Take a Deetour

Hyperallergenic

2008-11-19T19:58:00.002+08:00

Actual work conversation:

Me: Arghh! I'm itching all over! I think there may be a mosquito in here!

T: Mozzie? I thought you have allergies.

Me: Yes! I'm breaking out in hives!

T: Then it's a bee problem you got there.

Fo' Shizzle, Ma Nizzle

2007-05-19T15:38:00.000+08:00

Keepin' thangs real in da deetour ghetto

It's Been a While...

2007-03-23T22:23:00.001+08:00

Updates from the past 2 months to follow... I, uh, promise. Meantime, this is what I've been super busy with. Besides eating craploads and dancing naked, of course.

Make A Little Birdhouse In Your Soul

2007-01-15T14:33:00.000+08:00

I'm obsessed with this song! It makes me happy and a little crazy. I want to dance around just like they do in the video. Except naked.

Any song that can include lyrics about screaming Argonauts is OK by me.

Action

2007-01-04T04:35:00.000+08:00

click!
I don't know how not to come across preachy or self-righteous and it's so not my intent, but I just have to say this.
I remember feeling completely frustrated and helpless 2 Christmases ago when the Tsunami hit. The hot topic of the season, I must've discussed it with every person I came in contact with. We talked about volunteering, going to Phuket to help physically, maybe pack aid packages at the Red Cross, or make a donation, but I'm disgusted to say I ended up doing absolutely nothing at all.
Since then, I've travelled across the half the globe - Iran, India, Thailand, Cambodia, China, pondering this quote all the while and wondering if I haven't done enough, if I haven't done anything at all, even. Am I making a difference at all for all the trips I've made, the places I've been? You see enough disaster victims, poverty and disease, you become numb. Shouldn't I be feeling worse? Then again, should I even feel bad for feeling numb? But then again, feeling guilty and thinking lots doesn't exactly accomplish anything either.
Then Katarina hit, then the Pakistan Earthquake, then Typhoon Durian across Vietnam and Philippines...
Emotions and talk are cheap without something to back them up, so I reckon I'll shut up, right after I say one more thing: Take Action - however you can, wherever you can, in whatever capacity you can.

Mi Ni Ner Chesna! *

2006-12-28T02:07:00.000+08:00

Adventures in teaching English in Inner Mongolia

brrrrr... recorded temperature @ a gas station enroute back to hohhot from saihan
* My Name is Snow!

Ok, it sounds dumb in translation, but at the time, really cool and exotic in Mongolian.

Anyway, this is in reference to the day I refused to stay indoors despite -20°C temperatures. If the students had to go outside in the crunching snow for Phys Ed (which involved doing hilarious, militaristic swimming movements with their arms and legs, to the beat of music and barked orders through a crackly PA sytem), so did I!

That's when the teachers decided to name me after the one thing I seemed to enjoy most.

So anyway, in the little pocket of calm between Christmas and New Year's, I shall attempt to document my most recent travels!

Here's what else happened between this & this. A few - OK, twenty! - of my favourite shots...

On the first day of school, right after we taught our first class, we got to meet 3 lovely Mongolian teachers who decided to sneak 3 of us out for breakfast. It felt deliciiously naughty to be skiving, even if it wasn't really - we had an hour before our next class! Of course, in typical Asian fashion, they ordered way too much food, insisted we try everything and picked up the tab.
So here it is, a typically Mongolian breakfast - Salty (YES! SALTY!) milk tea with little rock-hard buns, millet, dried cheese and boiled fatty lamb all dunked in it. Drunk out of a bowl like soup. Without a spoon.

Snow sculpture outside the first school we visited.

Outside the school at dusk - old man wheeling his broom-laden bicycle along the icy street.

Kids hanging out on the pavement across from their school. Check the cute lil' old granny in her hoodie on the left - she looks just like one of the kids (and just as short!).

This delightful class were eloquent, inquisitive and aggressive! We got mobbed after the lesson and treated like rock stars, everyone clamouring for an autograph.

Walking back to the hotel from school.

Most of Saihan looks like this - squat, terracotta-hued brick houses, the odd taller building and dirt roads (thankfully they were covered in pretty snow!).

