Dewi Kayangan

Two Faces of Womanhood

2011-08-19T18:32:00.001+08:00

（如果要看清楚一点，请按 (Click) 在照片上面。）

Pictures taken in 2003 by Joshua Tan. (Click on pictures for larger views). The duality of the cultured world and the notorious world. Two contradicting realms, two faces of womanhood.

From Adult Men's Playground To Bigoted Buddhists (Bilingual 双语言)

2011-04-04T15:29:00.001+08:00

(Click on picture for bigger viewing)

序言: 1. 男人三妻四妾是天生的。
2. 既然我站立起来发言，我代表所有的性工作者或妓女。
3. 这文章是针对歧视妓女的佛教徒。

90年代。这是皇都夜总会的大场。在台上面，Band 队的音乐很大声。大声到客人要抱紧我们小姐，说话在我们的耳边。夜总会的客人一大部分都是结了婚的男人。他们的性欲很强。在大场，有很多男经理，男服务员（waiters）走来走去。

但好色, 淫荡的客人会强吻我们小姐的口和脸部到整个脸发臭。他们别的狂放动作就是用手摩挲，抓，挖，我们的里面。甚至什么都要挖出来看。他们拉我们的衣服，拆开内衣。拿我们的手来按摩他们的阳部，按摩到坚硬。这么多人跑来跑去，他们都不理会。如果在卡啦OK方里面，我们可以忍受。不过在大场，我们的工作真的很幸苦，要忍受这样的侮辱和委屈。最难忍受都要忍受。很多小姐服轻的物质来‘high’ ，麻醉自己来做完我们的工作。单单喝酒是不够的。如果有男人（非客人）在外面这样做，我一早就打破他的脸。让他看他自己的血。

我的好朋友，Annie, 有一晚上和我说，‘如果我们卖肉体的钱撕开, 眼泪和血都会流下来’。我听了都要哭。是事实，没有什么工作这么痛苦和难忍受过卖自己的肉体。

做夜总会小姐或性功作者不是我的选择。这个功作是我自己不愿意做的。在夜总会功作，痛苦的日子是99%。开心的日子是1%.

关键是为什么我要做这我根本不愿意做的工作？原因就是我的精神病不允许我继续求学。不允许我做明日的工作。我患了严重的先天性和遗传的抑郁症和强逼症。我的集中力严重分散。思想一点都不正常。左右我的份不清楚。自己的身体，头发发臭了，我都不懂。这样那可以做办公室的工作呢？惟一个工作我做到的是讲话，唱歌，喝酒和陪男人。

现在修行了，我的病渐渐退了。但让我最心痛的是有些佛教徒一样批评，歧视我的工作。我当然会做回我自己。我拍摄了艺术裸体写真照片。这些照片让我感觉很骄傲，给了我很大的自信心。拍摄之前我很幸苦来减肥，精进做运动。我和Joshua Tan 很头痛来计划编制。拍摄时侯真的很幸苦。需要整个两天还做完。

拍摄的价钱是很贵。Joshua 是一位很专业的摄影师。他教我摆很好的姿势（pose），让我的照片不会猥亵，淫秽。他做到了。拍摄的结果很成功。他拍摄了我的很高贵的艺术裸体写真照片。甚至洗照片的职员都赞他的创作品。

但是那些佛教徒，不但批评，歧视我的工作，他们也看不顺眼我的艺术裸体写真照片。有一个佛教徒，她清高来说我这样的行为是 ‘不正’，再说 ‘修佛要修心’。那她自己有修心吗？歧视,批评是叫修心，修行啊？歧视, 批评就是憎恨。憎恨就是罪恶。她作了罪业她自己都不知道。在离谱就是她叫我去‘三昧水忏’！如果这样全世界的妓女都是‘不正’, 全部都要去忏悔。如果不忏悔，就不可以修行了。有这样的愚蠢，白痴，傻的佛呆子。她这样的说话是很大的侮辱。全世界有几百万的妓女。她已经说了几百万的侮辱说话，如果她会计数。

这些佛教徒还叫自己们修行者。他们修什么呢？就是修愚蠢，白痴。比畜牲更愚蠢，白痴。起码畜牲不会歧视,批评。

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Prologue:
1. Men are polygamous by nature.
2. Since I choose to stand up to voice out, I am representing ALL sex workers.
3. This article is written for the reading pleasure of ALL bigoted Buddhists.

In the 90s. This was the Deluxe Nite Club’s grand hall. The Filipino band singing and playing loud music, so loud that the clients hugged us girls tightly, and talked to us on the ear sides. The majority of the nightclub clients were MARRIED MEN. And their lustfulness surpassed the animals’. There were many male Managers and waiters who walked around hastily, doing their routines in the grand hall.

But the briskness of many people around didn’t affect dog-drooling, canine lecherous clients. Their testosterone controlled their brains, and their penises had their own minds. There went the forced kissing, face licking, until we girls’ faces smelt rotten. The clients’ favorite brutal libidinous actions were grouping, digging out what were inside our bras, for they wanted to see the nipples. Some opened our bra hooks, pulled our skirts up to reveal the panties, and even pulled the panties, in front of so many watching eyes. Another thingy that they really loved was to put our hands on top of their pants, on their groins, and told us to stroke their penises till rock hard.

We girl would not mind much if they did all above in the Karaoke rooms, for only the few waiters and waitresses were outsiders. But in the grand hall, all these insulting, embarrassing actions could be seen by many others, esp. the male Managers and waiters. We girls had to endure what we didn’t want to endure, no matter how much we loathed them all. Many of us took soft substances like speeds so that the time could elapse faster, and so that our mind would be altered from reluctant and pains to willingness and pleasures. Alcohol alone no longer working. It was a norm to see us girls grinned or laughed for no reasons, or repeating what we had said or done, or completely out of our minds.

If all these happened outside the nightclubs, done by a man who was a non-client, I would break his face, and let him tasted his own blood.

There was a night when a good friend of mine, Annie lamented, ‘If we tear the money that we earned from selling our bodies, the tears and blood would drip’. When I heard it, I became teary. I couldn’t think of any other jobs that could be so insulting, agonizing and harrowing.

Working in the nightclubs was NOT my choice. It was a job that I was NOT willing to do. Working in nightclubs, days of unhappiness was 99%, while happiness was only 1%.

The crux of the matter. Why on the planet I chose to work as nightclub hostess, when I was so UNWILLING to? The REASON was that my psychological illnesses, namely Clinical Depression (an inheritance) and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) (congenital) disallowed me to pursue on my studies. It also disallowed me from working in daytime, in offices. These illnesses were chronic and severe. Severe enough to cause great concentration impairment. My thought was not right. I lived in my OCD fantasies that almost caused me to detach from the reality. Sometimes, I couldn’t even handle the daily life activities. My brain couldn’t work anymore.

Telling me to work in office was stupid idea. I had worked in a telemarketing company called Kompass prior to working in nightclubs. I couldn’t even remember how to fill up the simple forms and bills. My mental concentration was near to zero. I was called to the manager office several times for my poor performances. That was the reason I left the office and worked in the nightclubs, the only job that I could do. Working in the nightclubs was very easy, only entertaining men, singing and drinking, and nothing that required mental concentration. And alcohol and speeds were readily available. When we girls were drunk, all of us were insane. So who cares?

And my boyfriend, Horikawa did not notice my mental abnormalities. He only thought I was too young, and would cry and scream for things that I wanted, just like a child.

Many years have past and now I am cultivating Buddhism. It’s amazing that my psychological illness gradually alleviated. But circumstances have not come to an end. Now I have to endure the new insults. Insults from whom if not Buddhists themselves? They discriminate my profession. They abhor my artistic nude pictures that not only I had paid high price for, but painstakingly went through the painful dieting and rigorous exercise before the photography. And the nerve wrecking planning and organizing by both Joshua Tan and I. Not to mention the exhausting two photo sessions that took the entire two days.

And Joshua was a professional. He put in effort, taught me how to perform creative, refine poses, so that my photos would not come out obscene or vulgar. He made it as classy as possible. The results of the photography was excellent. It was such a real success that those in the photo processing shop praised Joshua's exquisite works. These photos are what I am really proud of, of which they return and restore back my long lost self esteem.

And these are the photos that those bigoted Buddhists DISGUSTED about, in addition to their shallow discrimination against my profession. There was one Holier-Than-Thou Buddhist said such attitude of mine was ‘NOT RIGHT’. And with her aloft style, she continued, ‘Cultivate Buddhism must cultivate the heart’. Then DID she cultivate her own heart in first place? So discrimination is called cultivating heart or cultivating Buddhism?

Discrimination is hatred. And hatred is bad karma itself. She had invested her own bad karma, and she didn’t even aware of it. The most ludicrous thing was that she urged me to go for the Repentence ritual, ‘San Mei Shui Chan’! If these should be the right way accordingly, then ALL sex workers in the entire world are ‘NOT RIGHT’. All should go for all those complete ABSURD repentance rituals, before allowing to cultivate Buddhism.

Little did I knew there was such idiotic, senseless, lard-headed, so-called cultivating Buddhist. All those she had uttered were GREAT insults. There are millions of sex workers in the entire world. And she had uttered millions of words of insults if she knew how to count.

