another year over

last christmas

this christmas

and just like that, it's been another year. And boy, what a crazy year it's been. Emotionally, Physically, Mentally.

From the top of Europe in freezing tops of -16 degrees, to the hottest place on earth in December where the weather today is a forecasted 42.

It's a one way road that I've got to keep travelling down, hoping to become a better person at the end of it all.

Thank you to all of you who have been there, and to the people whom I haven't contacted, know that you're in my mind anyway. And thank you for having been there in spirit if not in person. I wouldn't have made it without you all.

luv,
me.

freefalling is such a rush

like most eventful days, this one had an eventful start.

At quite literally the crack of dawn, I woke up to the infernal sound of birds tweeting and my alarm clock playing something I now don't remember but was nonetheless annoying. As I sat at the local Baker's Delight waiting for my friends, I chomped on several bread rolls and pondered on whether I could possibly wake up to try Brown's one day.

Then they arrived. 3 crazy Columbians (2 of whom were hung over and had only slept 4 hours) and me, packed into a jalopy that would take us to our date with destiny. Needless to say, like all epic adventures, our jalopy ran into trouble by 8am.

yes, that is green shit coming out. It's not as scary as it seems....(that's right, it's not radioactive slime) it's just the coolant. Our car had overheated...it seems out radiator cap seal was broken.

Nonetheless, we made it to Euroa in one piece, and on time too!

Once there, I spied the Cessna plane that would take us up to over 10 000ft- a single propeller plane I'd once taken a ride in...and that last ride was over the Grand Canyon in extreme tubulence. So bad that even our pilot threw up at the end of it all.

Thankfully, it was Euroa, where the weather is almost always excellent and the plane ride was really uneventful. when they flung open the door, cool air blasted us immediately and I was instructed to swing my legs over the edge of the plane as we'd be taught on ground, and as "WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE" passed through my mind while staring at what looked like minature models of real buildings complete with stick trees loomed 10 000ft below, I was unceremoniously flung out the plane.

Freefalling at a ridiculous rate, we did a somersault where I saw the back of the plane fall away, and it felt like swimming, only lighter. a few seconds of falling strrrraight down later, we were stabilised (as much as stabilised when falling at terminal velocity can be) and a few seconds after that the parachute was pulled and we were gliding towards the drop zone.

Scott decided I was one of the "cool calm and collected cool cats" and actually let me work the parachute for one or two 360 turns (he didn't let go of course) while I watched cars still look like little toy ones drive by.

As we touched down, I realised that I'd skydived more than 6000ft in less than a minute....and that I'd broken 2 of my nails from the sheer velocity of zooming towards earth at up to 220kmph. you gotta love the rush.

After all 4 of us completed our jumps, we collected DVDs that my friends had ordered (watching your cheeks flap is really quite amusing) and hopped into our bung car looking for a service station. We fixed the seal cap, drove to Shepparton, and realised that the car was still overheating.

We stopped for lunch, hoping that the car would cool down, but after about 15km, we had to stop by the roadside in 36 degree heat to let the car cool down. As Jose unscrewed the cap, the water literally geysered out, and all of us ran for cover and let the car rest for another half an hour.

It didn't help. a few minutes and 3km later, we drew to a stop at RACV Nagambie where we asked for help. Apparently the car would take 3 days to fix, not including new years and we were stranded in Nagambie while RACV searched for a car in the vicinity for us.

While waiting for an answer, we sat at the local supermarket, reading old fashioned country ads on the community noticeboard including this one

and watch the sun set in the little town of Nagambie

4 hours later, they found one in a town 20km away and rang a taxi from that town to drive up AND down again, when we drove into a garage. It was about 9pm.

A few Juan Pablo Montoya jokes later, we were in another jalopy. But this one had AIR!

Yessss.........all we needed after a swelteringly hot day. AIR CONDITIONING.

There was no highway radio, no Triple J, but as sunset faded to dusk, and dusk into twilight, and twilight finally into darkness, we were still chattering on and our car was still going strong.

I arrived home at 11.30pm, hot, sticky, sweaty but happy. Not bad considering I'd thrown myself out of a perfectly good plane only 12 hours before.

Wishing: it wasn't going to be so hot tomorrow (42!!!)

yeah. I'm still alive. woe is the world.

I'll fotolog soon but in the meantime, page one of ninety-nine.

(click to enlarge)

reading: Howl's Moving Castle

and I'm jumping, from a jet plane...don't know when I'll be back again

I'm jumping out of a plane tomorrow and if the parachute don't work, well then, Merry X'mas to you all and a happy new year.

and if you want to come to my funeral, please tell me mum not to play overwrought classics like Amazing Grace and Swing Low Sweet Chariot, and tell me dad not to go the other damn way and play the Baby Elephant Dance. and if they must, I want it gospel style. GOSPEL STYLE.

NO NO NO NO NO. I don't want a Christian OR Buddhist or even Taoist funeral. (and no, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu and Sikh are out of the question)

MULTIDENOMINATIONAL.

if some poor bereaving sod wants to read a psalm/something out of the bible/torah/quaran/ancient holy texts of any language then they can go right ahead. but no singular denomination for me please. It really isn't in line with my agnosticism. If someone wants to step up and tell the world that aliens are the missing link and that really, no one should be crying because soon, I'll be pushing up daisies and other assorted weeds, and it's nature's way of recycling things, then DON'T STOP HIM.

actually, I'd find it pretty funny. (same goes if a certain colleague from internship decides to step up and tell the world that THERE IS NO GOD and that honestly truly, our sad little existence on this earth is to procreate and end up as fertiliser, then LET HIM and if you can get Jack Black/Jerry Sienfeld/the cast of Whose Line Is It Anyway? to emcee and make some really witty jokes or even an entire theatre sports section about death even if it's at my expense, then go right ahead)

My funeral shall be a riot. and yeah, all races creeds and religions are welcome.

P/S please, NO professional wailers, NO chinese orchestra (not even the teochew style you hear me?) NO church organs, nada. just my winamp list if you must (use the playlist labelled party2) and you can use all my organs for medical research/saving poor crippled kids, and oh. cremation please. and then toss my ashes into the wind. Wanderlust doesn't stop just because my body has.

P/S/S and please cremate my father with a pair of earplugs because it's his private final wish to me. He hates sanskrit chanting so.

that green rubber tutu kinda grows on me (and secretly, I still have a crush on atreyu)

so. I watched a remake of one of my few childhood celluloid movies. i.e. The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe.

and while I really loved it, WHAT IS IT WITH MIDGET INDIAN ACTORS?????

1st LOTR, then Willy Wonka, now this?

other than that, the white witch was suitably scary (although I really prefer the TV version because she was so much colder....not passionate and fiery- although it could've been because I was 6 when I saw that, and her palace was blue themed (more icy than eerie) and glided round in a sleigh even within the palace) mmmmmm turkish delight. I ate turkish delight in Turkey long before I read the books so I don't have a strange affliction of turkish-delight-phobia that a lot of other people seem to have. (although I have heard heaps of people wanting turkish delight because of the movie)

nonetheless, if there are any girls my sister's age reading this, I recommend this one for the perve factor as opposed to Harry Potter.

Cedric Diggory? I mean look at THIS.

sure he scrubs up....OH KAY

but if that's the best that dear old Potter can offer when everyone knows that there are many more good-looking guys resideing in ye olde united kingdoms (what? Cho Chang had a distinctively Scottish accent, don't tell me you couldn't hear it) then dammit, on perve factor alone Narnia should win. (on an aside note, where the hell do they get all these kids who can really really act?)

other than that...the lion really rocked, I wonder if they employed FF animators to do that old individual hair strands trick. hmmmm. centaurs were cooler than I thought they'd be, and gosh, they had gryphons! a lot smaller than I'd imagined but pretty cool anyway. hmmm gryphons.

ok. 1st midnight mass at St Pats, then Narnia. I reckon I'm getting more Christian allegory than I bargained for.

Faith is a many spledoured thing.

Listening to: Lil Jon and the Ying Yang Twins - A Lil Low Now

p/s mummy? why are white tigers evil? why are leopards good? But I like white tigers. and the lion! Daddy, I want white tigers and Aslan for Christmas.

coz I'm pimpin

Sorry,

I had a bad day and couldn't be bothered looking for my good angle before I took the photo.

