Posts Tagged ‘water’

Wet-ish dreams

June 1, 2010

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned this before, but any time I dream about water, I have no problem breathing under it. I think the reason is because my body in real life is breathing normally, so in my dream I must breathe normally too, in order to not drown on a subconscious inkling.

Anyway so I was walking past this shallow manmade lake in the middle of the city (similar to the reflecting pool in front of the Lincoln Memorial) with one of my friends. Suddenly, I get side-tackled and my attacker and I fall into the pool. I didn’t get too pissed off though, because I expected to just be able to stand up and be knee-deep in water. Negative. I was so wrong.

Using skillful rope techniques, my attacker connected his belt to mine and then slowly dragged me down into the cold, dark depths. Like I said, I have no problem breathing under water, but it was still scary as shit, because we were sinking for a long time and there were a lot of weird things going on. At about the 15 meter mark, this giant evil basilisk swam around me and whispered Latin curses. But I kept my eyes half-closed because I wasn’t really in the mood for a death stare.

We continued sinking, and I found a lot of money and things people had lost over the years. At one point there was a round table, and four knights and a cat were sitting around it playing some fucked up version of poker. And they weren’t playing for chips or cash, they were playing for bullets.

The deeper we sank, the darker and colder the water became, until I could no longer decide which way was up and which way was down. It was the eeriest feeling. Such a deafening silence (excuse the oxymoron), and strange weightless feeling of buoyancy. Eventually, we landed on a hard surface. We finally made it to the bottom! The dude I was attached to checked his illuminated watch and said we were at 227 meters. What strong lungs we have!

We took a little walk around, but due to our practical blindness, we gave up pretty quickly. Then, without warning, the attached guy severed our bond, kicked off from the ground, and torpedoed into a skyward direction. Uh, okay. Am I meant to follow or something? So I did the same, but when I kicked off from the ground, I landed again almost immediately. Know what I mean? It’s as if I jumped up and landed again. Like, as if I wasn’t in water anymore. Fucken great. Now what was I supposed to do? 227 meters below sea level, and the laws of physics don’t apply to me. Nice.

So I picked a direction and started walking. Pitch black. It was difficult for me to even maintain balance, that’s how dark it was. Eventually, I saw something. As in, something was glowing in the distance. I followed the light and found a school of angler fish, rehearsing some songs for the gospel choir. The music was beautiful, but they were so ugly that it was difficult to watch. When “Hallelujah” was over, the conductor turned around and smiled (if you can call it that). “We’ve been expecting you,” he said in a semi-creepy serial killer voice. “Are you ready to travel back to your world? Or would you rather prefer to join us?”

“Uh, I’m cool thanks, I don’t need to join you. I’ll just uh, you know, go back to my human world.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah I’m pretty sure, thanks.”

“Because we can offer you so much more.”

“Nah dude, trust me, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Really really?”

“Yes.”

“Really really really?”

“ARE YOU ON FUCKING CRACK?! I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE GODDAMN SURFACE, SO STOP FUCKING WITH ME AND HELP ME, YOU UGLY PIECE OF SHIT!”

Oops, that was a big mistake. The entire choir glowered at me, and the lights on their heads shone brighter. They were pretty pissed off. My bad. I slowly backed away, hoping they’d just let me leave, but they swam closer and closer to me, ever so slowly. So I turned around and sprinted.

They were catching up pretty quickly, and just as the conductor was about to bite my head off, I leapt in the air and kept rising. Yessss! I have my buoyancy back! The laws of physics do exist! I swam as hard and fast as I could. I passed the poker-playing guys, and the cat fired a shot past me. So I grabbed hold of the bullet and it zoomed me through the water. 150… 100… 80… 75… Wait am I slowing down? Bullocks. I let go of the bullet (who was panting and trying desperately to catch its breath, by the way) and swam a bit myself. I made it to about 40 meters and the sun was shining in the near distance. Almost at the surface, woo!

But then the basilisk decided to come fuck things up for me. You know about basilisks, right? They’re the kings of serpents or reptiles, and they can kill you instantly by just looking at you. Think Harry Potter. Anyway so this basilisk sonofagun starts taunting me, and I’m too tired to put up a fight. And it’s kinda difficult to fight with a giant sea serpent if your eyes are half closed. So I implored him to just back off and leave me alone because I want to just carry on my way and get to the surface. He seemed to take pity on me, because with the flick of his head, he flipped me onto his back, and slithered to the top. Just below the surface, he told me to never tell anyone what I had witnessed today. I promised that I wouldn’t, thanked him, and stepped off his head and onto the street.

