I like the way their system works. We may be getting  multi-winning deejays every weekend but when authorities tell us to stop raving by 4, its killjoy. There is always the Blue Bar. Dodgy site but good to party to eclectic malay raves in the middle of gorgeous towering divas and vertically challenged muscle marys.

Lots of campness. I love camp.

I like the darkness in Blue Bar. Reminiscence of The Backroom. Dank, dingy, dodgy and smells strongly of after-sex. After having sat through Voyeur’s free flow, watched Alleycats in one of PJs three star hotels and getting unlimited amount of bad service in Bar Fly – Blue Bar is top on my list. The bartender speaks well, charming and very informative about the fact that we don’t have to worry about partying till dawn. Its so Studio 54. I was tempted to ask if he has vitamins stashed somewhere for sale. Downstairs on the road is another story: police cars everywhere, the federal reserve unit too! As soon as the road clears, scared straight boys scurry past too fast; those who do have cars, yell obscenities in our direction. Tsk! It saddens me that this is still happening. And happening in a great city like this. No one bothers. I was hoping someone’s stilettos would fly and one of them would get it in the head.  But shoes are precious, girls – don’t waste it.

The weekend before I met a messiah complex in the flesh. A gorgeous human being in form of a man; the Adonis with very luscious lips – gentle and firm. Nice. Makes me want for more. This weekend, I met a string of pretty women, edible boys and two guys I want to spend the rest of my life with. Sounds greedy, yeah. But I know they are going to be in my life for a very long time. When with them, everything is in the future tense. Add one very cute chick; and it’s a family. She was the one who told me, that she wants me in her life, years from now. While I try hard to dissipate into the background, she finds me nonetheless and pulls me back up. Its all about friendship – a friend sees you through.

One thing I know for sure, there won’t be Stonewall here. Either it’s an understanding between the gay establishments and the people with badges; or – the authorities don’t want to risk themselves – in every manner speaking. Either way, its fun. Its fun for me to be able to unbutton, zip down and make someone go down. No strings attached. No phone numbers, no last name, nothing. Very Stuart Allen Jones.

Most romantic Christmas Song

Baby, its cold outside…

I really can’t stay – Baby, it’s cold outside
I’ve got to go away – Baby, it’s cold out there
This evening has been – Been hoping that you’d drop in
So very nice – I’ll hold your hands, they’re just like ice

My mother will start to worry – Beautiful what you’re hurry
And father will be pacing the floor – Listen to that fireplace roar
So really I’d better scurry – Beautiful, please don’t hurry
Well, maybe just a half a drink more – put some records on while I pour

And the neighbors might think – Baby it’s bad out there
Say, what’s in this drink? – No cabs to be had out there
I wish I knew how – Your eyes are like starlight now
To break the spell – I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell

I ought to say no, no, no sir – Mind if I move in closer?
At least I’m gonna say that I tried – What’s the sense of hurtin’ my pride?
I really can’t stay – Baby don’t hold out
Baby but it’s cold outside

I simpely must go – but Baby it’s cold outside
The answer is no – but baby, it’s cold outside
The welcome has been – How lucky that you dropped in
So nice and warm – Look out that window, at the storm

My sister will be suspicious – Gosh, your lips look delicious
My brother will be there at the door – Waves upon a tropical shore
My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious – Gosh, your lips are delicious
Well maybe just a half a drink more – Oh, never such a blizzard before

I’ve got to go home – Baby, you’ll freeze out there
Say, lend me your coat – It’s up to your knees out there
You’ve really been grand – I thrill when you touch my hand
But don’t you see – How can you do this thing to me

There’s bound to be talk tomorrow – Think of my lifelong sorrow
At least there will be plenty implied – If you caught pneumonia and died
I really can’t stay – Get over that hold out
Baby but it’s cold out side

And have yourself, a blissful lil christmas morn…

 Christmas fever has hit our departmental stores nationwide so fast and hard with gift ideas pushed at city dwellers to buy buy buy. Everywhere, pseudo pine trees are trimmed with intricate ornaments promising elaborately wrapped goodies, tempting wild guesses as to who’s getting what. Why ignore the bright lights and yuletide colours that seem to call our name? I love this time of the year. In Malaysia we watch Santarinas clothed in seductive crimson fabrics strolling around our shopping malls spreading goodwill to wandering eyes.

It’s what I call, good living.

Presently, I’m thinking of simple brown paper packages trimmed with red and gold laces; somewhere between a pink crystalmini, an Audi-Oh, a rampant rabbit and world peace. I want I want I want! I’m not asking for a deed to a platinum mine. Santa baby must have something in store for me this year because I have been naughty and nice. He sees me when I’m sleeping; he knows when I’m awake. Of course he knows.

With gluttony kindling the light of Christmas in commercialism, the ghost of my Christmas past pestered a reminder – ‘tis the season of giving. Try finding yourself under the neon lights, a cluster of cosmopolitan friends and a few bottles of bubbly. The laughter don’t last, the faces won’t stay.

To make things personal, I’m gonna try make this year end something intimately valentines. Indeed! Just three red rosebuds in the middle of a bouquet of hundred white blossoms, an intricate little white gold bling, a box of naughty adult toys and a Ps. I love you. A bathroom lighted with coloured scented candles, large mirrors and what follows through is too explicit for prints. From now to the 25^th, I reckon I’d have enough time to fall completely dismantled and hopelessly in love. For the sake of it let the game begin.

Santa baby needn’t worry about crystalminis now if he sees me in my birthday suit with his fur trimmed blood red hat perched atop my head. Kisses and cuddles, I give, you give. Just think of all the times I’ve missed, think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed. Next year I could be just as good…

If you check off my Christmas list….