You know, the angle where my hair is radiantly bouffant so I have an Angelina-esque blow wave, my lips look plush, the mysterious non-herpes on my skin (they're not on my lips dahhhling, they can't be!) are but charming freckles, and my contact lenses make me glow, baby, glow.

ahhh you know what Asian Blondes are like, we're all the same. Give us some black eyeliner and an unsteady hand, and we look shit hot. yeah man. Even Zhang Ziyi could look hot if she actually followed those rules! That girl really needs some plastic surgery. Then she can look as good as I do!

one day, when all this is done, I'm going to party till I don't remember my name. Actually, I'm not too sure if I remember it right now.

tra lala....what was I saying again?

oh. whatever, btw reddirtgirl has been doing a fotolog of Nicole Richie carrying things. She's so strong that Nicole. Sometimes she even manages a Starbucks Venti AND a mobile. I was so impressed. Until I saw the skinny Olsen.


Look at the size of that folder AND a Starbucks Venti! I almost thought she was clinging on to it for support for a moment. young kids nowadays. Maybe I should schedule in a liposuction. Everyone's talking about Paris and Nicole and Mary Kate and Lindsay and Jessica and their little skinny bodies.

Oh it's so hard being gorgeous.

asian parents

Whenever the Asians want to get a point about their parents across to other Asians, we say "Asian Parents" and the other parties normally nod knowingly.

They're just one of a kind.

Like Russell Peters' skit about his dad watching the mardi gras on TV and seeing some gay indian guys "DO YOU KNOW THEM??!!!???"

and Russell Peters just looking at him like he's gone daft and saying, "NO, why the hell should I?"

"because there are a lot of gays in the entertainment industry and YOU are IN the entertainment industry"

well, my parents just left after a week and in their aftermath I have

4 clothes hangers (because we won't use it and you need it and we brought it specially for you)
about 5kg of mangoes and 3 tangerines so huge they're the size of my size 9 feet ( too enamoured with Aussie produce)
an old shower curtain (you're moving! besides, it can be used as a table cloth! Look, it's so neutral the colour somemore)
lots of bank issues
lots of stuff solved

AND

lots of issues in general

don't get me wrong. I like my parents. But asian parents are possibly the only ones to travel over 14000 miles to hand you clothes hangers, 2 pairs of cotton boxers that once belonged to dad but are too small, one pair of men's running shorts complete with ball support, and an old shower curtain that smells like nana's closet.

Graduation presents also included a little God Loves You Booklet (from Mum's secretary, hellbent on converting me since I hit puberty). God loves me yes I know. For the booklet tells me so!

they've been startlingly nice this trip I have to say, and I have to sleep now...will wake up at crack of dawn to call them

these "soothing tracks of peace and tranquility" are not working.

Serenity is not reaching me through my murky depths of misery through the thick ropes of stress.

annoyance levels are so high, I'm almost angry.

I'm tired, stressed, and cranky.

as you can see, I'm not even trying to make this crankily, rantily, sarcastically funny.
and I'll probably laugh in the morning.

but in the meantime...

ARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LISTENING TO: Bach- Christmas Oratorio: Sinfonata

I am on a warpath. Avoid me if you can.

I am also too busy to offer more than single sentence replies to ANY email at the moment.

this is just a list of shit I have to do...

• find out how to get a letter from DIMIA asking for Assurance of Support
• booking the HIV test and seeing if i really need a new health check (goodbye 250 bucks)
• paying my water bills
• booking time with eric to see his place, and house hunting in general
• pay my health insurance
• arrange my grad ceremony photos
• arrange itinerary for parents
• ring agents to threaten to kill them if they give me more false info.....and make sure they haven't vanished

so technically my day HAS to start at 8.30 tomm morning or I'm screwed.

and so I don't forget, Tuesday afternoon is reserved for househunting which is why I swapped shifts. I tend to forget these things.

escape from x'mas!

I ran away from the work x'mas party and went grocery shopping instead. I didn't know anyone and I wasn't in the mood to walk up to people and introduce myself. However, I craftily made sure I was conspicuous so no one can accuse me of a no-show.

I even took some time out to soak in live covers of big band tunes like "come fly with me" and "beyond the sea". AND grab one of those unidentified fried objects being passed around on platters by formally dressed waiters. (not to mention I had a cowboy hat perched on my head and said hi to everyone in my section of the company)

I am so good at this shit.

Does it matter that I piked half an hour in... after spending almost all of it on the phone to gerri? I think not. In fact, I even managed to secure a Cabcharge (which I didn't use because I'm a nice decent honest law-abiding sort-of-citizen of Singapore, the land where they hang people)

***

It's time for a new haircut...I graduate in 2 weeks and I can't resemble Barkly from Sesame Street. Especially when my sister is into the bad habit of posting my grad photos on HER friendster account and somehow managing to choose the one in which I bear a striking resemblance to a pig.

Friends have recommended Rokk Ebony. I will consider it most carefully given that I will be broke this month. (and it's only the 1st!) other options- Lure on Smith St, Xiang QV

***

looking at eric's place next week...if not, I NEED A HOUSEMATE!!!!! been looking at shared accomodation, but it's tough when they're all available immediately or in 2 weeks and you really want something for mid-late January.

***

I need a day off. I will be getting some when my parents come. But I don't consider those days off. I might need a day off from those days off. I need it to sort housing out, and pack. and shit like that. You know. Life.

I started the day with a french beret guy swinging from a sand eiffel

i was supposed to do all these important things online last night....check my office email (done), pay my rent (done), check my graduation stuff (done), email mum (done), and I can't remember WHAT ELSE!!! that's the bad part.

if someone remembers, please tell me. My brain is on holiday.

****

I woke up this morning and found a man in a french beret and black and white striped shirt playing an accordion swinging from a sandcastle in the shape of the eiffel tower.

then at 6.30 the ad execs started beating a path to my door.

the fun didn't stop...I had such a quiet morning. I even had a catnap on top of one of those mortuary freezers.

also filled with such love happiness and inner peace. *cough*

imploding at such force

***

dinner was good though. I almost forgot I'd been having a shitty day.

arghhhhh some people

Am I being discriminatory? Yes I am.

you know, the problem with stupid people is that there's absolutely NO USE trying to talk sense into them, or to take a more egalitarian view, to try get them to even SEE where you're coming from. and since they can't SEE where you're coming from let alone conceptualise it, they just....stop at point B when you're talking from point C. They just can't go past a certain point, so their logic becomes circular or pedantic.

It's like how a 2D drawing could never conceptualise 3D really, and how we in 3D could never really concieve of a fourth dimension...really.

So anyway, I'm interning at a company and everyone knows interns are at the absolute pond scum level of the pecking order. But well, sometimes, I swear, I'm smarter than the some people higher up (and since I'm not persecuting ANYONE by saying this since every bloody person in the 500-strong office is higher up than I am) . Where this person got by years of experience, I certainly don't begrudge them. It's certainly not easy to survive in this cutthroat industry and what they doesn't have in IQ I'm sure they more than make up for in many many other ways. I'm not even 100% positive if I myself can survive. It takes a certain type of person.

BUT today, that person had the most....silly conversation with me.

"So. Where are you originally from again?"

"Singapore"

"Oh. I always thought you came from Hong Kong"

I laughed. "Oh no, I can't speak a word of Cantonese!"

"What language do you speak then?"

"English"

"At home? Like your parents"

"English"

"Yeah right, so why do you have an accent?"

Geek cuts in (he's a real geek, but he's honestly the coolest person in there- not to say the rest of them aren't cool- they are- he's just the coolest) "yeah. Singaporeans all sound American"

"Singapore's official language is English. All our legal documents are in English"

Person looks bewildered and shocked for a moment.

"but why do you have an accent?"

"Yeah. it's a Singaporean accent"

"That's BULLSHIT! There's no such thing as a Singaporean accent"

"Yes there is...." I'm half amused "...Americans have an American accent, Canadians have a Canadian one, South Africans have a South African one, Singaporeans have a Singaporean one"

Person sits there, and you can literally see the cogs in person's brain working furiously. It's like the thought of Americans having an accent has never occured. I almost wanted to add and Aussies have an Aussie accent too- but didn't want to throw person off.

