eh? you must be wondering.
I've recently realised that I've taken people-watching to a new level. It borders on spectator sport for me- a form of great entertainment, amusement and speculation.
While drunk friends have always amused me (especially when I'm stone cold sober), watching them get pissed is now a fine art.
I've realised not only do I like watching alchies on binges, I like to simply watch things happen around me.
Perhaps this is due to the fact that I'm too tired to do much else given the crazy job, but I still gain huge satisfaction by watching people merely walk past me.
***
The family is in town. I now have 2 cousins in Melbourne with me, and 1 of them is my neighbour back home. I grew up with him, knocked my front teeth out on a chair of his while playing with him, got into numerous scrapes with him, beheaded his GI Joe dolls with him, watched Transformer, Bionic 6, Fantastic 7, Gummi Bears, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and The Muppets with him, I believe we used to curse our Chinese (Mandarin) tuition teacher together. We drifted apart in out teenage years, but he's now in town undertaking a degree in commerce.
I guess we're growing a mini-Peranakan community of our very own here. His mum kept bringing buah keluak up just to piss me off I swear! They know I have a fondness for buah keluak, a very very Peranakan dish that seems to be an acquired taste along the lines of durians, duck foetuses and pig offal. It's nothing so rancid though, it's just minced pork or chicken stuffed with the flesh of a nut that's toxic unless you soak it in water for 3 days. *wry look* But seriously, if you like it, it can't be all that good for you.
Coffee, chocolate, fried chicken, chips, full clotted cream, cake,cocaine, acid, whiskey, beer, nicotine, happy pills (no wait that's Prozac- I mean like Ecstacy or whatever newfangled stuff they take nowadays), buah keluak. MMMMMMMMMMM.***
Uncle and Aunt took me for dinner today, with my aunt's brother in-law and they spent the entire dinner talking about really really conservative traditional things and views. I really got pissed off however, when they started grilling me about why I don't have said boyfriend, and whether I would accept other races.
I was like "well I have to like them 1st" in a futile attempt at dodging the question.
Driven into a corner a full 2 seconds later I said "yeah" to "would you ever date a white boy?"
then the brother in law thought he was cracking a joke when he said this:
"I tell you what you do, ah. You ring your mum and dad right, and say 'mummy daddy, I have something to tell you. I'm dating someone. He's NEGRO' then you wait for them to scold you. Then you can say 'I'm only joking. He's white'"
He proceeds to laugh uproariously. I exchange glances with my cousin. He's not batting an eyelid. I'm slightly disturbed. I try to steer the conversation away.
"But some AFRICANS are hot. I mean look at Beyonce"
"Is she considered NEGRO?"
"She's AFRICAN-AMERICAN"
(please note that we're both emphasising the descriptors)
"Yeah. Then I suppose lah. You think they're good loking? No lah. Some of them are so BLACK. Like Indians also."
I feel like telling him
"Oh my gosh. look at you. You're so YELLOW"
I change the subject again
"Yeah. I just came back from a North Indian engagment actually." I turn my palms up, revealing the mendhi
"North Indians are really fair. And they have brown blue green or grey eyes"
Everyone expresses surprise. My irritation has grown into an itch. My cousin had just told me he'd made some Zimbabwean friends. He was NOT helping me.
"yeah. and I think some Africans and Indians are really good looking. "
The uncle gets the message and changes tack. Starting on his "prep talk" with his son about how he could be gay because he hadn't brought home a girl at 23. OOOOHHHH DEJA-VU.
I. Give. Up.
I'm definitely joining the PR or Ad industries when I go home. I think I'd simply die if I were to work anywhere else.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
A very long engagement
and I mean that seriously. Indian weddings take forever. 7 days!
Engagements it seems, take 2.
This is the first engagement where I know both the bride and groom, and this goes back all the way to the time when she used to live next door in college, and her boy was an ex-collegiate I knew through the same friends.
I turned up for the mhendi ceremony on Friday, and was surprised to learn that because SweetiePie and The Dictator couldn't make it and Nyla was in Dubai, Keith and I were the only ones to turn up.
Since it's a ceremony traditionally meant for the bride and her friends, it was a little strange to find myself the only female friend there. When she said small she really meant it. It was supposed to be the usual dinner crowd, Nyla, CutiePie and myself. So Keith came in lieu of Nyla.
Family blessings and the exchange of presents were done then, in between mendhi applications. Dress rehearals were also held, the bride's family even buying an indian suit for the groom to try. Since no one had met their prospective in-laws 2 days prior, it was a pretty cool gathering, the bride's mother kept repeating how much like Shah Rukh Khan the groom looked. I just laughed. The groom looks nothing like Shah Rukh Khan. He's a lot better looking. Sindhi yes. SRK no.
The next day was the Hindu ceremony and party, in Glen Waverley. An Indian joint with bright pink walls. Due to the charming colour scheme, the bride decided to decorate the place with duppattas and saris in an effort to QueerEye the place, and tables arrangements were a problem. Would white candles wash out among the white tablecloth? Would flowers AND candles be too much? How would the maroon napkins go with the walls?
I hopped off work and straight onto a train, to find the groom panicking. iPods were too hi-tech, no in-cables available for the sound system. The priest lost his way and was being picked up for a 3 hour late ceremony. The saris were too heavy to be held up. It was MADNESS AND MAYHEM for 2 hours straight.
5 minutes before the guests arrived, Keith and I ran off to extremely bleachy-smelling toilets to get ready. I was still applying copious amounts of concealer (eye bags) when the party started. My hair was a mess, I was kilos heavier and looked it, I was a mess.
As it turned out, the cables were bought, the music played, the priest gave a ceremony in front of a packed crowd to much applause. The saris stayed up.
And then the music changed from Hindi to Banghra.
and of course, that's when it started to look like a Bollywood movie.
Everyone was dancing. Even the parents who looked like they were at least 60. And BOY COULD THEY DANCE.
Then again, you'll see some kids in my pics. Yeah well, the youngest one is 4.