Behold! Beyond the rooftops, the main street (which is paved and modern).

Behold! Upon the paved and modern main street, a dude and his horse-cartload of charcoal (still their main energy source). He even stopped and held up traffic so I could take his picture!

What a lovely way to start the day! Charred cow hooves and head, anyone? One super-friendly old dude was searing chopped cow on a charcoal stove outside his house to keep warm. He invited me in for lunch. Score!

The Dynamic Duo of Dairy (奶食)! A staple of the Mongolian diet, milk products like yoghurt, curds, cheese and milk are hand-made in this here shop.

One of MANY ridiculously large, lamb-centric meals hosted by schools we taught at. Clockwise from top, stir-fried string potato (土豆) and chives, lamb omelette, rice porridge, the famous "hand-pulled" lamb (手扒羊肉), chive and egg stir-fry & topping it all off, the Inner Mongolian version of our Murtabak - pan-fried, minced lamb pancakes!

Yet another ridiculous feast for our bursting bellies. After the generous teachers and principals stuff you with bottles of moonshine and lamb dishes, the "main food" (主食) arrives - usually rice or noodles or dumplings. But surely NOT usually all at once?!

Last day, last school. As the sun went down, the kids appeared to clear the courtyard of snow. Bless them!

We emerged from our final class on to the quiet, golden-hued street. Sunset always creates interesting shadows & shapes.

Two brothers, whom we taught earlier in the day, happened to be at the same restaurant where we were being hosted our final whopper of a farewell meal. They were really bored, so I let them play with my camera.

At a freakishly early hour next morning, we said our tearful goodbyes and piled on to the bus that would take us back to the capital city Hohhot. It was so cold, that the windows were completely frosted over. Everytime I used my credit card to scrape off the ice, I was treated to scenes of a winter wonderland outside.

But after about 2 minutes, the windows would freeze over again. Tired of scraping ice away so I could look out the window, I decided to amuse myself in other ways...

Finally back in Hohhot after a four hour busride, we get back to the hotel and are immediately beset by small human beings, eager to speak English with us. These little tourguide-wannabes asked me a million questions, suggested a whole bunch of places I should visit whilst in Inner Mongolia and showed off what they learnt in school: "HELLOHOWAREYOUI'MFINETYHANKYOUMYNAMEIS... WHEREAREYOUFROMWHATFOODDOYOULIKEIAMHAPPY!" They bellowed at me enthusuastically. I was besotted and gave away all my maps and postcards of Singapore. This is them, clutching their spoils and saying goodbye, as we skipped off to explore a little of the city.

Sunflower seed vendor.

Cantankerous old bike-repairer who had taken control of a street corner. Love his getup, especially the fuzzy Russian hat with earflaps.

More food! This time, the infamous Mala Hotpot ( 嘛辣火锅/ 刷羊肉). Paper-fine slices of delicious lamb is dipped in a tongue-numbing, spicy-hot soup and devoured with a sesame-peanut dipping sauce.

OK, so I'd read about this in Polly Evan's travelogue, Fried Eggs with Chopsticks, but didn't really expect to experience it firsthand! Apparently, in large hotels, you can find little perspex displays of products like these these in the bathrooms. For the, uh, convenience of your genitalia?

And after wondering why my phone kept ringing at night but when I answered, the person on the other line would hang up immediately, I remembered a little nugget of info from said book. Ladies offering "special" services often make random calls to hotel rooms, hoping to find male occupants willing to indulge. They can't be arsed with female occupants - if they hear a female voice answering the phone, they hang up.
~~Now if only I could just figure out what a pudenda means...~~
I never knew pudenda means THIS! Up your pudenda, schweetheart!

Completely meaningless picture. Included only because I am a compulsive buyer of useless stuff, completely swayed by crass commercialism and willing to fork out US$28 for a slice of China's history. In other words, I bought a boxed set of Olympic mascot plush toys at Beijing airport. Um, it's for my niece and nephews, you see. That's the excuse I'm sticking with, anyway.

They Didn't Leave Till 7am...

2006-12-25T17:17:00.000+08:00

...I never make it to church Christmas morning, thanks to very enthusiastic, friendly friends... But I love you guys anyway!

Roast Goose got my uncle feelin' Loose!

