Origin of Qingming Festival, according to Sifu Sabrina

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-3_W709xbw

Hussein gives chocolates to Wati for her birthday but gets a strong reaction instead

Hot Legs Niteclub & Karaoke in KL’s Bukit Bintang is pulsing energy like a madhouse and gorging hot funky music on its outside sidewalk.  

Mummy Lulu dives into the Platinum Karaoke Room with Chow Kah and Hussein following two steps behind.  Her broad frame is wrapped by a tight red midi dress, ending at her bare knobbly knees.  

Inside sit a sorority of sex kittens on a velvet sofa; Wati is leaning against one wall; Jessica is slouched on an armchair. Jessica’s long tortilla-coloured hair falls down her shoulders in a mass of perfect waves. In the depths of her half-lidded eyes—framed by long, black lashes—lurk oceans of sex appeal. Her full carmine lips set off high cheekbones and she radiates an air of relaxed elegance.

Wati’s shapely legs start with black heels and disappear under a pair of faux leather bikini bottom. A cross-stringed bustier is moulded to her round delicious breasts, dipping at the cleavage and exposing her smooth shoulders. A slash of apple-red lipstick bisects her slender face and eyes the rich brown colour of Guinness Stout look at Mummy Lulu and her regular duo.

“These are my new hostesses,” announces Mummy Lulu, sweeping a gnarled hand with a flourish over the four lasses. “Three from Vietnam, one from Indonesia.” She winks at Chow Kah standing beside her, and crinkles form at the corner of her eye. “How about trying a new dish tonight?” Then, she flits her gaze at Hussein. “You, Hussein? The Indonesian? Last girl in the row.”

Her voice sounds like that of a throat-cancer patient.

Chow Kah looks away from Mummy Lulu. “I’m not interested.” His gaze swallows Jessica with masculine warmth. “It’s Jessica for me, as usual.” Jessica’s expression does not change, as if aware that she would always be picked by Chow Kah.

“Maybe next time.” Hussein holds a paper bag aloft. “I came to give Wati a birthday present tonight.” He takes a side step from Mummy Lulu to create a walking space to the door.

Mummy Lulu claps her hands, hollers “Alright, out, girls,” and the four hotties trot out on kitten heels, platform heels and flats. A babe has her eyes clouded with frustration; another zags her mouth down in disappointment; a third has the vestiges of a smile lingering on her lips and the Indonesian dame purses her bee-stung lips to suppress her feelings. Mummy Lulu allows the door to slam behind her and Chow Kah and Hussein sidle up to separate sofas, and Jessica and Wati join them.    

Hussein’s face lights up the moment Wati plants a dainty hand on his knee.

“Happy birthday, darling,” he says and takes out a box from the paper bag on his lap.

Wati opens the box and then a shade of dark invades her cheeks. “Don’t ever buy these Black Hands Chocolates for me! I hate them!”

Sitting opposite Wati across the coffee table, Jessica and Chow Kah jerk upright in surprise.  

“What’s wrong, Wati?” Jessica asks.

Hussein places gentle palms on Wati’s shoulders to protest. “Hey, these Black Hands Chocolates are not cheap, darling, made in Belgium.”

“I know!” Wati clambers on the sofa, kneels and glares at Hussein. “These products are an insult to the people of Congo. They’re a celebration of the rule of King Leopold II over Congo. This motherfucker imposed a horrific policy on his rubber plantation workers. Any worker who could not meet his production quota would have his hand cut off. A unit from the army carried out the king’s order. And they frequently carried baskets of chopped hands to show to the commander. It happened in the 19^th century.”

Jessica almost jumps off her seat, her eyes widening in shock. “Shit! How cruel!” She brushes curls from her forehead and sucks an inhale to regain her erstwhile composure, her exhale wheezing like an angel’s whisper.      

“Anyway,” Chow Kah says, waving a hand, “giving chocolates to a woman is an excellent idea.” His slit-like eyes twinkle with mischief. “Know why? Simply, because chocolates improve female sexual health.” 

Jessica cocks her head sideways. “Proof?”

“Dr Andrea Salonia, an associate professor of the Università Vita Salute San Raffaele in Italy has published a paper in the Journal of Sexual Medicine. The conclusion of his research was that women who frequently ate chocolate had higher levels of desire, arousal, and sexual satisfaction.”

Wati steps back into last night’s episode with her sugar daddy.  Oh sheesh, I know that already.  Last night, Datuk Latiff and I consumed a big box of dark chocolates after dinner. Then we made love. The delicious sensation started deep within me, near the head of his huge prick as it ripped through the folds of my pussy, through my clitoris, through my ass; almost tearing up through my chest, making my pussy muscles seize and clench, seize and clench—near-countless times—and I ground my hips into his with all the force I could muster. Then the tension inside my body shattered like a grenade exploding, sending waves of utmost pleasure from my clit and ending with electric jolts to my fingertips and the bottoms of my toes.

