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Wednesday, January 26, 2005

WHITE: Cold places 

Dolly is off holidaying in Nepal tomorrow so you shan't hear from her for awhile. But don't be distressed! She will be visiting a few spiritual sites so shall bring back lots of zen and pashminas for her dear readers. In the meantime, stay well within the near reach of trouble and don't forget to floss.


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Tuesday, January 25, 2005

BLACK: The box 

Dolly and colleagues had many laughs today about the way many people they've encountered here seem quite incapable of understanding things beyond very tightly memorised prescribed rules. Not that this is a case of breaking the rules, for there were never really any to begin with. Just a bit of common sense really... and thinking slightly out of the box.

Hang on a minute. What box?

S had rung up a government department asking for directions to their office in Putrajaya. Repeatedly, the lady said it was in "Parcel B" (Parcel is Putrajaya-speak for Block B) and became entirely confused when S asked her which precint (section) it was in. The lady didn't understand. She put S on hold, asked around the office; laughter; and finally something much along the lines of "tak tahu, lah cik" (I don't know, Miss). It seems odd that someone shouldn't know which part of a city they happened to be in. Just as most things are around here, the lady on the phone only knew about the building she was in; once specific locations and directions were raised, she seemed really rather incapable of thinking beyond the parcel. The only headway that S managed to get was that "it was on the way to the mosque." There are many roads leading to the mosque.

It is not just questions that baffle, however, but requests too. Such as: ordering a set meal in MacDonalds but stating that you don't want the drink; the girl (or boy) stuck behind the counters can never understand this. You must have the drink. Or, explaining to restaurant waiters that you don't want mayonnaise in your sandwich; But it's all like that. Only mayonnaise, or Thousand Island. You must have one. Or, telling any salesgirl that you don't really need a copy of that receipt she's writing out so very slowly; Must lah, Miss, we have to write it wan, so you have to take. Sometimes you want people here to be polite - but maybe this odd sense of courteous customer service taken too far to its extremes. The idea is that they want to give you things! you see, and cannot understand why you wouldn't want it.

This isn't just about venturing out of the box, but an inability to even open the damn thing (and no wonder it's so dark in there). It's not always the case of course. And when someone does at least try to understand your request, (taking a bit of initiative, as S calls it) it is a treat for the day. Eventually one day, after much repeated instruction (and reassuring smiles) the girls at Watsons may stop looking so stunned when Dolly says she doesn't need a whole plastic bag for a tube of lipgloss. This is a classic case to prove Dolly's point that things in M'sia do get done, it just takes a little longer. Meanwhile, grin and bear it as the MacDonalds girl packs in that coke you didn't want. Terima Kasih!

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WHITE: No win 

Dolly Mixture wasn't anywhere near the Bloggies this year - oh well... Try again next year, or perhaps go straight for the Booker!

Anyway, voting is on now - check out the finalists and vote here.

PS and thanks for those who nominated Dolly!

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Monday, January 24, 2005

BLUE: Tragic 

Several terrible things:
Dolly is tired and worn out from the excessive grotty KL heat.
She's convinced her legs are too stumpy to look lovely in any of those short frilly things that's in La Senza's window display.
And instead, she had to go shopping for a thermal vest today, which was so unglamourous she felt nauseous and had convulsions.
Every little Kancil or Kelisa on KL roads is out to get her by swerving unexpectedly into the side of her car and insisting on travelling between two lanes - it is ridiculous for such small cars not to stay in their lanes.
She's been having strange but very desirable erotic dreams - this is all the more desperate and unfulfilled because her terribly desirable boy is far away and there is no-one suitable or near at hand to please her.
And she's so out of inspiration she can't even write a decent blog entry.

Quelle tragedie.

