I Am Motivated To Marry The King of Swaziland

Hopefully 'Bigger than Cup D' and 'Must possess areolas more than 5 cm in diameter' are not among the requirements for the Reed Dance. Otherwise I have to resort to becoming a nun and extend my battery-operated sex life for the rest of my life. ('Vibrator' still doesn't breach the rule of celibacy).

The next time I have a conversation with this colleague of mine, please constantly remind me to have a gap of at least 10 meters in between us so that he will be out of reach the time my mind starts to play the movie of me draining the air from of his lungs.


******************

*slaps her forehead*

Those are not the issues of why I had that title.

Again, I had the memory of a chicken...


The scene of the traffic flow at the Seremban-KL highway was slightly different this evening. I saw a lot of road cops (read: traffic policemen). A LOT! My assumptions were:

1) There was a massive accident involving 50 cars and the cops were needed to make human fence to cover the gory scene in order to avoid Malaysian drivers from going from 100kmph to 10kmph, while waiting for 991 people to collect the splattered brains from all over the place.
2) Something was happening (to which I haven't the slightest idea).

Later I saw many cars (duh!). Many black cars with hazard lights on.

Urgh, another VIPs.

Mengada-ngada nak berescort.

Now THAT is actually the matter that brought me to having this title. If I marry a VVVIP (King of Swaziland to be exact), I will have cops escorting me to places I want to go. Even if there's a nasty jam, the others will not have the choice but to make way for this Queen.

Okay, I am done.