Missing: MOJO

It appears to be just another ordinary morning. I woke up late as usual and stumbled into the bathroom to wash off the grime from running around all night in my dreams. I proceeded to obediently brush my molars and put on my face. As I look up at the mirror, I realised something has gone terribly wrong. I let out a blood curling shriek..... AIYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeks!!!

It's GONE! Missing. Ran away. AWOL. If it is sophiscated enough, migrated. Or if it is desperate and broke enough, eloped.

My mojo.

And I stared into the bare face in the mirror, slightly crumpled from too much sleep and bleeding eyes. My face no longer beams with the glimmer and glow of a woman in the primal stage of her 20-something life. Overnight (or maybe nights, weeks, months), my mojo has decided to abandon its useless owner in search of a better being to nurture.

I should have noticed the early signs of its unhappiness. My reluctance to stay out past 11pm ("It's schoolnight lar!"), my TV-dinners for one, my dwindling alcohol tolerance, my laziness in holding conversations with new people ("To find out more about me, please log on to http://www/....."), my inboxs of unanswered sms and the road rages to rush home to my taiwanese drama series.

Well, it doesn't help that I am a fag hag and if I have to be dragged to clubs, it is more likely to be a gay one owing to my group of absolutely fabulous 'girlfriends' (yes, I'm talking about you three DUTS aunties). However I suspect I have overstayed my welcome at such joints. The diva emcee at last weekend's drag show announced that girls with big boobs shouldn't be there - wasting space only.

Got you excited didn't I? Haha! Ok I lied. I don't have a problem with space wastage.

My point is, I am getting *gulp*.... bored and boring. Gone are my halycon days of being an energiser bunny filled with unbridled passion in pursuit of a "full life". I don't mean just partying all night long. It is that feeling of "Damn, I can do anything I like because I am so fabulous". It is the recklessness, the snobbish confidence, the lust for optimum living...okay and the men.

Or maybe Mojo drowned in my past perpetual Sunday hangovers??

Sigh.

I know it is just a phase and one day Mojo (if alive) will realised that wherever it has gone to, I am a MUCH better host. If not, I hope it has leeched itself onto a bleached-white, tall, lanky anorexic Singapore girl (everything I am not) who is starving it to death.

Hah!