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Sunday, January 23, 2005

BLACK&WHITE: Creative masturbation 

Now don't think that Dolly just spends all her researching (working) days in bed, at lunches or in La Senza. She also contemplates Very Important Matters. Today's topic of destraction, to keep her occupied between history books, are words. Words are words are words, you think, but to a Dolly who adores prose, and poetry and the general art of talking, words must be held near and dear for the sensations (physical/emotional/spiritual/mental) they evoke. And so, she has decided to formulate weekly lists of particularly impresionnable words, each based on some sort of loose theme. She'll leave it up to your own clever, wily ways to figure out why the words are there, or to add to them. The point is to read them out (or in your head), think on how they sound and hopefully, get really rather aroused (literally or otherwise)! This week,

Words to get naked with

1) denouement
2) liquorice
3) downy
4) bad
5) tulip
6) loll
7) pout
8) boudoir
9) scoundrel
10) petulant

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Friday, January 21, 2005

PINK: Luck 

Superstition runs high this time of year - Chinese New Year is less than a month away, and there is always that tiny part in Dolly that loves to play along with the luck and happiness fantasies of all Chinese, all over the world, as the year switches from one animal to the next. It is oft the case that the more practical, logical younger generations turn their noses up at superstitions and traditional old beliefs which can't be explained scientifically. Pish. Dolly thinks this is silly, for why turn away good fortune, no matter how small the probability? (though it doesn't work the other way; Dolly refuses to believe in bad things and believes that an insistence on being joyful does in fact, promise happy endings).

And so, every year, Dolly's mother drives down to a Kwan Yin temple in Klang for prayers - don't ask details, Dolly doesn't know. After the formalities, the nuns pull out their large astrology book and chat to mother about her family's fortune for the new year. Over tea back in the Doll House, mother conveyed the most important part of Dolly's horoscope for this year:

Dolly, apparently, has Peach Blossom Luck (toh fah wan) this year which brings her many suitors and male admirers. Splendid, thinks Dolly. But Mother went on - If Dolly was single she shouldn't commit to any relationships this year (though she didn't say why); and if she was attached (which is she), then she shouldn't get married this year. Splendid, splendid. Either way, she'd be adored, which sits nicely in Dolly's resolution to live joyfully. It shall be a year full of love and beaus, and none of the shackles of marriage to worry about yet. Everything else, (and imagine a darling 70year old Chinese nun saying this) "OK!" - no financial, career, health, family worries.

Dolly, whose year this (and you might figure out her age if you're clever enough) fluffs up her feathers, cocks her head and squarks in celebration.

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Thursday, January 20, 2005

BROWN (or pink): Nipples II 



Incidentally, Dolly has just chanced across an online quiz titled What nipple do you have? which, upon completion, told her that she has a tasty nipple. This is confirmation if any that she knows what she's talking about when it comes to nipples - and the quiz has confirmed that she entirely deserves having hers licked!

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GREY: Hair 

Dolly's hair was starting to resemble a mullet (and we know how awful those look) so she hurried off to see Eric, her fabulous hairdresser, who chopped off her locks and turned her into the most happening hedgehog you'll ever see. And you know what happens when you get one fabulous look done to you - you become addicted and need to go back for more! (like how it is when you get carried away with piercings and tattoos).

Today she went back for ash highlights, only on the long fringey bits in the front. She had hoped more for a Morticia Addams transformation with evil streaks of white, but has turned out looking rather like a Bukit Bintang girl instead. Ash, as fashionable as it purports to be (and it can look spiffy in the right light), can also give the appearance of premature aging. Dolly had thought this a delightful way of thumbing her nose at age; deliberately putting grey into her hair seemed a nice little ironic gesture made in the name of fashion. As it turns out, it does work - if you're of the very small number of people who understand Dolly's upside-down way of thinking; if not, then it'll just look like she's covering white hairs with an erratic dye job. Hmmm she's not sure about this. The abundance of volumising hair-drying and crunchy hair-spray didn't help either. As is always the case when Dolly first steps out of the salon, her hair is of extra-big proportions and completely rebellious in its attempt to look like a datin. She'll have to just wait it out over the next few days as it calms itself down and starts to look more like spikey, fun-loving Dolly than Lillian Too.

This, she warns, is what happens when you place too much trust in your hairdresser because you adore him, his biceps and the cheeky boy at the front desk who flirts decorously with you as you pay.