But wait. This wasn’t the same reflecting pool I initially got into. I wasn’t in front of the Lincoln Memorial, I was in front of the Taj Mahal! And Ten was running towards me from the distance, carrying a newborn baby! And then I woke up. And contrary to what I promised the basilisk, I’m telling you my tale. I hope I’m not going to be forever cursed…

Tattoo taboo

May 31, 2010

Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come. That wonderful time of year when I decide on getting yet another tattoo. Only this time, it’ll be a double whammy. Here’s the story.

Sailors, as you may or may not know, are highly superstitious beings. Also, the majority of hardcore-nautical men get tattoos as a souvenir of sort, to show where they’ve been. This combination of superstitious badassness has lead to a variety of typical sailor tattoos that we see today. A common example is the anchor, which signifies stability.

Anyway, the tattoos I wanna get are a small pig on top of one foot (like just under my last two toes) and a small rooster on the other. The myth behind the pig and the rooster is a little vague, and there are a lot of variations and twists to the symbolism behind them. One explanation is that both of these barnyard creatures despise the water and will therefore help a capsized sailor swim quickly to shore by carrying each of his feet and not sinking too far into the depths of the ocean. Another tale involves a huge shipwreck, and everyone died except this one smart dude who grabbed hold of one of the cargo crates that was floating nearby. Eventually, he drifted to shore, and after a while, so did a lot more boxes. Upon opening them, he found that some of the crates housed pigs, and the others contained roosters, and they were the only things that didn’t sink into the sea. So when he explored the island to look for other people and shelter and shit, he found this native guy and told him the story (in exaggerated hand gestures) and the native as a token of luck, tattooed a pig onto one of his feet and a rooster on the other.

Regardless of how the story goes, the bottom line is always the same: in sailor superstition, tattooing a pig and a rooster on each foot will prevent you from drowning. Now I know you’re asking yourself if I’m on crack because I’m 1.) not a sailor and 2.) fully capable of swimming, so why would I consider permanently inking two random (yet delicious) farm animals onto my feet? The answer is simple. July 27th marks the end of a full year’s worth of slavery at Jumeirah. And in that time, not one person drowned under my watch. And in honour of surviving a hellish year and saving others from the water’s death grip, I will get my fucken sailor tattoos. Because it’s fitting. And they will be cute. And Jumeirah has consumed an entire year of my life, and I feel I must pay respect by honouring It with some form of permanent tribute. And I mean, I’m not retarded, like, I’m not going to ink the Jumeirah logo onto my cheek or something. So I think this is the best option.

In other news, while we’re still on the topic of tattoos, Aaron just asked me to help him come up with another design for his forearm and I’m pretty excited for it. Because the idea I have in my head is wicked, I just need to find time to get it down on paper. And when that happens, I’ll share with you the final version.

Shower

April 22, 2009

I’m one of those people who hates getting up in the morning. In fact, if it were up to me, I’d probably never leave the comfort of my blanket. Except maybe to pee. Anyway, point is, it’s a daily battle for me to get out of bed. Especially when it’s finals season and the only thing I have to look forward to is studying.

That having been said, a morning shower is one of the most important things in my day-to-day life. Not only does it clean the body, mind and soul, but it’s also a rejuvenating and energizing ritual. Furthermore, I need to wash my hair every single day to keep it as luscious and beautiful as it is, and to ensure that I don’t smell like an ashtray.

A couple mornings ago, I woke up and groggily made my way into the bathroom. At this point, my eyes are still half-closed, and I haven’t quite yet left my dream realm, so I rely solely on the power of routine to get me through those first twenty minutes. Anyway, I peed, took of my pajamas, and stepped into the shower – same as always. I turned the hot faucet about a quarter turn to the left, and the cold faucet about half way. Based on experience, the faucets need to be in exactly this position to get the perfect temperature that my body requires. Which is quite hot. 