Person finally pronounces- "no! but you have an accent! there's no such thing as a Singaporean accent!"

I step out of the taxi, and try to cut some slack "if it makes you feel any better, I can speak Mandarin really badly"

Geek has given up. I give up too.

NB: I honestly don't think this person meant any harm. Person definitely wasn't being racist and mean. Also believe person isn't 100% Anglo and I've heard quite a few close friends of person's going "that's such a wog thing to say/do" so I'm doubly sure it wasn't meant in that way. Also a very forthright person.

I need to be let out more often

apparently I need to be let out more often. Because I seem to be getting natural highs on simply not being at work. I'm serious.

and no, it's not the chocolate/coffee talking.




I was let loose on Friday for an old-school staff reunion (only 3 of us still work there) and we finally settled into a TAB. rofl. so there we were, 6 crazy people in a TAB full of middle-aged pokies addicts, really getting stuck into our beers.

Afterward, I met someone else from work at the Gin Palace, and her boyfriend introduced us to his friends, who are all just as crazy.

I laughed till my stomach hurt. It really isn't everyday you get a crazy Columbians tell you that people are constantly asking them for drugs just because they're Columbian. I guess maybe if they travel in groups of 2 or more they actually look like an organised crime outfit. *poker faced look*

Today, we all went up to knifepoint highpoint for a little work outing, and I promptly got high in the car, and started giggling at everything and anything. my friends were just looking at me and going "Shut the bitch up"

before resorting to shut-kids-up tactics like

"you wanna waffle?"
"why?"
"because if your mouth is full maybe you'll stop giggling and making no sense"

"look over there!"
"what??? what????"
"nah, was trying to distract you"

I really wasn't make any sense come to think of it, although it all seemed very funny at the time. Like a restaurant named "chicken palace". I had the most ludicrous image of chickens literally ruling the roost....little courtier chickens and chickens on thrones....chicken knight errants against The Jelly Factory.

There was a childhood memeory I was basing it on, I can still remember a few ducklings swimming in a fountain over in New York, and a poor doorman having to walk the ducks to and from their swim, along red carpet of one of the classiest hotels in New York. I always found it so grotesque that I probably will remember it for the rest of my life.

Anyway, we reached highpoint, and BOUNDED out of the car, sprinted into the mall screaming at the top of our lungs, and running like there really was a person coming after us with a knife and an intent to stab. the people inside could hear us coming from a mile away.

all without the help of any drugs legal or illegal. We're just nuts. Stir crazy at the thought of AN OUTING.

we are so deprived. and yes, I need to be let out into the excercise yard a little more. kampung chicken tastes better.

*****

I want someone fired. Really. I mean, it's not just the fact that his face looks like the entire pubic region. He also talks non-stop to the point where he frightens customers.

no, I am not being mean. We call him pube-face behind his back because he has facial hair that looks...WRONG. not to mention the hair on his head sits just so.

He literally grabs customers hands, and he traumatised all of us by kissing us.

I DON'T KNOW THE BUGGER.

YOU DO NOT KISS PEOPLE YOU DON'T KNOW. DIDN'T YOUR MUM TEACH YOU ABOUT COOTIES?????

well, yeah, he's got boy germs. I don't know him. I'm not letting his boy germs anywhere near my girl germs.

Listening to: Andy's newest Lemon Jelly. (not made with chickens from the chicken palace)

the singapore blogosphere is a zombie lynch mob

EDIT: oh check it out! Yahoo news now gives the option of searching blogs for news too!

EDIT2: oh great. NOW they find the vaccine. if you haven't the faintest what I'm talking about, refer to Octber posts.

really. they are.

something about the singapore blogosphere sometimes reminds me of the singapore climate, the singapore mentality, in general.

My boss once told me that back in Israel, killings and murders and suicides would always increase at the start of the hot season, and sometimes I wonder if the whole of Singapore is just....a sauna you can't get out of.

Resulting in cranky cranky people who sit round nitpicking, being judgemental, and making value judgements that really aren't any of their damn business.

offkilter once mentioned to me "DO THEY EVEN REALISE WHAT THE SG BLOGOSPHERE IS LIKE?" and she's right, given half a chance, these people will rip you to shreds just because you don't conform to their idea of whatever it is their idea is.

and chalyz once commented what a huge phenomenon blogging in Singapore is, to such an extent that she's uncomfortable with reading Singaporean blogs because they're....more PR than most.

if they can't find fault in one way, they'll just pick on some tiny thing that seems wrong and gnaw from there. and then people jump on the bandwagon. and then people start wanting attention, and so they start making even more inflamotary remarks.

even on my predominantly US-readership old blog, the only ones who started blog wars on my blog, the ones who left snide comments, they were all the singaporeans.

I don't know. Sometimes, I really miss Singapore, and sometimes, I don't even understand it. The more people talk to me, the more they realise how far apart from Singapore I am...how I don't even understand half the cultural contexts, subtexts. and sometimes, even talking to other people, I realise how Asian I am in some ways, and how un-Asian I am in so many others.

What the hell is the big fucking deal? honestly.

I told you I look like I'm 16

baaaaah.

was putting through a transaction today, and I was happily chatting to this old couple...and I mean old. not old enough for me to expect them to be home with slippers and a cat, but old enough that I'd call them nuovo-riche retirees...the type you'd expect to live in an open-plan house and spend their weekends sailing, or in their case, cycling.

and after the transaction had gone through, the wife walked away to find a table, and the guy stayed behind, made sure his wife was well out of earshot, and leaned in

"you get full marks for service...and cuteness"'

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

I pretended I didn't understand in true Asian "I no speak Engrish" style, and said

"aww. thank you!"

and prayed he would shove off given a growing queue behind His Smarminess.

I. will. never. wear my red plaid skirt and fuck-me boots with this hairstyle. EVER.

me and my short hair

ok, embarrassed as I am about my photos beside the beauteous Dawn Yang's visage, I'll play fair, especially to the people I only communicate with via my blog.

Miss you guys. love you guys. will post better ones once I ring and beg pris to fix my goddamn hair so I don't look like a goddamn 16 year old MGS schoolgirl complete with kinky glasses.

in fact, I shall email pris right now.

I shall do my best gay-man-in-woman's-body-with-15-year-old-face....

PRIS? ORH MAH GAAWWWDDDDD, LIKE, YOU WOULDN'T BEH-LEEEEEVVVVEEEEEE

I SO, LOOK LIKE, A 15 YEAR OLD. I mean, Lolita is like, so hot right now, but this is like, CRRAAAAAAAAZY!

I need more ooompph! OOMPH! Pris! OOMPH!

so can you do something dahhhhhling????

AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA.

Pris, you know I'm joking. I'll ring you up right now and speak to you in normal tones. Promise.

absolutely faaaahbulous dahling.

still addicted to Roksopp with additional listening on the side to Dishwalla's Angels and Devils, courtesy of the beautiful Loon. Thanks again dude.

disturbed

I just realised I have 2 months to find a housemate. eek.

I NEED A HOUSEMATE.

I
h a v e
short
h a i r
n o w
(I look like a 14 year old)

my
phone
is
sleeping.
do not disturb.
It's even hiding from me.

FOUND!

and.

I baked a kick-ass cheesecake that's now sitting at work.

rave reviews are coming in thick and fast. heh heh heh.



ROYKSOPP'S THE UNDERSTANDING is still permeating my ears...possibly one of the best things I've heard in a long time.

for a certain friend

yeah so I don't update as often as I used to. I know. 2 jobs and 7 day weeks tend to do that.

The weather's far too hot. I feel feverish even when I'm not sick...or am I? I get headaches...and I've been having fucked up dreams.

other than that, well, I guess the highlight of my day has been Jonathan Rhys Meyers.

2nd only to Johnny Depp. something about boys named Johnny.

actually, let's talk about boys.

see, it's the intense look I like. The dark hair, tanned/dark/dusky skin, the light eyes that I like. the piercing stare. And I like them lean.