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Wednesday, January 19, 2005

BROWN (or pink): Nipples 

Nipples are underrated and Dolly thinks it is her duty to pay them the attention they deserve. Nipples! ah! fabulous little things that, apart from serving well as everyone's first biological milk bottle, also makes for great conversation over drinks and jollies up every second of foreplay, sex, and thereafter. The only thing keeping Dolly from getting a boob job is the fact that patients might risk losing sensation in and around their nipples after surgery. Terrible no no: Dolly values the nipple factor highly in the overall sexual experience and thinks that the trade-off between being small-chested and the pleasure gotten out of nipples is a small one she'd be willing to live with. In fact, for a small, though significant percentage of (tres fortunate) girls, nipple stimulation is all that is needed for them to reach the big O - splendid, no? Something for everyone to aspire towards. New year resolutions etc...

Now while most boys go for the kill with their mashing and grinding of girls' breasts, it is actually a common complaint among girls that they're too rough and uncouth with their handling of a dearly beloved bosom. Not to mention its possible contribution to quickening the sagging process (Dolly is not entirely sure about this, but thinks that all prudent girls should take whatever precaution necessary to delay the sagginess. She's guessing that perhaps constant, excessive pressure lends itself to wearing away the collagen in breast tissue, thus sagging.... Or something like it. Well, she's not taking any chances.....

..... and hence proposes that TLC and much due attention should be given more specifically to nipples instead. Not just on them, mind (though they are two of the most highly arousing erogenous zones), but also the area just around them, and all along, around, up and down the breast for this is just as titillating and causes as much desired shuddering as the nipples themselves. Also, please, no excessive chewing. Nibbling in small doses can heighten arousal enough for a back to arch pointedly in pleasure, but applying too much teeth is just plain inconsiderate, and shan't earn the giver many bed points at all.

When it comes to breasts and nipples, (and listen well), less is more. For those boys out there who haven't yet realised this: the over-excited squeezing, pounding, kneading so heartily promoted in porn and in your probably fantasies is, in reality, seldom pleasurable for the poor girls. Rather, it gets tiresome and eventually numbs down to feeling nothing much at all. If indeed you are one of those nice considerate boys who are trying to pleasure her (and not just your own libido), then take a lick of advice from dear Dolly when she tells you that soft sucking, the slight moist pressure of lips and barely-there flicks of the tongue will get your girl (and therefore you) to a little paradise of pleasure far more divine than the rough-n-tough.

*PS: politically (in)correct addendum: Dolly realises that this entry (among many others) could be read as a very heterosexual, boring straight boy-girl thing but it's just easier to write from experience and with a gendered/sexual template that applies to her. Feel free to mangle and change pronouns to suit the particular sex you'd prefer it to refer to. In any case, boys have nipples too - so could just as easily be applied the other way around. Not being a boy herself, she can't write on behalf of boy-nipples or purport to be a spokesperson of man-boobs (erm, pecs) and their sensations, but would be glad to hear what her boy readers all think of/want in the chest area. D x x

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Tuesday, January 18, 2005

BLACK: The rude Malaysian 

Following a national campaign to turn Malaysians into more civil minded, polite people, The Star have done one of their busybody questionnaire-type projects to find out what the general public think are the most undesirable traits of M'sians. Dolly thinks this is terribly droll for this day and age, and as she skimmed the list of 'undesirable traits' to rank them in order of which she thought were worst, she decided that really, they were all just as bad as each other.

And so: inconsiderate driving jumping the queue spitting in public cutting into people's conversation not saying sorry's or thank you's asking people how much they earn in public littering using mobile phones in cinemas taking other people's things without permission taking excessive food from buffet lines boasting about wealth among less fortunate people etc

Apart from the official list of rude habits that the The Star have so nicely compiled for us (thank you), there's also the less obvious (Dolly hasn't yet figured out if these things are rude, or just plain odd):

-people who maintain a running commentary on your weight each time they see you - "Eh, you put on weight issit? You're quite fat now lah."

-the relatives who insist on bringing their entire extended family, maids, second cousins and their partners and their families to wedding dinners, and then get stroppy when they discover they've not all been invited to sit on the main table with the bride and groom.

-people who take themselves on a tour around your house when they visit - stroll upstairs, open bedroom doors, open kitchen cupboards, and in a particularly lucid incident which Dolly shan't ever forget, a lady who on her first visit to Dolly's family home, opened the freezer, stuck her head in to inspect, opened a box inside the freezer, checked its contents and mumbled her comments to herself. She had to decency to put things back where she found it, at least.