These biased Buddhists are more idiotic than ANIMALS. At least animals don’t discriminate. Despite of being pig-brained, lard-headed, they still think they are oh-so-self-righteous. They are not cultivating Buddhism. They are cultivating ABSOLUTE STUPIDITY.

Capturing Your Soul 2

2011-04-01T10:55:00.001+08:00

（如果要看清楚一点，请按 (Click) 在照片上面。）

Pictures taken in 2003 by Joshua Tan. (Click on pictures for larger views). Self portraits give me a safe heaven to express myself in a sensual way. Sensuality is a channel to experience things, it is often a prelude of things to come, such as an increase of sex appeal. It is a personal affirmation of self-esteem.

Capturing Your Soul 1

2011-04-01T10:42:00.003+08:00

（如果要看清楚一点，请按 (Click) 在照片上面。）

Pictures taken in 2003 by Joshua Tan (Click on pictures for larger views). Believe me, the camera sees your SOUL. It sees more than your naked eyes could see. And it captures your inner self, which could not be seen on the mirror, or by others. Only the camera could see it.

Express Myself

2011-03-31T16:08:00.001+08:00

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These artistic nude pictures were taken in year 2003, by Joshua Tan. (Click on the pictures for larger views). Having my nude body photographed is a form of self expression. A healthy discovery, simply a hint of hidden eroticism. I've rediscovered my sensuality.

I express my gratefulness for Joshua Tan, my beloved gay photographer, his make up artist, Rachel Tan and their assistant for their hardwork and patient. 8 years have past and I could recall the joy of working together with them.

Bridal Shower - With Blood (Part 3)

2011-03-09T19:29:00.002+08:00

Prologue: The ancient Chinese idiom goes 无冤不成夫妻 –If they are not enemies, they will not become husband and wife.

Now I’m branching out the compelling real stories about men’s infidelity, involving the clients whom I knew. I shall introduce Horikawa’s colleagues cum good friends. They were Mr. Akai and Mr. Mitani. All three were Japanese expatriates, in their 40s, married with child/children and stayed in Kuala Lumpur. Horikawa and Mitani worked in the same office in Shah Alam, and Mr. Akai belonged to another co-joined company. They were the Three Philandering Musketeers of Roppongi Lounge. Penises up!

All pictures taken in Year 1991 and 1992. (To see the pictures bigger, just click on them.)

. 1st picture – From left, Mitani (Managing Director), Shirley (Secretary), standing, and other office staffs. Shirley had helped Horikawa and I very much, keeping our secrets, booking air tickets and hotels for our holidays, etc.

. 2nd picture – Mitani (left, Managing Director) and Horikawa (right, Factory Director) during a holiday.

. 3rd picture – Akai (left), Mitani (Managing Director, middle) and Horikawa (Factory Director, right) in their office compound. Did all three of them look polite and cultured in shirts and ties, and company uniform? Yes. And they were handsome. Any signs of lechery and womanizing attitude? Not at all.

And what was behind those smart looking, well-mannered Japanese men? All the three sushi-faced kept girlfriends/mistresses. Mitani was with Ai (means love, in Japanese), Akai was with Vivian and Horikawa with me. Ai, Vivian and I worked in Roppongi Lounge.

Those cold-sashimi Japanese were dead solemn and serious in their works. But when the party started in Roppongi Lounge, the playground for adult men, they behaved worse than children.

On Mitani. This tofu stuffed-looking Japanese was the most promiscuous, and had the tiniest brain of all. He hardly knew how to handle his girlfriends, but yet, had a harem of them. He, his wife, Hui Ling and 5 years old son stayed in Bangsar. Hui Ling was a Taiwanese woman (sorry no picture). Real story on wife such as Hui Ling was the most heart-rending one that I had encountered.

Hui Ling had acknowledged well about her husband promiscuity, but trying extremely hard, even against her own will, to accept her husband despite of his irresponsibility. She loved her husband like no other.

And what actually had taken place? One Sunday night, when Horikawa and I were in Roppongi Lounge, having our karaoke session, the door flung opened. Horikawa and I were startled to see Mitani pulling Hui Ling, half-drunk in. Why on the planet Mitani brought his wife to such a place? Mitani sat down, mellowed with apologetic face. He explained that he and Hui Ling went for drinking in a bar prior to that. And that Hui Ling had discovered about his relationship with Ai, hence became very upset and disappointed. Feeling betrayed, she demanded Mitani to bring her to a bar to get drunk, and later went to Roppongi to look for Ai. Thank goodness, that day was Ai’s off day.

I observed Hui Ling. She was in her 30s, thin and frumpy looking. She wore simple dress and worn-out flat shoes, and didn’t put on make up or did her hair. And these were big contrast to the young, beautiful and elegant ‘in-girl’, Ai. Ai was one of the few girls who wore expensive designer outfits and had fancy hairstyles.

Hui Ling then apologized for intruding us, even knowing I was Horikawa’s mistress. She was sad and crying, telling us she was unhappy. She continued to drink and that had made her became worse. She then laughed and no longer herself, and Mitani pulled her blouse as she scrambled her way to us. Later she (and Mitani followed) even knelt down in front of us, and heads hitting the floor to apologize! And unexpectedly, Hui Ling then invited Horikawa and I to their home to have lunch on the coming Sunday. And Mitani was dumb folded, and had to agree even he didn’t expect his wife would make such invitation!

Although both Horikawa and I were shocked-horror, we yielded to Hui Ling request, in order not to let the situation worsened. I knew Hui Ling needed to talk to me, pouring her heart out, hence making the lunch invitation.

The Sunday arrived, and both Horikawa and I were clumsy and nervous, didn’t know what to say or do. We were greeted by Hui Ling, looking happier this time, and the embarrassed Mitani. Hui Ling spoke Mandarin to me, and started to unveil all her heart breaking stories. (And both the Japanese husbands were shivered with anxiety!). She told me she understood my position as Horikawa’s mistress and was not biased against me.

She revealed she faced devastating problems. Ai somehow sneaked into their condominium, and wrote big letters with lipstick, ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’ on Mitani’s car screen! Mitani scrubbed them off, but Ai persisted, sneaked in again and wrote the same things. Ai also phoned Mitani many times in their home and left notes there. There were arguments over and over and that caused the neighborhood to notice them. Hui Ling then became a victim. There was a large community of Japanese people, usually families, staying in same condominium. The Japanese housewives gossiped about Hui Ling. And hapless Hui Ling had no one to help her, no where to go. And that was the reason she broke down. Hui Ling told me she even thought of committing suicide.

Not long before they banged into our karaoke room that Sunday, Hui Ling had a big argument with Mitani, and she packed her luggage, hugging her son and wanted to leave for Taiwan. Mitani held them back. Imagine how their neighbors were alerted with the loud argument.

And why on the planet Ai was doing that? Simple. Mitani dumped her, probably for another woman. And there was an epilogue. Mitani then was after another hostess, a Filipino (name forgotten) working in Bird Nest Japanese Lounge. I had met her, but she wasn’t as elegant as Ai. According to Horikawa, there was once Mitani sending the Filipino girl home in his car. But Hui Ling arrived in the nick of time, standing in front of the car! That shocked Mitani, and he hurriedly tell his girl to leave! Also, almost every morning, Hui Ling would scream to wake Mitani up, holding his shirt with lipstick stains! So Mitani said he didn’t even need an alarm clock. What a dude...haha!

After Horikawa contract expired, he returned to Japan. Mitani remained in Malaysia, and he continued to sow his philandering seeds. When I was working in Deluxe, I had heard of him chased yet another two girls in Roppongi Lounge. And what had happened to Hui Ling? I regretted I didn’t keep in touch with her. This is a typical man’s philandering saga.

On Akai. Akai face resembled Garfield, and he was the most polite among the three assholes. He stayed with his wife (if not mistaken, she was pregnant at that time) in Bangsar. Akai and his relationship with his mistress, Vivian had became a jargon among the girls in Roppongi Lounge and the Japanese clients. We had acknowledged that both Akai and Vivian had taken wedding photos. And later, there was a rumor that Vivian was pregnant with Akai’s child. I did not know if that was true. But I knew Akai’s marriage was at the verge of collapsing. Not much news on Akai, but I knew there were many unhappiness that followed.

So, when I see a bridal shower, I see BLOOD.

My articles piss people off, but wake people up.

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Epilogue: The process of writing these three-parted articles of Bridal Shower – With Blood was distressing and agonizing. Each recollection contains pain. The bitterness and anguishes that I did not want to recall had to be recalled. There were moments that I wished to terminate the process altogether.

But I had gathered my determinations and at the end, managed to complete them, despites of the many difficulties. I wrote these invaluable experiences of mine, for I felt responsible to trumpet to the world about the hideous, repugnant reality of the world, which often being overlooked by many. These are the people who chose to see the unrealistic facets of the world, and to live in the fantasies of their own creations.

If I do not wake you up, you will fall asleep again.

Bridal Shower - With Blood (Part 2)

2011-03-08T16:55:00.000+08:00

Year 1991 to year 1992. What a decent husband like Horikawa had said and implied about his relationship with his wife? His followed explanations representing the reasons why all husbands stray like canines:

. He and his wife had little subject to talk, after being married for many years. All that needed to be talked had already been talked.

. Communications between he and his wife involved the stressful bills, the problems with children, and house hold matters, which not only bored him to breathless, but stabbed him to death, after being all stressed out from work.