I even think girls like that are hot. Jennifer Conolley, Angelina Jolie, Aishwarya Rai, Dita Von Teese. well, ok. Dita isn't that tan.

everyone says I like them skinny but it's not true (see above), and my friend claims the only reason why the guys have such intense stares is because they're really hungry and when they see any human being all they can think about is eating them.

WHATEVER.

well, that's one genre down. People don't understand that I don't really have "types" I like guys of all colour, shape and heights. I just have a predisposition for lean tan ones.

which brings me to cat eyes.

you know, like Tyson Beckford. perhaps his body is a little too buff, but his face. hmmmmm.

and pelvic bones. (see above, and refer to calvin klien models)

and bee-stung lips

and high cheekbones

and everyone knows about my 3 minute crushes that last for the duration of a song that any random guy who can sing happens to be singing.

oh and of utmost importance- HAIR. I don't care what hairstyle you wear, so long as it suits.

So there you have it. my fetishes in one blog post.

oh. and arm veins. No bodybuilders thanks- just nice.

Like this. random guy's arm gotten off the internet. Hope whoever he is doesn't mind.

as my boss once said

"guys actually don't mind being objectified...unlike girls."

and I'm hoping it holds true in this case.

listening to: Royksopp- The Understanding (Deluxe Edition)

Queen of Girl Power

even google is celebrating. GO MAKYBE!

For those who don't know, she's won a historic 3rd Melbourne Cup, is the first mare to do this all while carrying the world record for weight handicap for a mare.

and she's won the Cox Plate this year so you can't say she's shit.

and.

she's also got the Australian Cup and the Sydney Cup. making her the only mare to ever win a Melb and Syd Cup Double.

and.

a world record on the 2000m grass track.

woot.

all you need for girl power. not to mention she's fiesty and known to bite ears.

oh. and she's pretty too.

myst's bodyparts in real life may be larger than they seem

I was at work doing my usual work thing I do, when the subject of weight came up...and I told everyone I was obese and no one believed me. Even the dietician's daughter.

So I finally spilt what my weight was, and she freaked out.

"You're THAT HEAVY!!!???? YOU CAN'T BE THAT HEAVY....NOOOOO"

then she named a weight at least 12kgs lighter.

No one ever believes my weight till I step on a scale in their presence.

Then Gerri piped up, "everything she says is like a myth. It's true, but you never believe it until you see it- like her size 9 feet" (remember I'm 5"2)

and everyone freaks out.

yeah. so I'm short and I have size 9 feet. I like to believe that it's that large to help distribute weight better, kind of like the sneaker option as opposed to stilettos. and I have tiny ankles to go with these giant feet.

so I tell them something else.

"you see my boobs? they don't look that big right, but my bra size is a size 14"

and everyone flips out even more. "NO FUCKING WAY. you're so little. you're like a size 8 or 10!"

it's so sad, I have big ribs. what can I do? Finding tops is such a pain in the ass, but that's mainly to do with my shoulders, which are the widest part of me. All the better to hold my huge ponderous head with.

"and your cup size?" someone dares to ask.

about 1 size larger than they look.

****

someone must have put an enchantment spell on me or something so that I look small, when in reality I'm really an obese garden gnome who looks like an evil hospital matron named Helga.

Book of Gnomes
Originally uploaded by Di4ne.

"what we are we choose to be" or "I can't help who I am. I am the way I am"

Nature or Nurture? Both and if so how much?

Feeling: murderous.
Listening to: The Cure- that alleycat song.
working on: work
should be:watching movies.

*****

from LJ sg_makan

CHENDOL: The History Of Chendol - A Special Report

During 1900, the Indonesians started selling Chendol along Geylang. Chendol was the invention of Indonesians. It was formally a staple for Malays. However, the Indonesian hawkers were mobile hawkers, and chendol did not take off as a popular dessert then.

When the Indian Muslims started selling chendol, their soft and sily chendols became more popular then the Indonesians, and Singaporeans started to enjoy Chendol more often.

Chendol of the olden times were kept in a transparent glass bottle and without any cover. In the centre of the glass bottle were blocks of ice. A glass of chendol costs only a few cents back then. One of the earliest chendol seller Mr Maideen bin Ahman peddled his cart to sell Chendol during 1910. As he always came to the malay kampungs, he married a Muslim Indian girl in the kampung. In 1951, Maideen moved his stall into the Geylang Serai Malay Market, and set up a stall called Geylang Serai Chendol. In 1964, the 2nd Generation took over his chendol stall. Yunos worked hard for 30 years, and remain true to tradition - pure chendol without any extra ingredients. In 1995, Yunos set up his own ice factory in Singapore, and provided ice for hawkers in Singapore. In 2005, Geylang Serai Chendol has now been in the hands of the 3rd generation.

Geylang Serai Chendol - 169 Geylang Serai Market & Food Centre

During the early 1900s, the Hainanese were the servants and housekeepers to rich Nonya and Baba families. After the Japanese War, the Hainanese began selling food along the roads of Singapore. Many sold their food beside the early Geylang Cinem and Pasar Malam, and named their own chendol the Nonya Chendol.

During the 1960s, Singapore experienced water rationing. Many hawkers took this oppourtunity and sold Iced Nonya Chendol to Singaporeans due to the hot weather. During those times, the Malays, Indians and Chinese enjoyed a bowl of cold chendol. In the 1960s, the chendols from Geylang and Tekka were the most famous chendol. Even though the Indian chendol were cheaper, the Hainanese's Nonya chendol was more delicious, hence more popular. This is because the Nonya chendol not only had jade green chendol, but also red beans. The malays were also attracted by the Nonya Chendol, and the Nonya chendol became more popular.

As we move on to the 1980s, more cold beverages and desserts like Ice-Kacang and Cheng Tng became popular too. The government got rid of mobile hawkers and many Hainanese either gave up their chendol stalls or passed on the trade to others. Hollywood Chendol @ Bedok Bus Interchange Food Centre is the only pure Hainese Chendol left in Singapore. Its founder Mr Lee Chang Mao followed his father back then to Geylang's Hollywood Cinema to sell Nonya Chendol. After which, he joined hands with his partner Mr Xie Gui Ling and set up a shop in the brand new Bedok Bus Interchange Hawker Centre. He sold his chendol in a cup then, but now required a bowl to fill all the ingredients up. He was the 1st one who added new things into the chendol - Red beans, Chin Chow, Cai Yan, etc etc. When the MRT was up and running during the 1990s, his chendol stall became even more popular. Hollywood Chendol hence became a very famous chendol name.

Hollywood Chendol - Blk 207, #01-66, New Upper Changi Rd Cooked Food Centre

On the other hand, as more rich Indonesian Chinese migrated to Singapore, the Indonesia Chendol became famous again back in the 1970s. The chendol appeared as a dessert in Indonesian restaurants. In the 9080s, Orchard Road even had a "Chendol House", and sold only 10 over types of chendols. The Chendol House was very famous in Orchard Road during the 1980s. As the Chendol House branched out to more desserts, it was revamped into a formal restaurant, and became part of the dessert list in the restaurant.


shite. no wonder I only like the Hollywood chendol. It was the only chendol I ever ate. I am nonya to the bone.

I have no hope for chendol ever again!!!! WOE IS ME!!!!!!!

I just watched Keira's version of Pride and Prejudice, and am now proud to say I've seen the 3 most mainstream adaptations of the book. (The BBC miniseries, the Bollywood, and this one)

oh Matthew McFayden. he starts off "okay-handsome", steadily gets handsomer as he eats up the screen, and by the time he comes strolling out of the mist with a half-unlaced shirt early in the morning had me swooning. No wet t-shirts here but I don't think I could have handled that anyway.

I still think Keira is a) overrated b) overexposed but c) still pretty in a ballsy way

but hey. the BBC's elisabeth was much better.

Colin Firth will never live down being "Mr Darcy" ever, (did anyone notice his name in Bridget Jones? or the reference made in Bridget2?) but well, yeah. Matthew is much better eye candy. Just get him to shave those damn sideburns.

listening to: The Piano

bird flu shmird flu

Strike One for the Asian Values Proponents.

I personally don't believe in Asian Values per se, but they do have a point when it comes to medical epidemics.

