Oh, you sexy, young, (bimbotic) thing

They are young. They are sexy. They are bold.

They dress provocatively, showing off their flair for every female's instinct to want to look their best. They splash extravagant amounts of time and money on clothes with little thread, on skimpy skirts with mere inches that would make Paris Hilton proud, on gossip so deadly and venomous the snakes would hiss at the sight of it.

They are also what I term 'the bimbotic girls'.

Every once in a while, there is a new addition. The girls come and go, as the core members of the team remain. But, any girl who wishes to enter the team must fulfil one basic criteria: to dress provocatively or sexily. They have zero tolerance for prudes or conservativists, and are not afraid to show off their power by...whining to "Daddy Dearest". "Daddy Dearest" is a very flattering term for a short, fat, balding middle-aged man, isn't it?

Forget about quizing them on algebraic equations or the theory of mechanism. They are here for one sole purpose: to look good. They may be clueless about E=mc2, but are pro in manipulating the minds of the men around them, memerising them enough to be at their beck and call.

Never mind that they or their admirers are married or attached. Men hanker and lust after them. Einstein's theory of gravity would seem like a foreign language to them, and all you should expect in return are blank and clueless stares. They sprout out words of wisdom like, "Women were born to be pampered" and "Would it hurt to let your boyfriend wait for you? It's men duty to wait for women. And, as we all know, women need time to make-up. Do men need time to make-up? No."

As the width of their skirt gets shorter and shorter, they climb higher and higher up the corporate ladder.

They thrive on the sheer power of strength.
They feed on men's hunger and weakness.
They are the masters of the show.
And men are their puppets.

Like manufactured barbie dolls, they are the living species dominating the earth. And men's minds. They have a certain mould and standard to abide to, and they must always and only marry Ken. Ken = Dashing prince-charming, with lotsa of love (optional) and money to spare. Looks are optional, but the size of your wallet must be sufficient enough to fund their random shopping sprees and their never-ending quest for beauty, even way into their 30s.

Like Madonna, they are the material girls. I wonder why they spend S$700 on a skirt with so little cloth. Are there not enough Lindsay Lohans and her mini-skirts around?

The beauty of their youth is their currency. They have unadulterated lust and passion for money, and they exchange their time, affections and youth in return for money and to gratify their superficial chase for materialism.

They want money. Money and more money. To finance their facials, spas, salon visits, beauty products, etc etc. Anything to maintain their youthful looks and put time to a standstill, "not put time on their faces".

I quote a poem I once came across:

He's 61. And I'm 21.
He enjoys my company,
and I enjoy his.
I think it's called First World Bank.

In the office, Britney's "From the Bottom of My Broken Heart" is playing on their stereo on repeat mode. Talk about noise pollution, is this their idea of good music? I have no qualms about listening to Britney's crooning vocals, but I simply cannot stand the fact that these are the very people who complain that we turn the office into a fish market of sorts. Can they please orchestrate their thoughts and iron out the reasons behind their dissent before speaking out? Why aren't they practising what they preach?

While some (females) may find such an environment stifling, others (men) appreciate the eye-candies walking around an otherwise uninteresting office environment with females decked out in boring black suit pants.

It's a miracle, that as society progresses, human beings seem to have left their brains behind while on a wild goose chase after technological advances.