If they start that young, you wonder why they can all dance.
Honestly. You know that scene from Bride and Prejudice where the sister makes a pointed remark about how you'll see her brother suddenly turn into an Indian MC Hammer? Well, she wasn't far wrong. Sure. No choreography here, but the dancing was Banghra all the way and everyone was dancing along. We even managed to get some "white boys" in there *cough cough* quote unquote Keith and I actually have a photo of Keith making fun of himself by "screwing a lightbulb with one hand and patting the dog with the other" but didn't want to show anyone's faces.
I guess one of the true hallmarks of the night though, was watching the groom actually take to the floor. As he said in his speech "If she can make me actually dance to this bloody Banghra music, (he hates Banghra music, much less dance to it) then I guess she's it for the rest of my life"
AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
In the end, CutiePie, The Dictator, Keith and I all ended up going home at 1am, long after the party ended, helping everyone remove stuff.
So there it goes, The first of my really close friends on their way to getting married.
Engagements it seems, take 2.
This is the first engagement where I know both the bride and groom, and this goes back all the way to the time when she used to live next door in college, and her boy was an ex-collegiate I knew through the same friends.
I turned up for the mhendi ceremony on Friday, and was surprised to learn that because SweetiePie and The Dictator couldn't make it and Nyla was in Dubai, Keith and I were the only ones to turn up.
Since it's a ceremony traditionally meant for the bride and her friends, it was a little strange to find myself the only female friend there. When she said small she really meant it. It was supposed to be the usual dinner crowd, Nyla, CutiePie and myself. So Keith came in lieu of Nyla.
AFTER SCRAPING
Family blessings and the exchange of presents were done then, in between mendhi applications. Dress rehearals were also held, the bride's family even buying an indian suit for the groom to try. Since no one had met their prospective in-laws 2 days prior, it was a pretty cool gathering, the bride's mother kept repeating how much like Shah Rukh Khan the groom looked. I just laughed. The groom looks nothing like Shah Rukh Khan. He's a lot better looking. Sindhi yes. SRK no.
The next day was the Hindu ceremony and party, in Glen Waverley. An Indian joint with bright pink walls. Due to the charming colour scheme, the bride decided to decorate the place with duppattas and saris in an effort to QueerEye the place, and tables arrangements were a problem. Would white candles wash out among the white tablecloth? Would flowers AND candles be too much? How would the maroon napkins go with the walls?
I hopped off work and straight onto a train, to find the groom panicking. iPods were too hi-tech, no in-cables available for the sound system. The priest lost his way and was being picked up for a 3 hour late ceremony. The saris were too heavy to be held up. It was MADNESS AND MAYHEM for 2 hours straight.
5 minutes before the guests arrived, Keith and I ran off to extremely bleachy-smelling toilets to get ready. I was still applying copious amounts of concealer (eye bags) when the party started. My hair was a mess, I was kilos heavier and looked it, I was a mess.
As it turned out, the cables were bought, the music played, the priest gave a ceremony in front of a packed crowd to much applause. The saris stayed up.
And then the music changed from Hindi to Banghra.
and of course, that's when it started to look like a Bollywood movie.
Everyone was dancing. Even the parents who looked like they were at least 60. And BOY COULD THEY DANCE.
Then again, you'll see some kids in my pics. Yeah well, the youngest one is 4.
If they start that young, you wonder why they can all dance.
Honestly. You know that scene from Bride and Prejudice where the sister makes a pointed remark about how you'll see her brother suddenly turn into an Indian MC Hammer? Well, she wasn't far wrong. Sure. No choreography here, but the dancing was Banghra all the way and everyone was dancing along. We even managed to get some "white boys" in there *cough cough* quote unquote Keith and I actually have a photo of Keith making fun of himself by "screwing a lightbulb with one hand and patting the dog with the other" but didn't want to show anyone's faces.
I guess one of the true hallmarks of the night though, was watching the groom actually take to the floor. As he said in his speech "If she can make me actually dance to this bloody Banghra music, (he hates Banghra music, much less dance to it) then I guess she's it for the rest of my life"
AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
In the end, CutiePie, The Dictator, Keith and I all ended up going home at 1am, long after the party ended, helping everyone remove stuff.
So there it goes, The first of my really close friends on their way to getting married.
Friday, June 24, 2005
blogging with mendhi
such is my dedication to this blog, I'm typing with one hand and basting the other an inch away from the heater.
why?
because I just got mendhi-ed. As in I just had a professional lady henna my hands.
It's got to do with a 2-day engagement ceremony ritual.Today's the Indian section, tomorrow it's the western-ish section.
The Indian equivalent of the chinese tea ceremony was done today- gifts were exchanged, and that prayer candle thing was waved around, and the red dye pressed onto everyone's foreheads.
mendhi took a while, and I decided to only do one hand which of course is why I can still type, open car doors for myself, and eat without someone feeding me.
the tradition is that the darker the mendhi, the warmer the person's heart, so most women do things like wrap their hands in plastic bags/cling wrap before they go to bed. My hand s flaking extremely severely though, because the lady forgot to make me rub my hands with eucalyptus oil before I started and it's starting to resemble a giant lump. I'm considering scraping it all off to prevent blotchiness in colour and pattern, sine it's coming off inside the bag as we speak. In giant flakes, no less.
If they call me a cold-hearted bitch, well then I guess they're right!
Hmmm.....but then I'll have to steam the cloves tonight.
Nah. too lazy. Tommorrow.
why?
because I just got mendhi-ed. As in I just had a professional lady henna my hands.
It's got to do with a 2-day engagement ceremony ritual.Today's the Indian section, tomorrow it's the western-ish section.
The Indian equivalent of the chinese tea ceremony was done today- gifts were exchanged, and that prayer candle thing was waved around, and the red dye pressed onto everyone's foreheads.
mendhi took a while, and I decided to only do one hand which of course is why I can still type, open car doors for myself, and eat without someone feeding me.
the tradition is that the darker the mendhi, the warmer the person's heart, so most women do things like wrap their hands in plastic bags/cling wrap before they go to bed. My hand s flaking extremely severely though, because the lady forgot to make me rub my hands with eucalyptus oil before I started and it's starting to resemble a giant lump. I'm considering scraping it all off to prevent blotchiness in colour and pattern, sine it's coming off inside the bag as we speak. In giant flakes, no less.