The cure for malaria has been found in plants, but no one is willing to fund the research to turn them into easily administerable pills to save entire nations. I personally get angry when I read stuff like that, especially because my maids come from such a community in need of help. somehow, their lives just don't mean as much. "Thousands of people die each hour in Africa due to HIV" vs "16 people die in avalanche alpine disaster/bus crash, 2 people die in New Orleans" hmmm. hmmm......HMMMMMM.....

The Ebola Virus, The SARS Outbreak, the Nipah Virus and of course the Bird Flu Virus. Funny little things that happen in funny continents where there be third world conditions.

Yes, they jumped species due to overly close contact between human and animal, but you're going to tell me that malaria (not virus) happened that way too? and the HIV virus. c'mon. it's not a 3rd world/gay man disease anymore. which is why there's AIDS awareness.

but nooooooo. all these funny dieases, they be coming from evilevil deepest Asia/Africa where there be heathens. People in loincloths who live swinging from tree to tree or walking from savannah to oasis in flowing robes surrounded by panthers and zebras as their companions.

and as a doctor said during the bird flu epidemic of HK, only when the "western nations" read: the US, Canada, UK, Australia get afflicted do they do anything about it.

If not, it's all up to WHO, NGOs, and "oh pity them let's sing a song" political activisty singers (and the occasional actor) who'll actually tell someone to DO SOMETHING

but looky here, what do we have here? One parrot in quarantine(interestingly identified as "from South America"), 3 pigeons from Canada and all of a sudden, they're holding a world summit and the Indonesian president is quoted as saying this could be "worse than the tsunami".

Play the "pity" card, the "trust me I'm Asian and I have 1st hand dealings with diseases and tsunamis and various natural disasters in epic proportions" card, and the "interviewing the minority" card all just to inculcate fear into the loving anti-Pauline Hanson public.

wonderful.

and you wonder why we are so cynical.

and you wonder why we're so warped when we say that children aren't as sacred as they are to the west. I still don't understand the 1 child dies, 4 others proclaimed dead" headlines. Really, children are just small people-people who will eventually grow into normal-sized people-people. Sheesh.

Listening to: the sound of huge trucks outside my window, driving along just washed with rain main roads.

I'm a Campanella White Volkswagen Beetle!





President for you on line 2! Every once in a while you might take a break from your high-profile life and drive your Campanella White Beetle around, but with the responsibilities of whatever leadership role you've found yourself in, that time might be rather limited.


What kind of Volkswagen New Beetle are you?

swish

while chatting to chalyz over the phone a couple of days ago, I came to an epiphany of sorts, my own personal online/ontap shrink. well maybe not so much my shrink as the key to that darned secret garden in my own personal house of winchester. I have to turn the locks myself, have to step in if I dare, but chalyz is like a catalyst of sorts.

chatting to her, I realised so many things about myself that I hadn't realised before, or had always known but never confronted.

and as I've mulled over it these past few days, I realise how much of my personality stems from this.

Maslow's Hierachy of Needs. it's one giant mindmap. One giant flowchart.

and as I was soaking myself in the shower, rinsing out my intensive treatment/knots in my back and neck/this really teary feeling I've been getting for the past few days (it's a sum of many things- all to do with the job and maybe a little to do with the fatigue, let's not get into it) I realised that good things do come out of it.

I may be far more damaged than I let on, so much so that no one sees it- not even myself. But some of my best points come from it.

I haven't gotten mad in a long time, and only one person can push all my buttons. And it's a good thing we're over a thousand miles apart. Damn modern technology.

and I realise through recent trials that my infinite patience, my deadly calm, my tolerance, and my lack of expectations, my independence...they're all byproducts. Byproducts of my will to survive.

I may give the impression of a panic-stricken child when thrown into the deep end, but deep ends seem to be the only classroom I understand. and I realise that if things happen to me personally, I am deadly calm. It's only when other people are involved, when other people are directly or indirectly my responsibility that I get shaken.

The phoenix will fly on, my constant reminder. and perhaps the only thing I truly rely on. and one day, when I am ready, I will finally let myself go.

listening to: radiohead- creep

According to Asian BMI standards, I am OBESE. not overweight, OBESE. downright obese.

this depresses the shit out of me, especially when your friends try to comfort you by saying it's all muscle and you look "tough". TOUGH???? like STOCKY? like Jojo Sinclair?

or someone says you're "not THAT fat"

ack ack ack ack ack.

see, I don't mind being toned. like



THIS

but "tough" just makes me sound like a stocky oompa loompa.

besides. hasn't anyone seen my 2-pack gone the way of the UN lately? GAAAAAAH.

***

in other news. someone's stealing my wardrobe...and I think I made a work booboo.

BOO.

listening to Counting Crows

sometimes, you don't realise how much you miss till you have it back.

I met up with Magicman and laughed till I cried today. It's been such a long time since I laughed that hard.

And all it took was a few baby voices, my fievel impression, and some simpering. well, that and my Singaporean impression.

***

I feel sorry for someone atm, but at the same time, am rather apprehensive about the whole situation. will stew and get back to you.

listening to: Fleetwood Mac- Dreams

sense.

I was dinged at by a tram driver the same way truck drivers honk at you from their tankers, needless to say, I was most amused.

I was chatted up by some guy who was afraid of being bombed in Flinders, who thought my name was Muslim, and asked me if I could finish my "thick book".

I went for my second engagement party, another Indian one- but this one was Sikh.

I was happily munching on some asian sweet snack, when the writing caught my eye.

I hereby present my munchings in order of logical relevance:
I mean, the first three make sense....spelling otherwise.

then comes Squid- Black ink. Which is fine in the logical train of things....but then it says

"Rhinoceros- Think Big" as in the rhino is smart? or big in size?

and of course, the clincher "Horse- Gallop away"

did they choose that particular turn of phrase just so they could use the word "gallop"? Gallop isn't an everyday word you can use I guess, unless you really really want to, and then onlyy inreference to large dogs- assuming that you have a large dog. Sure, gallop has a rather nice trotting ring to it but lots of things gallop away. Other than horses. like donkeys, mules...even the odd lanky teenager.

I could if I wanted to.

listening to: Verve Pipe- Freshmen

engagement.marriage. broken shoes. banghra dancing.

driftwood

And you really didn't think it would happen

But it really is the end of the line

So I'm sorry that you've turned to driftwood

But you've been drifting for a long, long time

I realise that I haven't told several friends many things for a long time. and by this I mean MANY. MANY things a friend should know.

And normally, I'm cool with that. My friends tend to be the sort I can not talk to for light years, and then instantly snap back into place again the moment we reestablish connection.

But recently, I've been drifting, because I realised that while we're all changing, I seem to have done so at warp speed in the past 1.5 years, leaving a trail of, well, entrails behind.

All these marriages, engagements, babies, even brushes with death that don't include me in the equation. All that independence with people who are acquainted with the term in the true meaning. All this clawing all my life and finally I'm ready to stop for a little while. A few months at least. I'll still have to scratch around a little, but you know, just to keep the claws and the drive in shape.

Nobody is an island

Everyone had to go

Pillars turn to butter

Butterflying low

Low is where your heart is

But your heart has to grow

Drifting under bridges

Never with the flow

I've long shouldered responsibility for myself and others. But now, I've leapfrogged into actually being comfortable with that. Comfortable with the fact that it's now my own idea to pay for everything, comfortable with the idea that hey, I can actually do this. Comfortable with the idea that I actually know where I'm going and considering my options on how to get there.

I'm comfortable with taking a look at myself with a critical eye and seeing that really, I can be quite a hellspawn at times.

and I realise some of my friends are falling behind. Years behind. and I can't do anything about it.

and I realise some aren't falling behind, but apart. It's funny how the same thing can result in two vastly different results when used on two different people with different backgrounds, mindsets, morals, values.

but I also realise that sometimes, I am some sort of floating island. and sometimes, I realise I'm not really an island. I'm driftwood. Driftwood saddened that my life has to go on, without the other little pieces of me. The pieces that made me who I am today, the pieces of me that made me in some way, whole. Reconstructable driftwood.

and yet I also realise, the quantity of good friends seems to diminish in exponential proportion as we get older. The ease of finding people just....doesn't happen. People start coming in few and far between, also because of the nature of our lives I guess. Maybe.

