grasshopper and the ant...

It was summer. In that time of plenty, two absolutely different, but equally fascinating personalities became the focus of a story.

Food was plenty in the summer. It was like a constant sushi line, only without the icky seafood. Everyone had their fill of grass, seeds, leaves, pollen, nectar, and other bugs. An abundance of food and a total lack of work emerged as an absolutely divine reason for partying, and so the bugs did.

The Grasshopper was one sleek dude. An avid musician, he was popular among the other bugs, with his services in high demand during the endless parties in summer. Soon, he had assembled a cult following of sorts and become a legendary rock-god, quite like Marilyn Manson, only with more backbone. And as with any rock-god with groupies, the Grasshopper was getting plenty of hot steamy action each night as well.

Then there was the Ant. This industrious bug was up 9-5 out collecting grass, seeds, leaves, pollen, nectar and bits of other bugs to build the stockpile that would soon be needed during the coming winter. Soon, the Ant had assembled a large pile of random bits of food that was growing mold, all the better since that meant more food. Since the Ant was basically a sterile androgenous serf, it wasn't getting much action, nor was it thinking much of it at all for that matter.

Sometimes, the Ant would look at the Grasshopper and feel very envious of him. Still, it was secure in the knowledge that when winter came, it would be nice and snug in its hole with the rest of its androgenous brethren eating the festering pile of random bits, while the foolish sex-stuffed rock-god Grasshopper would be frozen or become food himself or something. So the Ant made it a point to point out that fact to the Grasshopper each time he walked past the Grasshopper, who was tailing groupies from the BeerCan Concert Hall.

"You know, rock-god Grasshopper, when winter comes, you'll be very sorry that you didn't collect food all summer and be all cold and starving and you'll come knocking on my door for help."

"Tuh. Right."

"You'll be sorry and you know I'm right! Don't come knocking on my door to get at my yummy-licious pile because I'll be busy snacking on it with my other androgenous brethren!"

"Yeah. Like, whatever. You're not getting any, so that's why you're so bitchy."

"We're sexless, and besides, random sex spreads STDs."

"I use protection, dude."

"..."

Soon autumn came around. The fruits on the late fruiting trees became ripe with juicy sweetness, so ripe that it was practically raining sugar on the bugs. The Ant was busy hoarding away the rotten-ly good fruit, while the Grasshopper sipped the falling ambrosia.

Soon, even that abundance grew short. The crowds to the Grasshopper's concerts became thinner and thinner as the bugs went into hiding for the cold weather, or just dropped dead. Still, the Grasshopper, in true rock-god fashion, kept at it with numbingly stupid persistence. The Ant on the other hand, was still at hoarding away what remained of the last fruits of the season, surprisingly not dead from all the overexertion.

The first snowflakes of winter descended upon Bugland. The Grasshopper was still giving concerts, but the BeerCan was filled mostly with either dead bugs who had just dropped dead in the middle of one of his previous concerts, or bug skins, which was far more gross.

The Ant thought to gloat at the now-starving Grasshopper. So it made a trip to the BeerCan, with a leaf-basket full of fermented bits to give to the Grasshopper, which is strangely reminescent of the Chinese method of showing off wealth.

"Hungry, dud-god Grasshopper?"

"Like, totally."

"Didn't I tell you? Hahaha! Now you'll have to live off handouts from me and my still as yet androgenous siblings!"

"Like, whatever dude. Just hand over the chow."

"Bwahahaha! I rule you now, you over-sexed twig of a stick-like bug! Who's your daddy?! Bwahahaha... *insert additional gloating*"

"Yea, like totally. I'm like, so absolutely owe you, like, totally. I'd like, get down and suck your non-existant parts, but I so, like, totally gotta eat first..."

"Bwahahaha! *insert even more annoying gloating typical of those you see in James Bond movies*"

Then, somebody picked up the can and flung it into a trash compressor.

muf-ing...

I had an interesting topic to post, but as usual, the moment I come to this screen, I totally forget what it is that I'm on about. So, no Kim, can't write about it. Besides, this isn't an anonymous blog, and you know who reads this.

Okay, topics be damned. Finally got the frisbee. Glow-in-the-dark coolness!


Yeah! We have cheesy looking mascot which I repeatedly redesigned to much better effect during Stats lectures! Of course, I can't be bothered to post it up here. Maybe when I come up with something really cool I will. Hmm, maybe Jay can think of something for me?

You know how Ultimate players always have to dive to get the disc? Well, since we're all MUF members, that would make us all MUF divers, won't it?