. Everything between he and his wife was dead serious and dull. The newly weds romance, lovey-dovey, fun and laughter had long died and buried in graveyards.

. His wife was too simple, mind simple, dressing simple, movements simple, simply boring, living in her simple world.

. His wife’s vagina was loose after giving births to 2 children. Her figure expanded and flesh sagged like soaked bread. And that he hardly had any sexual gratifications.

And why Horikawa chose to have clumsy, awkward, idiotic-looking young woman like me to be his girlfriend (euphemism for mistress)?

. He and I had too many to talked, just like he and his wife, before marriage. I was ‘new’, so he felt rejuvenated, just like chasing a girl during his younger time.

. Our conversations involved how to play golf and improve bowling skills, cooking Japanese foods, singing Japanese songs, and everything Japanese. All fun, zero stress.

. Everything between us was romantic, casual, playful, humorous. He sat in the supermarket trolley while I pushed it and ran around the supermarket. He put ice inside my collar. He put a peanut into my nose, then squeezed it out and made me ate it. He stuffed his dirty socks on my face. He blow-dry his hair and armpits (see picture). He made comical faces to make me laugh (see picture). He made comical postures, also to make me laugh (see picture).

. I was ludicrously playful, sarcastically mischievous, lunatic, and weird enough to rotate his earth the other way. (Little did he knew I was hospitalized in the psychiatric ward in less than 10 years after that).

. As a children and babies hater, I vowed never to give birth. And this had saved me from lots of troubles. I didn’t have any expansion anywhere. Of course I could provide what he needed.

20 years have already passed. Horikawa is 61 years old now, or probably DEAD. Pussy fucker. He ought to be sent to morgue earlier. So, will I get married some days? MAYBE. So what is my reason? Use your head.

Whenever I see a wedding couple in white gown and tuxedo, I see the disgusting semen inside the used condom of the client. I smell the stinky unwashed penis of the client. I touch the nauseating sweats on the client’s body. I stare at the hogwash ugly, stumpy, old, fat naked body of the client. And plant this in your head - All these clients are MARRIED MEN.

When I see a bridal shower, I see BLOOD.

Bridal Shower - With Blood (Part 1)

2011-03-08T16:48:00.000+08:00

That day I saw a beautiful bride sashaying down with glaring can-can wedding gown, to hold the arm of the handsome bridegroom. And the bride was so overjoyed that she smile nearly exposed her deepest molar. Whoa! She looked like she had found her missing body part that could be attached back! And the crowd cheered and snapped pictures of the King and the Queen of the day.

But when I saw over delighted couple with the joyful crowd, I started to feel some sorts of unknown fear, which slowly creeping up to my spine. The fear that pricked me so hard that sent chills to every vertebra of my spine. My feet felt cold. So cold that they became numb, as if I didn’t touch the ground. Suddenly I felt nauseous. I wanted to throw all the contents of my stomach out.

The images of the nightclub scenes flashed back like an old projector running the slides. Ta-ta-ta. A client slipped his hand into my bra and grabbed my breasts. Ta-ta-ta. A client held my face and kissed my mouth and licked my face. My face smelt like salted fish. Ta-ta-ta. A client slipped his hand behind my pants and fingered my ass. Ta-ta-ta. A client pulled me into the toilet, did the quickie (thank goodness, it last only few minutes), and then paid me RM 500 (very handsome payment from the least handsome man). Ta-ta-ta. A client, also grabbed me to the toilet, did the oral (didn’t last long either), and paid me RM 300. Ta-ta-ta. I gulped down glasses and glasses of alcohol to get drunk so that I could finish all these damn jobs. Ta-ta-ta. Alcohol alone didn’t work anymore. Took some soft subtances to boost the effect of alcohol. I wished all these men to be shot DEAD immediately.

And all the clients above were MARRIED men. And oh, how polite they looked in jacket, suit and ties. No tell-tale signs of any kinds of lechery before the party started. And who said they were only business men? The extreme cultured professionals like lawyers and doctors were also there, equally dog-lecherous. And not to mention, the local politicians. And their wives were so STUPID. They had miniscule idea that their husbands were lecherous towards the other younger, more beautiful women.

Many pig heads, esp. wives still do not believe all that I have said about husbands’ infidelity. You asked for it. Alright, I generously provide the concrete evidences. The 1st picture - Horikawa and I in Roppongi Japanese Lounge, Kuala Lumpur. 2nd picture – Horikawa and I holidaying in Penang. And 3rd, the priceless one, the Horikawa’s family picture – from left to right, Horikawa, Horikawa’s son, Hiro, Horikawa’s wife, Yoko, and Horikawa’s daughter, Masako.

Kozo Horikawa was a Japanese expatriate, working in a factory in Shah Alam. We met each other as client and hostess in Roppongi Lounge, year 1991. He was 41 and I was 21 years old. We cohabited from end of year 1991 to end of 1992, without his wife knowledge, although she had noticed something so twisted about his husband. She was then so twisted with her own suspicions.

When I see a bridal shower, I see BLOOD.

Continue above.

Wives Are Not Good enough - Part 2

2011-02-08T20:19:00.000+08:00

These two rebuttals are published on 9th March 2003. Too bad, wives heads are like pinheads. They are extremely little informed, or they hardly notice what their husbands really need or want. Oh, probably they think being a good cook and a good mother are most virtuous thing of all, and those are perfection. Hey, why not strip off naked in front of the mirror and check carefully what are your imperfections that make your husband sneaks out to find other women, esp. younger and more beautiful ones?

Now I have reached my middle-age and no longer a youthful vixen. But I am deeply grateful that my position has been succeeded by the younger, more attractive, alluring, sophisticated and elegant nightclub hostesses. They are the newly metamorphosed colourful night butterflies of the New Millennium.

Loveeee to know the explicit things in and out of the nightclubs? Nightclubs clients were men from all corners of the worlds. Basically, these clients were nice and kind. They paid generously for the hugging, fondling and kissing. Sometimes I felt sympathetic with these men. They hugged and kissed us like long-time lovers. Noticeably, they are deprived from love and care, and needed other women to caress and console them. Sweeping their hair and lending our shoulders for them to lean on were enough to make them felt relieved and satisfied. They were also stressed out from their enormous works. They needed to de-stress and wind down. So, we were please to please them, our entire bodies belong to them that night.

And never forget, they were also FAMILY MEN, who loved their wives and children. After servicing them in hotel rooms or apartments/houses, they would share with me about their families. One client had shown me the baby shoes for his little son that he had bought. One client proudly informed me his daughter’s achievements in her piano lessons. One Singaporean client bought copies of Cosmopolitan magazines (which was banned in Singapore) esp. for his wife. Some clients gladly showed me the pictures of their wives, children and even pets. One client sent me to Chinatown taxi stand in the next morning and then hurried back home to send his children to school.

So, who says these so-called philandering men don’t love their wives and children? Who says these men do not care for their families? Who says family-ties are not important to them? Hey, men just need OTHER women to provide what their wives cannot provide for them.

So, those women who are madly want to get married, wearing the wedding gowns, who think marriages in made in Heaven, please bear in mind that your future husbands will be soon screwing other women. (Grace is grinning).

Wives Are Not Enough - Part 1

2011-02-08T20:11:00.000+08:00

This article of mine appeared in The Star, 2nd March 2003. And I received the two angry rebuttals above, which was published a week later.

With the iced lemon tea on my table, sitting recklessly and shaking my legs, I’d like bring the entire issue up again - for I enjoy entertaining those who are extremely annoyed or disturbed with my former profession. (A sex worker for once, a sex worker forever).

Sometimes informing women, esp. wives about my work as commercial sex worker is nothing but a great satisfaction. I went a handicraft shop and greeted by the owner, Shelle, an intimidating lady with a sour smile. I had told her that I worked as a nightclub hostess in our last meeting, that probably the reason why she smelled like vinegar. She initiated a conversation and later, she turned infuriated, lashing out her inner frustrations. I knew it was her latent anger and discrimination towards my profession. Whoa, there she went, pointing finger, criticizing my attires and surprisingly revealing that her husband frequenting to Thailand! Her face turned as dark as Justice Bao, as if I had already oralled his husband, father and grandfather.

I spared several minutes observing her looks, short and stumpy body, movements and dressing sense. And these explained all. She had gained ample weight after giving birth to two daughters. Her belly was as huge as a pail. Her breasts sagged like deflated balloons. Her butts squared. Her attempts to follow the trendiest fashion failed terribly. So she looked like a huge tube of lard. No wonder her husband preferred Thai girls.

So, above is the illustration of a typical WIFE. Look at the key lines of my article – ‘Men somehow need to find other women to fulfill what they think their wives are not capable of providing’. So what wives are not capable of providing? I shall make every description very graphic, even wives vow to sue me after this. Anyway, these are words from an experienced sex worker.

Although attractiveness of other women may not be the reason for their husbands’ infidelity, but wives are STILL FAR UGLIER, FAR PUT-OFF. Read the details below and learn why husbands choose to have extra marital affairs or seek for sex workers’ services or simply stray, only to AVOID having sex with their wives.

. Wives would have all the hallmarks of childbirths – The stretch marks on abdomen. Usually with excessive skin and flesh, making it looks like deflated tyre hanging on the body. The sagging and shrinking breasts. They are so limp that they look like a pair of squeezed bananas. The darkened nipples and arm pits. The flattened butts, just like two blocks of tofus. They will put on weight. And the most significant is the loosening of their vaginas. Men far feel less stimulated with vaginas that have lost their grips. Screwing them are just like screwing plastic bags.