Malaysians are not just rude, but also apparently find it difficult to be friendly to anyone (unless of course you're a white-boy matsaleh, in which case everybody bows to you like the colonial governor). Dolly, in her usual bouts of over-enthusiasm, cannot help but to tell you if she likes your shoes/handbag/funny-looking top if she's standing next to you in a lift or the bathroom. In KL though, this doesn't work - the ah-lians turn their upperlips up at you, throw one of their delightfully fake smiles and turn their backs on you. Dolly was paying a compliment, she wasn't about to rob you of your precious Vincci shoes! And because she's a chatterbox, she likes to talk to random people, in clubs, in bars, behind the cashier till - but this isn't usually reciprocated either; most Malaysians get het up and defensive like you're after something. How ridiculous! Dolly is the most unthreatening of people really, for how vicious could a girl in pink tulle and dangly earrings be?

As it turns out, the discourteous, unfriendly behaviour is infectious. After a year of being back in KL, Dolly has begun to realise that it now requires effort to say 'please' and she never holds the door open for anyone anymore. Sometimes, on a particularly good day, she surprises herself and the sad, underfed girl behind the cashier when she smiles and says thank you. And that's how it's become, a real treat for the day when people are polite enough to thank you from their cars as you give them way, or when someone lets you get out of the lift first.

But anyway, the overall rudeness is absurd and distressing for Dolly who usually considers herself to be a very courteous, friendly little miss indeed. She's wondering if she should stop bothering with her Ps and Qs? Or perhaps champion the way forward for happy, smiley, courteous behaviour with her winning smile and gracious personality? Dolly's mother, in an endearing attempt to bring joy to the world has taken it upon herself to stand in front of the grumpiest of people in shopping malls and smile at them. She says it works: they are usually baffled by the show of goodwill and though it takes a second or two, they usually smile back.

So, yes, as readers of this blog, Dolly urges you all to please smile at the stroppy people and be charming to the rather 'uneducated', rather ungracious Malaysians... even if they do slam the door on your face. It's all got to start somewhere, doesn't it? And Dolly Mixture is all for politesse and curtseying.

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PINK: Porn 

You know how Dolly spoke earlier about that scene in American Psycho, where Bateman misses a meeting to jerk off? Well, it struck a particular chord you see, because she does think it immeasurably splendid... and also because Dolly herself has begun to take a few pointers from him.

Admit now, do, that the urge does often rise in the middle of a work day to have a few delectably sexy moments on your own. Dolly's previous line of work meant that she was often doing interviews, or stuck in a factory line of computers which afforded little in the way of encouraging erotic fancies or doing anything to satisfy them in the middle of the day. Popping off to the loo for a quick one-or-two-fingers doesn't appeal - Dolly needs the sensual comforts of downy bed, that nice combination between fingers and toys, and the entirety of being naked enough between sheets to ahem fully touch herself.

So this is what features in Dolly's new job schedule: The thing with research and freelance work is that there are no office hours and no office so Dolly spends much of her time working from home....which provides for ample time, space and privacy to watch a bit of porn when the fancy takes her (she's begun to appreciate it in small doses).... which leads eventually to a bit of playtime in bed... which then leads to a nap until dinner time. All in a day's work!

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Sunday, January 16, 2005

PINK: Harajuku 

There are Harajuku-type bags in 1Utama - hurrah! Pink ones too. Dolly's dearest friend The Queen rang up just to tell her. She has no idea what Harajuku bags would look like but it's all very exciting. It's all gone a be haywired, and Dolly, who is suffering a bit of an identity crises at the moment, has been looking to adopt a new one. She hasn't yet decided what she wants to do, but under the influence of Gwen Stefani in her car stereo, she thinks it would be a riot to be one of those Harajuku girls for a day and wander up and down the streets of Tokyo decked out in hideously exaggerated makeup and outfits. Look here for inspiration and surprises. *Nod* She thinks that the Dolly-persona-outfit thing she's got going would go down very well with the Japanese. All she needs are painted-on freckles, extra rouge for the cheeks, and ribbons in her hair. Super kawaii!

