Keeping things in place...

I had a good laugh when I open my mailbox this morning and found this picture:

This is Baby G in the patent pending gadget that I mailed to the Queen.

They are called Socks On and they keep (*ahem*) 'socks on' babies' feet. Such a simple solution for an (unknowingly) annoying problem. Apparently, it was invented by a mum of five little boys who always lose their socks.

Pure genius, eh. I wonder if they have the adult version...

Love is strong as death - Part 1

The Queen and Chocolate got married and had their reception in a quaint, cosy restaurant situated inside a castle ground in the 3rd most authentic city in the world.

Now, that is a very awe-invoking fact, and obviously every princess’s dream wedding but alas, The Frou can only come up with the following when she heard that:

Frou: Huh? Authentic? What is authentic? Ghent very authentic meh?
The Queen: Authentic means they don’t copy other people lah!
Frou: Ohh.. you mean not like Singapore?

That euphemism aside (hehe), I was invited to go to Belgium and be part of the wedding. Now you must understand that in the world of best friends, the word “invite” generally means “if you don’t drag your ass here, you will never see the same face in the mirror again” and “be part of the wedding” roughly translates to "be my brideslave".

Now in case you are wondering, a brideslave is not to be confused with a bridesmaid. The latter is a privilege and almost a vice-bride who get all sorts of freebies including a free reign to the best man. A brideslave, on the other hand, is the bride(zilla)’s handmaiden and beck/call MINUS all the glamour.

I have been a brideslave roughly about…4 times now? Not that I am any good, mind you. I am one of the worst because (1) I am lazy, (2) I am unmotivated by weddings and (3) as the Queen not so diplomatically put it, I am quite useless. I don’t have any useful talents a respectable brideslave should posses. I can’t sing, I can’t cook, I can’t write calligraphy (useful for writing seating placement cards), I can’t organize kinky hen nights (I’m a prude), I can’t speak Flemish, I can’t count….

BUT my selling point is, I am willing to offer whatever the bride wants to get out of me for free which is mostly only my wits and a warm body….. and apparently that is okay with The Queen (She loves me! Or....she is very cheap? I dunno.)

So one week before the wedding, I am already on my way to Belgium because a brideslave should be physically around pre, during and post wedding. Because I am there early, I got to stay at Chocolate’s family home/farm which turns out to be one of the most cosy country house I ever seen. There isn’t much room so I have to sleep on the floor by the bridal couple’s bed – literally at their feet - which ironically befits my role as a slave.

But of course, I was far from being treated like one. For what it is worth, I was a very pampered slave and I don’t need to do much at all. I get to sleep in late – until The Queen set her hyperactive and neurotic Italian dog, Flavio, on me. (He is one of the ugliest dogs I ever seen - but extremely cute - think Kate Moss) Flavio will jump on me every morning and direct me downstairs to a fantastic breakfast made by either Chocolate or his mother ~ croissants, ham, cheese, scrambled eggs, bacon, hot chocolate…..YUMS!

Post-breakfast, we will do a bit of wedding preparation such as testing out the champagne (no complaints!), deciding on the flowers, organizing family meals, planning logistics, seating arrangements, writing placecards…Zzz. Mostly I just follow wherever The Queen go and offer some unintelligible advice on tough decisions such as, “This flower can?” (Frou: Cannot. They are ugly. Like your face.) or “This brand of champagne can?” (Frou: Need to try another glass first *Burp*)

Also, since this is a wedding, there are quite a bit of family thingamajids and since The Queen and her family consider me as part of the family, I get to tag along on road trips, home-cooked meals and I generally hang out with them when The Queen is too busy. The Queen’s family is loud, boisterous, loving and dramatic like any good old modern Indian family, and being with them is very comforting (and amusing!) for me. I am known as the Budak to them ~ which means child in Malay. Their most overused line throughout the trip is, “Budak, come and eat now!” (Mother Queen has brought 10kg worth of curry from JB to Belgium!!)

