Insights into a Bimbo's Mind

Insomniac Ramblings

It’s 4.50am and uggh, it’s one of those nights I stay awake all night, don’t ask me why. If you ask a fortune teller, he will as a matter of factly tell you something like, “Your star is in the house of Neptune, that’s why.” as if expecting you to know exactly what it means. If you ask a doctor, without a hint of doubt, he will tell you something probably to the effect of, “Your esophagus released an anti-oxidant chemical reaction into your blood, passing these neuron signals to your brain saying that you have had enough sleep for the night”…. Ok maybe that sounds a bit far-fetched, but come on, don’t expect a bimbo like me to give you medical quotes that makes sense, especially in the middle of the night like this.. I mean, even big words like ‘anti-oxidant’, I only know because they seem to have a lot of that nowadays in facial products. At least I chose my words carefully or I would have used words like SPF15 and anti-UV as well.

I never thought I was ever going to be insomniac at any level. When I was younger, I was the champion sleeper. When I finally get out of bed, with my au-naturel ‘lalang’ hairstyle, I would drag my feet downstairs to find the house quite empty, only with that crazy dog waiting for me, looking oh-so-restless because he can’t wait till I found out which of my poor friend or neighbour or family member he attacked and bit that morning. After breakfast and all, I could very well have gone back to bed to continue that sweet dream about that same Hong Kong star I try to dream about every night.

Now, almost 10 years later, here I am sitting here in the middle of the night staring at my pc screen, no sleep and worse still, no Hong Kong star and instead, a huge heap of white-skinned belly heaving up and down with deep breathing next to me. I am so tempted to smack that up and down heaving belly, simply to wake him up because I’m bored and need some attention. After some sophisticated algebra-tic and statistical calculations, I decided the gamble was not worth it because that belly is up more often than me in the middle of the night, depending on how stressful the day was so wouldn’t want my tummy smacked on nights like that. No, it’s not worth it.

Ah, I should have powered up my work laptop again to give my boss in Houston the impression that his A1 staff here in Malaysia is a round the clock hard-worker. If he asks me, I’ll tell him I’m working on creating some sophisticated processes for Software Lifecycles and will throw in some intimidating jargons to make an impression. Very busy. Very busy. Then I’ll say, “Oh by the way, can I get a copy of MS Visio on my machine? I need to draw up some flow charts to support my processes. Too bad MS doesn’t have a mind-mapping software, it’ll come in SO handy for my work now!” In actual fact, Miki-C is just kiasu-lar, although I would have to admit that things like MS Visio and Mind mapping software are great things to have on your PC. But still, it’s a good thing my boss doesn’t know about this blog. Or does he?

Sometimes I wish I was one of those who can write about really intelligent stuffs like politics and world economics and such. Imagine, nights like this when I can’t sleep, suddenly I churn out an article that sounds super intelligent like “Capitalism for a Democratic country, Is that still possible?” and I submit it to the Herald Tribune tomorrow and then subsequently win a Nobel prize for it. I tell you, one gift I know for sure I have, is a really vivid imagination.

Have I ever told you before that Narrrling’s ex is a political journalist? She’s one of those who thinks that anyone who don’t know politics are either stupid or retarded. I’m glad I never met her because she would probably have classified me as both of the above. I use to feel intimidated by the thought of a super intelligent ex like her but not anymore. I live a total stress free life with the occasional worry of breakouts and weight-gain while she probably lives her life with the world on her shoulders, de-faming politicians and government bodies as she goes along. Thinking about it, Hollywood movies love to make girls like her the sacrificing, country-loving heroine while girls like me the blonde with big boobs who actually thinks that cheerleading is a career. Me? Cheerleading? It’s as absurd as telling everyone I use to do ballet and was somehow able to support my large mass with my toes and hop around gracefully without causing a domestic earthquake or crashing into the nearest monsoon drain. Seeing my lifetime obsession with my weight, I am probably more of the Bridget Jone-sy kinda type. The kind who almost always feel inferior to the smart and beautiful Claire who’s the ex and the perfect match for the hero. In my case, as long as we don’t bump into the ex one day and she doesn’t start a political debate with Narrrling in front of me, I don’t think I am going to waste my time feeling intimidated by someone from so far back. But if we do, I think there will be quite a scene.

You know, I am guilty of sometimes intentionally falling into the opposite role of the person I’m speaking to. For eg, if some girl came to me and spoke to me in a VERY obvious fake accent, with no hesitation, I start speaking in a VERY local accent. If they said something in some fashionable accent to me, I’ll very loudly reply something that sounds like, “Oh, is it like that ONE AH?”, “Cannot ah? WAH, I didn’t know wor! You so smart ah..”… I did that once to a new girl who joined my company who spoke in some silly American accent. We were in some battle. The more Americanized her accent, the more local mine became. I think after a while she caught the hint and started speaking normal, which was the exact moment I decided to speak normal back to her too. Same goes for someone who brags, I go the total opposites. If they talk about their Gucci shoes, I start talking about the shoes I bought in pasar malam and about how handy they are although in actual fact, I have hardly anything from pasar malam except the fruits in my fridge. So I guess if the ex came about with her political musings, Miki-C will ace the dumb bimbo act of someone who doesn’t even know there’s a voting system in the country.

I remember once I went with Narrrling to a bar back in the Netherlands. Some dutch guy, seeing some Asian girl sitting alone by the bar, probably thought was the greatest opportunity for some bragging. The more he spoke about his expensive shirts, the more I talked about how poor the people in Asia is. People like him probably has no clue where Asia is anyway, so what does it matter? At some point, I told him people in Asia sometimes still wore clothes made out of goat skin and I somehow borrowed the clothes on my back from my dutch bf’s sister. I guess he got the point that I was exaggerating and stopped the silly bragging, which was ofcourse the exact moment I started talking normal about Asians again. I tell you, sometimes Narrrling shouldn’t leave me sitting by myself, because then I’ll have to start spreading false delusions about Asians when some braggers come by. Sorry fellow Asians. If some foreigners stepped down from the plane at your local airport and ask you how come you're not wearing clothes made out of goat skin, you'll know it's Miki-C's doing.

Believe it or not, the night is almost over and I was awake since 2.45am. I could never understand these insomniac losers, I tell you. How difficult is it to go to sleep? Just close your eyes and kaput lar.. That’s why, the lesson we learn tonight is, don’t speak too soon…. Ok-lar, I’m getting dressed to go to work now.. But believe it or not, just when it's about time to go to work, i'm starting to feel sleepy.. Ugggh.. I'm going to have a 'great' day...

posted by Miki-C @ 6:08 AM