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WHITE: My fair lady 

There's that song in My Fair Lady, where Freddy Eysnford-Hill (sp?) walks up and down Eliza Doolittle's street (well, Henry Higgins' street since she was staying there) professing his love for her and singing, "I have often walked, down this street before... "

Dolly has loved the idea of a man in a top hat and tails walking up and down her street singing desperately hopeless love songs to her. A few things get rather in the way though. In this day and age, it would be considered stalking and much as she thinks the idea enchanting,Dolly would, in reality, be quite frightened if a man had nothing better to do than loitedr about outside her gate after dark.

Also, she has a father who can't bear that sort of public nuisance, and is likely to hang a very angry head out of bedroom window and tell him quite directly to "oi! shut the fuck up, you farking idiot."

It would spoil the illusion of romance entirely, and scare the beau off from wooing Dolly. Let's stick with an SMS then. That'll do.

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Friday, January 14, 2005

RED: American Psycho 

As Dolly sat in another very serious meeting today, a remnant from American Psycho (the book, of course, for Dolly is of the elitist opinion that books are forever better than their movie adaptations) crossed her mind. She hurried home and tried to find the quote but couldn't, because skimming Psycho is akin to falling down a deep well - you can't get out again. Anyway, it went something along the lines of the main character, Bateman, telling us that he missed a morning meeting because he his favourite talkshow was featuring teenage lesbians and he had to stay home to jerk off twice. Wonderful. It was apt, for though Dolly had the good fortune of sitting in a meeting room with one of the most beautiful Mediterranean-like views, she couldn't help but sit there thinking of sex the whole hour.

But Dolly digresses. She wanted to talk about Patrick Bateman. In a fit of academic nostalgia and with the inspiration of this morning's mental wanderings, she decided to reread a paper she'd written about Ellis back in the old days of student intellectualism. It was splendid, she thought (again), and gave herself many pats on the back for writing so lucidly at the time. (In actual fact, Dolly had run out of ideas, was bored of a term's worth of Narrative Theory led by a very boring man with a sleepy voice, and was determined to get a distinction for a paper which would feature the words "cunt", "asshole" and "Listerine". If you'd like to read her modest attempt to analyse Bret Easton Ellis, Dolly would be glad to send you a copy of the paper HAH).

You see, Dolly thinks you should all drop everything and spend an afternoon curled up with Ellis and his very disturbed novels. He seems not-right, and highly sick, but American Psycho is fascinating for its reflections on the violence that a very superficial, empty postmodern live can inflict upon us. Her boy raved about its hilarity for months and it's been the only book he's read in two years. A ll the boys she knew at university read it just for the kicks of reading huge-chapters-without-paragraphs about long rambling sex scenes. Dolly scoffed in her pretentious intellectual way. No no, they'd got it all wrong. Ellis was saying something smart, dontcha see, with his clever-clever narrative tricks and visions of an impersonal society that got so out of hand, it made people quite literally kill each other.

(A short summary if you haven't read or seen it: there's no real story; instead, the book chronicles the exaggerated behaviour of young top personalities in Wall Street in the 80s. It gets increasingly horrifying for its violent sex and murder scenes and resulted in the book deal being withdrawn from his publishers, and banned in several countries. When Dolly tried to buy it in Singapore a few years back it was banned which is highly funny and ironical, for anyone needs to be alerted of the grossness of impersonal societies, its the Singaporeans!)

There's everything in it that would result from people going crazy and losing all sense of plot and identity. Bateman tries to cook a girl (and starts to cry because he doesn't know how to cook); he maces girls and hacks off their heads; he covers a toilet cake in chocolate and feeds it to his fiance; and he masturbates endlessly. Everything becomes confused and before the first 50 pages nothing makes sense anymore. But it is the maddest book you shall ever read, will forever make you think twice about buying branded clothes and value that wonderful sense of personal identity. Go on, read it, be entirely disgusted, frightened and horrified and totally inspired. And on that note, have a lovely weekend - don't follow any strangers home. D x x x

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Thursday, January 13, 2005

BLUE&BLUE: Like father... like boy? 

Dolly worries sometimes that perhaps she is dating her father, as the likeness between boy and daddy is becoming increasingly apparent. A bit too Freudian for her liking perhaps, she thinks, furrowing her eyebrows in slight distress and getting a bit scared.

It is a hard thing to explain and is more an odd feeling of a sort of deja-vu, the sudden shocks when the boy responds or reacts to her in almost exactly the same way her father would. Often they both talk to or tell her off in the same way, with the same tone so she can't quite figure out whether she's being chided by father or boyfriend.