Ah well. And Jay, you have a hyperactive imagination. The mignons do not EXACTLY look like something that's just been circumcised.

cook and clean...

To be politically correct, I think I'll probably make a good homebody. Lotsa cooking, essentially. Anyways, I know for sure now that I've got a few working recipes.

I whipped a little sweet sauce together, not really sure what the exact proportions are, but according to common concensus, it was good.

Honey Lemon Seasoning/Sauce/Whatever

2 tablespoons honey

8 tablespoons hot water

rind from 1 lemon

juice from 1 lemon

2 tablespoons olive oil

lemon pepper to taste

salt to taste

3 cloves of garlic, minced or chopped finely

Basically just throw everything together, stir well. The garlic should float midway between the oil and the watery stuff. Makes good seasoning for fish, especially pacific dory. Just place the fish in aluminum foil, drown in the sauce, leave in the fridge for 2 hours. You can then bake the fish in an oven preheated to 220 C for God-knows-how-long. Should turn out fine. Best eaten with garlic butter rice; same as rice, only boiled with garlic, and after cooked, add in slabs of butter for that fatty butter goodness.

Chicken Mignons

Okay, while I technically get these at Wishbone in Chadstone Mall, it's quite simple to make.

1 strip of back bacon, cut away rind

1 chicken fillet, preferably thigh

1 tablespoon garlic butter

salt to taste

First, rub the chicken fillet lightly with salt. This isn't really necessary, since the butter and the bacon are usually salty. However, you might want to do that to make sure that the chicken has a bit of flavour itself. Roll the fillet into a little roll, and wrap the bacon strip around it. Pin into place with a toothpick. On top of the roll, put a generous tablespoon of garlic butter. Preheat an oven to 200 C. Pop in the mignons into the oven for about 20-30 minutes, or until you can smell the bacon crisping.

Chocolate Fondant

Got the idea from my random cousin Jee Kwan after a refreshingly amusing Valentine's Day story. Was supposed to get the recipe from him, but sorta forgot, so I grabbed it off this site. This is my version of the recipe:

280g dark chocolate (the darker the better)

200g butter (more or less, depending on how fat you feel)

7-8 eggs (if it gets too gooey, try with fewer eggs)

230g sugar (again, depending on how fat you feel)

160g flour (don't use the self raising type, this is NOT supposed to expand)

rind of 1 orange

juice of 1 orange

1 teaspoon cinnamon powder

Preheat the oven to 180 C. Melt the chocolate and butter over boiling water. Do this by placing a metal dish over a small pot of boiling water. Make sure not to get any water into the chocolate butter mixture, or it will seperate into oils and be totally gross. Beat the eggs into the sugar until a nice thick consistency. Sift in the flour and beat until you get a nice gooey batter. At this point, your chocolate butter mixture should be ready, so add that in. Throw in the orange rind and juice, as well as the cinnamon. You can use orange liquer instead of the juice if you're so inclined. Pour into smallish-medium sized greased moulds, or you can use little paper cups instead. Put the little cup things into the oven for 15 - 20 minutes. If it seems short to you, that's so the fondant doesn't become chocolate sponge. Take out hot, and serve with ice cream, fruits, or biscotti. You may choose to dust it lightly with icing sugar if you like, but it's not like this isn't already a potential diabetic shock. Do note that this is a heavy dessert, and should only be attempted if dinner was light.

So, Kim, Kian and Mich came over for a previewing of Jin's cooking extravaganza. They stayed after, putting on my clothes and basically laughed at how grotesquely loose they were on them. Mich wanted to go back early, but knowing things for what they are, there was no possibility of her accomplising that safely, so my room was host to 4 weird people that night. Mich and Kim in the bed, and me and Kian on the floor.

I had no idea that my bed could hold 2 people. Hmmm...

Anyways, that done we woke at 6-ish, and went to Clayton station for them to take the train back to God-knows-where. Missed two trains, which was quite frustrating, I suppose.

I'm telling you, one of the reasons why I'm NOT getting married is the insane amount of cleaning to do with 4 people in the house. And not to mention the laundry.

Anyway, do try the recipes, and get back to me on how they go.

Edit: For the sake of.

eww...

So mushy. I've decided I don't like doing memes, because for one, they smack of unoriginality, but since I've got nothing to write right now (besides that stupid stats report which also smacks of unoriginality), I'll do this. Curse you, Kim!!!

One song from your early childhood
Baa-Baa Black Sheep. I sometimes sing random lines of this at, well, random. Leads to interesting public response.