The food didn't stay long on our plates

Neither did the wine in our glasses

Precious, limited supply of delicious 1975 (my birth year!) Château Pichon Longueville Comtesse de Lalande

It was a rip-roaring success, involving 39 bottles of Champagne and wine, Large oven-cooked beasts, mountains of mashed potatoes, our juiced-up version of Charades, dozens of ripped up Christmas crackers, and of course, pretty party frocks.

The Menu - clogged arteries and saturated livers be damned!

High: (and what a very high it was) Whilst aunt and uncle were doin' the rock 'n roll to, uh, rock 'n roll music, Daddy Dearest got down on the carpet, flat on his back, and proceeded to "swim" to the beat.
Low: (sigh...) With everyone snoring in bed, having to clear up till 9 am with G.

And a very Merry Christmas to you too! Falalalala, Lalalalaaaaah!

Cranky, Chocolatey Crimbo

2006-12-22T06:28:00.000+08:00

The sum and total of this year's homemade gifting endeavour? I never want to see or smell or touch another chocolate truffle ever again. After hand-rolling 450 choc truffles, designing & re-designing the menu inserts/ gift-wrapping & tags and a week of working through the night, it's finally all done. The results, however, one has to admit, are more than worth the effort. Now if only I could get my body clock back to normal. I'm still sleeping at 8am instead of 2am.

L-R: Peppermint, Classic, Amaretto, Mocha.

The Year of Living Generously

2006-12-15T04:03:00.000+08:00

Been toying with the idea of this instead of Christmas presents this year.

A sampling of how you can put the ol' plastic to use. A different kind of Christmas wishlist, so-to-speak:

Caring for Orphaned Refugee Children

Feed the Persecuted

AIDS care

Southern Africa Emergency Appeal

Child Sponsorship x 2

Two Snail Farms for the Ladies

Seeds for a Family

Please visit and lay down a little of that year-end bonus!

Or help me out by checking my wish list! :0)

I Can't Feel My Fingers or My Face

2006-12-02T21:30:00.000+08:00

Saihan, Inner Mongolia. Enroute back to Hohhot.

I got just one thing to say: -24°C, baby!

Adventures in perilous public loos, teaching English to grade and middle school kids and salty, lamb-y milk tea for breakfast to follow!

Баяртай for now!

Singapore - Beijing - Hohhot

2006-11-26T15:02:00.000+08:00

I had grandiose plans to bring thee, fair netizens of Deetour, numerous and wonderful updates, but in typical fashion, have faffed around till it was too late and now I type furiously from a free terminal at Beijing airport.

Yes, BEIJING 北京 airport! It's nip-shatteringly cold and I love it! We touched down at 6.45 this morning and it was -1 deg celsius. Am now waiting to board the flight to Hohhot 呼和浩特, capital of Inner Mongolia, a mere 1.5 hrs flight away northwards, where temperatures of -16 deg celsius await...

Yippee! Will post again when I can... 再见 Zai Jian!

Some Midweek Frivolity

2006-11-15T15:50:00.000+08:00

I stumbled upon this today and squealed with much, uh, delight...

"cheesy-tees" is my middle name!

Ah... those giggly days, debating what exactly an "Afternoon Delight" meant... A dessert? A trip to the mall? A little (no way, surely not!) rumpy pumpy in the day time?

This blushingly delightful obsession got a ~~hump~~jumpstart from a movie I can't get enough of. It's been making it's repetitive rounds on cable and somehow, I seem to be home and channel surfing at the exact moment that Anchorman is on. Oh, Ron Burgundy! Oh, classy city of Saahhn Dee-aahh-go! Oh, legendary 4-part harmony from men in polyester suits!

It may actually go down as my all-time fave song from the '70s, besides Suspicious Minds, Copacabana and Stayin' Alive, that is.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go set some Sky Rockets in Flight.

Poobah

2006-11-11T00:56:00.000+08:00

Woe is... Committing a social faux pas of stratospheric proportions. Something I've heard happen to other unfortunate noobheads, but never thought it would me, until tonight...

Meet ex-colleague haven't seen in years.

Have good old natter about work.

She, "Let's meet up soon for drinks!"