The next few steps are to let the water run for a few seconds, lift the thingy so the water switches from bathtub mode to shower mode, and then jump back with cat-like reflexes so that the initial shock of still-kinda-cold water doesn’t induce heart attack.

On this particular morning, I did everything the way I normally do. The only difference was, the water never became hot! And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s a cold shower. Especially first thing in the morning. Confused and shivering, I mentally retraced my steps to make sure I hadn’t missed a step. Turns out, I hadn’t. So what was going so god-awfully wrong? What had I done to deserve such punishment?!

Quick as a Chinese caterpillar, I jumped out of the shower and wrapped myself in my towel, in the hopes to prevent frostbite and/or hypothermia. What the fuck is going on? I wondered angrily.

Shall I tell you what the problem was? I’ll tell you. SOME RETARD DECIDED IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO TURN OFF THE FUCKING WATER HEATER! And I’m sure you can guess who that particular retard was. No, not Feb… Bingo. It was Eri. 

I punched the switch back on in anger and stomped back into my room to sulk under the covers. About twenty minutes later, I awaken to Eri’s voice, asking me if I could hurry up and shower so we could leave. “Yeah chill out, I’m awake… I’m just waiting for the water to heat up,” I told her. “Oh? Sorry, I turned it off again,” she replied. If I had sharp teeth and claws, I’d’ve pounced on her and killed her shamelessly with one bite to the neck. “You did what?!” I was fuming. “Oh yeah, now that it’s getting hot, the sun warms up the water enough to shower with.” Uh, no it doesn’t. Especially not at seven in the effing morning when the past twelve hours have been darkness. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but as far as I’m concerned, moonlight doesn’t heat shit up.

I restrained from killing her (only because I would have to wait another forty-five minutes before I could shower her blood off my body at a decent temperature), and instead turned the heater back on and went downstairs to make coffee. Later, I showered at a mediocre temperature and just got over it, thinking she’d understand never to do such a horrendous thing again.

I thought wrong. This morning I woke up at around six and carried out the shower-steps in order. Only to find that once again, the water was coming out in the form of icicles! What the fuck! Why is this nightmare happening again?! Murmuring unspeakable things under my breath, I turned the switch back on and crawled into bed.

When I felt it was safe, I got up and went to the bathroom to retest the water. It was barely alright, but I was in a rush so I had to deal with it. Fifteen minutes later, as I was leaving the bathroom, I found Eri loitering around the heater-switch. She was waiting for me to finish showering so she could turn it off again. Like, literally waiting there. Like… I can’t get over this… Waiting! Around the switch! Just… waiting!

What a freak. If she tries this stunt again tomorrow, I will not spare her. I will demolish her without the slightest shadow of remorse. But listen, if the police asks, I was at your house studying for my exam, okay? Shh…

 

Note: I’m not sure if Chinese caterpillars really exist or not, but they sound fast. Ninja fast. Ka-cha!

On the road (and water) again…

January 21, 2009

So I’m going to Connecticut again tomorrow. Joy. That means a forty-five minute ride with the mom and grandma to the ferry, an hour-and-a-half-long ferry ride, and another like, hour of driving again on the other side. So that’s… like four hours (yay for math!) of traveling with a couple of old people. Shoot. Me. Now.

By the way, what’s up with peanut butter having salmonella these days? Totally uncool.

I watched the season premier of Lie To Me this evening, and I really enjoyed it. I’m still gunna give it a few more episodes before I decide whether I should become pathologically obsessed with it or not.

I’ve also decided to start posting some funny snippets of my MSN conversations. Because… they’re funny. Ostensibly. 

Elise asked me to design a tattoo for her today. Instead I got side tracked and got kinda carried away working on a completely unrelated piece that I call “A Dull Idea” (as opposed to a bright idea, haha, get it? Ha.. ha. Or not.), depicted below:

a dull idea

I can’t believe how the United States of America has a new president, and all people seem to talk about are Michelle’s fashion and Barack’s little vow-mixup. Actually, I can.

Our plane leaves Friday night, but I still don’t know when we actually arrive. But what I do know is that when we land in Schiphol, we have like, a half-day layover. You know what that means… some intense shopping for recreational drugs Dutch licorice! Woo, party!

