Disney Princess Mattel Doll Giveaway by Disney Malaysia

So I entered this Mattel Doll Contest by Disney Malaysia. I just saw it on my Facebook newsfeed and thought "Meh, it's not like I'm gonna win this shit. Let's just kill some time". So the question of the day for the contest was about Pocahontas. I answered some shit and lo and behold...

I won. 

Whut.

Nothing fancy, I think?  But clearly luck was on my side.

Well now. Isn't this pleasant! 

I was told I would only get me booty after the contests ends on the 24th November. 

I was hoping for Pocahontas but Cinderella is awesome too. Together enclosed in the parcel was a letter congratulating me.

I am kinda happy, really.

Womb Matters : Abortion

Link to picture.

It is amazing how when Mahatma Gandhi suggested vasectomy for the menfolk as a means of population control, which I think was a good idea - the men of India went berserk, as nuts as they can get. This is still criticized worldwide. Why must we cut off our balls tube, they said. Don't touch my nuts, they said.

AND THEIR VOICES WAS HEARD. The plans for compulsory vasectomy for men in India was dropped because the reaction was so virulent.

But when it is a woman who wants to have an abortion, you know, something that SHE decided for her own organs and to a certain extent, her LIFE, suddenly everyone has an opinion and a sense of entitlement to the woman's uterus. One by one would point fingers with disapproving looks chastising the woman how she's killing a life within her. Excuse me but...when a woman has a child, she is the primary caregiver. She is the one who will ultimately spend most of her life raising the kid. You don't have to find faults on why she got pregnant in the first place, that's none of your business. It is as stupid as chastising a man why doesn't he carry condoms around with him should he feel like doing a quick romp in the back alleys. It's ridiculous. So the crux of the matter is, why is it that a woman does not have a say for her organs but a man who doesn't even have a uterus somehow has power over a body part he himself does not possess? It's hypocritical on so many levels. Only those who possess an uterus, should have the right to decided on what to do with them, when to do it. A good number of men and women actively campaign against abortion without knowing that THEY'RE DEPRIVING A HUMAN BEING TO HAVE THE FREEDOM OF CHOICE. So whenever I hear someone, especially A MAN making a point on how abortion is murder...I feel all the more necessary to campaign for compulsory vasectomy. Just imagine an alternate universe where men wanted tie their testicles tubes but the women were against it because millions of potential life would be wasted in a single squirt of ejaculation. You're probably laughing right about now. That's impossible. That's absurd. What's absurd is some people depriving the physical and mental readiness of when the woman finally decides to be a mother. Do you know the toll it takes on a woman's health when she was forced by circumstance to have a baby when she's not ready for it? Society, for the most part is punitive towards a woman conceiving unwanted pregnancy. Who and what gave you the right to decide for my reproductive organs and what goes on in it? Who are YOU? We're boasting to be a civilized era yet a woman is still deprived of basic choices that by right should be entitled to her by default. I am not pro-abortion. I just believe in freedom of choice, a result of choice for the woman to still be respected when she made a life decision that's best for HER.

What It Means to Me to be a Second Child

You have been warned. Absolutely whiny post to follow but these came straight from the heart.

So what it means for me to be a second child?

It means that I am secondary.

Secondary investment, secondary thought, secondary inclusion when it comes to decision making, secondary in importance. Second to everything that is first.

I am an after-thought.

When you are a second child, you probably played with hand me downs. Toys especially. The sibling before you played with the fresh, newly out of the box toy and when s/he grew out it, often times you get the well-used, a little scratchy and possible slightly malfunctioning toy that wasn't as clean as it was first unboxed. If you requested for a new toy - something that you can call your own, you'd hear the familiar "you have your brother's/sister's toys" or "what's wrong with your brother's/sister's toys?. Well, for starters...it's not mine. Implicitly we seconders are conditioned to believe that we are not worth an investment for our parents, to not be deemed worthy enough to have the respect of having your own set of toys instead of inheriting ones that belonged to someone else. Am I not worthy enough of an investment to get my own toys? Am I not worthy enough of an investment to have my own clothes and not wear something that was essentially bought with someone else in mind? Why am I supposed to be happy with someone else's leftovers? If you had no intention of giving me the respect that you displayed for your first child(ren) when it come to my material needs...why on earth did you have me?

Most seconders like me often know this in our hearts. But those who dare say it, are often labelled will-full and spoiled. Well, I guess I am. I guess I demand to be treated like you treat your first born. Maybe I actually never liked those old toys, because my taste is completely different. But since you have told me to literally not to give you extra expenses - never mind that I am a completely different human being with my own tastes. I sucked up this feeling of implicitly being sidelined because heck, I am just a spare.

Sometimes, your name doesn't belong to you. Confused? The people in my immediate environment sometimes don't use my name to call me. They use my sister's name. Because my parents are dumbfucks who named their second kid the same as their first. Who cares about diversity right. Who names their children the same name??? I am so often addressed with my sister's name that it seems pointless to have my own name. I was given my own name when I was born, yet so few are smart enough to address me as such.