One song you are associating with your first big love
Oh, wow. There are a few. I suppose at least ONE of them would be Guang Liang's Tong Hua.

One song which reminds you of one of your holidays
I don't usually listen to much music during any holiday. Mostly I sit and mope. But if I have to choose one, I'd say it's Maksim's rendition of Handel's Sarabande. Moodyness...

One song you like, but you have got problems confessing to
Celine Dion's My Heart Will Go On. I tell you, I love the music, but due to certain reasons, I fucking hate the whole thing.

One song which accompanied you while you where lovesick
Woohoo. Erm. Okay. This one, there are actually a whole lot of them. But since I tend to be in a very depressed aura, I suppose it was Hoobastank's The Reason. Strange how many songs are called The Reason.

One song you listened to most often in your life
I usually obsesses over a song for a short while, then forget about it. I think one that applies in this situation would be the original Lover's Concerto by The Toys.

One song which is your most favoured instrumental
Now this is a funny one, because technically a song is music with words. Instrumentals have no words. Current favourite is Brahm's Hungarian Dance No. 5. Of course, if you mean song that is ALSO an instrumental, I'll say probably, erm, Angel Eyes by Jim Brickman.

One song which represents one of your most favoured bands
I don't have a favourite band. I sorta prefer soloists, so I'll say Pavaroti's rendition of Funiculi Funicula.

One song in which you recognize yourself or through which you feel somehow understood
Haha. Not possible to understand me. Even if I were to hand you a roadmap. But a song to listen to while traversing that map, possibly, Five For Fighting - 100 Years.

One song which reminds you to a certain occasion (and the occasion)
Oh. Err. The Carpenters - Close to You. The occasion: whole of friggin Form 3.

One song you like and which belongs to the Hip Hop / Rap genre
I don't like Hip Hop OR Rap.

One song which is the best for you to relax
Kevin Kern, Yanni, any emo shit. Of course, I like anime soundtracks too, so Full Metal Alchemist's Bratja.

One song which symbolizes a great time in your life
Err, okay. Not sure. Because the FEW great times in my life I wasn't listening to music. But I suppose Il Divo & Celine Dion - I Believe In You. You have no idea how great a lack of that I have.

One song which is your most favourite song at the moment
Yuki Kajiura - Hear Our Prayer. Tsubasa Chronicle's soundtrack is teh bomb!

One song which you would dedicate to your best friend
I'd cook, rather, but erm. Not sure. That Il Divo & Celine Dion thing.

One song where you have got the feeling that no one besides you likes it
Haha. This is quite funny. I suppose a few selections out of the Ragnarok Online Background Soundtrack.

One song you like because of its lyrics
Jem's They. Because it's so hyperactively accusational. Wahey!

Talk about too the free weh. There SHOULD be an interesting post later.

religion...

I was having a conversation with an acquaintance last night, and basically it went along the lines of how weak we are and that the only way we can get anything done is by turning to God and the whole complimentary she-bang of preaching.

Now, it's not that I have anything against that, and in fact, I DO believe that God is the source of out inspiration and our guiding hand and all that, so I'm definitely not an aethist. But I also believe we are not powerless in the world, otherwise we wouldn't be around.

Anyways, this acquaintance went on to point out that I'm the one with problems and should go to church and pray over all these things and also how being gay is bad and whatnot, and if I'm not mistaken, also how being gay is a choice and people who can't change that should become monks and whatnot. And this reminded me EXACTLY why I stopped going to church. People who are either so secure of themselves, or so insecure (either way), that they think the best way to get people to think like them is to insist they are wrong. There may be only ONE truth, I'll give you that much, but what makes you think that I'll so readily accept that what you say is that ONE truth? If I'm misguided, don't you think you also may be?

Another pointed case is how being gay is wrong (which is really a moot point, based on individual ideas of morality) and how this acquaintance of mine really hates gay people for no other reason than they are gay. It's curious to note how prejudiced people are. I have male friends who are extremely homophobic, which kinda amuses me. Think about it, just because a girl is chatting with a male friend doesn't mean he wants to hump her brains out, no? So what makes you think your gay friend wants a buttfuck?

So many times I've contemplated going back to church, if anything to commune. But one thing I've noticed to the few I've been to, that they do not seem to welcome the very people they are supposed to reach; the rejected, the outcast, the downtrodden. More often than not, the place is filled with elitist bigots who only accept their own kind (which is fine because most people go to church to become better people). But given that, you're ALSO supposed to be a role model unto others (heehee, old English doesn't make much sense), giving with your hands what you can't find in your heart to be, in the very least. If you're going to reject everything other people say and think, you can very well expect them NOT to agree with you.

