Obedient Wives Club

What can you do to prevent your husband from being unfaithful?

Become his prostitute! No, not just any street hooker but a first-class "elite-type" one. This is the solution given by the V.P of the controversial Obedient Wives Club. OWC was first set up in Malaysia, then Indonesia; it proclaimed to be able to cure all social ills from divorce to incest to prostitution, as long as the wives are submissive and keep their husbands busy with some of the most mind-blowing sex!

She went on to say, "...as wives, we must treat our husbands better. It’s not just in bed, but everything that a wife can offer. Optimise your role. If we provide our husbands more than a prostitute can give, then our husbands will not go out looking for it.”

Sure. Only if the husband can pay the wife top dollars too. Do you have any idea how much it will cost a man to engage the service of that first-class "elite type" of prostitute, who can make him feel like a million buck, both in and out of bed? An overnight session with a social service escort in Singapore will cost somewhere around $5000-$8000. Don't believe me. Just google it. 

There had been news that OWC might be setting up a branch here in Singapore. So do our husbands really want elite prostitute type of wives? My take is: then invest in your wives. Because if you don't, you will only end up with wives like the 'Geylang Chickens'! You get what you are paying for? So don't compare and don't complain.

Me? Oh, I must be the most obedient wife, if not where do I get my Chanel, Louis Vuitton and the subsidy for liposuction. Hahahaha...

But joke aside. Marriage is always a two-person thing. So guys, if you want a Julia Roberts, then you gotta be Richard Gere right?!



Behind Close Door

Never share a toilet cubicle with your pre-schooler. You want to know why. Read on.

It was just one of those days when we were out shopping in the mall and I needed to pee. I had to bring my daughter, Laetitia, along because if I didn't, she would be asking for the toilet at the most inconvenient timing later on, like right in the middle of a sumptuous dinner. And then my appetite would be ruined.

So we entered the toilet, there was a short queue, we waited for a while and suddenly I was feeling really high tide (I think the smell of the loo must have triggered my bladder). Finally a cubicle was available, I dashed in and felt a little disappointed because it was a squat type not a sit-on one. But I seriously needed to go so I quickly pulled Laetitia into the cubicle, turned around, pulled down my panties, squatted and peed.

It was at this instance that I heard a shriek breaking the silence of the toilet. "EEEKKKK!!... BLOOD! MOMMY! BLOOD!" Laetitia, who was standing behind me, had seen the unthinkable.

I tried to ignore her but she wouldn't stop. "Mommy, your pee pee has blood!" "How come there is blood, Mommy?" "So yucky... Blood! Blood! Blood!"

"OK. OK. Mommy is having my menstruation. I am not peeing blood" I decided to give my three and a half year old, a quick lesson on female reproduction system. "It's just a very natural biological reaction."

"What's men-train-station? Why men-train-station will have blood? So yucky, know." My inquisitive daughter wouldn't stop. I wished that I had masking tape in my pockets.

When I opened the door of my cubicle, the queue of toilet-users was waiting to see the face of this 'men-train-stationing' mom.

Nevertheless, I survived the embarrassment. My skin had thickened up quite a bit after becoming a mother, or so I thought.

Then a few days after, I had to drive Laetitia to school because our regular chauffeur, Mr Hubby, was out of town on a business trip. Our car barely left the condo's carpark when I felt an immense pain in my tummy and had even leak out a fart. I knew then that I could never make it through the horrendous morning traffic to reach my office without shitting my pants, so I pulled over and dashed for our condo's public toilet, with Laetitia in tow.

And there we were in a same toilet cubicle, again. I couldn't possibly leave her alone in the car. But this time, I thought I was smarter because I preamp her of what was to come and made her promise not to speak a word inside the cubicle. She was quiet. I was happy.

When we arrived at Laetitia's school, 15 minutes later than usual, her teacher greeted us at the door "Morning Laetitia, you come late today."

"Ya. My mommy stomachache, then just now she go to the toilet poo poo. So smelly, know." reported Laetitia.

Upon hearing that, the teacher and another parent tried very hard to suppress their giggles. I hung my head lowly in shame.

I regret not learning my lesson the first time.

Maybe, I should really consider carrying masking tape in my pockets.

My Pretty Boy

花美男 - loosely translated as 'flowery pretty boy', are men who are gorgeous, sexy, not macho but beautiful. They are such a hit in countries like Japan, Korea and Taiwan.

Pictures taken from Yutakis 

This is my own pretty boy, Leonitus. I have not seen any Chinese baby boy with lashes longer and curlier than his. His peaches and cream colored skin tone and his rosebud lips are the envious of all women. At the tender age of 16 mths, he is already a lady-magnet.

But I am really not keen to see my boy grow up into this metrosexual guy who buy more clothes or has more cosmetic procedures than his own mother. Maybe I should really stop putting flowers on his head and buy him a toy AK-47 instead.



Dad

Father's Day is just round the corner.

I don't remember ever celebrated Father's Day with my dad.

No, he didn't die when I was very young; in fact, my estranged dad is alive and kicking, somewhere. I don't exactly know where. He had given me his name card, but I think I had misplaced it already.

My parents divorced when I was young. My dad deposited my brother and I with our grandparents while he formed another family. We used to see him, once a month, then once every few months, then once every Chinese New Year. Then, occasionally once every few years. Now, once in a blue moon when we bumped into each other on the street.

So much had been reported on the importance of an involved father in the growth and development of a child. Children with dads who are active in parenting, perform better in school, show lesser behavioral problems, are more confidence and have greater chance of being successful when they grow up.

It is believed that young women often look for men resembling their own father; and if their fathers had been dirt bags in their growing years, you can imagine the kind of disaster that are awaiting the future of these women.

If you could close your eyes and recall the images of your dad in your childhood, what was it like?

Did you see your dad bringing you for walks? Did he carry you on his back? Did he read to you at bedtime?

Or was he never around when you needed him? Is he cold, distant, unapproachable or punitive?

To those dads who have eyes glued to your Iphone/Ipad all the time, is that how you really want your children to remember you by when they grow up?

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I closed my eyes. There was an image in my mind - a still and invisible figure.

I guess, that must be my dad.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy, wherever you are.