You're driftwood floating underwater

Breaking into pieces, pieces, pieces

Just driftwood, hollow and of no use

Waterfalls will find you, bind you, grind you

FOUND

an lbd.

never have I found one, normally matching my tops with my chaos (as I call it) SPG skirt.

now I've found one. ha.

***

I need more work clothes. I need more skirts of a decent, non-mini length.

**

still hunting for a particular dress which I suspect I'll have to design and get tailored myself. and a qipao.

*

feel much beter than I have all week.

I've started SHOPPING for work.

oh. my. god.

I am also almost last woman standing.

BAH.

oof.

sometimes some words don't traslate well into english. like 'ma fan' or 'fan ying chi dun'

meant to go to dandenong today but decided to use mac crystals instead of a tikka.

that meant, I bought some stuff for the choc shop, forgot to collect my suit from cue, and couldn't find my boss' beloved round-tipped frothing jug. (found it online! erm, chalyz? Can I borrow your card and I pay you???? I want to surprise him!!!!)

it's a sad day when you realise your life revolves around work, and worse still when you're excited by things like....12.5kg boxes instead of 40kg ones. clean tea strainers. yellow cloths. trays. incoming impending deliveries/repairs. When you seriously consider your company's theme song as your ringtone (only from work of course), and when you go shopping....for work.

gosh.

anyway, I've come to realise that perhaps the 14 year old girl in me is still not fully gone. and I guess it never will be since I've evolved from her.

I've decided to panic less, and feel more.

listening to: Julie London- Fly Me To The Moon.

FREE KATIE'S SCREAMS!!

"The newest face of Scientology, Katie Holmes, plans to give birth in silence. Scientology followers abide by Hubbard's rule that not only are women not allowed to use any sort of painkillers during childbirth, they are also not allowed to scream. The bizarre ritual - which Scientologists believe should be carried out to prevent children from turning mad - is nothing new to Cruise who insisted the biological mothers of the adopted children he had with Nicole Kidman have their babies in silence, according to a 2001 report in America's New York Post newspaper. In Dianetics, you try and keep the delivery room quiet so there's nothing recorded in the child's mind that shouldn't be there while there's pain going on."

from reddirtgirl

stayer quitter

I mean, everyone talks about this bloody speech

probably second only to peanuts....

but.

as I told my friend a few minutes ago. what about the fighters? huh?

the quitters quit, the stayers marinate in one spot, and all that's left are the fighters, fighting tooth, claw and nail.

we don't exist in singapore because the singapore government hasn't decreed we exist. and we exist in some grey area...in and out of public conciousness. and that's why we never really fit in singapore either. A country filled with stayers and quitters.

listening to: Sarah McLachlan- Elsewhere

turn turn turn

2 of us we were singing 90s songs at work today....it started with me singing "Dizzy".

and no one knew what we were singing. egawd. I am growing old.

but I've also realised how much I've changed. It's to be expected. But even from 21-23, the sheer amount.

I remember talking to chalyz, and her comment this morning about being so touched that someone who wasn't hitting on her was calling her beautiful. And I remember a time when I would have been, but now, if someone did, I'd think they were fishing for compliments. Especially if they come from the hospitality/entertainment/beauty/media industry.

I realise how insular I have become.

and I realise how callous I have become.

I realise how cynical I am. I have always been cynical, very much so. but it's just been taken up a notch more.

I don't believe in the milk of human kindness. I don't believe in nice people. I don't believe in any of that. They're mythical things. Like unicorns and centaurs.

I've grown stronger, maybe harder. Maybe not. Maybe I've even allowed myself to grow softer. Let people in, express emotions more frequently.

and here it is. that virulent personality encapsulated in a girl with a face that looks....sweet. cheeky occassionally, sometimes sly because of cat eyes. Many people have told me I look like one of those atas yet classy bitches who hang round Paragon too much, the ones who have that "come near me and I might sneeze" look. But hey. at least they look good.

but no one expects the personality they eventually meet. A cagey, cynical, pacing, fighting scratching, ferocious feline underneath. The feline who'll watch you out of narrowed eyes as you watch them, and when you're least expecting it, swipes you. the cute cuddly one who plays with you, but then turns round on people they don't like and scratches them to ribbons.

listening to: my friend on jazz piano.

listening to: Fuel- Shimmer

reading: Neal Stephenson- Dianmond Age

being: hermit. recovering from DOM run-in last night.

Shut the door, throw the key

I hereby decree this friday Hermit Day. I am not answering phonecalls, going out till late in the evening (because someone's already booked me in for buffet) etc. Instead, I shall be Apartment Cleaning, mooching and RELAXING. God, the concept seems so remote at this point in time.

so everyone who reads this, if you were thinking about friday, FORGEDDABOUDDIT.

Adam

Dear Adam,

y'know, I didn't know you inside out, but I found you to be helluva interesting and funny. A sweet boy-next-door with a corny sense of humour.

Although most of the time we spent crapping on about well, crap, I did actually manage to get to know you a little. Not well, but a little. Enough that my ears pricked up every time I heard you were able to make it out with us. Even though you severely disappointed me in your piking the Saints and Sinners because your bald cap looked horrid. You Piker.

The time we 1st met certainly set the tone, when we met at the unnamed bar underneath the Martini Bar, you perched on a bar stool, happy and high and certainly crapping on and on and on.

Or the time in Bimbos where you and the Baker St Boys would only ever order one flavour of pizza, and eyeball a waitress. We sat there cracking up at silly things like trapdoors under you bed, and donkeys beneath. About your "website address" which was actually the URL of a famous porn star.

Or in Port Melbourne rubbernecking a certain elusive senorita in a red top.

Somehow, I managed to figure out that contrary to all the crap you spouted, you actually were a very nice, intelligent guy with a pretty funny sense of humour.

***

I attended your funeral this morning.

I listened to all the eulogies and laughed. Most spoke of what a beautiful person you were, putting your brother's life before your own, your intelligence and wit even at a young age, your humble overachieving ways, your propensity for lemons, capsicum and olives, and your pumpkin buying antics, just to show one pumpkin for your backyard- overgrown with pumpkin vines.

and of course, they spoke of the side I knew better. The Adam who just blatantly spoke a lot of crap.

***

This is not the best picture of you. But it shows you as I remember you. Happy and high, and ready to tell me some utterly useless piece of info.

***

On the way to your funeral, I saw a playground filled with yellow flowers - flowers of a creamy pale almost buttercup yellow, with fragile petals like tiny wings. When I first arrived in Australia 8.5 years ago, I thought they were the most beautiful things I'd seen. And on my way to see you again, they were the 1st flowers of spring I'd set eyes upon, the first time I'd seen then in years.

imagine my surprise when I found out your parents had requested wildflowers to be laid upon your casket. I chose tiny white ones.

on the way back to the tram stop, I stopped to pick a tiny purple flower with the intention of pressing it, but it didn't last the trip. I guess all I'll have to remember you by are girls, donkeys and trapdoors. Somehow I think you'd enjoy all this. The photo of you happy and high, and memories of crazy topics spoken about.

One of your great loves took you away, on one of the most beautiful stretches of scenery in the world. I'm glad you left doing something you were passionate about. I hear you went quickly too. Thank you for being a part of my life Adam, you were pretty cool. and no, I still haven't checked out the website yet. Sorry dude.

Spring has Sprung

yep. despite last night's crazy gale, spring has well and truly sprung.

On the way to my internship today, I saw all the rich folks pulling out their summer cars- the Mercedes covertibles with their tops down.

Oh yes. in the short 15minutes of my tram ride, I saw 6 new Mercedes convertibles.

2 were CLKs (one with the soft top) and 4 SLKs including the McLaren!!!!!!! The other impressive one was the SLK 230 Kompressor. and 2 of the hard tops.

ech. I didn't even realise the McLaren had hit our shores. and it's not as goodlooking as I thought it'd be. i.e. those pictures LIE. or maybe, I was looking at it from the wrong angle. It was a direct full frontal, no angle to see the sides, just this giant long fender staring down at me.

Have you heard X'Ho's Cover Backside?

Everybody be dumb, don't speak, don't stick your neck out. don't feel don't think just follow, love the trend it's a brand new dance, follow from the top and the top says cover backside

yeaaaaaaah.

well. how about you say you're lucky someone misspelt your name so you can still go back to Singapore and hold your head up? that's covering your backside with 3 layers and some seal pelt.