. Wives are not erotic. Ask them what is 69? They may know. Ask them if they will do it with their husbands. They will say NO. Ask them if they will do oral. Most will say NO. Ask them if they will swallow up semen. They will puke. Ask them if they will go naked in the kitchen. They will cover their bodies with woks and pans. Ask them if they will masturbate themselves in full view, to stimulate their husbands. They will be enraged like a hot skewer. Ask them if they will do the raping game. They will go insane. Ask them if they will do bondage. They will scream with horror. Ask them if they will have three-some. They will file a divorce.

. Wives have no sex appeal. After having children, do they have time for themselves? No. Do they know the latest lip gloss colors? No. Do they know the in-hairstyle? No. Do they have fashion sense? No. Do they know what is glamorous poise and alluring grace? No. Do they know how to converse eloquently and poke bar room jokes? No. Do they know what is sensuality and lustfulness? Completely no idea.

So my graphic descriptions above accomplish the second key line in my article – ‘A woman alone cannot fulfill her husband’s every need and desire, that is to be a good mother, a good cook, a good conversationalist and a good performer on bed’. Worth to ponder?

Good News Bible

2010-06-18T16:11:00.000+08:00

Here’s a new Good News. So toss your old Good News Bible out of the window.

This crucial picture is a piece of memorabilia that allows me to make real nasty things. It’s taken 14th August 1988 in Merlin Hotel, Malacca.

I was standing in the middle, receiving the oh, the Almighty Water Baptism, a ceremony leaded by the Pastor Richard Ng K. K., the pastor of an Assembly of God (AOG) church, called Saving Grace (don’t confuse it with my name).

Pastor Richard was the so-called handsome, but pig-squashed faced guy that was standing on the left, who conducted the entire ceremony of Water Baptism for the church that year.

And what happened to him in the later years? Around year 2000, I met a fellow church member in the night market. And you know whut he told me? Whoa! The ultra-Godliness Pastor Richard Ng had torn his underwear into two – he dumped his wife and daughter FOR another woman! What a screaming headline! I told him I’d loveeeee to hear more.

He continues. Several years back, Pastor Richard had stripped his pastoral robe and put on a smart business suit and tie, and had started a business on his own. Accordingly, he was doing well. But strangely, he hadn’t divorced his wife yet. He lived blissfully (and lustfully) with his mistress. And his hapless wife? She was still attending the same church (which had moved to a new location, under a new name). So his wife was singing Hal-le-lu-jah…! in the church, while Pastor Richard was moaning Uh-ah-uh-ah…! on the bed with his mistress.

That’s all from the former church member. Another hair-raising news. An aunt told me, another church member had actually saw Pastor Richard and his mistress in the Bridal Gallery, probably choosing wedding tuxedo and gown. When she called him, he and his mistress speed-fled away like wild hogs! Whoa, more exciting than Korean dramas.

So, I sweetly recalled the past, when I was attending Pastor Richard’s Sunday services, listening to his Holy Sermons. The Gospel screaming, the Bible thumping, the powerful anointing, the fire and brimstones threatening, all from his pulpit-smashing. His cheeks turned redder than tomatoes and his saliva showered heavier than monsoon rain. More fondly, his sermons on adultery – all adulterers and adulteresses were Devils that would be thrown into Hell.

So now Pastor Richard himself had become the greatest Biblical King that bonking the foxy Biblical babe. His Hell had suddenly become Heaven. And Heaven was soooo ecstatic and erogenous and that he quickly removed his Saint’s mask and wore his original Lucifer’s face. No wonder.

Now branching out from Pastor Richard’s story. Predestinated by God, the matronly Christian woman that I wrote about in my posting The Whore of Babylon Strikes Back, was in the congregation. In the late 80s, both she and I religiously attending Pastor Richard’s Sunday services in church. Her opinion on Pastor Richard’s tragedy was that his wife ‘looked like that’ (means unattractive), and that was the reason he discarded her.

I made the psychological observation while she was talking to me, with her usual Holier-than-thou style. And the detected results are:
1. Her expressions were telling me that her own marriage was threatened, being terrified of Pastor Richard’s Saint to Satan tragedy.
2. Her sub-consciousness was telling me that she believed her looks were actually a mirror reflection of Pastor Richard’s wife.
3. Her age which was 5 years older than her husband had created intense fear in her, in which was telling me her worst nightmare was her husband would become the predecessor of Pastor Richard.
4. Her calculating tendency of her own of signs of aging, her middle-age Auntie Wong’s looks, her old-fashioned sense of style were telling me how serious her inner insecurity was. Serious enough to feel her trembles that turned into furious temper. Well, didn’t God ever tell her that EVERYONE will grow old and ugly one day?

So, wanna see more hypocrites? Go to any Assembly of God churches.

Pleasure and Pain

2010-02-10T16:27:00.000+08:00

Although I do not have a fetish to expose and gyrate that Amazon triangle of mine, but I do relish the erm… unique physical pain that near to pleasure.

So, what’s in the galaxy that had happened? I had pierced my navel about 2 months ago and found it too shallow. The skin had thinned and unable to hold the navel stud well.

Damn it. Alright, get the tools and start it all over again. These pictures were taken about an hour ago and were arranged step-by-step. The entire procedure of navel piercing took about 20 minutes. Please feel free to follow.

And now, calling all Holier-than-thous, Christian dowagers, matronly aunts, intimidating old hags, fuss-pots and nagging-woks. This is one of my many eccentricities that would make you cringe till your toes unable to touch the floor. And I will sure pollute your scrupulously holy-clean children, brothers and sisters in Christ and your entire environment. And SURE I shall snatch your husbands.

If you have the guts, DISPLAY this entire blog of mine to your church congregation.

The Whore of Babylon Strikes Back

2009-11-18T16:39:00.001+08:00

(Readers, kindly refer to the infamous prologue of Star Wars). Not long ago, not far away from Kuala Lumpur, a Holier-than-thou was very irked with my blog, in which in return, had irked me. And thus, I deliver this message, along with flaunting more of my inner Amazon. And uh… hope her husband would love them.

The upright matronly mother of two tried her best to spread The Good News again, but I told her I rather spread my legs. Who didn’t know I was already a notorious backsliding for more than 20 years?

She insisted The Jehovah-sent Chastity Belt, saying that it was the priceless jewel in universe, but I politely refused, concluded that I always preferred The Whore of Babylon’s Bikini.

As she went on with her Gospel screaming, Bible thumping, pulpit smashing, she subconsciously displayed her extreme nervous and ultra anxious of her age, which was a year older than I am. And I had learnt that her husband was 5 years YOUNGER than she was.

Alright. Here are the useful tips to detect a matronly Holier-than-thou. Hypocrisy may do harm. The hallmarks are: Wearing long, covered, all buttoned up, outdated attires. Having a rotund, chunky body shape. Usually an educator or a disciplinarian. Having a poorly maintained Nancy Kwan bob. Usually talks and walks her way authoritatively. Express extreme disgust and loath when seeing anyone doing anything provocative, e.g. wearing revealing attires or displaying homosexuality. Have low opinions on everything that do not go along with her dogma. Speaking pidgin English while bragging her linguistic skills.

Well, from my generalization, her husband MAY involve in an extramarital affair. So good luck when the chips are down.

Oh Doctor, Heal The World

2009-07-10T20:29:00.001+08:00

Don’t always think that I’ve the odd fetish of stripping off or exposing my inner Amazon. Drop that idea.

The doctor diagnosed it ovarian cyst and that my entire left ovary was affected. That damn rotten egg measured 3cm x 5cm, and had to be surgically removed immediately.

And thus, it was done on 5th June 2009, by Caesarean section, with the total cost RM 5151.25. Strange as it might sound. I wasn’t informed beforehand about this orthodox slice-flip method that would leave a long, permanent horizontal scar. I was only being told when I was lying on the sterilized chopping board, after being pumped with anesthetic.

(Heya, doctors out there. Isn't Caesarean is only meant for removing babies and dead fetuses?)

Spine-chilling? Not as intense as reading Ven. Xuan Zang trip to Hell. So, will I kill the doctor? No. Will I burn his moustache? No. Will I blast MJ’s ‘Heal The World' into his ears? No. Would I hint that his wife urgently needs a face-lift? Maybe.

And lo and behold. These are my post surgery pictures, taken this afternoon.

For those who would want to see more of my artistic nude photography, sure I'd continue to post, alternating with these real life, pragmatic ones. Choose and save those you prefer.

I Rather Strip Off!

2008-10-28T20:49:00.000+08:00

Indeed, showing my scars is harder than stripping off my clothes. Spilling my guts to WWW takes real guts.

Now SWITCH! These pictures will turn into positive lights.

Those who relish self-infliction, self-cutting, self-mutilation, and think they are exquisite pleasures… You’re one PARIAH attention seeker.

Bear in mind. The scars stay till you are carted to the morgue.

My Adventure in Hell

2008-10-27T18:26:00.000+08:00

It took a lot of courage for me to dig into my dark secret closet. I found my old diary, dated back in 1998, in which I described my suicide attempt. I followed one of the methods mentioned in the book Final Exit, by Derek Humphry.