Wati blinks, curly eyelashes groping in the air. Her sensations of her love-making gets too strong for comfort. Hussein’s hands on her lap feel like third-degree burns. She seizes the present by the tail and drags it into her mind.  She puts the box of Black Hands Chocolates in the centre of the coffee table.

“Please help yourselves, guys,” she says, “but I’m not eating them.”

Chow Kah pops a chocolate into his mouth. “You can get sex chocolates, too.” He chews with horsey teeth and adds, “Whoa! Black Hands is full of flavour.”

“Sex chocolates?” Hussein sits up straight, surprise curling his lips. “Which store? I must buy them for my fourth wife!”

Chow Kah angles to face Hussein. “Amazon Singapore. But not sure whether they can deliver to Malaysia.”

The door swings open and hot air gushes into the room. Mummy Lulu ambles in on wedges shoes, warm hospitality etched into every wrinkle of her craggy face. “Tonight’s snack is on the house.” She puts a silver platter of chocolates beside the cardboard box of Black Hands, her next words packing a wallop. “Sex chocolates from Singapore.”

“Eeek!” Jessica’s luscious lips pull into a cross between a grin and a scowl.

Hussein shimmies to the edge of his seat. “How did you get them?” A grin spills over his coffee-coloured face, fiery excitement burning in his eyes. “They couriered to you?”

“Nope, they delivered to my Singapore relative and I carried them in my suitcase across the Causeway—two dozen boxes!” Mummy Lulu drops her hands at her sides, a hint of dirty pride flirting on her creased lips. “Three nights ago, I had a fantastic time with my toyboy after we’d stuffed our faces with two boxes of these goodies.”

Wati leans towards the coffee table, exposing the beginnings of her ample bosom, and picks up a chocolate with her varnish-tipped forefinger and thumb. “Let’s try these sex chocolates!” Her sugary voice edges to shrill with excitement. I'm gonna phone Datuk Latiff to come over tonight after work!

/end

 

“Tammel Esco,” says Mummy Lulu. “You’re a goddamned fucking Nigger!”

 

"Tiew nia ma chow hai!" yells Mummy Lulu, "Tammel should be locked up forever. No wonder many Malaysians don't like Africans.  Kan-ni-na! Call me a racist or anything, I don't care. Phooey!"

“Beware of haunted hotel rooms because of prolonged unoccupancy,” warns Sifu Sabrina

Rolf logs into his computer and pulls out his Skype. He wears his headset and waits for Sifu Sabrina to appear online. His eyes drift away to look out the window. The Sydney Opera House and its surrounding waters are cast in a yellowish hue from the setting sun.

Sifu Sabrina appears on the computer screen, wearing a skimpy green tank top. “Good afternoon, Mr Rolf.”  Her garnet lips curve, slant into something like a smile. “What do you want to consult me about?”

Rolf feels barbed-wire hooks gouging his jugular, Sifu Sabrina’s beauty the hook wielder, her husky voice the razor-sharp hooks. His eyes span wider. Holy cow! She’s a knockout!

“I’m planning a vacation in Malaysia," he says. "While searching for hotels, I stumbled upon stories of haunted rooms. For instance, there’s this hotel in Port Dickson. A group of Malay woman attended a workshop there.  They took a group photograph after the event. In the photo was an eerie apparition.” A yellow-teethed grimace pulls at Rolf’s face. “Can you advise me on how to repel ghosts if I’m unlucky to given a haunted room?”

“I’m glad you came to me.”Sifu Sabrina runs a set of crimson-edged fingertips through her hair. “Chances of a hotel room being haunted are high after the long travel restrictions. Unoccupied rooms which haven’t see sunlight for two years attract spirits because they’ve been totally dark, totally quiet.”

Rolf’s eyes turn into a zombie stare at Sifu Sabrina’s bosom.  “Your ghost-repelling tips, please.” Shit, I must pay her a visit when I’m in KL, maybe wrangle a date from her.

“First, knock before you enter.  The ghost will appreciate this courtesy, and  leave you in peace. Barging in will annoy it which may result in retaliation. Better still, announce aloud that you’ll be staying for certain number of nights, and ask that you’ll be left undisturbed.”

Rolf adjusts his necktie. “I see, the soft way.”

“Second, remove your shoes and place one side sole down and the other side sole up. This symbolizes a yin-yang effect, which contributes to a peaceful ambiance. Open the windows, balcony door, let sunlight in, let fresh air replace the stuffy air and switch on the TV for a while. Fill the room with positive chi. Spirits dislike such atmosphere and will go away. Third, cover the dressing table mirror with a towel or spare blanket, or whatever.”