If they call me a cold-hearted bitch, well then I guess they're right!
Hmmm.....but then I'll have to steam the cloves tonight.
Nah. too lazy. Tommorrow.
Nation: The Great Rant
I'd heard about the whole hoo-ha about gays being the only sufferers of AIDS or something a few months ago, but thought that was it.
It now turns out that there will no longer be any Nation parties and that they're moving it to Bangkok. ok ok, so my news is very very late. But I am still slightly shocked by it all.
I know it's always been illegal to be homosexual- or rather to engage in homosexual activities- in Singapore, esp since they've been banning gay conferences and whatnot. But I'd always thought a party would be fine. Kinda like Mardi Gras to a techno beat you know? I mean, sure there are a couplea thousand gay men prancing dancing in one location, but if your point is that AIDS onlyaffects the gay community then you're CONTAINING the problem are you not?
and if you realise that AIDS doesn't affect only homosexuals (gay or lesbian) then why on earth are you banning something that constitutes the same fun as say...MOS on new years eve?
What? You're going to tell me sex and debauchery doesn't happen amongst heterosexual couples during a big night of partying and even if it does it'll lead to more babies (which Singapore badly needs) and most definitely no AIDS? Oh wait. That's right. That's what Romancing Singapore is for, to teach Singaporeans how to have sex. Because heterosexuals, the people who do make all the precious babies, don't know how to, and most certainly don't have AIDS.
Our stats sure seem to show it. I mean, least sex in the world according to the Durex Sex Survey and whatnot. So only oversexed AIDS-ridden faggots who can transmit this contagious airborne disease basically have sex. lah. Worse than ebola and SARS combined. Oh dear. I guess we really should be pushing some panic buttons shouldn't we.
What? don't like the word sex? SEX. SEX. SEX. SEX. SEX. SEX. SEX.
oh my gosh. blushing. how cute.
But apparently not.
oh-kay. I shall shut up and leave my rainbow flag waving ways aside for a little while.
Must. learn. to be Singapore clone. Later kena branded lesbian. (again)
bryyin and killingculture, if you're procrastinating and reading this, yes yes. I really was shocked and appalled, but there were so many other things to talk about! Thanks again for my lunch. You boys rock.
here's the Great Gay Hypothesis
and while I'm at it, I thought it'd amuse my non-Singaporean readers with news that there is an entire government body dedicated to matching graduates up with other grads. Kinda like a personals with activities. A government-funded elitist matchmaking agency no less. Who needs adultmatchmaker.com? Not that I'm complaining. I mean, if I really were in need of some kind of state-sanctioned match making service where I could learn all the virtues of 3.2 kids (with lots of state-bonuses for pushing them kids out) and golden retriever and the joys of motherhood all to that wonderful 80s soundtrack of Let's Hear It For The Boys, what better place to turn to? Alternatively, it could fuel myquintessentially Singaporean money hungry 5Cs status obsessed all-consuming need to meet a fellow nice Singaporean graduate (preferably male) like my parents want me to.
Don't believe me?
then check out the Social Development Unit
how's this for a mission statement?
Gotta love it.
It now turns out that there will no longer be any Nation parties and that they're moving it to Bangkok. ok ok, so my news is very very late. But I am still slightly shocked by it all.
I know it's always been illegal to be homosexual- or rather to engage in homosexual activities- in Singapore, esp since they've been banning gay conferences and whatnot. But I'd always thought a party would be fine. Kinda like Mardi Gras to a techno beat you know? I mean, sure there are a couplea thousand gay men
and if you realise that AIDS doesn't affect only homosexuals (gay or lesbian) then why on earth are you banning something that constitutes the same fun as say...MOS on new years eve?
What? You're going to tell me sex and debauchery doesn't happen amongst heterosexual couples during a big night of partying and even if it does it'll lead to more babies (which Singapore badly needs) and most definitely no AIDS? Oh wait. That's right. That's what Romancing Singapore is for, to teach Singaporeans how to have sex. Because heterosexuals, the people who do make all the precious babies, don't know how to, and most certainly don't have AIDS.
Our stats sure seem to show it. I mean, least sex in the world according to the Durex Sex Survey and whatnot. So only oversexed AIDS-ridden faggots who can transmit this contagious airborne disease basically have sex. lah. Worse than ebola and SARS combined. Oh dear. I guess we really should be pushing some panic buttons shouldn't we.
What? don't like the word sex? SEX. SEX. SEX. SEX. SEX. SEX. SEX.
oh my gosh. blushing. how cute.
But apparently not.
oh-kay. I shall shut up and leave my rainbow flag waving ways aside for a little while.
Must. learn. to be Singapore clone. Later kena branded lesbian. (again)
bryyin and killingculture, if you're procrastinating and reading this, yes yes. I really was shocked and appalled, but there were so many other things to talk about! Thanks again for my lunch. You boys rock.
here's the Great Gay Hypothesis
and while I'm at it, I thought it'd amuse my non-Singaporean readers with news that there is an entire government body dedicated to matching graduates up with other grads. Kinda like a personals with activities. A government-funded elitist matchmaking agency no less. Who needs adultmatchmaker.com? Not that I'm complaining. I mean, if I really were in need of some kind of state-sanctioned match making service where I could learn all the virtues of 3.2 kids (with lots of state-bonuses for pushing them kids out) and golden retriever and the joys of motherhood all to that wonderful 80s soundtrack of Let's Hear It For The Boys, what better place to turn to? Alternatively, it could fuel my
Don't believe me?
then check out the Social Development Unit
how's this for a mission statement?
Yes!!! (3 exclamation marks included) We believe in our mission of promoting marriage among graduate singles and inculcating positive attitudes towards marriage among all singles in Singapore to achieve strong and stable families in Singapore.
