***
Alienista!

A boy I used to have a crush on at school used to play this silly game with me, where the both of us were super heroes in a world not unlike Gotham City, or better yet, China Mieville's Perdido Street Station. I can't remember what he was called, I think it was (Orgasmic) Mind-Blower, and I was called Lady-Deathshag -My god, the games kids can play even when they aren't on Diablo-

I didn't contact him for quite awhile, not since he got enlisted into National Service, and he messaged me a couple of days back, out of the blue, to tell me he was no longer Mind-Blower but Charcoal Boy (Oh, how un-kinky :( ... But I DO like my guys nice and tanned...) So I'm now Alienista, from the planet where all the favourite pastimes involve abducting flower-fresh earthling boys.

He asks me to rescue him from camp.
Very well, after I kidnap Bush in return for Iraq and the Gaza Strip.
Then my girls and I shall invade tekong; and my bitches, they'd rip of their Suicidegirl Tank tops and shoot lazer from their boobage.
And that's how I plan to save Charcoal boy.

(Yep. I'm really a pimply, dumpy geek from an all-boy's reformatory with an unnatural passion for crass X-rated Science Fiction. I recommend Rock and Roll Babes from Outer Space, by Linda Jaivin. I read it when I was 12. It's not fantastic, but it's fucking funny. I enjoyed it even more then The Hitchhiker's Guide. But probably because it had alot more sex and involved good looking aliens that had orgasms by getting their ears licked.

***

Mmm. I love strawberries.
Blend in cream and ice. Brilliant.

I'm all for genetic modification if it gives me bigger, sweeter, not to mention cheaper ($5.95 per box at Carrefour) strawberries.
Oh! and D24 -that basically means top grade- Durians are $20 for a box of six. Seriously, fruit does not only taste better, their so much cheaper. GMGMGM. Screw organic. I don't believe anything is purely organic anymore anyway. We've been genetically modifying our food since we learnt how to cross breed our rice. But the idea of saying "Oh, I only eat organic food" just comes off as so new-age and spiritual it has an appeal in itself.

Genetic recipes. I like the way that term sounds. If I didn't originally op for a perfectly useless arts program, I'd probably study something like biotech, where I get to muck around and play Goddess. But I think I'm abit too lazy for that, and I'd leave my dreams of becoming a research scientist for Pfizer to my SF novellas.

New Zealand ice-cream blends their vanilla with durian into a heavenly confection.

And I know angmos who like durian. GM has made them stink less. See, science has helped breech yet another cultural gap.
(The ones at Carrefour really don't stink all that much. Anyway, you haven't smelled really goddamned pungent durian until you go to the forest of East Malaysia where they have the fruit in it's un-tempered form. You'll die. Really. You would. The fruit would fall on you, crack upon contact with your skull and release a scent that's far more sicky sweet then an Anna Sui fragrance.)