Is that a gun at your temple or did you just wet your pants because you were happy to see me?

I have been a crazy little messed up ball of spiky, screamy, high-strung nerves the past few days. I have been running on adrenaline and fear during the days leading up to my face-off with the Evil White Guy today. I haven't slept in what feels like a millenia, and my eyes burn in their dry little sockets. I've been so revved that I think if you let me loose, I'd zip across the walls like those little toy cars which kids have, where you roll them backwards and the mechanism inside makes that ratcheting noise and then when you let go they zoom out of your hand, off the table, and onto the floor below in a glorious, flaming explosion.

Well, no, not really. I'm so tired.

But anyway, there I go, lugging the gigantic black bag which makes me lean to one side like there's a very strong wind blowing perpetually west. The makeup is impeccable because it needs to conceal the fact that I not only shamble like a zombie but look it too after an all-nighter of frantic get-up. I felt like one of those bison, ready to charge and kill over territory and females. Not that I want female bison.

But there is no justice in the world, because after a truly excruxiating wait where I was insulted, patronized, condescended upon and generally made to feel like one more word would make me launch myself at his head with my formidable bundle of authorities, our face-off was adjourned. Adjourned, I ask you! After being completely and totally freaked and hyped about beating his ill-mannered rodent face into a bloody little pulp (figuratively speaking, of course)! After not being able to eat! Me! Not eat! And feeling like the top of my head will blow of if you move too fast around me!

I would get far more upset about it normally, but today it's probably a good thing, because then I can SLEEP. After the massive adrenalin rush I'm coasting on fumes.

But if you want to see Slinky's best kungfu-chop-axe-murderer-stylings, ask me what he said to me. Go on. I dare you. I SO have to go all Wolverine on his ass.

________________________________________

And there was KL.

Remember KL? Evil place, bad things, good Slinky?

These are the highlights (and lowlights) of my KL trip

We drove up at some ungodly hour and arrived there early in the morning. Okay, no, to be absolutely accurate, The Boy drove and I crashed out in the back seat once we passed Immigration, and didn't wake up even when he stopped the car and locked me in at the three rest stops we stopped at.

My credit card DID NOT WORK. Which perhaps isn't a big deal since I DID NOT SHOP.

I spent a very large part of Friday shopping for food, then preparing said food for a barbecue in honour of someone I hardly knew and didn't much like. And then NOT EATING ANY OF IT because it was Good Friday. The Boy was happily pretending he was Bourdain while I grumpily marinated beef I never got to eat, trying my damnednest to suck it in through osmosis. There was crab and prawns and fish and lamb and beef and chicken and more chicken, NONE of which I ate. (and yes, I am still a shite Catholic despite the sacrifice because I'm bitching about it now. Happy? Your world did not turn inside out even though I gave up beef for God.)

After the food was ready, I did not sit down with everyone and talk about fun stuff. Know what I did? I WORKED. On the stuff which I brought with me all the way from Singapore. For this thing. Which was ADJOURNED.

And I had to socialize. I'm very very bad at that. I don't like it. Possibly because I'm very very bad at it. I'm sure this part of this entry is going to give The Boy an aneurysm out of sheer frustration that I am STILL bitching about it, but for the love of god, please don't put me with any more strangers. I know that out there in the world there are five billion lovely people who will enrich my life in countless ways if I only tried to be a teensy bit more of a people person. But meeting new people, making small talk, it really takes it out of me. It exhausts me. Worse when it's a large group. Slinky just doesn't play well with others. Add to that the mounting terror of today. For the most part, I am fortunate enough to adore The Boy's friends. But I draw the line at the friend's family's family and the friend's friends. If I'd wanted to socialize I would have stayed at home and gone clubbing with SheWhoRunsInStilettos, or gone and done our wildly popular and entertaining sluts-on-the-loose act with Miss C and Miss J (sluts in bikinis!).

BUT

I got to smoke a whole SHITLOAD of Gudang Djarum. For those who don't know, Djarum are Indoneisan clove cigarettes, also known as death-on-a-stick. Why smoke them? Because they smell delicious and leave the taste of sugar and cloves on your lips for ages, and the smoke is pungent and fragrant and they make me happy. One is equivalent to something like four Malboros/Texas (8 mg of tar versus 32mg). I think I must have smoked the equivalent of about a hundred Marlboros. My voice sounded like I took 1900-Mistress-Slinky calls. The good thing is that after those babies, you can never go back to the usual cigarettes. And since they aren't available in Singapore, I guess I'll have to go smoke free. See? Happy ending.

I got to eat ALL the leftovers from the barbecue the day after. And all the Dunkin Donuts a girl can eat, and then some. (and I saw how they make those cute little munchkins donuts too. It's brutal.) The Boy is a truly excellent cook.

I got to read all the Lucifers in Zee's house. And some of her Sandman. Both of which are inexpressibly good and makes me giddy with joy.

I met Sulphur. Who finally convinced me that a bird can have personality after all.

That couch. The table . Whoa boy.

And we got to talk about what it would be like if we got a house, about how we'd spend our mornings and how we'd do it up. Lots of warm fuzzies right there.