Gotta love it.
Monday, June 20, 2005
my parents #456890
I sure hope my sis hasn't found this blog, and if she has, Don't tell mummy and daddy ok?
This is another one of my black sheep posts.
I was on the phone to my parents over the weekend and mentioned that I had to attend several engagements and weddings.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH"
both of them exclaimed. It was one of those "I knew it" self-satisfied 'ahs' and said with such such glee. Except both of them were a little out of time (I'm the only musical one in the family) so it sounded like an even more foreboding "AH HAAAAAAAAAAA"
It was like they'd lept on my words "engagement" and "wedding" as if they hadn't eaten in years and those words were lunch. It also sounded like an evil overweight French cook with a Dali moustache sharpening his carving knife.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked suspiciously
Apparently weddings and engagements are supposed to make me succumb to peer pressure and start feeling clucky.
RIGHT.
My parents are DESPERATE to get me attached and I think somewhere, somehow, my mother has decided I'm lesbian.
I was complaining to princessmish's boy over the weekend and he cracked up so hard, he couldn't work for 5min. "SO ASIAN!" he exclaimed.
*sigh*
Whatever the case, they've tried cajoling, fear tactics, reverse psychology, rewards. You name it, they've tried it. and I'm still like, "Yeah. Not getting married. Sorry"
This pains them greatly. Especially my father who once considered buying a station wagon when I was 6- in the hopes that he would be able to cart me and my (future) husband and KIDS around on picnics. *sighs* And they say women are clucky.
I'll admit, I haven't officially uh, "declared" boyfriends (or even girlfriends) of any sort to them, especially since I've been here since I was 14 and you can't exactly bring anyone home, and my parents are quite racist purist traditional.
With the sole exception of ONE, all the boys I've sort-of dated have been non-Chinese, and my parents insist on Chinese.
You may think I'm exaggerating, but the last thing my mother said to me when she left me all alone at the age of 14 in a strange land wasn't "Be good" "Take care of yourself" "don't get into any trouble" or even "don't become a druggie", it was "Don't come home with a white boyfriend okay?"
Little do they know that "white" is only the beginning of their problems. I swear if they found out I've found a few black guys attractive they'd positively faint on the spot. and if they found out I'd once dated a Jew they would...approach him (or the concept of him) much like a science experiment. With equal parts fascination and trepidation. Possibly ask the strangest and most unwittingly insulting questions I could never come up with in my wildest dreams.
My family is strange. Honest. I mean, the way they treat my platonic guy friends is enough to send THEM running (or driving) away at the highest speeds possible. Like the time my dad untied my friend's shoelace to facilitate his, er. departure.
Or when Blurboy comes to pick me up in his car and you'll see my parents poking their heads out the upstairs window to stare, and my sister poking her head out the front window, also to stare. And Blurboy who as his name suggests, is BLUR but actually manages to notice this due to the sneaking feeling that SOMEONE is staring at him. Make that THREE someones.
Or the time one of my guy friends was walking me home and my father drove past, saw me, rubbernecked, and nearly crashed.
*sighs*
My parents are so...traditional...even Chinese from other parts of Asia won't do. Although I think as my meatmarket value has gone down, so have their crazy standards.
That said, it's not like the guys I've dated are actually boyfriend material. I mean, compulsive liars and white hindus (to name a few) aren't your average "take home to mum and dad" boys are they. (although when I was dating the white hindu he wasn't a hindu and was still doing commerce of all things).
Besides, I hate to tell my parents this. But not only am I not interested in marriage or in boys as a general rule, I repel boys. It's a mutual understanding. In order for boys to like you, they have to feel you are receptive. (Actually, my father was the one who told me that in one of his hour long why-don't-you-have-a-boyfriend prep-talks.) Since I don't seem to have any boy-antennae at all, boys don't respond. (how I came to this conclusion is another post altogether)
Easy.
In fact, if I did settle for any boy who was chasing me, they'd most probably be psycho stalkers who watch child porn in their free time. Well okay, maybe not that bad. They'd all be non-psycho stalkers who watch Michael Jackson documentaries in their free time.
I've figured guys are scared of me, and the only ones who dare approach are either
A) dead drunk
B) stoned out of their skulls
C) clinically insane or
D) megalomanics.
take your pick.
Boys who like me, I don't like. Boys I like, don't like me. (and I don't generally fall in "like" in the 1st place)
So mum and dad, the answer is still no. I may decide to cohabitate one day, me the black sheep with one of my (possibly) non-Chinese megalomaniac boyfriends, but surely you'd agree that couples like that should never be allowed to procreate.
This is another one of my black sheep posts.
I was on the phone to my parents over the weekend and mentioned that I had to attend several engagements and weddings.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH"
both of them exclaimed. It was one of those "I knew it" self-satisfied 'ahs' and said with such such glee. Except both of them were a little out of time (I'm the only musical one in the family) so it sounded like an even more foreboding "AH HAAAAAAAAAAA"
It was like they'd lept on my words "engagement" and "wedding" as if they hadn't eaten in years and those words were lunch. It also sounded like an evil overweight French cook with a Dali moustache sharpening his carving knife.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked suspiciously
Apparently weddings and engagements are supposed to make me succumb to peer pressure and start feeling clucky.
RIGHT.
My parents are DESPERATE to get me attached and I think somewhere, somehow, my mother has decided I'm lesbian.
I was complaining to princessmish's boy over the weekend and he cracked up so hard, he couldn't work for 5min. "SO ASIAN!" he exclaimed.
*sigh*
Whatever the case, they've tried cajoling, fear tactics, reverse psychology, rewards. You name it, they've tried it. and I'm still like, "Yeah. Not getting married. Sorry"
This pains them greatly. Especially my father who once considered buying a station wagon when I was 6- in the hopes that he would be able to cart me and my (future) husband and KIDS around on picnics. *sighs* And they say women are clucky.
