What a Slut!

We live in a society where women are mostly dictated how to be 'worthy' in many aspects of things. All because the vagina she posseses. Unused ones seem to hold a higher value. Dare I say how PASSE? Let's not go there.

Being female myself, I was also the subject of this 'drilling'. I was told how to walk, I was told how to dress, I was told how to sit, I was told how to eat, I was told how to speak, I was told how to smile, I was told how to do EVERYTHING.

All so I can catch the highest bidder.

My parents were such control freaks to the extent that I wasn't allowed to wear certain clothes. These being :

1. Sleeveless shirt.
2. Shorts
3. Skirts
4. Body-hugging shirts.
5. Basically anything that they deem 'slutty'.

"Don't look like your cousins from KL, they have no morals". Since when does clothes decided a woman's worth? Which asshole decided it should be so?

A few weeks back, I asked the mother not to sew on the sleeves to a Salwar Khameez since the suit would look better that way. My mother ran her hand on my entire arm and 'decided' that "your arms looks nice enough. Okay, I'll allow".

What she didn't know was that I wasn't asking her permission, I was TELLING her. I was also utterly disgusted when she did that.
It's revolting how every aspect of my life was 'dictated' by someone. For what purpose? For whom am I doing this?

If you really look at it, the world favours men. Men have more freedom in expressing themselves than women. The repercussions of their actions aren't dictated by their clothes or their behaviours. A woman had always lived in a freaking dystopia. It's all perception. Let's take the Fatalistic Approach and look at some things here.

Women are objectified.

Simple as that. Are we even acknowledged as a person? An intelligent woman is frightening to the lesser man, this is truth without question.

Women are latently made to believe they exist to serve others. They're mannequins on display so others can gawk and gape. It is up to her environment to dictate how she should be for other people's convenience. Why? So you can look at her and go "that's my girl! I taught her how to do so and so". Our mothers pass this disturbing legacy down to us. Basically a woman is told "you only exist to be enjoyed by others".

What am I, your plasticine?

One thing that really gets me all riled up is when a woman is autonomous on deciding what to do with her body. Like, she is not even allowed to DECIDE what to fucking do with her goddamned body that she owns and resides.

"She was wearing such revealing clothes, no wonder she got raped".
Oh hell no. She can walk nude in the streets and that is not your permission nor it is your entitlement to touch her. Keep your hands in your pockets and walk on.
Who are you to invade someone's privacy?

"Who told her to get drunk in the bar, it's like she's asking for it".
She's there to have a good time, why do you think it was a good idea to touch her when she's incapable of rational thinking due to intoxication? Why do you think you were entitled to touch her? Aren't you an asshole, buddy?

"If she's not a virgin, what difference does it make if she got raped?"
Gee I dunno, one is consensual and the other wasn't? It's her goddamned vagina, SHE decides what to do with it. How do you like it if you were forced into compulsory vasectomy after age 40 as a means of population control? If balls are involved the story changes it's course, doesn't it? Besides, if you think rape is the victim's fault...I'd like you to debate this story.

A man walks out the door wearing nothing but his speedos. It was 2am in the night in a relatively homely neighbourhood. He felt like going for a walk and so he did. He wore speedos because hell, he felt like wearing it too. Who's to say he can't? So our protagonist of the story walked a few minutes on the pavements when out of nowhere a man jumps out the bushes, pins him down, takes off his speedos and buttfucks him. The protagonists begs, screams and yells for the perp to stop but alas his anus got pounded nonetheless. 

When the perp is done with the protagonist, he zips his pants and says "that'll teach you not to wear speedos at this hour".

Who will you blame in this scenario? Put a woman in there and let's see where the blame flies.

Roughly translates as: *after the terrible grammar* Whatever the obstacles may be, these sluts deserved to be taught a lesson. *some more terrible grammar* Let's teach these sluts some lessons!

A Facebook page that demoralizes and dehumanizes Indian girls who posted pictures online. Do not ask me the nature of the picture, it's not my business nor it is yours. You see, apparently the admin of this page is a major creeper who I suspect has his pants permanently down his ankles and one hand below the desk, updating pictures of girls in sexy clothes. Multitasking expert lah.

Of course, the comments that follows after the postage of each picture is something to behold as well.

Aww....someone had been rejected one too many times? Because yeah, calling girls bitches makes you a real man. Not.

I cannot convey my disgust. I cannot express how this is where I lost my faith in men. Not all men are bad, there are real gems out there. But when this is the kind of people that exists in your immediate environment  you can't help but think "is it my karma that I have to see such things? Things that make my heart rip out each time I wanna believe society is getting better?" 

I dont understand how and why these people think they're qualified or entitled to 'teach' girls how to dress? Suka hati dia lah, kau kisah apa? Or are you bitter that NONE of those confident girls would ever consider scums like you? Those girls did NOTHING to deserve this. NOTHING.

You are the one in need of psychiatric intervention here. You're a danger to women everywhere.

Now do you see my point, readers? Men like these think they hold the authority to give the green light on how a woman should be. God forbid if a woman has confidence, God forbid! Insecure wankers just can't mind their own fucking business.