In my suicide cache, there were 200 tablets of Stilnox (see the latest packaging); 3 bottles of Prosezine and 3 bottles of Sedilix (both were cough syrup, with codeine). In 23 June 1998, I swallowed all of them.

By (unknown) miracle, I was alive. What was in my head? Rotten pig’s brain. Who else is such an intellectual pinhead? Write to me.

This is a reminder. Those who are contemplating suicide, or trying to emulate superstars’ suicide, or considering suicide as trendy.... You're indeed a PIG.

You wouldn’t be as fortunate as I was. Don't even dream.

My Anorexic Pictures

2008-07-11T16:47:00.000+08:00

For those who would die for slim model-like body shapes, those who pay an equivalent of GDP of a small nation in the slimming salons, please use your brain again.

These grotesque anorexic pictures of mine (taken in 2006) should be an all-time reminder.

Dedication of Merit

2008-04-06T12:26:00.000+08:00

Dedication of Merit

May the merit and virtue from this work, dedicate to Adik.
Repay the four great kindnesses above and relieve the suffering
of those on the three paths below.
May those who see or hear of these efforts generate Bodhi-mind.
Spend their lives devoted to the Buddha Dharma and
finally reborn in the Land of Ultimate Bliss.

回向偈
愿以此功德。回向 Adik。上报四重恩。下济三途苦。若有见闻者。悉发菩提心。尽此一报身。同生极乐国。

My unsung hero

2008-03-29T11:41:00.000+08:00

See my unsung hero on TV!

Dedication of Merit

2008-03-26T15:41:00.001+08:00

Dedication of Merit

回向偈

愿以此功德。回向 Boy Boy.

上报四重恩。下济三途苦。

若有见闻者。悉发菩提心。

尽此一报身。同生极乐国。

My babies

2008-03-20T14:37:00.000+08:00

Paris, Hilton and Chut chut. My angels when I see devils, my babies when I see count my own years (age 38), my darlings when I have to face put-off men, my squeeze-squezze when I've nothing hold.

Student IDs

2008-03-18T11:55:00.001+08:00

This passport ID was taken in 1990, when I was 20. I know what you going to say. Pontianak kembali da... (Vampire returns).

And who says that I'm an empty barrel? At least I attended collage, but without winning any certificates. However, I was accepted as a student in the board of ACCA in 1991, during my nightclub swing.

How do I look now?

2008-03-17T15:38:00.001+08:00

This is how I looked one hour ago. My cuddly guinea pig - Chut chut.

Life a Beauty Contest?

2007-12-30T19:37:00.000+08:00

Life a beauty contest?

“Man-made beauty contest in China!”, screamed the daily headline. Wow, now they have the Chinese version of the Swan! Since when ugliness becomes a disease?

Actually, Extreme Makeovers already existed long ago, esp. among the girls of the night scene. If one entered the Girls’ Waiting Room in any nightclubs, one could see all sorts of potato-craved jobs by licensed and unlicensed, legal and illegal Cosmetic Surgeons. Correct. That was the Silicon Valley of Kuala Lumpur. In that smoky and noisy room, one could easily notice Miss Aquiline Eagle-Peak Nose at one end; Miss Artlined Double-eyelids in the center; Miss Desperate Dan’s Chin at the other end; and Miss Potato Head, fresh from a facelift at the front line. Also, Miss Entire Face and Body Re-craved and Re-moulded sitting quietly, apparently hiding at the back. Not to mention the Miss Flatter Washboard than Britney, who went for a lipo, then gained her weight back and no longer strutting her stuffs.

Sometimes it was mind-boggling why these girls chose to go under the knives that made them even UGLIER. And not to mention that they got addicted, and went for even more surgeries! It seemed to me that they were actually gone for multiple corrections for their previous botch jobs rather than to further beautify themselves. I'm wondering. Is a woman’s looks that important to men? Is slimness synonymous to success? Or the simply standard of beauty is getting higher? Or the ugliness disease has become an epidemic?

Certainly, my heart goes to those unfortunate ones, of which undergoing cosmetic surgery is the only way for them to survive in this cruel, judgmental world. To them, it’s a choice rather than a privilege. It often seems true that life will only reward one if one have the right looks. Many men would only consider a woman attractive if she looks like a fashion model or a celebrity who gains fame from being attractive. And to women, they will succumb to the media’s standard of beauty– view a career in one of the ‘display professions’ – models, actresses, dancers, strippers or highly paid escorts, as the epitome of success.

They say, ‘Don’t judge the book by its cover’. But be realistic. Their heads actually say, ‘The book cover is more interesting than its content’.

Needless to say, all these contribute to the idealistic standard of beauty, of which is impossible to achieve by any mortals. (Who won't get old, ugly, sick and die anyway?). And the belief that a woman only fits in if she is young, attractive and slim. And lo and behold, life suddenly becomes a beauty contest.

Picture: San Francisco advocates About-Face reply to fashion’s skinny mandate.

GRACE CHAN

Little Dragon Girls

2007-12-30T19:29:00.000+08:00

Little dragon girls

I'm always amazed. And often, empathetic. Amazed with the fearlessness, the Mammoth courage, determinations, stoic standing and diligence of the Chinese women from Mainland China who work illegally in various countries they thought they could ‘find gold’. They have been to Malaysia, Singapore, Hong Kong and Macau (as I was informed) in nightclubs, massage parlors, karaoke lounges, etc. Their hardships and difficulties to earn money in a foreign land, only to improve their families’ financial situations back in their motherland China, never once leaves me without feeling disturbed. They encounter many folds of difficulties, compare to us, the local girls who live easier being local earthworms.

Most of them come to Malaysia via student visas. Using these visas (a violation), they work illegally in the nightclubs and other places where they could sell themselves. The valid period of their visas isn't long, usually 3 months, as most only applied to study the English language here, and not for Degrees or Masters. The locals call them ‘xiao lung nu’ or ‘little dragon girls’.

Some were willing to share with me their enormous difficulties, here and back in their homeland. They didn’t have ample time, but urgently needed to earn as much as possible before their visas expired. First of all, they had to earn enough money to pay off the amount they owe to their agents and the flight tickets, within the valid period of their visas. These girls could only pocket the money they earned AFTER earning enough to pay off their debts to their agents and the flight tickets. Those amounts were not small.

In certain nightclubs or massage parlors, prices for these Chinese girls were lower than ours, the local girls’. There were reasons for that. The Chinese girls AGREED to receive the lower pays. It also meant they were willing to work HARDER, for LESS money. Sometimes the pays were so small, to the point of exploitation, but they STILL allowed themselves to be exploited, so that they’d earned something, rather than nothing. Choosing exploitation over poverty is a real poignant decision.

And the condom issue. We local girls never asked, the Chinese girls never told. We only heard the revelations from the clients. They told us the Chinese girls would agree to offer s*x services with OR without using condoms. Not one, not two clients told us that, but many more. Now, choosing the risk of AIDS over poverty is an even more terrifying, scary decision!

To them, taking such deals was akin to gamble with card games. (To us, it’s a Russian roulette, a bet of life or death). If they win, they’d collect their pays with clean bills of health. If not, then it would be an unimaginable horrifying tragic. And to keep on living and working within the short period of time, they’d occupy their heads with the rewards or their earnings of the day. AIDS or Herpes, should never occur in their minds, AND should be overlooked entirely. Or anything negative like that would affect their thoughts, and consequently turned down the chances to earn more, which were already difficult to get by.

To them, both easy and Herculean jobs seemed to be Mission Possible. They’d attempt the grim, difficult, painful, and even dangerous tasks, only to earn the rewards, considerable or less. Once, I witnessed a Chinese girl who willing to gulp down the entire remainder, almost ¾ of the bottle of Hennessy VSOP, neat, in front of the clients and us, the rest of the hostesses, for only RM300 (U$ 78.94). After finish gulping all down, the hapless girl collapsed and had to be carried out of the karaoke room.

Their great agony of destitution back home, which lead them to brave themselves to go through the risky and life-threatening paths, is unknown to most Malaysians of all societal classes. And the worst, most arrogant and least considerate among all are the trendy YUPPIES, who are very quick to condemn, criticize, hurling offensive name-callings and despise these Chinese girls to no end. (They were born with silver spoon in their mouth, of which they did nothing to earn).

These girls’ situations of deficiency and deprivation of even basic necessities back home never spring to mind, and enjoying life is only these Yuppies’ concerns. Hedonistic as it sounds, these privileged people would never learn. They watch TV with great interests whenever there are news with scenes of scantily clad foreign girls being hauled into the police trucks. Later, a ‘serve them right’

Well, one’s wealth level, like the rising of a Hollywood starlet, would soar, but later might fall into the lowest pit, like the unexpected declining of fame of the starlet. Now, ‘serves them right’, if that happens to the Yuppies. With popcorns and Coke, I’ll watch these fallen kiasus, who once enjoyed each moment of showing off their Jimmy Choos, Christian Diors, Pradas and Jaguars, now must struggle to adapt to their newly unfamiliar, bitter and agonizing, miserable austere lives.

The privileged ones. The well-educated ones. The rich. The arrogant ones. The discriminating ones. The biased. The Holier-than-thous. The ones born with silver spoon in their mouths. You should know what’s tailor-made for you.

Picture: Sichuan girls in Jim Dong, Hong Kong, trying to get the possible clients.