The Queen, Chocolate and I also hit the gym as part of the pre-wedding preparation, in an effort to look trim in our wedding glad rags. We went to a local gym nearby and it was a riot when the 3 of us tries to work out together. The Queen will be barking at us to do bicep curlss and tricep dips while I try to teach The Queen yoga poses such as the downward dog which she insist of calling by another animal which she learnt from pilates – elephant was it??

Two days before the wedding, I move into the houseboat with our friends who arrived from Germany, Australia and the States where we held a alibaba hen night party for The Queen. It was a fun and spontaneous night. We just hung out, drank wine, ate junk food, give each other massages and talk about our sex life. It has been a long time since we got together (we were all childhood friends) and we had a good time catching up.

On the wedding day, we all got up early to go to the hairdressers because all of us girls are going to have FABULOUS hair for the wedding. The hair salon turned out to be run by a bunch of gay guys dressed like Bruno. If you don’t believe me, check out what my hairstylist looks like.



He apparently did Miss Belgium’s hair for her beauty pagent the night before! How cool is that?

After a long session of loud trance music, champagne and hair spray, we emerge from the saloon… Fay looking like a Chinese Mohawk, The Empress with a Victoria Beckham bob, Bujayan with soft girly curls, me with a Audrey Hepburn French twist and The Queen looking like… A ROYAL QUEEN… we all set off to get ready for the church event.

The mass was held in this gorgeous old Victorian style cathedral in the middle of Ghent City. The church event was a very intimate and quiet event with only family and a few friends. One of The Queen’s friends, a famed tenor, sang Ave Maria during the service and it was absolutely beautiful. What was not so great was the fact that I had to do a reading, and being alibaba and non-Catholic, I ended up bowing at the priest instead of the crucifix. BUT I was told that I read with MUCH conviction and FEELINGS – which was quite a FEAT considering The Queen was in a fit of giggles when I read the DRAMA verse that Chocolate has chosen for me from the Song of Solomon, which goes:

"LOVE IS STRONG AS DEATH, I am the rose of Sharon (pronounced as SHAH-RON) and lilies of the valleys…..As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me. Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for LOVE IS STRONG AS DEATH; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it. This is the word of the Lord."

Go on, try saying “Love is strong as death” with conviction and feelings – twice – and with the bride laughing in front of you - and you will know how difficult it was!!

Well, to be fair, I did laugh at her when I first saw the church booklet. She has chosen a cover that reads, “Today, I will marry my friend”

Frou: HAHHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAH! *rolls on floor*
The Queen: Very funny meh?
Frou: HAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAHA! *tears rolling down*
The Queen: Chocolate is my friend wat….
Frou: That is the cheesiest line I ever heard!
The Queen: If not, then what?
Frou: Today I marry my.... lover? The man who gives me the best sex? Or if you are Angelina Jolie, you can say father of my child....

Gagaggagagaga!
Ok, I just spent an hour typing this. Time for bed. More wedding tales later….

Welcome, Your Majesty!

The Queen called me when she landed in Singapore earlier this afternoon to ask me what’s up with the plastic smiles at the airport.

“What is it with all the welcomes? When we landed, they announce “Wecome to Singapore. To all Singaporeans and residents, welcome home.” When I was getting off the plane, there are people lined-up and chirping repeatedly “Welcome to Singapore. Welcome to Singapore…” But when they stamp my Malaysian passport, the fuck face comes out.”

Later, on her way to her sister’s place, the taxi driver asked her whether to take TPE or Hougang Road. When she said she doesn’t know, the taxi driver scolded her, “You live there, why you don’t know?” When she said that she doesn’t live ‘there’, (besides the fact that she was picked up from the airport) he retorts, “Then? You live where?”

The icing on the cake is when they arrived at her sister’s place, he goes, “Wah. Your sister’s house very nice hor. She do what wan?”

The Queen: Shall I show him a copy of her CPF statement also?
Frou: Welcome to Singapore.

Conversation with the Mistress of Spices

When you live across 2 oceans from your best friend with a time difference of 7 hours, it becomes important that phone conversations are kept concise yet not lacking pertinent updates.