And you wonder why most psychotropic medicine users are women? And you wonder why depression is higher among woman? Do you know the actress Bette Davis? Notorious for never holding back her thoughts and opinions, she was deemed an 'Unwoman'. Her rival Joan Crawford was the embodiment of a perfect lady. Except that Davis was incredibly intelligent and Crawford was a self-entitled airhead. A society-dictated 'ideal woman' standards states that Bette Davis be scorned and be the subject of insults. If a woman is decided as an 'Unwoman', everything else just cancels itself.

Are you depressed yet?

Let's go BANANAS!!

What do you do when you have riping long yellow fruits in your fridge and some milk?

You make a cake out of it.

2 cups of flour
1 1/2 tsp of baking powder
1 tsp of baking soda
3/4 tsp of salt
5 tbsps of brown sugar
1/4 cups + 2 tbsps of olive oil
1 cup buttermilk/milk/yoghurt
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla flavouring/golden syrup
3 ripe bananas, mashed

1. Combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, sugar and olive oil and mix. Remember to sieve the dry ingriedients.

2. In a separate bowl, combine eggs, buttermilk(I used this), vanilla flavouring/golden syrup and the mashed bananas. Mix this milky sludge well.

3. Slowly add (2) to the mixings in (1) stirring with a whisk or a wooden spoon. You'd get a nice light yellow concoction. Put them on a greased cake pan.

4. Bake at 150'C for 35 minutes.

MAGNIFIQUE!

I liked this so much better than the previous banana cake recipe that didn't use milk. The crust wasn't hard, the texture was smooth almost fudge-like. ME MUCHO GUSTA! <3 p="">

I am only ever going to use this recipe for a banana cake! 

Phallic Cake - I mean, Banana Cake. Heh heh.

Let your imagination run wild.

The simplest and easiest you'll ever find. I actually followed this recipe and modified it a little to my taste and ingredient availability.

2 cups of flour
1 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup of melted butter(can be replaced with 1/4 cup + 2 tbsps of oil)
3 large ripe bananas OR 4-6 Pisang Emas
1 tsp of vanilla essence OR 2 tsps of golden syrup
2 eggs
1 tsp of cinnamon powder (optional)
1/4 salt
1/2 tsp of baking powder and baking soda

Steps:

1. Take a pretty wide plate or bowl  and mash the bananas into a sludge-like paste. Add a tablespoon of milk if it seems a little 'dry'. You can leave out the milk, no probs. Set this aside and prepare for step number -

2. On another bowl, mix butter/oil, sugar, eggs, vanilla essense/golden syrup and beat them well with a whisk or a fork.

3. On a mixing bowl, sieve the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon. Add the mixture in (2) and mix well with a whisk. You'll get a thick and heavy paste. Mix till a smooth texture is formed.

4. Now add the mixture from (1), the mashed bananas into the mixing bowl and mix really well. At this point the batter would be softened and mixing would be easier. Mix this well to a smooth paste.

5. On a baking tray of your choice - you can use a loaf tin or a cake tin - grease the surface with butter and pour the batter in. Tap the baking tin lightly to help them settle down and remove whatever air bubbles.

6. Set the oven to 200 'C and bake for 45-60 mins.

Fresh from the oven. If you look really closely...my mitten is on the wrong hand!

A slice to let you see the innards. (LOL, ini dissection ka?)

Sapu-ed halfway by sis and mother. NOT EVEN AN HOUR OUT OF THE OVEN.

Notes:

1. The crusts was kinda hard. I was hoping for a moist looking and feeling one. Wasn'y happy with the crust. Next time must use butter instead of oil.

2. Use Pisang Emas. After all, that is what Cucur Kodok is made from! And we all know it taste like heaven's tears. (wow what kind of metaphor was that)

3. I'd like to make this using buttermilk and see how the texture goes.

4. Do you know about chocolate-banana flavour. Ho yeah. I have unsweetened cocoa powder at my disposal and I might try to make chocolate-banana cake next time. Diabetes here I come.

5. I need to have a kitchen scale for my solid-to-liquid measurements. Gotta invest in one. Can't always substitute oil for butter just because I can't measure worth a squat.

6. Always invest in non-stick baking tins, they require no greasing. My loaf tin is a non-stick one and I never had to grease it. I just have to turn it upside down and the bread comes out smoothly. The one I have is foil based and MY GOD it's such a pain when it sticks.

Shit People Have Said To Me.

And the comeback that I have yet, or have given to them.

You shouldn’t wear those kind of clothes. It’ll attract - 

I can wear whatever I want. You’re the one with the problem to think a woman’s clothes is your permission to violate her privacy.

Did you see what she was wearing? What an immoral woman to show so much of skin. She should-

Who the hell are you to dictate what a woman should and should not wear? Seriously, who do you think you are? I don’t care if you’re the reincarnation of a Pope or Mother Theresa, you have ZERO right to tell me what I can or cannot do with my body.