GRACE CHAN

Arrested development

2007-12-14T10:09:00.002+08:00

Here comes the self-proclaimed Han betrayer, treacherous banana, western-aping traitor who would literally make other Chinese go ape! I’ve been criticized, slammed and seriously warned that I had been too loudly outspoken, wickedly blunt and brazenly explicit. And that I was so stubborn and strong-willed that others often hurl not only rotten eggs at me, but sometimes bull’s testicles…..

I’ve written some unorthodox, perhaps disturbing ‘reverse racist’ blogs in an international website, of which I received both mild approval and disapproval responses. But those are the opinions of people of other countries, who know nothing about our country. There’re apparently strong, distinctive reasons that back my non-conforming attitudes, of which compelled me to launch criticisms at my own race, culture, custom and tradition. I had a very unhappy childhood. I wonder if I had a childhood at all.

But here’s a reminder. This writing of mine is NOT referring to those westernized Chinese (born and/or breed in Western countries), but the primitive, antiquate-minded Chinese with ultra-constricted, rigidly-narrow mindset. Yes, I'm talking about the billions of TYPICAL Chinese that spread all over the vast Asia continent. Lack of assertiveness. Inarticulate. Inability to express. Avoiding eye contacts. Rotten, trashy etiquette, if you still call them etiquette. All these poor social and communicating skills could be easily noticed if one starts a conversation with a Chinese. Also, there are Chinese that would remain totally silent and even trying to shrink and hide themselves at a corner, say in a big gathering. When confronted, these timid Chinese would sheepishly admit that they have no idea what to say and are afraid if they would make mistakes. Hence, better if they make themselves scarce.

My sister-in-law provides a good example. She is a timid, less sociable and conservative Chinese woman. I often saw her reading magazines in the midst of our family conversations. And the other day she did NOT speak a word to me throughout our (my brother, she and me) shopping trip. Didn’t her parents teach her the basic etiquette? Couldn’t she tell what was polite and what wasn’t?

Next, my former high school classmates. There were about 7 of us in our gathering last time. I didn’t join the conversation much, as I had lost interest early. Conversation topics were poorly brought up by this group of graduates, and were also poorly replied. There were some interruptions in the midst of conversations, making an entire topic digressed to another and never returned to the original. And next, the awkward silence took place when a conversation ended or when no one wanted to say nothing. They were university graduates, mind.

This extreme lack of social etiquette could be easily misunderstood for being RUDE, whether or not they meant to be.

So, why Chinese behave this way? Chinese children often model behavior after their parents, who are also LOUSY at communications. Also, Chinese children’s communication progress is often arrested at a comparatively early stage of growing up. It’s arrested due to the very deep-rooted Confucius influence that demands total obedience to their parents. Chinese children are NEVER encouraged to speak their minds. The knowledge of these children is mainly the parrot-like repetitions of the old models of behaviors, instead of methods of the new. Hence, their parents become the most intimidating figures throughout their growing years. Another disturbing problem on the method of bringing up the Chinese children. Chinese children are taught NEVER to make mistakes, as oppose to Western children that are taught to LEARN from mistakes.

And as a result, Chinese people often have little self-confidence in conversations.

The inability to express what they want to would lead to the development of low of self-esteem, of which would create a myriad of problems in later life. Is there a Reform gulag for these narrow and rigid Chinese parents to be thrown into, I wonder. What a cruel upbringing of theirs. (Note that many Chinese leaders actually read from the readily composed manuscripts during their speeches, rather than making speeches from what that comes to mind).

Picture: Chinese boys started reading and writing in the turn of the century.

GRACE CHAN

Men’s Infidelity for Dummies

2007-12-11T13:35:00.000+08:00

Extremely familiar and common as it may sound, it STILL rears its pretty head very often nonetheless, creating the irresistible ideas and curiosities for the professional snoopers to start a snoop, and boggles the minds of the young intellectual professionals, who are totally unfamiliar to this issue. But on the other hand, it could annoyingly bore those chronically advanced, professional womanizers. My thesaurus reads: infidelity, adultery, betrayal, cheating, straying, unfaithfulness and ...aww! Painful words.

So, if anyone finds it needs a Herculean effort to assimilate, then please do not try too hard. I may rattle on like a runaway bullock cart. So, if anyone would like to start writing for the Dummies book series, suggested title: ‘Men’s Infidelity for Dummies’, do feel free to copy and paste from here.

You see, I was often amazed. Sometimes a little confused. Other times, pitiful. Needless to say, my previous work in the nightclubs was to entertain men, so often the married ones. So, what happened to these red-blooded, flamboyant men’s WIVES at home? Of course, such menial, ‘irritating flies’ would be swatted away, dead if possible. The clients’ wives were non-existed in this kind of world. See the utmost cruelty now?

Now I try to perceive things on other sides, opposite ones, esp., to be in someone else shoes. I'm amazed and admired these wives’ abilities to tolerate their husbands’ severe irresponsibility, unfaithfulness, betrayals and their openly philandering ways.

To make the descriptions easier to assimilate, I’d put these wives into 3 categories. Firstly, the retaliating wife. If a woman knows her husband patronizes some illegal clubs, massage parlors, etc. that hiring illegal girls from neighborhood countries, she’d get together with her alliances to report the matters to the authorities. Then these places would be ransacked and closed, and the girls would be sent to the lock-ups and later deported. But of course, arming with brooms, mops and vacuum cleaners, the wife and her alliances could never be able to intrude into the legalized classy, posh nightclubs, which are tightly secured. But when her husband finally comes home, there would be flying saucers, pots, pans, and cutlery all over the house. Many exchanging finger pointing, threats and vulgarity, and later a round of wrestling between the couples and their home crumbled like biscuits.

Secondly, the teeth-gritting, semi-retaliating wives. When she knows about her husband are straying, she would stay calm and later confronts him. She’d cry, bit her lips, but trying hard not to start fierce, loud arguments and to avoid their home from crushing down. Whenever her husband returns home late, she’d check if there were lipstick or makeup stains on the collars. If there were stains, she’d cry pitifully, blaming the other women and blaming her own ill fate. Later she’d wake her husband up and drill him about the stains. It also works like an alarm clock. There would be quarrels, but the wife often gives in. She’d cry, seek for helps or drown her sorrow, and sometimes launches mild to moderate attacks.

Thirdly, the willing wives. She KNOWS everything about her husband’s womanizing habit and his extra-marital affairs. Nonetheless, she’d be a good Confucius wife. She would NOT retaliate, complain or even mention anything about it. She has to endure silently the pains and shames of her husbands philandering ways. She’d cry discreetly at a corner when her husband is talking over the phone with his girls. When it’s over, she’d smile, appear cheerful and talk about other things, like nothing has taken place. Do you know that Jackie Chan’s wife, Lin Fung Jiao falls in this category, the willing wife?

But I'm broad-minded enough to acknowledge and accept them, as I should be responsible for errs of my writings, if there’s any.

Picture : The posh Playground for Men - Bintang Palace in Jalan Imbi, KL, grand opening in the late 2002.

GRACE CHAN

Pauline Chan, Part 2

2007-08-25T10:29:00.000+08:00

Part 2

On 31st July 2002, Pauline Chan took an overdose of speeds and sleeping pills to dull her pains. Next, she cut her wrist. It did not work, she was still alive. She then made her final decision. The decision that would terminate all her pains that had gnawed her for 5 years – suicide.

Pauline was staying on the 24th floor of the apartment, and she leapt from there to her death. It was reported that death was dreadful and gruesome. She wore a white pajama. She leapt and her legs first touched the ground. They were broken and folded. And her yet to heal wound on her abdomen where she delivered her baby by Cesarean less than a month ago, burst opened and her intestines spilled out.

Her last words that she told her mother to convey massages to her former adopted father, ‘To Mr. Wong, tell him that I'm leaving and please take good care of himself’. And to her good friends from the entertainment circle, ‘To my friends, goodbye. There’re certain things that friends can help, but there’re certain things that friends cannot help’. (Her last words made me teary. She was right. Not everything friends could help).

IMO, the biggest mistake Pauline made was that she did not seek for medical help and take the appropriate medications. Instead of that, she self-medicated herself with speeds and sleeping pills.

I'm aware that the majority of the people in the Asian society are less informed and less learnt. They consider depression as an excuse of being lazy, lacking of will power, not looking for proper jobs, and/or wanting to live off families or partners. It hurts and angers me, being thrown with such insults and humiliations when I’m in this agonizing, tormenting pain. And how agonizing, tormenting it is? Enough to kill Leslie Cheung and Pauline Chan.

Many people say I should ‘snap out of it’. Snap out of it? When I had been diagnosed with Clinical Depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), Body Dysmorphobic Disorder (BDD), Eating Disorder (ED), and Panic Disorder? These 5 mental conditions are compatible and they could attack me together at a time. They control me. They own me. Nothing could rid of them. I’ve tried both the medical and alternative ways. Both could only suppress those conditions but never be able to uproot them from me.

This illness takes away, strips off everything from me, destroys and damages all that I have. It has been a constant struggle. It has become a reality that I have to continue to live with it for a lifetime.

But am I bitter? No. I am not. Life is still, somehow beautiful.

Picture: The very ill Pauline.