Over the years, we have mastered the art of giving updates in the shortest of time. Here are 3 key rules we usually follow:

1. Go straight to the topic. Do not waste time on pleasantries like Hello, How are you? How’s the weather?
   
2. Change topics quickly so you can catch up on more. It doesn't matter when and how.
   
3. Do not go into details. When in doubt, clarify through emails later.

Here's an example of our very short conversation yesterday evening. I believe we covered at least 7 topics....

[Phone rings]

The Queen: (Without greetings, as usual) I like your Muay Thai instructor. He says 'stylo-milo.
Frou: Yeah, he speaks like talking to friends down at the kopitiam.
The Queen: Did you know that I took Muay Thai back in Uni for two years?
Frou: Was your instructor like mine?
The Queen: No, he treated me like a boy.
Frou: How is that possible? Your boobs so huge
The Queen: I had to bind them
Frou: You WHAT?
The Queen: Yeah lar. What to do? So, where is The Boy?
Frou: Somewhere in the mountains.
The Queen: Doing what?
Frou: Not sure. Maybe monitoring the protest in Tibet.
The Queen: Where's next? Afghanistan? I have 2 friends working there. One in Kabul, the other in Mazar-el-Sharif
Frou: Wah! How to pronounce the last word again?
The Queen: I'll email you. Anyway, I ask them to buy me an Afghan carpet
Frou: Cool! Can I get a weaved basket? By the way, have you seen R's new baby boy?
The Queen: No but she is bringing him to Paris.
Frou: What is his name?
The Queen: Micah Gautier Ritesh Debains
Frou: I cannot pronounce again.
The Queen: I'll email you. I recommended that Indian element to the name.
Frou: Why Ritesh? Why not something more Malaysian like... Abu Bakar?
The Queen: Next time... for your kid. So what are you eating tonight?
Frou: Banana Leaf rice
The Queen: OH MY GOD. Yums! Now I also want Indian food.
Frou: You can't. Your email said that you had a rack of lamb, roasted potatoes, asparagus, blueberry soured cream cake and a WHOLE bottle of red wine to yourself last night.
The Queen: I was on a date. With myself.
Frou: How did you even find time to cook all that?
The Queen: Easy. Before I leave for work in the morning, I pound the spices, and then marinate the lamb....
Frou: You pound your own spices?
The Queen: Hello, I'm Indian. I used that thing...err...you know...that clay thing that makciks use to tumbuk the chili to make curry.
Frou: Sheesh, I forgot what's that called too. I'll find out and email you. So anyway, how about dating yourself at the gym tonight instead?
The Queen: Can't. My pilate instructor is on leave until after Easter. Okay, time's up. Going for my meeting now.
Frou: Bye! Lova ya!

In case you are wondering, I found out that the unnamed kitchen equipment is a called a "mortar and pestle."

And yes, my best friend pounds her own spices. Like Aishwarya Rai.

Make Beauty

If there is one electrical gadget that I cannot live without, it would be a hairdryer. Without it, my hair goes 'kebaboom'.

That is why I bring a hairdryer everywhere with me except when I know I will be staying at a decent hotel which would provide one. However, while holidaying in Reunion Island with the Queen last year, I realised to my absolute horror, our (crappy) room does not come with a hairdryer. I freaked out big time.

The Queen asked me to go request for one from the Reception Desk. When I begged her to come with me, she refused. "But I can't speak French!" I wailed. The Queen said I should learn to do these things myself (tough love!) So I mentally weighed what is more embaressing: Speaking bad French or going out with kebaboomed hair? The latter is by far, a hundred times more daunting.

Armed with a few basic French words taught by The Queen, I proceeded to the Reception Desk cautiously. A kindly, older gentleman was manning the counter. He flashed me a ear-to-ear grin when I approached. "Bonjour Mademoiselle," he greeted.

"Bonjour!" I replied. "HAIR-DRY-ER s'il vous plaît?"

