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Friday, July 22, 2005

WHITE: Nightie 

Sometimes, I lounge about in sheer nighties, done up just below the breast line and splitting apart in the centre to reveal the midriff. Often, it's far more decadent when done alone than when with someone - feeling near naked by yourself can be much more titillating, sensual, naked like you're opening up more of yourself through translucent material that separates just where the line of your stomach begins. Often, going to sleep alone in a slinky, dinky, black number sinks far softer playtime and into more delicious slumber than when with an(y) other. Paradoxically, this heightens a girl's feelings of being at her most desirable, most sensual, most sexed-up. A shame that boys (or others) can never really be a part of this for it is actually the aloneness that makes it everything it is.
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Wednesday, July 13, 2005

RED: Knicker photo 

On second thoughts... Dolly thought she'd take down the photo. Many reasons which she won't go into now because they're dreary. Things are so very uninteresting at the moment - just work and the sorts. Will try to dredge up something fun, or imagine something into being. Sorry, darlings.
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Friday, July 08, 2005

RED: Sex! 

Dolly's dear friend, MiMi, has trolleyed himself off to Sydney in hopes of higher education qualifications etc blah blah and... SEX! Poor thing hadn't had sex in about three years (which only goes to show just how much of a desert KL is) and it was all getting a bit bleak. Today, Dolly got an email from him with great details about his recent sexual romps - all within three weeks of having landed down under. Bless!

Of course, this has just brought back fond memories of the initial thrills of romping. While sex is not anything near bad in a long-term relationship (monogamous because Dolly is old-fashioned and prim like that), you can't help but feel itchy now and then, and wonder what it would be like to run off and have sex with a hundred different people all at once, just for the hell of it.

Damn, it's even started to infiltrate her dreams - last night she dreamt saucily of kissing an American boy while lying on some horrible wooden floor (not all dreams are like the ideal ones in movies). It was still enough to make her wet but she remembered feeling a bit guilty in the dream because she had (apparently) abandoned her husband and two kids (!?!?!) while on a romp with The American. Let's hope it shan't be a premonition of things to come, although Dolly's own dear mother has pointed out many times that she worries that Dolly is quite capable of being the betraying sort.

Dolly likes to think it isn't possible as she isn't really the sort (hasn't got the guts, or is a sweet old compassionate soul that doesn't want to hurt and wouldn't do what she doesn't want done back to her) - so for now she's living vicariosly through MiMi and her recurring wet dreams.
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Thursday, July 07, 2005

WHITE: Learning Chinese 

Sorry, it's been a while. Dolly has been down in Singapore over the past week (and what a long week it was) and suffering quietly among the more anal retentive of our pleasant (!) neighbours. Really, they have great clothes, great style and, admittedly, have a far greater idea of what it means to look good down on Orchard Road than they do on Bukit Bintang but they're in rather severe deficit of soul. Most Singaporeans find it terribly difficult to smile, don't they? That's what happens in a country that tries to air-condition hawker food, and where oral sex is banned unless it's used only as a form of foreplay.

Anyway, Dolly went to visit the boy who is currently studying mandarin, 7 hours a day, 5 days a week in a bid to become fluent. This meant that Dolly was treated to monologues of Chinese while she was there and since her own Chinese is terrible, conversations usually went something like this:

The boy: (pointing) bi zi
Dolly: What's that?
The boy: Pencil

(a few minutes later)

The boy: (pointing) la zi tong
Dolly: What's that? The boy:
Rubbish bin

(a few minutes later)

The boy: (pointing as Dolly was on the phone) Ta shi shui? (who's that?)
At which point Dolly decided to ignore him.

You see, Dolly herself had three years of one-on-one Chinese tuition when she was little. This resulted mostly in crying fits every time she had to do homework and the sort of boredom that feels very great and painful to seven-year-olds. You know the kind of homework: writing the same Chinese character over and over in notebooks lined with squares. She would cry into her book, get all the pages wet, and accidently tear holes in them as she wrote and erased things. After three years, she was still unable to differentiate between the words mother (mu xin) and chicken (mu zi), and the only characters she could remember how to write were her name (only because she had to write it every lesson).

You can imagine that the boy's sudden fervour for Chinese is like a frightening karmic deja-vu of Chinese lessons coming to pull ugly faces at her. Dolly's trying very hard to start anew and perhaps give it another short but really, all she sees when she closes her eyes are pages and pages of blank squares. Distressing.
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