More disturbing though, was when her father declared the other day that he is going to grow his hair out and maintain it like the boy's. A few days later, as he was decked out in his favourite ludicrously golden-coloured elastic pants he'd bought from Thailand (you know the sort) he insisted the boy take a pair for himself and try them on. Not wishing to offend, the boy trotted off to put them on, then reappeared and sat in the den, like a small version of father. Dolly, sitting in between the two, looked from left to right and flabbergasted silently in her head.

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Wednesday, January 12, 2005

GREEN: Rich girl 

Hats off to Gwen Stefani for her new J-pop kitsch album and the ultimate tackiness of songs like Rich Girl:

If I was a Rich Girl na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na
See, I'd have all the money in the world, if I was a wealthy girl
No man could test me, impress me, my cash flow would never ever end
Cause I'd have all the money in the world, if I was a wealthy girl

Think what that money could bring
I'd buy everything
Clean out Vivienne Westwood
In my Galliano gown

In reality of course, Gwen is (comparatively, to us) a very rich girl and probably does have enough cash to clean out Vivienne Westwood if she really wanted to; and wear Galliano; and hire four Harajuku girls to follow her around all the time. What's she singing about then! She must just be thumbing her nose at the rest of us. The cheek.

Anyway now Dolly, with her high aspirations in life wants to be both Paris Hilton and Gwen Stefani and patiently awaits the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow to swoop lovingly into her lap. Ah, what one aims for in life!

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Tuesday, January 11, 2005

PINK: Stuff and fluff 

Dolly is getting worried about her inability to concentrate on important things that should matter, especially those pertaining to work and the like. She has a keen eye for beautiful things, stuff and fluff that don't really matter but which are entirely aesthetic and must take enough precedence to always be admired.

Today, as she sat in a meeting and the people around her discussed the May 1969 riots and its aftermath, she found herself contemplating the unusual shapes of teapot and tea strainers. It was silly really for them to have picked Le Meridien for a meeting where everything is dainty, the young waiters small and ravishable, and the windows span big lush greens and peeks of the KL cityscape. They were playing particularly delectable music too of the acid jazz variety, which was so very inducing to sleep and dreaming that she had to pretend to make a bathroom trip just so she could quietly ask as the waiters what CD it was without the academics noticing.

This tendency was well established at university, where library books are filled with books filled with beautiful things like art and writing and odd bits of prose that are far more interesting than literary criticisms. She spent much time with friends in darkened rooms (it's always dark in York) with those funny fibreoptic lamps, discussing whether red material would be more appealing to the sense if it was silky or furry, and why; and trotting into town to look at light installations.

All in the line of beauty, thinks Dolly )with a respectful nod in the direction of Alan Hollinghurst's new Booker prize-winning novel - t'is wonderful and must-read). It enriches the heart and soul, which is far better time well spent than being serious. S don't start the new year by working too hard, my darlings, it's hardly ever worth it! Take time to smell the bergamot in your Earl Grey tea and pester waiters for that nice tune you heard as you bit into your almond biscotti.

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Addendum 

Dolly has been advised by a most dear friend (who she hasn't actually met, but is adorable anyway for her red hair!) that it is in fact, splendid to have tall boys for the sudden new found freedom in being able to "launch myself at him, jump off the floor and wrap my legs around his waist" while he's cooking.

Dolly nods in agreement and thinks it would be rather fun to have someone piggy back her or pick her up and twirl her around while she's wearing one of her magnificent swirly skirts the way they do in the movies. The boy has tried, bless him, but it is hard to piggy back your girlfriend when she's the same height and almost the same weight as you. For now, they'll have to be content (and indeed they are) with toddling about together like matching salt and pepper shakers.

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Sunday, January 09, 2005

BLUE: Boys the size of you 

It is extreme luck, thinks Dolly, to have a boyfriend just the same height and size as you. It makes things splendidly convenient: like not having to change the position of the car seat when you drive, or having to crane your necks up or down in painful contortions to kiss your beloved because his face is always right there next to yours. When you hug a boy of the same height and size, your bodies fit together like one of those funny novelty coasters you get that snuggle perfectly one into the other; his arms, your arms wrap round just where you want them and holding hands are always perfectly easy for your hands are always are exactly the same level when you're standing or walking alongside each other. The only downside is the wearing of high high heels, which rather demotes the poor boy to comparative shortness next to Dolly's new-found lofty height, and makes her lookcomically large.