Oh, the other day, I was standing in line at a bookstore, and at the counter I saw this bucket full of cute little buttons (or pins, or flair, or whatever they’re called) with authors’ names on them. I was looking for an Augusten Burroughs button, but to no avail. The closest match was David Sedaris. So naturally, I bought it. And then I was struck with an overwhelming passion to begin collecting buttons. I even bought a cute bag to use as my canvas. But I don’t wanna be one of those collectors who like, buys things in bulk and pretends they were actually collected. Because that’s lame. I want each button to have some sort of story, no matter how small. So it could be, “Oh, Ma found that button buried in the sand at the beach and then brought it to a professional button-polisher, who told her that it was extremely valuable and rare, and restored it back to its original luster and then she gave it to me in a champagne glass on my wedding night,”  or simply, “Ten gave it to me.” Basically, I’m trying to hint at you people to get me flair.

Oh my gosh, and I listened to that America song by Will.I.Am that’s got like, Seal and Faith Hill and Bono in it? Yeah, not so much a fan. I actually bled from the ears a little bit. I totally prefer the Donque Song.

Bento-cat

January 20, 2009

My mom, sister, and I were at a theme park. It was HUGE and totally awesome, a combination of Six Flags, Disney World, and Aquaventure. Ten and I went on one of the roller coaster rides, and it lasted like eight minutes and somehow ended in one of those river-things that has a slight current, so you don’t really have to swim, you can just kinda float there, and it carries you around. Meanwhile, we had no idea where Ma was.

So we’re just floating around, when we find a little tributary with a sign that says “Extreme Zone –>” so we obviously swam in that direction. We could tell immediately that we were heading towards an extreme zone, because the once calm river transformed into quite a rapid one.

All of a sudden, from the left river bank, this crazy woman leaps out of the bushes and into the rapid river, landing right in front of us. Ten and I just kinda look at each other, and when the crazy woman resurfaces, we both roll our eyes. “Typical,” says Ten. The crazy lady was Ma.

“Hey, I got you guys something!” my mom said to us. Mind you, we’re still careening along a rapid river. So I’m like, “Okaaay, what? What’d you get us that’s so important, it couldn’t wait till we’re on dry land again?” And my mom holds out this bento box, which is divided into six sections, each section containing not a delicious Japanese delicacy, rather, live baby cats. But not kittens. They looked more like fetuses. And they were each tiny, like the size of a Bic lighter. And they didn’t have hair yet either, they were kinda slimy and gross. 

“Uhm, thanks?” Ten and I weren’t sure of what else to say. We were kinda speechless, actually. After a few awkward moments (my mom was just floating there, smiling widely, arms extended, box full-o-fetuses in hand), we finally reached a dock-type thing, where we had to get out of the water and go stand in line. Similar to the line that takes you to Jumeirah Sceirah, for those of you who have been to Wild Wadi.

Anyway, so we’re standing in line, completely oblivious to what we’re getting in to, when these skate-boarder slash surfer dudes approach my mom. “Aww, those cat fetuses are wicked cute! You’re so rad! Where’d you get ’em?” And my mom, thinking she’s so cool (and visibly blushing) starts talking to the punks.

Meanwhile, Ten and I are becoming increasingly worried because as we advance in the waiting line, the screams of terror from people in front of us get louder and louder. Soon, we’re at the front of the line, and we see the death trap before us: it’s a huge obstacle course, in the ocean, with spiky traps all over the place. And since people have fallen and died just recently, there’s blood in the water attracting angry-looking sharks.

The first part of the course involved a tight-rope that stretched for about ten meters, leading to a trampoline. Then there was a stretch of open ocean (with killer jelly-fish lurking beneath the surface), with two rings of fire in between the trampoline and the next platform. Beyond that, we couldn’t see. Ten and I were freaking out, but my mom was too involved in a conversation about extreme sports with the punks to notice the lingering cloud of doom.

I was up first. I managed to make it across the tight-rope and ten waited on the trampoline for Ten. When I saw that she was like a meter away, I jumped on the trampoline, through the rings of fire, to the platform on the other side. There I waited for both Ten and Ma, who managed to get across safely.