Pauline Chan, Part 1

2007-08-25T10:22:00.001+08:00

Part 1

This is a sequel from my previous blog entitles ‘Leslie Cheung’. Here I shall write about another selected individual’s (sufferer of Depression) story, which also make the Hong Kong entertainment circle and the Chinese movie goers shocked beyond their believes.

This is the life story of Pauline Chan, a very beautiful actress envied by others, but a less known, less famous figure in Hong Kong entertainment industry. She was a second rated and soft porn actress, and an unknown model.

In Shanghai, on 31st July 2002, Pauline Chan leapt from her 24th floor apartment to her death. She was 29 years old. It was an awfully miserable life for Pauline several years prior to her death. Painful to live, painful to die.

Pauline was born in 1973 in Shanghai to an under privileged, broken family. At age 12, she followed her mother to move to Hong Kong. Age 15, she started modeling. At age 17, she participated in a Hong Kong beauty pageant, Miss Asia pageant, but failed miserably. But somehow, she received requests from the Hong Kong soft porn movie directors to act in their movies. And her mother, hoping to share her daughter’s fame, had forced her to agree. How cruel. So, WHO SAYS ALL MOTHERS LOVE THEIR CHILDREN? Humbugs!

But later, she rose to fame in soft porn movies and starred in 8 of them in a year’s time. That was 1991. In 1992 she left the soft porn scene, which she disliked and hoping to gain fame in more ‘decent’ side of Hong Kong entertainment world. She chose singing, but failed again, along with more and more failures. But at the same time, she met a Taiwanese tycoon, Mr. Wong Yam Chung. Mr. Wong adopted Pauline as a daughter, along with a harem of his adoptions of other beautiful famous stars.

Her agony started on year 1997. She was supposed to appear in a Taiwan TV program. But at the back stage, she suddenly lost control of her temperament, screaming and scolding without reasons. It indicated her mental ability to reason and control had started to dwindle, and the beginning of her getting hooked with overdoses of street drugs and sleeping pills.

In year 1999, she was rejected by her adopted father, Mr. Wong, and being chased out of his luxurious resident. It was reported that Mr. Wong had given her a fair amount of money to live on before parting from her. She cried in front of the gate of his house, swallowed a lot of sleeping pills to attempt suicide and in her stupor, she striped off her clothes. She was later sent to the hospital. And that followed by a series of her stripping her clothes after that.

Being rejected from entering Mr. Wong’s resident, she had no where to go and left stranded in the Taipei airport. The symptoms of her mental illness had emerged again and she removed her under garments in the crowded airport. She spent days sleeping there. Later, as her illness advanced, there was a series of violence, in which she offended others and involved in fights.

Meanwhile, she had a short relationship with a DJ in Taiwan, and found herself pregnant. This time, she went to Shanghai, China, staying in an apartment while waiting for the deliverance of her baby.

On July 2002 she gave birth to her baby, a boy. There were witnesses that saw her in pajama that hardly buttoned well and exposing her breast, walking slowly to the hospital prior to her delivery to her baby. Her mother contacted her, telling her to stop taking sleeping pills and speeds. But Pauline expressed, ‘Actually being conscious is more painful!’ (This statement made me startled and upset. I knew her pain. I could feel it. This is the moment of the excruciating pain that only the sufferers of depression could understand).

Picture: The beautiful Pauline Chan before falling ill, and the dreadful after.

PA

Leslie Cheung

2007-08-25T10:17:00.000+08:00

I felt compelled to write about this great man, once an infamous, extraordinarily good-looking heartthrob, chased after by an ocean of screaming fans, touching him was like a Midas’ Touch, for he was their gold, and worshipping him like a god. He was such a living legend that he was honored, being called, ‘Ko Ko’ or Elder Brother. He was Leslie Cheung, arguably one of Asia’s top entertainers, although he was already in his 40s, semi retired from the show biz. He was also openly declared he was a gay, despite knowing that it would affect his fame. But his fans accepted him the same.

My own Depression had made me to do this, writing about Cheung’s suffering that similar to mine – the Depression that killed him mercilessly. Same illness, but different ways to cope and solve.

1st April 2003, 6.41 p.m. Cheung leapt to his death from a café in the 24th Floor, of the Mandarin Hotel in Hong Kong. In the beginning, the entire world thought it was an April Fool’s joke. A joke that shockingly became a horrifying reality.

He wrote a suicide note that read, “Depression! Thank you to the fans. Thank you to Prof. Mike (his psychiatrist). It has been a year of suffering. Thank you Mr. Tong (his boyfriend). Thank you Fei Che. In my life I have done nothing wrong. Why it has to be like this?”

The police found that suicide note in his coat pocket. He was rushed to the Queen Mary Hospital where he was certified dead at 7.06 p.m. Everyone in Hong Kong show biz were extremely shocked and devastated. Then followed by his fans all over the world.

I’ve been suffering from full-blown Depression for decades. And Cheung suffered from it for only a year and chose committing suicide as the solution? Was Cheung’s Depression many times worse than mine? It remains a mystery.

Throughout the entire year before Cheung’s suicide, he had manifested many signs of melancholia. He had written a song with depressive lyrics. His producer Chui Fung of many years, told the media that Cheung had complaint about his severe depression and being easy to become aggressive throughout the year.

And bizarrely, Cheung had also informed her that he had been cast Black magic curses on, something that had no scientific explanations, was unrealistic and doubted by many. So Chui Fung hastily asked Cheung to see a psychiatrist and to take medications.

Black magic is REAL. Not many would believe its existence or harm that it would cause. Cheung’s case was a typical example. He was emotionally unstable and complaint about being disturbed by certain ‘things’, having insomnia, had broken down and crying to his friends for help. Cheung kept saying that he didn’t do anything wrong, but those ‘things’ refused to stop disturbing him. He was also paranoid, thought that he had been followed.

He has sought medical help from a psychiatrist. And at the same time, consulting numerous Tao priests or shamans. When things didn’t change, he even went to see a Christian pastor. But none worked.

On July of 2002, his illness had worsened. He had lost weight and taken lots of medicines that
made him appeared with shaky hands. He continued with his cries for help. No one knew his level of severity of Depression, and how painful it had made him till he chose suicide to end it.

In these days and age, Cheung’s case is a testimony that how much more the ignorant people should take efforts to learn and understand. Many still think it’s a weakness of character and lack of will power that make suicide to occur. To point at failures in love relationships, financial problems, family problems for a case like Cheung’s are LAME EXCUSES and are ideas of those less acknowledged fools. In this way, Depression is often underestimated and overlooked.

But unfortunately, these fools aren't few. It made up MOST of the populations of each country in the world. These vacuum headed ones also consider Depression is just a period of high and low, caused by the happenings in the surroundings, harmless and is experienced by all.

But Depression in clinical and practical sense is a terrifying monster that swallowed the unfortunately SELECTED individuals, throwing spells of gloom and darkness, and is powerful enough to pull the individuals down to the lowest of the lowest, darkest of the darkest. It’s a spell of doom that the selected individuals could never avoid. And it’s excruciatingly painful, so great it’s near impossible to ease it. And Cheung, a selected individual, had chosen death as relief. Very unfortunate, I too, am a SELECTED ONE, just like Cheung.

Picture: Leslie Cheung

Cabaret meter, Part 4

2007-08-24T17:02:00.000+08:00

Part 4

Now, what about the second or third rated nightclubs? Some hostesses would be willing to provide sexual services as low as RM 100 (U$ 26.45) and even lower for the illegal hostesses, such as Chinese girls from Mainland China. I had worked in these cheaper nightclubs, collecting tips from table to table.

In some of these nightclubs, (a friend had witnessed and letting me to write them) you might see naked girls doing blow jobs on one client to the other. So was having sexual intercourse in full views. Never be too surprise.

Of course they were reluctant jobs for many, but there was a trick. It was what we called a cocktail. A cocktail is a mixture of alcohol and speeds that would blur a girl, made her less conscious of her surrounding and more willing to do or would able to perform them better. Hence, feeling much less humiliated and embarrassed. That could also dull her memory. The girl could not remember much of the humiliation she went through the night before.

It was terribly sad for a girl had to make a living like that. But we understand her plights. She was in the same shaky boat we were in, only on the rougher sea waves.

But the rests of the world, or the non-prostitutes, would never be. Come across parents’ who grin widely welcoming their prostituted daughters who came home with a bag full of money? But the same parents who treat their returned penniless daughters like unwelcome guests that they think would only waste rice?

Come across girls prostituting to buy houses or new homes for her parents? Girls who prostituting to pay for siblings’ education, house/cars loans and even the expenses of their new babies? Let alone supporting the girls’ own little children? And some with their boyfriends/husbands who sponge them off? They were where the girls’ money flows to.

Picture: Me in the reception of Deluxe Nightclub, X’mas Eve, 1995

Cabaret meter, Part 3

2007-08-24T16:59:00.000+08:00

Part 3

So, did the girls earned ten of thousands and became very wealthy? No. Not true. There’s a HIERARCHY OF STATUS, from high position to medium to low. Very few make it to the high position or the ‘top girls’ who earned tens of thousands. The rests who belonged to medium to low positions. What were the problems we faced and later led us to leave the nightclub and working somewhere else? And how great humiliations, insults, disappointments came were?

First. The whole business was all based on the mamasans, who had the authority to choose or pick whichever girls they wanted to, to meet and entertain the clients. So favoritism and discriminations were normal. But since we were not employed by the company, but was of a free entry and leaving, so we could not be fired, unless if a girl caused a great problem.