These relatives and sometimes my mum (only my dad ever calls me correctly using my name)...they would address me using my sister's name. When I do not respond, I am called rude. Why the fuck would I respond to a name that is not mine? How does that remotely make any sense? On the times I am in a more foul mood, I'd snap and go on a tirade and demand that my name is so-and-so and you'd better call me that, I am told that I have ill-feelings to my sister. Well, if you have given me a name and did not respect me enough to address me using it...then why am I not supposed to be upset when I am not referred to by my name? It says something about your intelligence, or the lack of it, as well. My name is my identity, for you to not use my name, it's you not respecting my identity and my person. So, yes, my reactions are completely normal. Fuck you.

I am not even deemed important enough to be addressed by my name. Fuck you. Fuck you, very much.

When I receive hand me downs in the form of clothes, I often reject it. Wanna know why? Maybe, gee, it's not my fucking taste?
"But this is expensive!"
And? I don't want it. Deal with it. What, just because when you bought it for your first kid it was expensive I am supposed to appreciate it? You didn't buy that for me. That does not belong to me, never did. I wasn't in thought when you bought that for your first born. You are giving me this 'expensive' rag and shoving to me 'this is expensive' excuse because you want what's convenient for YOU. I am convenient. Well, I am not your convenience. I am your child. I deserve more respect that some old clothes that was worn by someone, old toys that someone else 'loved' and I'm supposed to be happy with because darn, I don't have the right to my own entitlement.

So this is something I would like to tell parents everywhere. If you produced a second child, keep in mind that there's a good chance that they're not happy with those old clothes and toys that were used by your first kid. Deep in their heart, they'd wish you thought better of them, thought they were also a worthy investment to have their own belongings. A teddy bear that was bought with them in mind, the Barbie that was chosen with them in mind, the toy cars and other stuff that was chosen with them in mind. We would like to think we are important enough as your first born too.

Think.

Death Under Your Nose

Yeap, a boy from my apartment fell from the 5th floor in a freak accident. And the best part is he fell from in front of my house. Gruesome details to ensue so leave if blood makes you queasy.

When my sister got home on 12 November 2013 at around 5.30 pm. She saw a bunch of boys playing at the other end of our apartment unit. Thinking nothing of it, she entered home as usual and got changed. A few minutes passed when my mum heard a loud BANG! Like someone shut the door loudly in anger. We thought nothing of it really; sometimes, someone who lives a few floors above us frequently has nasty fights...so we thought it's just them going at it again.

We made plans to thread our eyebrows in our local salon, so we headed out at roughly 6.30pm-ish. As we exited our door, we could see from our 5th floor that there was a crowd and some policemen. So since some incident obviously occurred below us, we just looked down from the railing and...
someone was sprawled on the ground with blood everywhere.

Mum almost screamed and we managed to shut her up. Like seriously, everyone else was quiet and calm in handling the matter and she's going berserk. How embarrassing.

She was shaken and reeling from the horror of seeing someone, freshly dead, for the lack of a better word. We went to the salon anyway, because...what else can we do? Hang around and watch the deceased in morbid fascination? On the way to the salon my excited mother was speculating this and that because really, we thought it was suicide. My mum speculated that the loud bang she heard before was the deceased blowing up before jumping from wherever floor his house was. I was doing my thesis back then so I offered to be serviced first (the eyebrow threading no dirty thoughts) so I can go home and continue my thesis nightmare.

On my way home. I saw another police car entering my apartment complex. I was curious, this is probably suicide but I guess they weren't ruling out homicide as not everyone who fell to their death killed themselves ya know someone might've pushed them and shit.

So I saw many people flocking towards my apartment block where the incident took place, saw a girl crying, I assumed it's the deceased's sister or something.

I know someone will eventually pry out the true story for this incident so I got on the lift, and went to my floor and saw some officers taking pictures of the area in MY apartment unit. Like the officers were at my front door literally. At this point, my mind went blank. Why are they here? And one of the officers pointed to my apartment unit and asked "did he (the deceased) live here?". Then I said, "No, I live here!". Then he left. Immediately the neighbour living next to me told me that the boy fell from the railing that in front of my house. I froze.

"You mean he's not from the top floors?" I asked.

"No, he's the friend of that boy who lives at the other end of the apartment unit", she said.

I just froze. The bunch of boys that my sister passed without thinking twice...it was one of them ??

The lady said, they were just hanging out at the railing in front of my house, when one of them who were sitting on the railing fell off of it and died.

So the loud bang my mum heard wasn't someone shutting the door in anger...it was the impact of the boy falling to his death ?

Talk about macabre.

She literally HEARD someone die.

So I excused myself and the front neighbour stopped me and said pretty much the same thing only that she saw the boy without cloth covering his body. Luckily we did. Or else my mum would have had conniptions.

So this time it was my time to shake because holy shit someone died falling from in front of MY house. Literally.

I waited till my mum and sis came back and told them that the boy fell from OUR FLOOR and saw their eyes and mouth shaping an 'O' and just staring at my blankly in my face.

Mum was again flustered and sister was like holy shit I passed those kids not moments ago!

The body was taken at around 9pm-ish.

From that day onwards, my mum slept in my sister's room because she was so shaken.

The moral of the story is - life is a fleeting moment. One moment she saw the boys just rascal-ing around like normal teenage boys and the next thing they knew they were looking at their friends' dead body, sprawled on the ground, skull split and blood splattered. The boy was 14 years old.

So please people, always cherish your loved one. Yes you may fight with them and have nasty thoughts afterwards but crux of the matter is you don't really want that to happen so don't wait till that happens. Start now.

Peace out.

link to picture.