I'll admit, I haven't officially uh, "declared" boyfriends (or even girlfriends) of any sort to them, especially since I've been here since I was 14 and you can't exactly bring anyone home, and my parents are quite
With the sole exception of ONE, all the boys I've
You may think I'm exaggerating, but the last thing my mother said to me when she left me all alone at the age of 14 in a strange land wasn't "Be good" "Take care of yourself" "don't get into any trouble" or even "don't become a druggie", it was "Don't come home with a white boyfriend okay?"
Little do they know that "white" is only the beginning of their problems. I swear if they found out I've found a few black guys attractive they'd positively faint on the spot. and if they found out I'd once dated a Jew they would...approach him (or the concept of him) much like a science experiment. With equal parts fascination and trepidation. Possibly ask the strangest and most unwittingly insulting questions I could never come up with in my wildest dreams.
My family is strange. Honest. I mean, the way they treat my platonic guy friends is enough to send THEM running (or driving) away at the highest speeds possible. Like the time my dad untied my friend's shoelace to facilitate his, er. departure.
Or when Blurboy comes to pick me up in his car and you'll see my parents poking their heads out the upstairs window to stare, and my sister poking her head out the front window, also to stare. And Blurboy who as his name suggests, is BLUR but actually manages to notice this due to the sneaking feeling that SOMEONE is staring at him. Make that THREE someones.
Or the time one of my guy friends was walking me home and my father drove past, saw me, rubbernecked, and nearly crashed.
*sighs*
My parents are so...traditional...even Chinese from other parts of Asia won't do. Although I think as my meatmarket value has gone down, so have their crazy standards.
That said, it's not like the guys I've dated are actually boyfriend material. I mean, compulsive liars and white hindus (to name a few) aren't your average "take home to mum and dad" boys are they. (although when I was dating the white hindu he wasn't a hindu and was still doing commerce of all things).
Besides, I hate to tell my parents this. But not only am I not interested in marriage or in boys as a general rule, I repel boys. It's a mutual understanding. In order for boys to like you, they have to feel you are receptive. (Actually, my father was the one who told me that in one of his hour long why-don't-you-have-a-boyfriend prep-talks.) Since I don't seem to have any boy-antennae at all, boys don't respond. (how I came to this conclusion is another post altogether)
Easy.
In fact, if I did settle for any boy who was chasing me, they'd most probably be psycho stalkers who watch child porn in their free time. Well okay, maybe not that bad. They'd all be non-psycho stalkers who watch Michael Jackson documentaries in their free time.
I've figured guys are scared of me, and the only ones who dare approach are either
A) dead drunk
B) stoned out of their skulls
C) clinically insane or
D) megalomanics.
take your pick.
Boys who like me, I don't like. Boys I like, don't like me. (and I don't generally fall in "like" in the 1st place)
So mum and dad, the answer is still no. I may decide to cohabitate one day, me the black sheep with one of my (possibly) non-Chinese megalomaniac boyfriends, but surely you'd agree that couples like that should never be allowed to procreate.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
little things
This one goes under my quotes section:
Jenn after seeing me back from break.
Jenn: That was not a break. Go away and come back again in 25min.
Me: Nup, I had my soup. I'm done.
Jenn: What did you do? Inhale it?
Me: Oh honey. Don't you know? Suppositories are the quickest way to absorb anything!
cue Jenn's flabbergastered face.
Jenn after seeing me back from break.
Jenn: That was not a break. Go away and come back again in 25min.
Me: Nup, I had my soup. I'm done.
Jenn: What did you do? Inhale it?
Me: Oh honey. Don't you know? Suppositories are the quickest way to absorb anything!
cue Jenn's flabbergastered face.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
pics
my father is going to kill me when he sees how coffee stained my teeth are. Must hunt for whitening toothpaste. Cannot look like alcoholic hobo.
I've noticed this since taking the plethora of photos I've been taking. I swear I've never taken this many photos in my life. I'm infamous for not taking photos. But now because I'm never seeing all these people ever again, the camera comes whipping out at every possible moment.
Anyway. As promised.
English Rose's 29th.
KLB, EnglishRose, Peru, Me, Miss Sunshine
Leese's 30th/farewell aka this is what I look like after 9 hours at work 2 days in a row with no time to 'touch up'. (Her DAD loved my present. HA! It's ok because she has a cool dad)
I look like a homocidal maniac I know, but in the other pic,
she has her eyes half closed.
oh the pitfalls of trying to keep your eyes open through blinding flash.
I've decided I have a great camera that takes bad night shots. This is a general consensus of people who own my cam (Amy, Hall) that it somehow flattens features and makes people fatter, while highlighting things like eyebags, bad skin, and white undies under black clothes- oh. and it's motion blur is so so so sensitive and the resolution goes grainy.
anyway. Please note that all staff are actually depressingly good-looking in real life. ( I have more pics of more staff but that's from another night)
I want an SLR more than ever.
oh. and I liked it at the Long Room so much I'm considering holding my early birthday there.
I've noticed this since taking the plethora of photos I've been taking. I swear I've never taken this many photos in my life. I'm infamous for not taking photos. But now because I'm never seeing all these people ever again, the camera comes whipping out at every possible moment.
Anyway. As promised.
English Rose's 29th.
KLB, EnglishRose, Peru, Me, Miss Sunshine
Leese's 30th/farewell aka this is what I look like after 9 hours at work 2 days in a row with no time to 'touch up'. (Her DAD loved my present. HA! It's ok because she has a cool dad)
I look like a homocidal maniac I know, but in the other pic,
she has her eyes half closed.
oh the pitfalls of trying to keep your eyes open through blinding flash.
I've decided I have a great camera that takes bad night shots. This is a general consensus of people who own my cam (Amy, Hall) that it somehow flattens features and makes people fatter, while highlighting things like eyebags, bad skin, and white undies under black clothes- oh. and it's motion blur is so so so sensitive and the resolution goes grainy.
anyway. Please note that all staff are actually depressingly good-looking in real life. ( I have more pics of more staff but that's from another night)
I want an SLR more than ever.
oh. and I liked it at the Long Room so much I'm considering holding my early birthday there.
it's gotta suck being eldest
I've been working non-stop crazy hours in a very energy sapping job and I'm not young anymore so yeah. Been too bloody tired to blog. I'm 22 going on 82 remember? Crochety old grandma. Crochety old grandma.