I was blog hopping this afternoon and came across this letter. For the benefit of those too lazy to click on links, I'll reproduce the letter for you:

Note: Vermont was the first American state to legally recognise civil unions of same-sex couples in 2000.

A Mother's Reflections

"Many letters have been sent to the Valley News concerning the homosexual menace in Vermont. I am the mother of a gay son and I've taken enough from you good people. I'm tired of your foolish rhetoric about the "homosexual agenda" and your allegations that accepting homosexuality is the same thing as advocating sex with children. You are cruel and ignorant. You have been robbing me of the joys of motherhood ever since my children were tiny.

My firstborn son started suffering at the hands of the moral little thugs from your moral, upright families from the time he was in the first grade. He was physically and verbally abused from first grade straight through high school because he was perceived to be gay.

He never professed to be gay or had any association with anything gay, but he had the misfortune not to walk or have gestures like the other boys. He was called "fag" incessantly, starting when he was 6.

In high school, while your children were doing what kids that age should be doing, mine labored over a suicide note, drafting and redrafting it to be sure his family knew how much he loved them. My sobbing 17-year-old tore the heart out of me as he choked out that he just couldn't bear to continue living any longer, that he didn't want to be gay and that he couldn't face a life without dignity.

You have the audacity to talk about protecting families and children from the homosexual menace, while you yourselves tear apart families and drive children to despair. I don't know why my son is gay, but I do know that God didn't put him, and millions like him, on this Earth to give you someone to abuse. God gave you brains so that you could think, and it's about time you started doing that.

At the core of all your misguided beliefs is the belief that this could never happen to you, that there is some kind of subculture out there that people have chosen to join. The fact is that if it can happen to my family, it can happen to yours, and you won't get to choose. Whether it is genetic or whether something occurs during a critical time of fetal development, I don't know. I can only tell you with an absolute certainty that it is inborn.

If you want to tout your own morality, you'd best come up with something more substantive than your heterosexuality. You did nothing to earn it; it was given to you. If you disagree, I would be interested in hearing your story, because my own heterosexuality was a blessing I received with no effort whatsoever on my part. It is so woven into the very soul of me that nothing could ever change it. For those of you who reduce sexual orientation to a simple choice, a character issue, a bad habit or something that can be changed by a 10-step program, I'm puzzled. Are you saying that your own sexual orientation is nothing more than something you have chosen, that you could change it at will? If that's not the case, then why would you suggest that someone else can?

A popular theme in your letters is that Vermont has been infiltrated by outsiders. Both sides of my family have lived in Vermont for generations. I am heart and soul a Vermonter, so I'll thank you to stop saying that you are speaking for "true Vermonters."

You invoke the memory of the brave people who have fought on the battlefield for this great country, saying that they didn't give their lives so that the "homosexual agenda" could tear down the principles they died defending. My 83-year-old father fought in some of the most horrific battles of World War II, was wounded and awarded the Purple Heart.

He shakes his head in sadness at the life his grandson has had to live. He says he fought alongside homosexuals in those battles, that they did their part and bothered no one. One of his best friends in the service was gay, and he never knew it until the end, and when he did find out, it mattered not at all. That wasn't the measure of the man.

You religious folk just can't bear the thought that as my son emerges from the hell that was his childhood he might like to find a lifelong companion and have a measure of happiness. It offends your sensibilities that he should request the right to visit that companion in the hospital, to make medical decisions for him or to benefit from tax laws governing inheritance.

How dare he? you say. These outrageous requests would threaten the very existence of your family, would undermine the sanctity of marriage. You use religion to abdicate your responsibility to be thinking human beings. There are vast numbers of religious people who find your attitudes repugnant. God is not for the privileged majority, and God knows my son has committed no sin.

The deep-thinking author of a letter to the April 12 Valley News who lectures about homosexual sin and tells us about "those of us who have been blessed with the benefits of a religious upbringing" asks: "What ever happened to the idea of striving ... to be better human beings than we are?"

Indeed, sir, what ever happened to that?"

It's people like this that will bring the masses to God, rather than the self-righteous bigots I've found in the Houses of God.

It's not just about being gay (which if you're wondering, I'm not). It's about a whole lot of other things. Everything, from common problems to suicide. Why discriminate? You're not showing much compassion, for all your religion is worth. Because of this, I've decided to look for God without other people telling me how.

Try becoming those you want to reach before you stretch out your hand. You might find your own hand wanting.

baseball...