The next leg of the obstacle course was tougher, however, because it involved a rope ladder that led to a big bouncy castle, balancing on nothing but a skinny pole, which was floating on the water. So it was really unstable and it looked as though this is where most people died, because there were a lot of greedy sharks surrounding the bouncy castle. I went first. Once atop the castle, there was a notice board that said I must wait a full minute before jumping down onto another platform that would lead me into the next level. So I tried to signal to Ten to wait, because she’d make both of us fall into the water if she didn’t. But she mistook my frantic waving for a sign for help, so she and my mom quickly scampered up the rope ladder. 

Once they were on the bouncy castle, it actually became easier to balance, because we formed a triangle that stabilised the entire structure. “Whew, this is pretty extreme!” my mom exclaimed. Then, to my horror, she reached down to set the bento box on the floor of the castle. This threw off the perfect balance of our triangle, and caused the bouncy castle to start bouncing, and bento box flipped in the air, spilling all six cat-fetuses into the air (in slow motion). 

“Nooooooo…” Ten screamed in a deep, slow-motion voice as she bounced over to save the cats. She managed to grab two of them and throw them back in the box, but the other four bounced off the castle, heading for the water. I pushed my mom, with the bento box now containing only two fetuses, off the castle and to the safety of the stable, wooden platform below. Then I pushed Ten off, with one of the fetuses in her protective clutches, to go stay with my mom. And then I went over the edge, to try and save the remaining cats.

I landed in the water and looked around for the cats, but it was kinda difficult because the water was really cloudy. Three sharks started swimming towards me at full speed and I was prepared for the worst. But instead of eating me, they grabbed me and pulled me down to the bottom of the ocean, where I saw the three now dead-looking fetuses. I grabbed them, and the sharks helped me back to the surface at warp speed, where I collapsed onto the platform, gasping for air. The three fetuses looked really dead.

Ten and my mom were in hysterics, and the other three surviving baby cats in the bento box were crying over the loss of their brethren. I performed CPR on the fetuses by using my pinkies on their little chests and a straw (I don’t know where it came from) to refill their tiny lungs with air. Miraculously, all three started sputtering and coughing, and I placed them back into the box while Ma and Ten embraced each other with tears of joy. In retrospect, it was a very lame moment.

Anyway, we somehow managed to finish the extreme obstacle course and were about to get ready to go home when we noticed that the fetuses were now bigger. Like, way bigger. They were popping out of the box, actually. So we stopped and took them out of the box, and they just kept growing! Within seconds, all six fetuses were the size of normal cats. And they didn’t stop there… Before we could say Barack H. Obama, they were the size of panthers. And they didn’t stop there either. They just kept growing and growing and growing, and soon they were as large as whales. And then they stopped. So now we were surrounded by six whale-sized cats. And they looked just as shocked as we did. 

An old gypsy started cackling near us, breaking the silence. “What the hell are you laughing at, freakish old gypsy woman?” Ten asked. “The prophecy has finally come true!” the gypsy shrieked. Ten and I just looked at each other. “Uh, what prophecy?”

The gypsy explained that in Japanese mythology, there were six gods of the six elements (air, water, earth, fire, mind, and heart) who transformed themselves into fetuses, and the “chosen one” would purchase them and subconsciously scatter them into the water element. There, they would take on the Power of the Koi, in which they would grow into the size of their surroundings (hence their whale-like attributes). Then, they would disperse to six different corners of the globe and do something cool. I forgot exactly what. Bring peace to the world? Something like that.

Anyway, after she explained all that, we looked at the cats, and they just kinda sat there. One was licking his butt, another was trying to catch a bird flying near his head, and the others looked bored and cat-like and literally just sat there. “Uh, I don’t see them dispersing,” my mom said. “Yeah, they look like normal cats, just… bigger,” noted Ten. “I think they’re just hungry,” I added. The gypsy looked confused. “No! It’s not supposed to be like this! They’re supposed to gallop into the sunset and do godly things! This is not right!” And then she started getting pissed at us, as if it’s our fault that the giant cats are just being giant cats.

My mom and the gypsy started shouting at each other, and Ten and I jumped on the back of the cutest cat, and started petting it and stuff. Meanwhile, the evilest-looking cat (who had an uncanny resemblance to Feb) yawned, picked up the gypsy with his paw, and ate her. It then picked up my mom, put her on his back, and walked off. The other cats followed. 

And then I woke up, to the sound of the TV blasting inaugural stuff. Yay, Obama!


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