I mean, Melbourne is famous for layering, but it's been pretty warm lately.








Anyway. here's an article in Time about Singlish. I thought she was being a little melodramatic but she made her point. (and I REALLY hated her Mammon Inc book, over-battering people over the head with Christian analogies does NO book any favours. She should take a leaf out of Dan Brown's er, collection. You want me to read Christian novels? I'll head to the Word bookshop, or read the Daily Bread. Thanks.)

and if anyone wants the book, sorry. I set it free in Bookcrossing where it got similarly abyssmal reviews


Listening to: Eskimo Joe- From the Sea

well, at least we have a sense of humour

image courtesy of I_Am_Adam

We may be stressed out and overworked at the cafe where I work, but at least we have a sense of humour.

I took a photo of the following conversation, but by 3G LG Phone refuses to detect a port, so I'm writing it out instead.

In the storeroom, on the whiteboard where we keep tabs of our stock in the freezer is a list of stuff that we stock.

And 2 of the headings include "Cookies". But we have no cookies in the storeroom, they're all in the freezer inside the shop premises itself- so beside the cookies, someone wrote (literally)


"Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar :D"

and someone replied

"Not Me! (Actually they're in the shop freezer silly)"

and someone else wrote

"Bored mofo"

and the very last comment

"Get back to work!"

What was really funny was that they were all written by different people with vastly different handwriting- and it was just.... a pleasant surprise when you have to reach the cage by way of ladybrinthe-esque walkways that make you feel like you're lost in that really old Windows screensaver with the red brick walls.

Like picking up money on the street.

Listening to: End of Fashion- O Yeah!

***

Speaking of weird signs, there's a green and white exit sign above the door that leads to my internship toilets.

(image courtesy of flickr.com's beesquare)

I don't know.

Things are falling into place. and things are seeming out of place.

More and more, I belive in fate. Not the western concept, which requires past actions in a present life, and which involves divine providence as such.

It's all about you matey.

and more and more, I come closer to having yuanfen tattooed on my right hip.

PLACE: decided.

DESIGN: decided

TIME: TBA

***

Also, I've got a stinking HAWT partay coming up on Thursday. The theme is "white top, and jeans"

which doesn't sound so hot until I tell you the heating's gonna be turned up and they're spritzing everyone with water pistols!

*cackles*

so. I need an opinion on white tops because I LOVE WHITE and I have white tops galore. HMMMMMMM.

Please keep in mind that given that this is held in the infamous Loft (yes, Slinky, THE LOFT) I expect to be dancing on tables at some point in time during the night.

what? me? exhibitionist?

Nawwwww....it's just that I promised my friend who's leaving back to Thailand forevermore! How can I refuse????

So anyway, if I post up all the white tops, are you guys going to give me opinions or not?

myst

***

I have $0.23 in my bank account. I'm accepting all major credit cards. Do YOU love me?

you do realise I'm kidding about accepting money right?

Conversations on a coin

please note all conversations were 3-way.

Heads:

I'm off to the Long Room tonight. Do you know what it's like on a Thursday?

No idea. But it's horrible Friday, Saturday.

I KNOW! I made the huge mistake of trying to celebrate my birthday there on a Friday night. And the crowd. It's horrible!

Oh you mean, right after work?

No no, as in like, even 10pm.

What's it like?

Over-crowded, the queue is literally across the hall, and once you're in, you can't walk. And all these sleazy men in suits try to pick you up. Such a pity coz it's a really nice place, and there's really good food and drinks.

Yeah. I told you! All these horrible men in suits, really woggy.

Nah. Not really woggy, but really sleazy.

Don't got to The Trust either. you know that place where they do stock exchange on buying and selling of beers?

ew. Been there gross. Ultimate sleazebags

Where the hell are you people talking about?!??

TAILS:

Happy birthday sweetheart. Love this place on a thursday. Quiet, and Nina Simone!

yeah, I love it every day of the week.

I don't. Fridays get too crowded...

Ahhh. It depends on what you come in for! I like to come in for pre-dinner drinks. You meet so many funny and interesting people here! You come here not with a posse, just ONE *raises finger* girlfriend, raise hell for two hours, and leave.

*laughs* you go girl!

Listening to: Robbie Trippin'

low batt

BAAAAAAhhhhhhhh.

ok. I've been working 7 days a week which honestly, isn't much different from uni days. In fact, it's a sight easier given that there aren't any deadlines, and I don't have to do 2 jobs in one day like I did.

Anyway, I got commendment from the boss in one of the joke prizes handed out at the party last night. I'm an Energiser Bunny- and I scored myself 2 double-a batteries.

at least I'm not punctuality challenged. and they got alarm clocks.

I certainly don't feel like an energiser bunny most of the time, more like I'm swimming through what I should be running past. Like the "Brand X/Eveready bunnies" Too many things to do, so little time. and of course, half the time when at my internship, I feel stupid.

and because of the party last night, everyone turned up with massive hangovers this morning and I spent half of it doling out Napro, the other half dealing with crazy orders from customers. ("I want a flat white in a glass" "I can't drink out of this funny shaped cup, you can't just pour my drink in I wanted in extra hot as well!" "I want the extra light one. THAT ONE." "I just want a normal hot chocolate" *sticks finger in milk jug* this milk is lukewarm. I want it HOT. etc)

so with crazed staff on one hand and crazed customers on the other, and stock that just wasn't appearing....*rings up co-store* "Ange.....do you have.....XXXXXXX" Ange:"A little. Do you have XXXXXXX. HAS ANYTHING ARRIVED YET???" "Noooooooo. and it's 12.30~!!!!! I'm down to my LAST BAG OF COFFEE AND IT'S NEARLY FINISHED....have you got the coffee man down yet?" the sigh that sounds like we both want to collapse in a heap behind the shop till while scoring a caffeine IV drip makes us laugh.

the phonecalls to the equally harrassed manager in the other store (obviously both stores have staff nursing hangovers in equal intensity due to staff party) sounded pretty pathetic to both of us who were obviously not wanting to be there right there, right then.

It didn't help that 2 huge groups of people came in at the same time, ordering massive orders that added up to hundreds of dollars, and I had a girl on her first shift looking really lost most of the time, and clearing instead of taking things out whenever she wasn't looking like a deer in the headlights. LOST. Absolutely LOST.

I thanked my lucky stars I had a killer combo (non-hungover) opening team and had done the banking. and I thanked my lucky stars AND the Powers That Be for the boon of multi-tasking. I mean, talking on the phone to sick staff trying not to come in, suppliers who weren't coming in, and harrassed managers to swap stuff and above all, my hungover boss who wasn't picking up (but who later magically wiped up a train wreckage of people falling to pieces) ALL THE WHILE folding boxes/making desserts/brewing milk/making coffee/clearing tables/receiving stock/getting staff to swap with you so you can talk on the phone/running around in general like a headless chook IS A SKILL. of that no one can deny.

How rude of my boss not to close both stores for a day after a party where he made us all skull jagers. EW.

I had fun last night though, and finally, someone got my boss a pair of Calvins since his crack hangs out for all the world to see, and he refuses to use the belt we gave him for his birthday. (engraved on the buckle is "Say no to crack")
Listening to: After Dinner Mint- Jask- Beautiful

ethics of a to-do list

and I don't mean that in a carnal sort of way.

I mean one of those grocery lists.

sort of like this:

1) Grocery Shopping (refer to shopping list)
2) Laundry
3) Post Office to send xxx off
4) Pay Phone Bills
5) Pay xxx Bill
6) Check out xxx at XXX shop
7) today is XX day! XX comes out today! Buy!

etc.

is it wrong to add

8) call mum

or worse 8.5) call mum re: xxxxxxx

?


I mean. I've heard a few friends express disbelief that I say things like

"Oh yeah. Must remember to call xxx tonight"

and they're like....it must be SPONTANEOUS.

I'm like.

Okay honey. You try squeezing 26 hours into a day, and SPONTANEOUSLY calling people up.