So since we were so bored, Kim and I began discussing OTHER people's sex lives, which is very sad since we don't have any ourselves (YES, Mom, still as virgin as that olive oil in the pantry). Which, like I've said, is sad.

Anyways, suddenly, it somehow occured to her to ask me to which base I've gotten to. And this is how she put it, in the American measuring system:

First base: Frenching, or anything to do with heavy mouth to mouth action.

Second base: Upper body nudity, plenty of mouth and hand action.

Third base: Anything orally induced.

Home: Sex.

Now, the engineer and statistician in me found something wrong with that scale. It doesn't take into account people who are brand new into a partnership, which in itself, I think, is an achievement unto itself. So I devised another revised scale, more to fit with the general public, and to allow for greater variations.

First base: Normal stuff, like holding hands, and pecks, and stupid googly meaningless words that sound great regardless. Rated U.

Second base: Frenching, stuff to do with mouth and hands and for the more dextrous, the feet. Nothing visible, but definitely under the PG rating.

Third base: Full frontal nudity, mutual masturbation, oral sex. Stuff of a pin-up-ish nature. Rated R.

Home: Sex, and any of the undeniably sex-related practices (let's not even get to that). Rated XXX, without question.

Since I haven't put up a survey in months, what say you tell me which base you people have reached? If you so choose, your results will be totally anonymous, provided you're smart enough to do that. Put it according to my new and improved scale. Waha!

In other notes, I tried a new recipe today, came out perfect. Except presentation. Pictures on those on Saturday. Bah kut teh today also. Pork doesn't taste so nice in this country, or I need to put in more salt.

Oh, I won't say which base I'm at.

it doesn't rain...

When I said I wanted things to write about, I didn't think it would be so costly an affair. So costly that I have to reduce a photoblog into a long worded one.

Immediately after class yesterday, I rushed back, threw my things on the floor, and sped down to Clayton station on my bike. So I got on the train, met Kim at Flinder's. We went to this huge park near a graveyard to toss the disc.

Met Michelle there, and we flung the platter around. I was inordinately hyperactive, so actually managed to surpass my usual physical limit, what with all the catching and gaya moves. Kim got a blister from cleverly wearing canvas shoes while running around (not helped by my absolute lack of aim). We quit after awhile, and headed to Little Bourke for something Chinese.

Went to this dumpling place in what is quite reminescent of one of those back alleys of any damn Chinatown. Dumplings were oil-saturatingly good, and the beef noodles were about one of the best I've had in awhile (Seremban noodles still the best). This Anglo lady and her son shared our table for the simple reason being that the place was crowded, and to say the least, their choice of orders were quite interesting. Equally as fascinating was that while our waitress was quite hot, something about her just about fucking screamed ah kua. I think it was the makeup. Or the deep set eyes.

Back to Kim's place with 8 Smirnoff's and something else orange. Had a random chat, were apparently the sugar in the very thin Smirnoff's was getting to me. Seems that I let spill certain things I wouldn't normally in a level condition. Interestingly, I wasn't drunk, hence the ability to give what can be best stated as 'useful' advice, much like the ones I typically give but never follow.

At about 2-ish, I suspect, one of Kim's roomie's knocked on the door, and very nicely, but quite forwardly put that we were making a hell of a racket. Since I had most obviously missed the last train back, I bunked over at Michelle's aparment, since St. Mary's was most definitely Catholic, and let's just say that friends have almost been expelled over the sharing of rooms of two members of the opposite sex.

Was supposed to help Mich with her Psychology paper, but I wasn't much use. Her roomie wasn't in, so I slept on the couch. I vaguely recalled getting up in the middle of the morning, or rather, sitting up, mumbling something, then going back to sleep.

Took leave of Mich the next morning (thanks, Mich), having had an appointment with Kelvin and Kim to do some quasi-gay stuff; clothes shopping. Kelvin conveniently couldn't come for reasons that kinda still elude me (what the hell do you mean house shopping?), so we called Kian out. Met at this Pancake Parlour, where they have beautfiful pancakes, good bacon and eggs that Kim wouldn't eat. That muchly covered lunch, especially with the pricetag.

Random walking, bought a black hoodie and a laundry basket. Mostly more pointless walking, going back to Kim's place to style Kian's hair because he didn't make an appointment with the stylists, and me and him leaving Kim's place to Melbourne Central. I endured a long and mostly half concious trip back with a funny feeling I would meet a situation that was potentially blog worthy but not something particularly pleasant.

My bike was stolen.