But I was thinking about it one day, (random thoughts galore) and I was thinking I'd love to read up on psychology books ever since I started my masters and got a taste of marketing. There are plenty of psychology-isms that have hit mainstream language
"Anal" being the most obvious reference, or "Pavlovian"/ "Freudian" and everyone's heard of Maslow's Hierachy of Needs- but since starting this course, I've learnt the specifics of The Hierachy and come across something I think everyone should but doesn't know about. Maslow's corresponding Theory of Neurosis.
I mean, it's not rocket science, and perhaps in an age where a shrink is considered almost essential many of these are circulating around in common everyday speech and thought and considered almost scathingly witty when someone says something like "your mother obviously didn't love you enough as a child" (or at least I find it scathingly witty). Still, it makes for interesting reading to find out the little details I guess.
(That scene from Cruel Intentions *always* makes me laugh)
I mean, we all sit around, our best friends our personal shrinks. (even if our best friend goes by the name of beer) and all them quasi-pop quizes women's magazines wave around. This month's Cosmo is a clincher : "How Bicurious are you?"
I somehow find myself seriously questioning the validity of relying on a quiz in Cosmo to tell me where my sexual orientation lies. It may reinforce it, or rather, reinforce what I know about myself, but it most certainly isn't telling me anything NEW and if it said something different I'd just say the quiz "was crap". But somehow, we lap it up as if this will give us some deep insight to our inner psyche we know nothing about.
Anyway, in one of my characteristic leaps of logic, I started thinking about middle child syndrome. I know heaps of people with middle child syndrome.
But when does a problem child suffer from middle child syndrome? When he/she is a middle child of course- supposedly caused by the order of birth.
But then as an eldest child, I've had discussions (read: bitch sessions) with other eldest children on how it sucks to be us. Especially if you come from an ultra-conservative family like mine that has stubborn streaks a mile wide...that you inherited as well.
Why hasn't there been eldest child syndrome documented? All these things tell you how appallingly overachieving eldest children are, how eager they are to please, how responsible, how conservative. How youngest children are the spoilt bunch, used to using their charm to get their way, competing with the eldest by being charming rather than achieving in material means. But has anyone done an in depth study into what the impact is?
I'm sure someone has, but why is it that when an eldest child cracks it it's seen as "problem child" but when the same thing happens to a middle child it's "middle child syndrome"?
There's a whole load of books more to read I guess.
In the meantime:
Remains of the Day
7 types of ambiguity
Good Food Guide
Dune
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
God of Small Things
The Satanic Verses
Angela's Ashes
Oscar and Lucinda
Dune
there's probably more but that's enough for now. :)
Listening to: Missy Higgins- The River
But I was thinking about it one day, (random thoughts galore) and I was thinking I'd love to read up on psychology books ever since I started my masters and got a taste of marketing. There are plenty of psychology-isms that have hit mainstream language
"Anal" being the most obvious reference, or "Pavlovian"/ "Freudian" and everyone's heard of Maslow's Hierachy of Needs- but since starting this course, I've learnt the specifics of The Hierachy and come across something I think everyone should but doesn't know about. Maslow's corresponding Theory of Neurosis.
"If you have significant problems along your development -- a period of extreme insecurity or hunger as a child, or the loss of a family member through death or divorce, or significant neglect or abuse -- you may “fixate” on that set of needs for the rest of your life.
This is Maslow’s understanding of neurosis. Perhaps you went through a war as a kid. Now you have everything your heart needs -- yet you still find yourself obsessing over having enough money and keeping the pantry well-stocked. Or perhaps your parents divorced when you were young. Now you have a wonderful spouse -- yet you get insanely jealous or worry constantly that they are going to leave you because you are not “good enough” for them. You get the picture.
I mean, it's not rocket science, and perhaps in an age where a shrink is considered almost essential many of these are circulating around in common everyday speech and thought and considered almost scathingly witty when someone says something like "your mother obviously didn't love you enough as a child" (or at least I find it scathingly witty). Still, it makes for interesting reading to find out the little details I guess.
(That scene from Cruel Intentions *always* makes me laugh)
I mean, we all sit around, our best friends our personal shrinks. (even if our best friend goes by the name of beer) and all them quasi-pop quizes women's magazines wave around. This month's Cosmo is a clincher : "How Bicurious are you?"
I somehow find myself seriously questioning the validity of relying on a quiz in Cosmo to tell me where my sexual orientation lies. It may reinforce it, or rather, reinforce what I know about myself, but it most certainly isn't telling me anything NEW and if it said something different I'd just say the quiz "was crap". But somehow, we lap it up as if this will give us some deep insight to our inner psyche we know nothing about.
Anyway, in one of my characteristic leaps of logic, I started thinking about middle child syndrome. I know heaps of people with middle child syndrome.
But when does a problem child suffer from middle child syndrome? When he/she is a middle child of course- supposedly caused by the order of birth.
But then as an eldest child, I've had discussions (read: bitch sessions) with other eldest children on how it sucks to be us. Especially if you come from an ultra-conservative family like mine that has stubborn streaks a mile wide...that you inherited as well.
Why hasn't there been eldest child syndrome documented? All these things tell you how appallingly overachieving eldest children are, how eager they are to please, how responsible, how conservative. How youngest children are the spoilt bunch, used to using their charm to get their way, competing with the eldest by being charming rather than achieving in material means. But has anyone done an in depth study into what the impact is?
I'm sure someone has, but why is it that when an eldest child cracks it it's seen as "problem child" but when the same thing happens to a middle child it's "middle child syndrome"?
There's a whole load of books more to read I guess.