It's not like I *don't* want to call people you know. I do, which is WHY I make the note in the first place! Especially if I know they want/need to talk.

and yes. I know I call like, once in 2 years when they don't and I'm just touching base. But I do call. Eventually.

Listening to: The Little Mermaid- Kiss the Girl

GAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

Alright, it must be said.

WHERE ARE ALL THE CUTE GUYS?

How come my more-lesbian-than-straight bisexual friend has the hots for a hot girl, then has her even hotter childhood guy friend hit on my friend?

HOW? HOW!!!!????!!!!!

I need to get out more.

random post in lieu

These are stubs. Will expand on at least one or two of them.

• people think I'm about 25-27. (poll of people who know me from everywhere)

• Gerri got her foot run over by a car while out for dinner with me and my guardians.

• I think I jinx all my friends
  

• Interning in advertising makes you watch your weight.

• My recent interest in suits and other assorted work wear is not welcome.
  

• I can chew again. But not very well. Tonight's dinner? Batterless lemon chicken, plum rice and egg with snow peas.

• Everyone in advertising is good looking. It's frightening. (and classy English accents are sexy. I'm not talking David Beckham or Burmingham accents here)

• My boss (the day job) accused me of saying something typically Asian female. He then went on to say something irrefutably male.

• I am in an 80s late night sappy love song mood. Actually. It's more like a rampage. I need song titles. Mind you, I already have many. But please. Name me more. I need more. There are so many that I don't have.
  

• mmmm FOOD.
  

Listening to: Wilson Phillips- Daniel/Bryan Ferry- Slave to Love/The Cars- Drive/Phil Collins- Seperate Lives

told you I was in an 80s sappy love song mood.

office monkey

yeurgh.

One of my biggest nightmares, is to be shackled to a desk. In a suit. I'd almost prefer a straightjacket. Ok, maybe not, but close.

tomorrow, I do the suit. I refuse to be a desk person, and I think I never will be one, but it's a suit tomorrow.

I could whine and bitch about my income tax medicare levy fiasco, but I think I'll leave it since no one will understand, and those who do won't be interested anyway.

and as for lyrical philosopher's tag...

music tag

List five songs that you are currently loving. It doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now.

Post these instructions, the artists, the songs, and the following threat in your blog (Xanga). Then tag five other Xanga friends to see what they're listening to.

in random order

1. most of the stuff on night mix at work. ok ok. I won't cheat. Moloko's Familiar Feeling.

2. some song at work from a spanish-singing guy called Lhasa

3. James Blunt- Beautiful

4. Danny Elfman doing the oompa loompas.

5. The Gladiator theme song.

next 5 victims...

whoever you want to be

I'm pretty convinced that my best friend in Melbourne is a gay man trapped in a woman's body. In fact, I'm convinced.

Listening to: Soft Cell- Tainted Love

no kiss! no kiss!

I know you guys are all sick of hearing about my puffy cheeks, but honestly. When you tell people "don't kiss, wisdom tooth operation on both sides" and they insist on doing the TWO cheek kissy kissy thing, it's painful.

Thing is, when it's a farewell meetup (Sunshine Girl's going back to New York) and everyone's excited to see everyone else, all this cheek kissing ensues. And people just look and go "AAHHHHH!!! YOU!!!!!" and rush to kiss you before you can say baby food diet.

and you explain it once, but then more people arrive and pounce on you. Rinse and repeat.

and so you end up shrieking "don't kiss! no kiss!" which makes you sound like a SMINT ad really, and before you can explain or shove a beer in their faces as distraction, they're rubbing stubble all over you. And then you belatedly explain "I just got 2 wisdom teeth taken out 3 days ago. OW"

and they'll wince. and be all sympathetico. and ask you why you cancelled your flight, and why you disappeared off the planet. And once in a while you make some smart remark that since one of them works at an agency called Outer Space, he's the one really, who isn't on this planet.

And then when you leave, they all kiss( or hug if they remember) you again.

ech. So now my cheeks have been sandpapered by Stu's stubble and had pressure applied upon by everyone else.

Listening to: Lighthouse Family- Ain't No Sunshine

chipmunky accidents

Alvin Simon Theodore!!!!!

doot doot, doo doo doo doo!

Day 3 of The Chipmunk Chronicles.

Turned up at work where the shift manager basically said "I'm Sick. I'm going home. You're running the show. Goodnight" (at 9am)

Worked.

somehow managed to

• manage a headache due to teeth affecting my sinuses
• take more nurofen
• cut myself on a broken saucer...and make it BIG because, well it was a saucer, not a knife
• not stop bleeding for a full half an hour because painkillers thin your blood
• overdose on antibiotics because I forgot I had taken an earlier dose
• nearly faint because of my liquid diet for 3 days
• drop various inanimate objects (tongs, etc)
  
• and still get everything done despite headache, quite literally, singlehandedly.

how well is another question altogether.

I'm going to bed.

home

homies: Possible origin from the French word Hommes which translates to "Men", as in "Pour Hommes"; for men. (urbandictionary)

I prefer to think of it as home-ies. Like they're home.

While I'm hardly delusional, and certainly don't say "fo shizzle" except in jest, I kinda like the word "homies". Like "home boys". Like the boys are home.

***

Home. (click on pictures)

and everywhere in between.

A denizen of both, enamoured with both. But lately more and more, I've come to realise that Melbourne is much more my home than Singapore is.

I leave behind in Singapore, my friends, my family. and of course, the food.

But in Melbourne is where I am allowed to be myself, and where I've literally made my own life.

and as I realise that more friends are now scattered all over the world, the home is with them. And so now, more than ever, I am all over.

***

Tonight, I sat around a table with people, chatting about nothing at all. Or rather, I sat there falling asleep while everyone else was talking. Dogs milled at our feet. and all of sudden, a bright flash of light lit up the night sky.

Lightning.

and the lightning came in sheets. and streaks. and the low rumble of thunder soon followed.

I grinned excitedly as a shover ran down my spine. "I loveit"

heartfelt nods followed. Everyone understood.

It reminded me of home. Except that I was home.

As the night wore on, I went downstairs, curled up on a matress in the lounge, and watched the light display across the night sky through floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The dog pattered around me.

The smell of rain. Rushing in on warm humidity.

Home away from home. Home that was home reminding me of home that no longer was home.

It was almost like the two homes were bypassing each other in a Venn diagram.

My life at present, high rise apartments, the life of living alone, fending for myself; my childhood, of rain and thunderstorms, counting the seconds till thunder hit after the lightning. How far away the storm was.

My tropical home visiting my desert island home.

I am home.

***

Home is....a word that has always eluded me, partly because every place and no place is home. Displacement is home for me. A girl who used to move every 3 months, what was 2 countries to juggle?

but recently, it's become far more concrete, and obvious that I have to make my choice. on one. And it's hard when I realise that there are many more homes too seek out. New York. South America, Cambodia.

Where do I touch home base where I have none? And I've slowly come to the decision that Melbourne may be it. It fully crystalised tonight, through an unconcious answer to a deliberated question. But it may be it.

Reading: Clive Barker's The Yattering and Jack

I hate slapstick

but somehow I still enjoyed Kung Fu Hustle.

For years I've been avoiding Stephen Chow movies because Stephen Chow= Slapstick and
Myst !=Slapstick. But due to the gazillions of people who've told me they loved Shaolin Soccer, and then said Kung Fu Hustle was even better, I was like.....ohhhhhhkay........*suspiciously turns around* This isn't some American Pie/Not Another Scary Movie thing is this?

I sat through Wedding Crashers cringing. That shows my limit.

But yes, I actually enjoyed Kung Fu. and I finally understand what LCCC meant when he said that Stephen Chow was famous for "nonsense comedy". (Mo Lei Tou?????)

and why didn't anyone tell me Stephen Chow was kinda, sorta, in a weird way cute? Like how Johnny Depp is creepy cool drop dead sexy cute? and Keanu is His Royal Dudeness himself?

Maybe it was his wit. and his floppy hair.

I am such a lian. Worst of all. I am a lian who's a sucker for wit.

heeeeeeeeyyyyyyyy. I know I've said before that I like guys with whatever hair, so long as it suits them, and that still stands...how am I supposed to help it if 42 year olds have floppy hair that really suits them despite being 42?

Listening to: Janet- Runaway