Me, "Are you sure you should be drinking?" (as I pat her tummy)

The universe and all its inhabitants shriek maniacally, as her face turns various shades of rainbow and I feel the palpable reverberations of her outrage.

She, "I'll give you a head start, I'm reaching for my shoe..." She says only half-jokingly.

I dissolve into a large, pathetic puddle of humiliation at her feet.

But we all know in these situations, no amount of spluttering and squawking and explaining can save a conversational train wreck like this.

But in my defence, I didn't insinuate she looked fat. I did what I did and said what I said because I distinctly remember another colleague telling me she was preggers. Except (only now, with hindsight, do I remember) this was 2 years ago and I have no concept of time or space. Or decorum, for that matter.

Therefore, henceforth, you may address me as Her Highness, Grand Poohbah of all Schmuckstresses.

Bliss is... Coming home after a loooong day of work to discover a Bond movie marathon on cable. Earlier: Dr. No. Now on: From Russia with Love. Later: Goldfinger. They're showing 'em in chronological order - Waaaheey! I foresee a sleepless night of bondage with Sean Connery... Tee hee.

l LURRRVES BOND!

AND I LURRVES THIS TRIBUTE VIDEO by le Scissor Sisters:

My Brother Cracks Me Up

2006-11-05T00:39:00.000+08:00

and he's pretty too!

They say comics are embellishments of reality, but in this case, it couldn't be more true.

And brother-dear's evil nerditizing influence has already infected his firstborn ~~off~~geekspring... It's happening as we speak... a whole new generation of dweebazoids spawned... Sigghhh...

Still, I have high hopes for his female spawn, whose preference for ballet, pink and assorted frilly things still far outweighs any interest she has in ~~XBox~~ brain-sucking, eyeball-melting machines.

As for the other male sproglet, I guess we'll just have to wait and see. At 1 year of age (TODAY! Happy Birthday, Baby Boy!), the closest he gets to the XBox is to drool over the controls and chew on the wires.

Feelin' Nuffin' But Love

2006-10-29T23:06:00.000+08:00

Monged out in front of the telly in a severely carbed-up (2 packets of instant noodles - yeeah!) stupor, giving thanks for little pleasures (besides thoughtfully rubbing my belly overhang, of course!):

1. Yet another gem of a sign I shot off a truck. I love being Asian!

Oh, the bad puns I could spin, but I won't...

2. As if the carbs in my belly aren't enough, I want to go here, like NOW! I chanced by it once back in 2001 and it was an out-of-body experience. More! More! This isn't helping, either.

3. Realising that the self-imposed social ban was bad for my mental health. Meeting up with B for dimsum today really helped clear the insanity. Today & tomorrow are the only days I'm gonna get off for a LOOONG time, so I'm grateful for the rest - the voice sure could use it. Hurrah for little blessings!

With much inspiration from this blog of note.

Spicy!

2006-10-23T03:17:00.000+08:00

Arriving late at S's annual Deepavali party, resplendant in all my shawal kameezed glory (how did I end up being the only one - Indian & Non - in traditional costume?), it struck me how much I miss being in the company of people. After keeping myself away from human contact (so I wouldn't have to speak or use my voice in any other way) for so long, it was strange to find myself surrounded by familiar faces. Yet my language seemed to have left me. Conversation wasn't readily familiar to me. But then everything went right again when T started getting teased for his secret Spice Girls obsession.

"I AM the Spice Girls!" He exclaimed.

"Oh yeah, which part of you exactly?"

"My arm is Sporty, my ear is Posh..."

"And that's Baby!" P interjected pointing at T's crotch.

I lost it. I just lost it. Wheeeeeeeee...

The Paralytic Stirs

2006-10-19T03:48:00.000+08:00

Fear is a powerful emotion to live your life by.

And while I know how ridiculous it is to let it take hold, I still did. In debilitating ways. I was too scared to chat with the colleagues, to scared to answer the phone, too scared to play with the niece and nephew, too scared to hang out with friends. Too scared of messing up my voice. Too scared to write about it. The days stretched into a routine of wake-up, cry, go to work, come straight home, lock self in bedroom, cry, sleep. Repeat. Rinse.