In the meantime:
Remains of the Day
7 types of ambiguity
Good Food Guide
Dune
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
God of Small Things
The Satanic Verses
Angela's Ashes
Oscar and Lucinda
Dune
there's probably more but that's enough for now. :)
Listening to: Missy Higgins- The River
Monday, June 13, 2005
I can't be arsed photoshopping but everyone's like
"Photoshop or I'll wring your neck motherfucker" (and yes, that's an exact quote)
so you guys will just have to wait. I'm most definitely not photoshopping myself. Be warned about the humongous pimple on my chin. It used to be 2.
EDIT: HA! Kenny Sia picked up on the SPG debate! Malayan (SG/MY) Bloggers are all a bunch of lefty liberals *cough*. (Well, as far as Singapore/Malaysia will let us) HAHAHAHAHA! ROFL. I amuse myself.
"Photoshop or I'll wring your neck motherfucker" (and yes, that's an exact quote)
so you guys will just have to wait. I'm most definitely not photoshopping myself. Be warned about the humongous pimple on my chin. It used to be 2.
EDIT: HA! Kenny Sia picked up on the SPG debate! Malayan (SG/MY) Bloggers are all a bunch of lefty liberals *cough*. (Well, as far as Singapore/Malaysia will let us) HAHAHAHAHA! ROFL. I amuse myself.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
amused
some things amuse the crap out of me. Like the fact that I just did a meme called "What Singaporean blogger are you?"
It makes more sense when you realise it was written by Kenny Sia (who's Malaysian), but becomes really really funny when the answer to that question is obviously
"silvermyst. DUH"
however, I am apparently Scarlett Ting.
Consider me very amused.
The soundtrack in my mind: for the very first time in a long time, I had classical music in my head. Vivaldi's four seasons. I think it was Autumn. how apt.
well, for a while I had Team America OST Kim Jung Il's "I'm sho roneree" in my head. but hey. that was when WhiteTrash and I were cracking jokes about weapons of mass distraction. (after Leese, WhiteTrash and I were having extended coversations about butt cracks and underwear showing when we bend over. WT sometimes leave labels out on purpose to show people how small she is (HAHAHAH!!!) Leese believes in "Better undies than crack" and I am stauch advocate of "No undies and crack" )
***
Just got back from Lees'es 30th birthday cum farewell party at The Long Room (if you have bandwidth click this instead). Off to Sweden she goes!
I got her a pair of Pink Uggs
Uggs to remind her of Australia while being practical for Sweden, and pink because it's one of her favourite colours. (I personally found the purple and maroon ones cute)
We're joking that she should
*puts on really ocker Aussie accent* "put it on to the milk bar on the corner to get me milk"
Photos will be up as soon as I photoshop them. I have been warned that I will be photoshopping on the pain of death if I don't.
Things like flash photography doing strange things to nice people. (distorting features, revealing colour of undies etc)
***
Val has this to say about SPG's recent pics.
I personally reckon that if you're on her site, you're bloody opting in. and as Val says, her escapades are far more "brow raising" than her nude pictures, particularly since the pics are Classical Nudes.
I personally like SPG, which of course, is the reason why I have a link to her.
It makes more sense when you realise it was written by Kenny Sia (who's Malaysian), but becomes really really funny when the answer to that question is obviously
"silvermyst. DUH"
however, I am apparently Scarlett Ting.
Consider me very amused.
The soundtrack in my mind: for the very first time in a long time, I had classical music in my head. Vivaldi's four seasons. I think it was Autumn. how apt.
well, for a while I had Team America OST Kim Jung Il's "I'm sho roneree" in my head. but hey. that was when WhiteTrash and I were cracking jokes about weapons of mass distraction. (after Leese, WhiteTrash and I were having extended coversations about butt cracks and underwear showing when we bend over. WT sometimes leave labels out on purpose to show people how small she is (HAHAHAH!!!) Leese believes in "Better undies than crack" and I am stauch advocate of "No undies and crack" )
***
Just got back from Lees'es 30th birthday cum farewell party at The Long Room (if you have bandwidth click this instead). Off to Sweden she goes!
I got her a pair of Pink Uggs
Uggs to remind her of Australia while being practical for Sweden, and pink because it's one of her favourite colours. (I personally found the purple and maroon ones cute)
We're joking that she should
*puts on really ocker Aussie accent* "put it on to the milk bar on the corner to get me milk"
Photos will be up as soon as I photoshop them. I have been warned that I will be photoshopping on the pain of death if I don't.
Things like flash photography doing strange things to nice people. (distorting features, revealing colour of undies etc)
***
Val has this to say about SPG's recent pics.
I personally reckon that if you're on her site, you're bloody opting in. and as Val says, her escapades are far more "brow raising" than her nude pictures, particularly since the pics are Classical Nudes.
I personally like SPG, which of course, is the reason why I have a link to her.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
turning my back
hey alaia, (and all the rest of you)
I guess you know that if I'm posting any more photos, they'll all be special events. And since there are many many farewells and weddings in this coming month, this month will still be pictures month. But just not in every post.
So this will be my last photo for a little little while. On this very public blog at least. and I'll give you a few days more before I take down the rest of the pictures too.
I really really hate photos of myself. and putting them up online on a very public blog makes me feel even more uncomfortable.
luv,
me.
p/s it isn't back acne- it's my moles. no one believes me when I say I have moles and freckles aplenty.
I guess you know that if I'm posting any more photos, they'll all be special events. And since there are many many farewells and weddings in this coming month, this month will still be pictures month. But just not in every post.
So this will be my last photo for a little little while. On this very public blog at least. and I'll give you a few days more before I take down the rest of the pictures too.
I really really hate photos of myself. and putting them up online on a very public blog makes me feel even more uncomfortable.
luv,
me.
p/s it isn't back acne- it's my moles. no one believes me when I say I have moles and freckles aplenty.
Saturday, June 04, 2005
nassim rd princess
Princess reckons this pic looks like I'm a Sixth Ave/Nassim Rd Princess i.e. a Singaporean Bergdorf Blonde. (1st page here)
SCARY!!!!!!!!!!!!