He didn't understand me. I figured some gesturing might help so I held an imagery hairdryer in my hands and swished my hair about.

"Ahhh.....," he got it as he whip out a big-ass hairdryer from somewhere below the table. I heave a huge sigh of relief and thanked him profusely. Merci! Merci! Merci!

"You go dinner?" he asked.

"Oui" I replied.

"Ahhh....," he said. "You want to.. er...to ...ahh...make beauty for dinner??"

"Voilà!" I squealed.

Giggling, I ran back to the room to tell the Queen about making beauty. I daresay it is one of our favourite phrases henceforth. There is nothing like broken English to make my frivolous habit of blowdrying just that much more hilarious. Oui! Make beautiful hair!

Purple Juicy Velour

The Queen has a dilemma

In fact, she calls me (in distress) over this same dilemma every single year without fail. Her dilemma is this: Her annual gym membership has expired and she doesn't know which gym to sign up for.

This year, she has two choices:

Option 1 is a swanky joint in the city, 20 min bus ride away from her office. It is nice and comfortable and offers you fresh towels. They have the latest fad gym classes and everyone in there wears nothing less than matching branded gym-wear.

Option 2 is more of a common gym for common people. Basic equipments and less facilities. The good thing is, there are many branches and is only a stone throw away from her office and home.

She sent me the URL for the two gyms. I took a good look at both their websites and find that:

Option 1 is no good because the treadmills are too close together and it looks like you can smell the sweat off the person next to you.

Option 2 is also no good because there are pictures of wading pool with old folks doing aqua aerobics and a nursery for you to dump your kids.

Between the two evils, I advised her to choose Option 2 because although she has to live with grannies and kiddos, it is more important that the gym is located CLOSEST to her so she have absolutely no excuse not to go.

That was when she changed the subject and told me how happy she is with the new set of JUICY VELOUR TRACKSUIT she bought recently. I asked her whether she is trying to be Missy Elliot or J-Lo but she shushed me up. She said it is the most in-style casual-wear in Europe now and that you can wear to the gym and then take off to the streets afterwards.

Yes my friends, a VELOUR tracksuit. Images of Eva Longoria prancing from her yoga class in her purple velour tracksuit and waving to the paparazzi comes to mind.

I asked The Queen whether hers is purple. She says it is purple.

I changed my mind. I think we should go for Option 1.

Best friends

Everyone has a "best friend" during each stage of life but only a precious few have the same one. And precious we are indeed, for the best mirror in the world, is an old friend.

Happy Birthday, your Majesty! We have come a long way.....

Go away hair!

The Queen: What are you doing?
Frou: Checking emails
The Queen: For what? You shouldn't be working at this time of the night.
Frou: What are you doing? Isn't it still office hours in Geneva?
The Queen: It's 5pm. I'm getting ready for my waxing appointment. I'm so excited.
Frou: You'll drop everything for waxing wouldn't you?
The Queen: Of course! Work will come and go. But hair (dramatic pause) should never come.
Frou: .........

Queen of all Agonies

My best friend, The Queen, is an excellent Aunt Agony due to her dramatic Indian heritage. I am talking about all types of agonies including physical, emotional, sexual, mental and so on and so forth.

My range of agonies has expanded over the years. When I was younger, I used to ask her for advice on which boy to date and how far should I go on a first date (ok heck, I still ask her that now). Or sometimes I will call her and ask how long I need to boil tiger prawn heads or how to cook eggplants properly without it dying in the pan. In my bimbotic moments, I will question her whether she seriously think M.A.C is better than Bobbi Brown. When I am unmotivated, I will ask for three good reasons why I should go the gym instead of binging on a large plate of nasi lemak.

Her response depends largely on how bad her PMS is but is otherwise, quite dependable. On her bad days, if I ask whether I should jump off my office building and end my miserable existence, she might say, "Please go and jump. It might improve your face". On her weird days when I am asking for advice on how to placate my boss after I was repeatedly caught late for work, she might digress with, "No matter how late you are, you have no business running after a bus; so unglamourous". But on a good day and for serious questions, she usually gives ace replies.