But now, THANK GOD THANK GOD THANK GOD the gig is over. Literally, not figuratively. Voice intact (MIRACLE!!!), it went down a treat, especially the bit where my dad ran up to the stage in hero-like fashion & downed the pint S. (the sabo king!) dared me to bottoms up half-way through our song.

In celebration of being unshackled, this month, I shall pluck the good from the bad, see the humour in the sad, and...

Read Moral Disorder again and again. So good, it bears repeating.

Continue to revel in the oral vibrations delivered by my new toothbrush, the magnificent Oral-B Pulsar!

Drink water 8X a day out of my trusty Heineken pint glass, whilst fooling self into thinking it's ice cold beer.

Indulge in a spot of uni nostalgia and listen to a lot of early '90s brit indie-pop music, like Suede, Oasis, The Stone Roses, James, Lightning Seeds, The Farm and also more recently, The Thrills.

Watch old black and white movies on TMC in the wee hours.

Lose 10 pounds so my co-star can at least attempt to lift me into a loving embrace at the climax of the scene. As of now, I remain grossly 5kgs heavier than him. Bah.

Enjoy my erstwhile secret crush on Brandon Flowers.

I Wouldn't Call My Family Melodramatic II

2006-10-15T23:50:00.000+08:00

The aunt and uncle from Down Under are having a raucous, champagne-fuelled mid-afternoon family fiesta with the rest of us when G pulls me conspicuously into the kitchen to tell me how frustrated she was about something she misplaced earlier.

As she starts talking, I hear the aunties whispering outside, before one of them bursts through the door in typical kaypoh-chee-fashion and asks in a conspiratorial tone, "What? What? What? What secrets are you two whispering about?"

We stare blankly.

"Why? Guy trouble issit?" She continues in a loud whisper.

Slightly annoyed, and in the same loud whisper, G. says, "Yah. Don't tell my mom, but I'm dating a married man."

"Hah? Really, ah? It's OK what, as long as he treats you well," she continues, trying hard to be the cool auntie.

I can't resist chipping in, "Yah, and he's got three kids. G's gonna be a stepmom!"

We move this loudly whispered conversation outside for the benefit of our other nosy relatives, where the attention suddenly turns to me.

"So G's dating a married man, what about YOOOOUUUU??!"

"Me? I'm engaged... I'm getting married to a cocker spaniel."

Spare me the female dog jokes, please.

The World Is Made Up of Only Two Kinds

2006-10-08T22:05:00.000+08:00

Caught the creepy-cute feature-length documentary My Date with Drew on cable and was completely reeled in - couldn't stop watching. An average joe films his mission to bag a date with Drew Barrymore. The catch, he has $1,100 and 30 days to do it. The money, he won on a TV game show and the time frame, the number of days in the money-back guarantee of his video cam.
Countless deliciously cheesy 80's movie references aside, I knew sticking out the movie till its end was so worth it when the guy revealed that in his world, there are only 2 kinds of people and he judges them accordingly. Mock if you will, but after cackling uncontrollably to myself, I realised I agree with him.
Yes, how lovely! My world, too, is made up of only 2 kinds of people - those who love Grease 2 and those who don't. It gave me a little thrill when I discovered that Ms Barrymore loves Grease 2 too! OMG!!! Does that make me a stalker?! But seriously, I never met a person who loves Grease 2 that I didn't like.
Although I may have to draw the line at guys who sing Cool Rider to calm themselves down.

-------------------

22 Oct update: P. says even so, no wonder I don't have a boyfriend. Bah.

Stock Take COMPLETE!!!

2006-10-06T23:36:00.000+08:00

In·ven·to·ry (ĭn'vən-tôr'ē, -tōr'ē)
n., pl. -ries.
A detailed, itemized list, report, or record of things in one's possession, especially a periodic survey of all goods and materials in stock.
The process of making such a list, report, or record.
An evaluation or a survey, as of abilities, assets, or resources.
tr.v., -ried, -ry·ing, -ries.
To make an itemized report or record of.
To include in an itemized report or record.
[Middle English inventorie, from Medieval Latin inventōrium, alteration of Late Latin inventārium, from Latin inventus, past participle of invenīre, to find.]

