Friday, March 24, 2006

Stupid Girls

Have you heard Pink’s latest hit – Stupid Girls? Trixie is so taken by it that she’s got it as her caller ringtone. I'm taken by it too and the message that its sending out. For those who haven't heard it yet - it’s about how girls (famous or otherwise) these days seem to think that acting dumb is ever so cute. When it comes to celebs, I’m talking about people like Paris, Nicole and Jessica (Simpson not Alba) who are running around in impossibly high heels and dieting themselves into oblivion. (There are whisperings that some Malaysian women seem to be afflicted by this disease and I'll leave you to decide which ones they are)

Some of Pink’s lyrics really hit home: Maybe if I act like that/ That guy will call me back/ What a paparazzi girl/ I don’t wanna be a stupid girl/ Baby if I act like that, flipping my blonde hair back/Push up my bra like that, I don’t wanna be a stupid girl.You go Pink! But sadly, judging from various message boards about the song, I’ve discovered that many girls out there think that Pink is fat and jealous of the likes of Hilton, Ritchie and Simpson. Apparently, that’s why she’s written the song. Sigh! If you ask me, this is proof that the Stupid Girl Syndrome is spreading faster than bird flu.

As I mention in the column tomorrow, I don’t consider myself a feminist. Anyway, the word feminist seems to have taken on really unfortunate connotation (Admit it the moment you read "feminist" you pictured a butch looking woman wearing a man's suit, sporting a few chin whiskers and plotting to exterminate the existence of Man Kind). But it doesn’t take a champion of women’s rights to recognize that this new Stupid Phenomenon is liable to cause genuine damage.

Perhaps these Stupid Girls are actually Smart Girls who get rich by pretending to be stupid. But the reality is that young girls are being influenced into thinking that being dim is the way to a man’s heart, a big bank account and worldwide fame.
Well, acting stupid and making a career out of it may have you laughing all the way to the bank but where’s the fun in that when everyone you meet on the way there is laughing at you? A question that, no doubt, even a Stupid Girl can answer. Now that’s what I call a no-brainer!

Friday, March 10, 2006


That's right folks - tomorrow's column is about spitting.... and all the other unslightly habits of us Malaysians. There's that saying: you can take a man out of the kampung but you can't take the kampung out of the man, but I think that's a bit harsh lah - some of the gentlest, most polite people I've ever met are from the kampung. They're beautiful folk full of gracious manners and gentle habits...

...who put their city counterparts to shame!

Why doesn't the big city, where money is booming, lights are shining and standards are climbing to international standards inspire people here to be a little bit more genteel...? And you know just what I'm talking about: people who barge into you at the shops without bothering to apologise, Mercedes drivers spitting out their car windows (eew.. SLKlass-less?), people asking you how much you earn in public, cutting queues, bad driving habits etc etc.

It's just all too common... But that's just it isn't it? Common because we're all a little guilty of transgressing boundaries of politesse... even just a little bit.

So are we being unduly harsh on ourselves when we talk of Malaysians being crass? Or is it time to really start despairing the behaviour of our fellow men and ourselves? And the more pressing question: Can anything actually be done about it?! (Or are we just wasting time sitting around, picking our noses thinking about it?)

Wednesday, March 08, 2006


Ah. Everybody's favourite topic of discussion - too big? too small? real? fake? saggy? perky? Everyone has an opinion. Me, I've always been of the opinion that mine could be bigger. Friends tut away and pooh-pooh the boob-job idea I bounce around them endlessly (yes, pun intended). "Aiyah! No need lah! You look fine wat," they say. Or, "Well at least you won't have backache and saggy ones when you're older," as a consolation. My mother said told me that "all I had to do" was have a baby and that would bring along a boob bonus, which of course didn't really help.

I don't actually think I've met any girly friend who thinks her boobs are perfect - they all wish theirs were bigger, or smaller, or less droopy, or less heavy etc etc. I have a friend who has enormous ones. When we go to La Senza there are plenty of animated comparisons, usually with me deploring, "I can't wear those, I'm too small" and her, "Yah, neither can I. I'm too big."

A girl I knew once questioned the fascination. "They're quite ugly actually when you look at it. Just two lumps of fat and a brown knob," she said, giving my preoccupations a quick dose of reality. But c'mon, we all know that doesn't make a sot of difference. Men will continue to ogle and women will continue to fret that theirs don't look like Carmen Electra's. And fake ones (no matter how splendid they look) will always be looked down on with suspicion (Yah... they're nice... but they're fake).

Sigh. What's a small-chested girl to do!

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Girl talk

Last Saturday, I had a few girls round for dinner. Faced with the prospect of an evening in confined spaces with 4 cackling girls, the boyfriend exiled himself to the bedroom. The brief half-an-hour appearance he made just to fix his own dinner (he had to eat, after all), was subjected to plenty of bullying, as only girls are capable of inflicting. He quickly ran away upstairs, preferring the company of my mother.

The racousness, vile jokes and catty gossip ran away with us and before we knew it, five hours has flown by. Then my dear father came home. We saw the startled expression on his face as he rounded the corner and found himself confronted by a table full of chocolate and a loud group of girls (really, even four girls are capable of making an immense amount of Noise). The girls were very polite of course, saying their hellos and putting on a few minutes of good behaviour. He was still rather scared off, and took himself upstairs as quickly as he could.

The question is: why are men so terribly frightened of girly company? A girl is often more than pleased to plunge straight into a big group of guys, share a keg and pitch in a few of her own dirty jokes. She'll put her feet up, toss her hair back and get comfy as one of the boys.... But it doesn't seem to work the other way round. More ofthen than not, boys seem to run screaming at the mere mention of a Girl's Night Out. Could it have something to do with the rather sinister sugar-coated deviousness behind these gatherings that all men are subconsciously aware and wary of?