Her last Aunt Agony advice to me was this morning. She wrote a very lengthy and artful piece on the importance of choosing the right partner. Though it was not a direct response to any specific questions I asked, I was moved. She obviously anticipated the usefulness and relevence of this piece of advice which I felt compelled to share.

In summary she said:

There is no one answer to why people want to be together
....... and it is idealistic to think that people get together for love. Every couple is together for different causes. Some for bearing children, some for security, some for money, some for mere campanionship etc. For whatever reason you choose, make sure you are ready to live with it. Do not compare.

Choose a partner who accepts you as you are
....... because frankly, life is tiring enough as it is to pretend to be someone you are not. What it comes down to is, if you can be youself at your weakest with this person without being judged, he is probably the one for you.

Do not have a preconceived idea of what The One is going to be like
....... because he may be perfect on paper, but if you are not 'ngam', means not 'ngam' and no matter how hard you try to mask it, nothing you can do will change that.

If the two of you are not compatible in bed, you two are probably not going to last
....... so please test drive the car first and if it doesn't rev, get out and RUN!

Thanks, Mak!

And The Queen says it is a sin to go around with unpainted toenails.

The Queen's obsession with Tomkat

poseMy best friend, the Queen, lives a million miles and two oceans away from me in Switzerland but she managed to get hold of me at 1am this morning. This is after one failed attempt to call me earlier in the noon using Skypes, one missed call on my mobile in the evening and an offline message on Messenger with a link to a column in http://showbiz.sky.com

Queen: Makcik, buat apa?
Me: Nothing lar, boring. Just came back from watching James Bond
Queen: So how? Good or not?
Me: HENSOME! I wanna be SPG now.
Queen: About time lar. So what else is happening? (Ok, this is her standard operating procedure. No matter how urgent her calls are, she have to go through the obligatory general line of questioning first)
Me: Nothing lar, boring je. Been watching TV and growing fat.
Queen: ME TOO! Oh my god, I used to be so nice and thin last time. Lucky my face is still beautiful.
Me: Not really. Your face's quite koyak now.
Queen: Shut up lar. So tell me the news.
Me: Singapore no news wan. You tell me some news. What's going on at work?
Queen: Nothing lar. Israel and Palestine at war.
Me: Somemore?
Queen: Kenya got flood.
Me: Here got haze.
Queen: OH MY GOD (Now reveals the real reason why she calls), did you see Tomkat's wedding pictures?
Me: Yes lar. You sent me the link on Messenger this afternoon.
Queen: Did you see how she had to stooped down in her dress so that she is not taller than Tom?
Me: ......
Queen: They are so drama, I tell you. Getting married in a castle in Rome and all
Me: Er... you got married in a castle too.
Queen: Yeah and every girl should do that at least once. So anyway, I'm thinking - what is it with her? She's only a simple looking American girl next door..
Me: I think Britney is more American girl next door
Queen: If Britney is in Malaysia, she would be next door to Chow Kit
Me: True...
Queen: So I don't know how she does this. Manage to tangkap a guy like him. Not that he is good looking.
Me:.......
Queen: But their baby is sooooo cute! How is that possible? Anyway, she is so young. She is like what, your age? And look where she is in life compared to you. You are quite useless aren't you? Why can't you be more like her.
Me: STOP TALKING ABOUT TOMKAT!!
Queen: Oklar. So how? Got bf or not?
Me: The fortune teller say I will only meet my true love in 2008 so do not ask me this question in 2006. Check back again in two years time.
Queen: Whatever, girlfriend.
Me: (Thumping right hand to heart) Peace.

Author's Tribute:
My best friend, the Queen, is an intense, vivacious creature with a larger than life personality (and boobs). Half the world population of men is obsessed with her (and her boobs), while the lesser half is - plain scared. She has the attention span of a goldfish but is always the sharpest fish in the aquarium. She likes to hang out with me because I am small, cute and funny. I like to hang out with her because she attracts the men. I hope one day she turns lesbian.