“Oh?” Rolf’s face crinkles into a scrunch. “Why?”

“The mirror is a gateway to the spiritual dimension. Some spirits also reside in mirrors. Covering the mirror will disallow the ghost to come in from the other side.”  Sifu Sabrina adds with a thinking pause. “By the way, will you be travelling alone?”

Rolf leans sideways to release a butt cheek from compression to fart. “Yes, I’ll be solo.” Guilt crawls through him. Phew! It stinks!

“In that case, if you’re allotted a room with twin beds, put your suitcase and things such as camera on the bed you’re not sleeping on. A vacant bed is inviting to a spirit.” Sifu Sabrina’s mouth flat-lines, deadlier than a corpse in a hospital morgue. “If you’re travelling with your wife, be careful of who you hug while sleeping. This story happened in Genting Highlands. A sleeping man had his arms wrapped around his wife; he awoke to the sound of the toilet flushing. He raised his head and saw his wife coming out of the toilet. Shocked, he looked at the figure in his arms. It had a grotesque face! Leaping out of bed, he screamed and the apparition disappeared."

Rolf’s jaw drops. He closes it and says, “Jesus Christ!”  

“Another powerful ghost-busting technique is to burn incense. Invest in a box of frankincense sticks and light one up. Open all windows and walk around the room with the incense stick. Let the smoke waft through all areas, including the bathroom.”  

“Not possible. I usually take a non-smoking room.”

“Then burn frankincense essential oil. The smell is as effective as the smoke.” A cross between a smile and a smirk hovers on Sifu Sabrina’s lips. “You can also wear a Chung Kwei pendant. Chung Kwei is a Chinese deity who specialises in catching ghosts.” She shifts in her seat.

Rolf shakes his head like a dog shedding water. “As a Christian, I don’t believe in Chinese deities.”

Letting her neutral expression slip, Sifu Sabrina peers at him in a sideways glance, her lips in a near-scowl. “Never mind that, you can go for a copper bagua amulet. It’s sold online from feng shui retailers. Then get it blessed at any Chinese temple.”

Rolf’s gaze lands on Sifu Sabrina’s bare shoulders for a tick. “That’s great! I’ll consider that option.” Suddenly, all he wants to do is kiss her shoulders, brush her hair aside and kiss along her collarbone until she whimpers. Oh hell, why am I letting this woman play havoc with my emotions?

“Finally, keep the room bright at all times. If you’re out, leave the curtains open; also leave the bathroom lights on while you’re asleep. Spirits hate bright lights and will search for another cozy place.”  Sifu Sabrina’s hazel eyes hold Rolf’s captive for a moment and his breath hitches as a shock of electricity jolts down his spine. “Have a happy vacation! Thanks for your Paypal payment.”

Rolf logs off from the computer and rises to his feet. “Ouch!” The crotch at his pants feels too tight.

/end

"Phooey! What a shameless boasting of wealth," says banana fritters-seller Makcik Zaiton

 

"Recently, Bill Gates bought a USD600 million hydrogen-powered yacht and he didn't brag about it on his social media," says Makcik Zaiton, who sells banana-fritters at the roadside in Kota Bahru. "A few days ago, a Kelantanese woman gifted a RM2 million car to her husband, boasting about it  on her social media which was picked up by the mass media. Sheesh! What a shameless bragging of wealth. I would respect this woman more if she makes a donation to upgrade a dilapidated  surau, provide humanitarian aid to Afghanistan, donate to Muslim orphanages or sponsor the operation of a hole-in-heart Muslim child from a poor family. A saying goes like this: "Wealth is quiet, rich is loud, poor is flashy." For instance, Sheikh Mansour and Mohammed bin Salman don't need to flaunt their wealth on their social media or the mass media." 

Mummy Lulu reveals her secret of success

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NznL3Czlafc

Six steps to becoming an alpha male, according to romance consultant Angie Ang

Romance consultant Angie Ang cocks her head sideways, wobbling her ear-rings. “So, you want to be an alpha male?” A cloud of smooth hair comes rumpling over her shoulders and her glorious eyes blaze out upon Simon See.

Garbed in a checked button-down shirt, Simon nods, interest flickering in his pale eyes. “I want to be successful in the boardroom and bedroom.” His voice is as empty as the telephone that tells you the time. Then his eyes drift away, to look out the window behind Angie. Outside, the afternoon sun is vividly highlighting the fleecy clouds in the horizon.  

Simon and Angie are sitting in the latter’s office in Pavilion Tower, KL, an architectural gem plonked in the city’s traffic-snarled Golden Triangle.

Angie leans forward on her shiny desk and rests one palm on the side of her face. “First, posture. Do you sit straight, walk straight, hold your chin up? These are the elements of power posing. In 2010, Harvard University and Columbia  University published a paper in Psychological Science titled ‘Power Posing.’Now, the gist of the research. The researchers found that power postures give people a temporary rise in testosterone that leads to a sense of power, more self-confidence and desire for risk-taking.”