As an aside, isn't there some other road where all these rich kids live? More exclusive than Queen Astrid Park? Cowie once told me but I forgot. He described it as more "old rich" particularly due to the privacy it provides in the form of high hedges I think. Where are all my rich kid friends? *cough cough cough* Someone tell me leh. I wanna be in the know! (as if there's such a thing as not being in the know in an island 24km wide with a population of 4mil) Maybe it *is* Nassim Rd. What about Caldecott Hill? or the Orchard folk? and where on earth do the East elite stay?
That's not calling everyone who lives in Nassim/Queen Astrid/6th Ave shallow though. Just that it's a prerequisite to be ridiculously rich to be a Singaporean Bergdorf Blonde, so you guys automatically qualify for 1 point of criteria. (Sorry lah. I know there's at least one resident who reads my blog- and she's hardly stupid, vapid, spoilt or shallow. Three if I think hard enough.)
I don't want to be a spoilt self absorbed shallow prat!
I still think shallow is one of the worst things to be called, even worse than stupid.
As things go, I'd rather be smart than pretty, and I'd rather be stupid than shallow.
Besides, I don't live at those addresses.
Ah well.
I forgot to tell the world.
I'm considering a 2nd masters. not because I'm a hopeless academic enamoured with my oh-so-brilliant textbook authors, but because the 2nd masters will only take 6 months and enable me to get surefire PR!
*ponder*
I think I'll wait till after I've seen the migration agent. Because I may take over a job being vacated by someone coming over if I don't get PR. *sighs*
I don't know.
I don't even know where home is.
just to prove I'm not a princess.
Me sans makeup, but heavily B&W-ed because I'm BLOODY CHEATING. and oh yes. This is the SECOND LAST POST WITH PICTURES!!!! HA!!!!!
P/S It just occurred to me that if you did a (literally) cross-country marathon, then you'd actually run off the island, because a semi-marathon is 21km is it not? Ha. *amused*
SCARY!!!!!!!!!!!!
As an aside, isn't there some other road where all these rich kids live? More exclusive than Queen Astrid Park? Cowie once told me but I forgot. He described it as more "old rich" particularly due to the privacy it provides in the form of high hedges I think. Where are all my rich kid friends? *cough cough cough* Someone tell me leh. I wanna be in the know! (as if there's such a thing as not being in the know in an island 24km wide with a population of 4mil) Maybe it *is* Nassim Rd. What about Caldecott Hill? or the Orchard folk? and where on earth do the East elite stay?
That's not calling everyone who lives in Nassim/Queen Astrid/6th Ave shallow though. Just that it's a prerequisite to be ridiculously rich to be a Singaporean Bergdorf Blonde, so you guys automatically qualify for 1 point of criteria. (Sorry lah. I know there's at least one resident who reads my blog- and she's hardly stupid, vapid, spoilt or shallow. Three if I think hard enough.)
I don't want to be a spoilt self absorbed shallow prat!
I still think shallow is one of the worst things to be called, even worse than stupid.
As things go, I'd rather be smart than pretty, and I'd rather be stupid than shallow.
Besides, I don't live at those addresses.
Ah well.
I forgot to tell the world.
I'm considering a 2nd masters. not because I'm a hopeless academic enamoured with my oh-so-brilliant textbook authors, but because the 2nd masters will only take 6 months and enable me to get surefire PR!
*ponder*
I think I'll wait till after I've seen the migration agent. Because I may take over a job being vacated by someone coming over if I don't get PR. *sighs*
I don't know.
I don't even know where home is.
just to prove I'm not a princess.
Me sans makeup, but heavily B&W-ed because I'm BLOODY CHEATING. and oh yes. This is the SECOND LAST POST WITH PICTURES!!!! HA!!!!!
P/S It just occurred to me that if you did a (literally) cross-country marathon, then you'd actually run off the island, because a semi-marathon is 21km is it not? Ha. *amused*
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
and the fotologging begins aka it's tough being green
In response to vampuke "I think I'm Korean".
I'm like....can't decide if I'm Jap OR Korean. Liddat how?
I walk into Korean groceries and the people behind the counter will start speaking to me in Korean. I bought something from a Japanese stall at the Bondi market and the Jap lady asked me if I was. Truth is. I'm peranakan chinese.
and since I photograph rather badly, I always turn out looking different in each and every photo anyway. The two above are just...the most Korean/Jappy looking ones I could find.
I remember the most amusing experience I had with looking Korean and Jap was when I first entered uni and all these Asians wanted to talk to me because they thought I was Jap. Some even insisted black and blue that I *must* have a throwback somwhere.
This of course, was before they realised I was Singaporean, gave a collective "chey" and walked off.
*sighs* well I guess at least I don't have to capitalise on/cope with Singaporean stereotypes. The Singapore Girl has ALOT to answer for (especially when plastered all over the net), as does the entire commerce faculty of Melbourne Uni. and Annabelle Chong. and Fann Wong.
5Cs? What's that?
I'm like....can't decide if I'm Jap OR Korean. Liddat how?
I walk into Korean groceries and the people behind the counter will start speaking to me in Korean. I bought something from a Japanese stall at the Bondi market and the Jap lady asked me if I was. Truth is. I'm peranakan chinese.
and since I photograph rather badly, I always turn out looking different in each and every photo anyway. The two above are just...the most Korean/Jappy looking ones I could find.
I remember the most amusing experience I had with looking Korean and Jap was when I first entered uni and all these Asians wanted to talk to me because they thought I was Jap. Some even insisted black and blue that I *must* have a throwback somwhere.
This of course, was before they realised I was Singaporean, gave a collective "chey" and walked off.
*sighs* well I guess at least I don't have to capitalise on/cope with Singaporean stereotypes. The Singapore Girl has ALOT to answer for (especially when plastered all over the net), as does the entire commerce faculty of Melbourne Uni. and Annabelle Chong. and Fann Wong.
5Cs? What's that?
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