There were girls who were least picked by the mamasans. They were often the less attractive girls, the older ones, and the girls disliked by mamasans and clients (due to favoritism, or ‘mou wan hei’ or unfortunate, we called). They had to endure the humiliations of waiting the entire night, for nights, for not being selected by the mamasans. The mamasans often belittled and ignored them or they were just being invisible. And the mamasans hoped these girls to leave the nightclub on their own and work somewhere else. The name-callings, the mamasans’ authority abuses, vulgarity and rudeness were the norm of every night. If couldn’t endure that, then pack your bag and LEAVE.

Second. Being rejected by the Almighty Goddamn Clients. It was very humiliating to stand in front of half a dozen of dirty, horny and leering men, in our full regalia - skimpy, very sexy outfits, fully made-up and our hair carefully done, and then being ignored, later officially rejected and threw out of the karaoke room! Did we worth anything when these pariahs chose to refuse us?

And so which girls wanted to remain to work there, when being degraded to the realm of animals?

Picture: Me at the entrance Of Deluxe Nightclub, X’mas Eve, 1995.

Cabaret meter, Part 2

2007-08-24T16:53:00.000+08:00

Part 2

And what were the charges in Deluxe Nightclub for the sidelines, or the real prostitution, or for having a girl for sexual services? Sky-rocketing. There were 2 types of services. The first service was the short-time, or a quickie, or precisely, a client could only have ONE sexual intercourse. After he had finished, the girl could leave. What if he wanted more? He then had to pay for the overnight or double the charge.

And how much did the girl earn from a short-time? Ten ‘hours’, or RM 280 (U$ 74) plus RM 500 (U$132.27) for the sideline, and a deduction of 10 % from the RM 500, or RM 50 (U$ 13.22) for the mamasans. So the total amount earned by the girl was RM 730 (U$ 193.12), excluding more tips from the client after the short-time!

And how much a client had to pay? (He also had to pay for the liquors and some plates of fruits). He should bring not less than RM 1,500 (U$ 396.82).

The second service was the overnight and the most lucrative one, which the girl would stay with the client till morning. The client could have as many sexual intercourse as he wanted to.

And how much a girl would earn for an overnight? Ten ‘hours’, or RM 280 (U$ 74) plus RM 1,000 (U$264.55) for the sideline, and a deduction of 10 % from the RM 1,000, or RM 100 (U$ 26.45) for the mamasans. So the total amount earned by the girl was RM 1,180 (U$ 312.16), excluding more tips from the client after the overnight! Hence, the girl’s earning of an overnight sleeping with a client was more than a month salary of an account or general clerk in Malaysia!

And how much a client had to pay? He should bring not less than RM 2,000 (U$ 529.10).

Well, were there any clients who refused to pay, or if there were fighting? In most cases, the transactions were made in the nightclubs, so they were safe. Unless if the clients were the regulars, the mamasans would allow them to pay the girls in the hotel rooms or homes.

The clients that patronized the luxurious nightclubs were mainly well-mannered wealthy and privileged locals and foreigners that had reputations to maintain. Hence, violence was hardly heard of.

Picture: Me in Deluxe Nightclub reception, X’mas Eve, 1995.

Cabaret meter, Part 1

2007-08-24T16:46:00.000+08:00

Part 1

On my favorite subject, the nightclubs. They could be explicit, so do select the suitable blogs to read. This subject is very long, hence I shall divide it into 4 parts, for easier reading and understanding.

One very interesting matter that hasn’t been touched on. How much we girls earned? And how much the clients were charged for talking and entertaining by the hostesses, of which including groping the girls, slipping hands into bras and panties, the forced kissing on the mouths and fingering? It was and that was why they were expensive, although seemingly a rip off business. (Try groping other girls, the non-prostitutes I mean, and what happen? Get ready to be imprisoned).

In Deluxe Nightclub, Jalan Ampang, Kuala Lumpur in year 1998, an ‘hour’ of having a girl sitting and entertaining, the client had to pay about RM 50 (U$ 13.51) and the girl got RM 28 (U$ 7.40) share from it. The charges varied from one nightclub to another. But the ‘hour’ system was only a guide. A client always needs to pay more than the real length of time a girl sitting and entertaining him. In another description, if a girl sitting with a client in an hour or less, the client had to pay twice, thrice or many more ‘hours’. The ‘full hours’ was usually 6 to 8 hours in most nightclubs. And by obtaining the ‘full hours’, a girl could go home earlier, before the fixed waiting time to leave, 2 a.m.

Hence, if a girl sat with a client for any amount of time, she could pester and coo as seductive, flirtatious and honeyed-nagging as she could, to make the client to pay as many ‘hours’ as possible. There were top girls breaking the records, having the clients paid 100 to 200 ‘hours’ for an hour or two sittings!

That also indicated only the wealthy clients could patronize these luxurious nightclubs. Even the middle class could never be able to afford to, unless if they used the expense accounts (their companies’ accounts).

But the men from middle and lower classes had choices. There were a plenty of other cheaper or second to third rated nightclubs or lounges to go to, so they were not left out. In the cheaper nightclubs, the clients only needed to give tips to the girls, just like in some movies, where men slipped cash into the girls’ cleavages.

Picture: Me in entrance of Deluxe Nightclub, X’mas Eve, 1995

So, I was landed on the psychiatric ward...

2007-07-28T17:47:00.000+08:00

What the heck had happened? Not wanting to tussle with my new medications, I decided not to recall the pre-hospitalization. If not, Dr. Rimmed Egghead, or the quarterly bald psychiatrist who saw me wouldn’t be happy. He would look like a dented ostrich egg, you know. Suffice to say I was at the lowest low of my Clinical Depression. On 22 June 07, I broke down and hence touched down on the Planet of the Nuts – again.

That was psychiatric ward of Selayang Hospital, Selangor, outskirts of Kuala Lumpur. No nut case, no peanuts served there, but another psychiatrist with the pot belly of Nutty Professor. Followed by the three other Medical Officers, they were the psychiatric ward squad of Selayang Hospital.

I had only one regret. I had forgotten to ask my brother to take pictures with his hand phone when I was wearing the wasabi-green hospital uniform. I felt the green color of it also painted on my face. I looked greenish pale and grayish haggard. Imagine. I was with the excitement of an 18 years old but looked 10 years older than my real age, 37. (Do that Gwen Stephanie sultry moves, the ala Madonna hungry eyelash fluttering!)

There was something that I did not quite understand. Is the mental health standard in Malaysia still remained in the Third World? I was given 300 mg of Seroquel at different doses per day, and injection of Fluanxol per month. I was diagnosed with Clinical Depression, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and Eating Disorder (ED). So, why the heck that I was given and injected with antipsychotic, which were meant for Schizophrenia? Or OCD not in the hospital vocabulary? Strange.

No wonder. The strong doses worked in the beginning. My deep, excruciatingly painful Depression was swept away. I was constantly feeling lifted, high on my tip toes. Too bad, this isn't the happy ending that I died for. The awful side effects from Seroquel and Fluanxol such as severe drowsiness and weakness, suffocation, loss of coordination and focusing, and muscle stiffness only manifested after 3 weeks.

Feeling great in the hospital, I became chatty like a crow and did my stiffed-tendon creaky dancing in front of the TV whenever there was a MTV.

And very much to my delight, a young Medical Assistant (MA) named Mohd. N., aged 25, followed me everywhere I went! (Not bad for a 37 years old, eh?). We talked like kids, played like kids, watching TV together like kids till he was scolded by the nurses!

Well, he liked me, so? Anything wrong for a MA to spend time with a patient after finishing all his paperwork? And he complimented that I looked like the dead Mongolian model Altantuya Shaariibuu! (…Whut?!).

Next. I finally discharged on 9 July 07. Nothing went well the rest of the month. My medicines had to be rearranged and a new medication, Zoloft added in, after I was struck by the deadly side effects. I only feel better TODAY. I’m hoping for brighter days ahead.

Picture: My hospital wrist band.

The Professional Snoopers

2005-06-20T11:41:00.000+08:00

Well, it’s the Asian culture to snoop. In fact, Malaysians’ favorite past time is eating and snooping, of which they spend most of the time of their day in. They share gossips and spread rumors in the offices, markets, shopping malls, gyms, wedding dinners, funerals, etc.

It really IRKS me when other people get IRKED with my non-conformity. The question that these professional snoopers love to ask me is, “Why don’t you get married?”. And they have a strong conception that all spinsters are so matronly, prudish, ugly and overweight that no man would want to sleep with them.

However, my staple outfits that consist of tight baby T-shirts, super low cut jeans that expose my entire midriff, with my navel and its stud and waist chain on, so glaring that they’d even catch the attentions of the neighborhood dogs, have made them to reconsider their stereotypical idea.

Somehow, the typical epitome of a spinster still stuck in their mind, no matter what. That is strong enough to keep them scrutinizing me, looking up at my high, schoolgirlish ponytail to my fashionable-ringed toes incessantly, and obviously trying to find at least the tiniest flaw in me for them to start a snoop. Thank goodness, they couldn’t.

Well, the next time they ask me the same stupid question again, I’d pounce on them, “I only prefer married men, the rich ones esp. Mind to introduce your husband?”.