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I find myself in Sunway Pyramid for two days in a row, because Mum keeps deciding that she needs to buy more things for her upcoming trip to Seoul.
"I need a new luggage bag. The other one I have is too big."
Not like I have anything to do this Saturday anyway. Plus, its relatively easy to find parking here, with the rather high-tech L.E.D. indicators that show you where there is parking space: red for occupied, green for vacant.
I don't know why we spend so much time in malls. Perhaps its to escape the heat. I don't have anything to buy, so I just idle around as Mum examines the bags in one of the shops by the skating rink, in the Blue Atrium.
A rather good looking lad distracts me from a skilled female skater's training routine. He's probably Malay. Tall, with fair skin. He could be a model, if there was a larger market for Asian guys in the modelling world. Perhaps in a few more years, when Malaysians wouldn't mind buying things modeled by Malaysians (or other Asians) instead of Caucasians.
His hair is gelled back like Elvis's and Ricky Nelson's, and he's wearing skinny grey jeans folded at the ankles: all the better to notice his bright red sneakers. Its his T-shirt that I find interesting. It is bright pink, with a large visual of the Eiffel Tower in all its phallic glory.
I wonder if he knows how telling his choice of attire might be to certain onlookers. I wonder if he knows about the concept of latent desire, and I keep wondering as he disappears into the crowd and Mum indicates she wants to move on to the next store.
"I need a new luggage bag. The other one I have is too big."
Not like I have anything to do this Saturday anyway. Plus, its relatively easy to find parking here, with the rather high-tech L.E.D. indicators that show you where there is parking space: red for occupied, green for vacant.
I don't know why we spend so much time in malls. Perhaps its to escape the heat. I don't have anything to buy, so I just idle around as Mum examines the bags in one of the shops by the skating rink, in the Blue Atrium.
A rather good looking lad distracts me from a skilled female skater's training routine. He's probably Malay. Tall, with fair skin. He could be a model, if there was a larger market for Asian guys in the modelling world. Perhaps in a few more years, when Malaysians wouldn't mind buying things modeled by Malaysians (or other Asians) instead of Caucasians.
His hair is gelled back like Elvis's and Ricky Nelson's, and he's wearing skinny grey jeans folded at the ankles: all the better to notice his bright red sneakers. Its his T-shirt that I find interesting. It is bright pink, with a large visual of the Eiffel Tower in all its phallic glory.
I wonder if he knows how telling his choice of attire might be to certain onlookers. I wonder if he knows about the concept of latent desire, and I keep wondering as he disappears into the crowd and Mum indicates she wants to move on to the next store.
