Accurate observations

I hate rape jokes and jokes about violence to women. So imagine my love when I came across these gems.

Yeah, I get that it's #NotAllMen, but hey, how many straight men are afraid of being beaten to death by their spouse or partners?

Although Marlon Brando rocked it in A Streetcar Named Desire, the connotation of it always made me squirm.

Boggles the mind.

One in three women suffer physical and/sexual violence from their intimate partner.

A woman is 4 times more likely to die at the hands of a man she knows (i.e. father, brother, husband, boyfriend, stalker) than at the hands of a stranger.

Say no to violence against women.

Marriage is creepy

As it could only be said by one who is heart-whole and unlegshackled.

All stolen from here.

Midweek sh*ts and giggles.

Because we could all do with a little laughter therapy.

 Joan Rivers' stand on Israel is horrendous, but she was still funneh.

Boy, are your kids gonna have some doozers when they see 

the therapist in twenty years time.

 Gotta practice gratitude, yeah?

All stolen from stand-up-comic-gifs.tumblr.com

My true love said to me ...

Morticia and Gomez Addams are my favourite couple, always. So much affection and acceptance and dancing.

We should all have dancing.

Ah, l'amour.

Iron Man IRL is not really desirable

Popeye the Sailor Man helped popularise the idea that large quantities of iron in your diet is a good thing.

While iron is important to make the red blood cells that carry oxygen and serve as catalyst for vital biochemical reactions in your cells, it is NOT of much help for developing biceps bigger than your head.

But the idea of its importance remain, and you can see most processed food are touted to be enriched in minerals (which is what iron is) and vitamins. Have we gone overboard with our enthusiasm for fortified food?

Have a look.



Judging from the video, I'm thinking that maybe a year's worth of breakfast cereal is sufficient to craft a single nail. That amount would kill ya.

Lucky for you, your liver does a fantastic job of getting rid of undesirable stuff in your body (sadly, not the extra 20 lbs obscuring your six pack) and you can do it all without supplements for detox. Yay for physiology evolution!

Iron toxicity is rare; it is usually seen in people who have to undergo high volume blood transfusion because of anaemia. As a deliberate poison of choice, it takes too long to kill the victim, so murderers should stick to something a little bit more fast acting.

However, there have been cases of children who died from iron toxicity courtesy of multivitamin overdose.

Yep, those cute, tasty, colourful, chewy tablets CAN CAUSE DEATH.

After all, children are small and their juvenile livers are incapable of removing excess iron effectively. Makes it easy to build high concentration of iron in their body enough to kill them. Children with their penchant for sweets and crunchy candy often like multivitamins enough to keep badgering you to give them the tablets.

*That* is why those kiddie multivitamin bottles have WARNING LABELS telling you to KEEP THIS BOTTLE OUT OF CHILDREN'S REACH.

You have been warned.

Dense like dying stars.

A lot of boobage throwing about ahead. You have been warned

NSFW.

I used to like Vanessa Williams ...

... until she sang Colours of the Wind.

It's no secret that I loathed Pocahontas. The reason?

Just see below.

No matter how pretty and perky the film, I still cannot get over that Disney would want to gloss over the story of a 12 year old who was separated from her people, abused, forced to convert, paraded about like an exotic animal (to the minds of her captors, that's what she was) and was buried in a distant land after contracting a horrible disease courtesy of her unwashed jailers.

FUCK, NO.

Ada aku kesah?

Indifference kills lame trolls.

All stolen from here.

When I was a child, to be told that I am unattractive was one of the worst things that could happen to me. I bought the whole ideal of beauty in media: to be thin, to be tall, to be pale complexioned.

Which is daft since:

a) Though I was slender (note the past tense), I'm not media-friendly thin.
b) I was short until I hit 15.
c) I'm a Malay - tan is my default colour.

Luckily for me, I somehow developed this idea that it's okay to not be pretty by the time I was around eleven or so. I gloried in not fitting the ideal, and I stopped scrutinising people for pleasing or unpleasant features or appearances.

Life is so much easier when you don't care what people think of your looks.

When I was sixteen, I attended a co-ed school and got me a pretty nasty culture shock. My idea of what teenage co-ed life was pretty much gleaned from television shows like Saved by the Bell. I had no idea that boys are so much more mealy-mouthed and gossip hungry than girls. Heck, they are even bitchier.

Case in point: one male school mate cornered me one day and told me that I should stop wearing skirts because my legs are ugly. He said that with an air of smug superiority, as though what he said came down from Mount Hira'.

I sat on a table, and looked down at my legs. They were curvy from ballet and covered with scars from scabs that I peeled before they healed. Most certainly not centerfold worthy.

I looked back at him and smiled.

"And who are you to me that I should care about your opinion? Are you my father? My brother? My boyfriend? Not any of those, right? So why should I care that you think that my legs are ugly?"

That was the first time I saw a Malay boy blush.

And frankly, if you are not going to pay for a new dress for me, or treatment for my ugly-ass appearance, why do you need to tell me what I already know? Bodoh, is it?