But anyway, it's lurrrvely. The physical sameness of being the same size bluffs you temporarily into believing you're even more perfectly matched than just emotionally and mentally. It's like matching girl and boy dollies you buy as a child, who look exactly the same except for the eyelashes on the girl. And whenever she cuddles comfortably into the nook of her boy's arms for a hug, Dolly wonders about the logistics of those 6foot2 boys who dates 5foot girls. Does it get terribly tiresome, she wonders, the stooping and tiptoeing and odd angling of body parts?

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Friday, January 07, 2005

YELLOW: City girl 

Dolly's been back in KL for over a year now. She didn't think she'd survive it - she hadn't lived here properly in 9 years and it was a bit of a shock to be back. But perhaps it was being stuck in a town no bigger than Sri Hartamas in the North of England that finally did her head in and sent hurrying back desperately to the bright lights of KL. Dolly's very much a city girl at heart.

But why didn't she uproot to say London instead? New York? Singapore, even? where each has the splendour and grandour of a more well-known, thriving metropolis. She came to the firm conclusion that to live in those cities comfortably and glamourously, you'd need thick, thick wads of cash, otherwise you'd be rather miserably stuck. Dolly didn't think she'd bother with the hardship when she could just come back to KL, where you can live comfortably, glamourously and have many screaming fun nights out in a mamak without spending more than RM10.

So KL is not New York, but the city has never been so exciting to be in, when things are really starting to grow and the energy really starting to bounce across the many little people that bustle around it. Dolly adores that comfort of glinting, sparkling new skyscrapers sitting the next road down from an old roadside char siew fan stall on the side of the road. She loves that the city is chaotic and looks like it was never planned, the way buildings spring out of nowhere, between plots of old land, the way even the most thriving, modern parts of the city still see a bit of a mess on the roads that surround it.

Dolly's favourite part of the day are those few moments when evening drops, when daytime turns suddenly to a dark, dusky night over the space of an hour. The city is at its liveliest, it swells and people scurry out from offices, onto streets and into restaurants. Bintang Walk is the most enchanting place to be at 7pm where, as you wander between the Westin and Starhill, the energy whirrs in excited breathy tones and is entirely alive with people, plenty of people! all rushing to start a whole new part of the day. And when the sky darkens and the lights of the city begin to shimmer clear, the energy settles and moves from the streets into the cars, where people are sitting in traffic jams impatient for their evening to begin, or are settling into the cosy corners of anything from the newly opened Zeta to their local grubby mamak.

Thankfully too, amid the flurry of development and trendy growth, there are still strong enough traces of tradition left in KL; something Dolly remarks with an arched, smug eyebrow, that seems rather desperately lacking in our neighbour across the causeway. Kopitiams remain in all their tatty splendour, not recreated with pseudo-antique marble topped tables in an equally fabricated Chinatown (as in Singapore, hmh!); the government's turning a blind eye to the terrible lack of hygiene (and possible eyesore) of mee rebus stalls down the sides of dilapidated lorongs are to be cherised for the shared stories of vendor and customers that will have lived there along the rats (!); and the importance of teh which permeates every floor of every corporate building (no matter how multinational) shall make Malaysians forever more laid-back, smiley and content with their lot than their anal-retentive neighbours (hah!). So, it takes a little longer for things to get done here, because people move slower and have made great friends with the tea-lady down the road. Bottom line is, things get done eventually, just takes a while; so relak lah while you're waiting, have a cup of teh. There's always tomorrow.

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Thursday, January 06, 2005

PINK: Sex (or... the failure to discuss it)  

All you dear readers are probably wondering why the new year hasn't kicked off on this blog with some - any - mention of sex. Dolly has ushered in 2005 rather chastely, she thinks.

You see, she's been rather put off the subject for a while after one of her friends and one of the boy's friends (who'd only met each other the night before) decided to shag indiscriminately on her childhood bed on New Year's day, in the room she grew up in, in her parents' home. Giant ick factor, like the sort when you imagine your parents having sex. Long story short, what did transpire grew out of and produced various other elements that has irritated Dolly (and her boy, and her parents) on several levels; for the trespassing of personal boundaries and space if nothing else.

