Monday, October 31, 2005

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.


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.

Friday, October 28, 2005

"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!!!!!!!

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

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

Monday, October 24, 2005

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.


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?

Sunday, October 23, 2005


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


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.


listening to Counting Crows

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

Friday, October 21, 2005

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

Monday, October 17, 2005


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

Sunday, October 16, 2005

engagement.marriage. broken shoes. banghra dancing.

Wednesday, October 12, 2005


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

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.


Monday, October 10, 2005


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.


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.

Sunday, October 09, 2005


"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

Saturday, October 08, 2005

stayer quitter

I mean, everyone talks about this bloody speech

probably second only to peanuts....


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 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 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.

Friday, October 07, 2005

listening to: Fuel- Shimmer

reading: Neal Stephenson- Dianmond Age

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

Monday, October 03, 2005

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.

Saturday, October 01, 2005


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.