“I see.”

“So, in a party, social gathering, even in your own office, don’t sit with your chin down and shoulders hunched. These are low-power postures. Pull your chest up, don’t sit with legs closed, but legs apart. Hands on the armrests like a king on a throne. Likewise, walk into a room or a bar with a commanding presence and babes will snatch glances at you. Change your body posture and you’ll change the way you feel and act. You get the drift?"

Simon squares his shoulders. “Gee. I feel more confident already.”

“Second, eye contact. Don’t be afraid to look at people in the eye. When a babe is talking with you, never look at the ground, at her feet or the space behind her.” Angie locks her gaze with Simon’s with kohl-lined eyes. “Look at her in the eye for as long as possible, shift your gaze to her lips, or some other part of the face for a beat, then focus on her eyes again.”

“Can I look at her cleavage?”

“Sheesh! You’re a horny bastard!” The whites of Angie’s eyes expand. “An alpha male has self-control and self-respect and respect for women. He doesn't grovel for women but women are attracted to him because of admirable qualities.  Okay?” A grin inches across Angie’s face, turns into a sly smile and her dimples deepen with the lift of the smile. “Third, less is more when it comes to talking. An alpha male does not chatter like an ape or jokes endlessly like a stand-up comedian. He says what’s necessary in a relaxed manner, then he shuts up and becomes a good listener.  Always speak slowly and in a deep low voice. Don’t talk like a telemarketer or a life insurance fucker!  Speak like a newscaster.”   

Simon shifts in his seat. “Gee, I must tape my own voice and listen to it.”

“Also observe how alpha male characters in movies talk--try to emulate them.” Angie smoothens her hair with one hand, her silver watch knocking light into Simon’s eyes. “Next, invest in mature-looking clothing—power dressing.  Prefer darker shades or neutral colours rather than loud colours. T-shirts with profanities or bones-and-skull or childish designs are a no-no for every occasion. The alpha male is not rugged or hip or groovy. He is smart-looking but not any of the three unless it fits the occasion. The alpha male smells nice and—where Chinese girls are concerned—has no facial hair.”

Simon’s eyes narrow with the intensity of one who has a secret to share. “I myself don’t like men who hide behind moustaches.”

“Now, money. The alpha male has financial IQ, never over-spends, is never hounded by his bankers. He doesn’t squander his salary by gambling or whore-mongering or happy-ending massages or on naked webcam girls. But, for instance, he may visit a nightclub once a month—that’s it—he knows the limit to his budget. An alpha male does not seek an advance salary from his employer because of poor financial skills. That's shameful.  No matter how high his income is, he doesn’t spend recklessly, but saves for a rainy day." 

“An alpha male need not be a rich man’s son?”

“A self-made man can be an alpha male but a lounge lizard is not an alpha male.”

“Lounge lizard?” Simon scratches the back of his head. “What’s that?” He spears Angie with a quizzical stare.

Angie taps her keyboard at her side table, punches ENTER and flicks her gaze at the computer screen.  “The Collins Dictionary describes a lounge lizard as” — she points at the computer screen with a dainty finger—“an indolent, pleasure-seeking man who frequents lounges, nightclubs, etc. where rich people or socialites gather.’” She tosses her gaze back at Simon, her eyes twinkling like tiger’s eye gemstones. “Lastly, the alpha male is always bettering himself, upgrading his skills and knowledge. He reads self-help books or watches self-improvement videos on YouTube, or does whatever that improves himself. He also does things that are praise-worthy.”

“Such as?”

Angie leans back in her chair and tugs the lapels of her dress with both hands. “Volunteer work at his church, rescuing a stray puppy in a drain, helping a blind man cross a busy road, donating food to monks, donating blood, raising funds for a charity, and lots, lots more. I’m sure you can think of others. Post your good deeds on Facebook or Instagram and, soon, hot babes will adore you. In the animal kingdom, the alpha male is a badass, but in the human world, the alpha male commands respect through noble deeds, not by being brutish.” She pauses and releases an exhale. “That’s all my advice.”

Simon pulls out his wallet, leaves several bills on the desk, and jackknifes to his feet. “Thanks for the invaluable tips.”

/end

Two hotel spas in KL that are still operating, according to Jessica

 

"Know any hotel spas that are still open?" Chow Kah asks.

"Why are you men so horny?" Jessica wags her hand. "Omicron is rampant but you still want to risk contracting the virus." She gives her head a few shakes. "Since, you ask, I'll tell you: Eastin Hotel Spa and Cititel Mid Valley Spa. But they close early."

Chow Kah winks. "Don't worry, I'll do a COVID self-test after I've had my rub-down there."

/end