As a side effect, her childhood teddy bears in the bedroom have been left somewhat traumatised, and Dolly herself, nauseated. Call her a prude, but Dolly just isn't quite comfortable with the thought (and subsequent unwanted recurrent flashes) of people who are not-her-or-the-boy, and who were almost near strangers, having sex on her bed in a room she still often considers her own very 'sacred space', in her parents' home. As justification of her "prudishness", she has to say that as yet - and putting aside kinky fantasies involving yourself, swinging, threesomes etc. - she hasn't found anyone who's said they'd be terribly thrilled having other people shag randomly on their beds.

Moral of the story: don't trust that 25-year-olds necessarily know the boundaries of discretion; and protect your innocent cuddly toys!! For the moment, we shall have to lay off talking sex shop for awhile. Just until Dolly works off the nausea from being in her own room.

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Wednesday, January 05, 2005

BLUE: Back to work 

Having resigned from a job 3 months ago, Dolly has found it increasingly difficult to get back into the groove of things, especially as she's in research now which requires a great deal of self-discipline. She is convinced that things are conspiring to keep her away from work. She's tried to get into one of the university libraries no less than three times and hasn't even seen the books yet. The first time she went to register for a library card, they shooed her away because it was their lunch break; the second, they made her leave because she had defied the dress code by wearing a sleeveless (though very modest) tshirt; the third, they said they couldn't give her a card until she came back the next day with a passport-sized photograph. (Malaysians do love their passport-sized photographs for bloody everything no?)

Dolly and her fellow researchers are meeting A Very Important Person next week and as yet she still has no work to show for it and perhaps more worryingly, feels largely unphased by the urgency to work. Today, Dolly attended a meeting round a fancy conference table with Another Important Person (though Dolly had never heard of him before and was mostly undaunted by his unimposing, hunching figure at the top of the table). It was in Putrajaya which Dolly adores because it looks like toyland and is most suitable, she thinks, for parties, confetti, magic and fairytale stories; not discussions about archiving material. As Important Matters were discussed she found herself thinking randomly thoughts about Modestos, how-to-yawn-discreetly and when things really started to peter out at the end, the differences between men and women in their approach to foreplay.

Oh dear. Looks like the year ahead is going to a hard slog!

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PINK: La Senza 

Anyone who's been into La Senza recently will know that it has all gone a bit Strawberry Shortcake and is decked entirely in pink and red. It's exciting just to be surrounded by so much pink in a single contained area. Dolly coos and oohs and ahhs every time she's walked into the shop and spends long afternoon dreaming of pink satin. She has to slap herself on the wrist, and remind herself of her own blog entries about how impractical frilly things can be....

But then, frilly teddies and slinky nighties are never inconvenient, satin is always luxurious enough to keep you in bed all day and well, sometimes you just need to have something ridiculous and extravagant in your lingerie drawer. To be decadent and opulent, you know, for whenever Dionysus possesses your entrails and lures out the hidden, more frenzied part of your soul for a romp... even if it is on your own.

In stores now, ladies, are fluffy bras in pink and black, where the cups are covered entirely in fur. She thinks everyone should have one. When Dolly tried it on, she felt a bit like an ostrich, but a very pretty one at that and one that would be desired by all the boy birds. While in the fitting room, she had visions of lying indolent, lazy and desiring between white sheets dressed only in furry pink lingerie and reading deliciosu Jeanette Winterson novels. For Christmas her friend, The Little Diva, bought her a pink thong dressed in pink fluff. That sold the idea entirely to Dolly, and she rushed out promptly to buy the matching fluffy bra. Now she can sashay around her own imagined boudoir, singing desirably into a can of hairspray to the tunes of Benny Goodman. And feeling rather like the prettiest (pink feathery) bird in town (hah!).

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Saturday, January 01, 2005

YELLOW: 2005 

Happy new year my darlings! May the next twelve months be full of sparkle, debauchery and (to steal a phrase from a most beloved friend) many sumptious states of the soul. Dolly celebrated in Dionysion fashion and is now off to welcome in the new year with slumber.

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