What are you wearing??? You look like - 

What makes you think you have the right to tell me my choices in clothes are wrong? You have the right for an opinion but don’t shove it down my throat and expect me to eat your bullshit. 

Your skin can improve so much if you use this - 

Stop right there. What makes you think you’re entitled to give me unsolicited advice about my appearance? When I ask for an advice, you may give it. Other than that, you are just being rude. 

You will look great in this dress, if only you shed some pounds - 

Whether or not I choose to lose weight to fit into clothes, that is for me to decide. Not you.

Actual line from my father: You are not allowed to wear sleeveless, miniskirts, shorts or or clothes that show skin. You are also not allowed to drink. If I catch you doing any of those, I will disown you.

This is my body, I will decide what to do with it. Not you. Nor anyone else. Have I made myself clear? 

The Watcher in the Woods (1980)

So I had yet another sleepless night and utilizing my recent habit of watching movies late night to help me sleep and fuel my already fantastic imagination, I decided to watch a horror movie as opposed to the usual animated movies I watch.

I had to be very careful in choosing a horror one since I dislike blood and gore in general. Hard to find a horror movie WITHOUT blood and gore in it.


To cut it short, I decided on The Watcher in the Woods. It's Walt Disney so yeah blood and gore is out.

It's about an American family who gets an abandoned English manor far into a small town. In a nearby cottage, lives a proprietress who had lived there since the time of dinosaurs.

A mother, a father, two daughters of big age gap. The older one felt uneasy about the house the soon as she enters it. She sees someone else in her reflection. Her sister sometimes says the strangest things. The proprietress with her icy and unforgiving gaze unnerves the older girl to no end.

Jan, as she is affectionately called, is bombarded with clues and visions that makes no sense to her.

It was revealed after some excruciating hours that the proprietress' daughter had gone missing of a play-date gone wrong with 3 of her friends on a stormy eclipse night. No one knew what happened to her, no one knew how she went missing. Convinced that it was the missing daughter's spirit that's trying to reach out for help. Jan, puts together pieces of the puzzle and tries to solve the mystery of the missing girl.

This movie had a good premise and sooooo much potential.

Ruined by bad acting and execution. Poor choice of actors has had a hand in it. The only saving grace was Bette Davis (the proprietress), a renowned cinema legend. Only her acting had any kind of believability at all.

An inconsistent storyline and a contrived ending for the movie ruined it's potential too.

Watch it only if you are utterly bored. This no-brainer movie serves that purpose well.

Note: this would make for an excellent remake, with proper casting and execution and a little change in the storyline - this would be a good summer box office, considering the original one bombed, no surprise there.

A Day of Girl's Life.

The morning was BEAUTIFUL. Yellow sun shining through your window promising a good weather throughout the day. You sang in your bath, had a good cup of coffee, scratched your dog's neck and headed out the door.

You're out the door. Three little steps down and you'll be on your way. The time is 8.00am.

Across the street, the middle-aged postman drinks in your denim shorts and tank top. He looks at you in the eye and wiggles his eyebrows. You cringe but continue walking. Just hope he doesn't make a mental note to approach you or something.

At the bus stop, you found a seat. Breathing a sigh of relief, you wait for your bus. You took out your book, hunched a little, placing the book on your knees. You didn't realize your cleavage was showing, all of 2 inch - not even remotely close to scandalous.

The man in the business suit moves closer to stand beside you. You took notice but ignored it. The book is at a good part.

The teenage boy saw your hunching form from a far. He sees the man in the business suit peeking from above your head.

Teenage Boy moves in closer to you. Saw what the man in the business suit sees. Joins.

The bus arrived shortly. You get on it and found no seats so you stood next to a balding man in a long sleeved shirt. Sitting down in front of you, a teenage boy is on eye level with your bosom. The bus moves slowly due to traffic. Your sling back on the shoulder starts to ache, so you moved the strap between your breasts, unknowingly accentuating the shape. Balding Man licks his lips and looks away when you glance at his direction. You bite your cheek and say to yourself it'll be over soon. Meanwhile, Sitting Teenager enjoys the view from the corner of his eye. You did nothing to earn that.

Your destination reached. You wedge your way between the sardined bus to get down from the bus. A hand squeezes your right butt.

Not wanting to make a scene, you resorted to pushing people out of your way in your haste to not let an elbow 'accidentally' poke your breast.

You're out. Your campus is mere 10 meters. There's a bunch of guys constructing the new signboard of your college. Man A nudges his friend, Man B, to look in your general direction.

Man B hoots. Losing temper, you showed them your only weapon - your middle finger. Man A and Man B laughs at your feeble attempt. Fat lot of good that did.
The girls at the doorstep saw everything. An audible chorus of snickers was heard as you pass by them, a not-so-subtle voice among them said, "what a whore".

Mindlessly you walked to your class and sat at your designated seat number. Frontmost row. This is the class of the professor who had his unwelcome hand on your thigh last semester.

Resigning, you looked at your watch. 10am. All in a span of two hours, the girl faced harrasment from nine different males. And this only in the morning.

She still had the afternoon and night to go through.