Resurrecting something I used to do - presenting, my innards served, from A - Z, on a pretty platter:

A - Aging Rockers. Blondie were here on the 11th for their Farewell Tour gig @ the Hard Rock Cafe. Somehow I got dragged along for the experience (Thanks, T). Look, I know they're pioneers of new wave punk. I know I may never see them perform again (although Farewell Tours never seem to be what they claim to be. They just keep coming back - like Cher). I like Rapture, Heart of Glass, Denis Denis, The Tide is High & Maria, but I think I missed the boat of blonde-ness by a few years. Don't feel insulted, but we stayed at the gig for all of 20 minutes, bothered by the sheer number of tall ang mors blocking us short asians in the standing-room-only venue. And it's not much fun listening to a deadpan Deborah Harry, whilst watching her on a plasma screen 'cos too many people are obscuring the stage.
Sigghhh... Aging is a beautiful yet grotesque thing. Beautiful because we wear every wrinkle, every scar as a badge of honour for lessons learnt and wisdom gained. Grotesque because I'm still not comfortable watching 40-something-year-olds in their Yuppie suits and greying hair relive their glory days, gyrating and screaming along to every song. Probably because in about 10 years, that'll be me at a Coldplay concert or something. Maybe I should go catch Sonic Youth (strike while the irony is hot!) gigs more often. Sheesh.
Ironically, see O.

B - Batam. Infamous home of laydees' spas... cheap krupuk & Kue Lapis... playground of dirty old men from S'pore... and now, me. Am off in a couple of days to this den of iniquity, but for very un-iniquitous reasons...

C - Crying & Caffeine. Boo Hoo Hoo... The tears have finally arrived. I'm missing New Zealand, I'm missing YWAM, I'm missing the team, I'm missing the kids from Waharoa, I'm missing the simple, disciplined life we lived. I feel overwhelmed by my lovely but distracting homeland. Many decisions, many things pulling me in many directions. I loathe nostalgia. It makes you yearn and miss and cry and hurt. But this too shall pass, that much I know, so bawl on, sister!
As for the metabolic stimulant, I decided to go 100% cold turkey. As of Monday, 18th Sept, I stopped drinking tea and coffee. Big Mistake. Huge. See H.

D - Debt. Did you hear the one about the girl who went away to New Zealand, Thailand and India for 6 months and racked up bills of all assortments and amounts back home in her absence? No? Lemme fill you in. I started with a $10,000 IOU to the parentals who paid said bills for me. Am slowly chipping away at the brain-numbing 5-figure amount by selling myself on street corners and ebaying off my vast Barbie doll collection - wahaha!
Current debt stands at $8,371.22.
Looking on the bright side, at least when your parents are the loan sharks you won't come home to find a bloody pig's head at your door!

E - E-mail. Thank God for it. Just got lovely long one from O, which makes me feel less like a bit of agae swirling around in a giant sea. The ebb and flow of being home (I know! Pathetic! It's been over 2 months now!) can otherwise leave one slightly neurotic laydee feeling desperately lonely and lost. So what a blessed treat to hear the familiar trill of my inbox, heralding the love of someone from halfway across the world. Hurrah!

F - Father. Is it me or is there something very strange yet very amusing to find your old man watching MTV and singing along to Beyonce's Deja Vu? Apparently, Dad's 61 going on 16.

G - Grace. What can I say? God is good. Even when the world seems like it's gone crazy around me.

H - Hiding & Headaches. Been doing a lot of that lately. Locked up behind closed doors, not talking much to anybody. Afraid of the big ol' world out there. Feeling ridiculous. I have to face reality and my fears at some point. Later.
Meanwhile, my head feels like elephants are enthusiastically breakdancing back and forth behind my eyes and up & down the back of my skull. Consequence of cold-turkeying on coffee and tea - my 2 most favourite bevs on God's green earth. Why this unnecessary show of bravado? For the sake of my vocal chords, I've decided to stop poisoning them with the super-drying effects of caffeine. I have a musical to be in soon - one whole gruelling month of singing - gotta start being good to my body. Unfortunately, my body is not being good to me. I never knew caffeine withdrawal was this bad. Day 3 today and it's worn off a little, but the first two days were horrendous. By mid-afternoon, I couldn't function because of the pain in the head. Guess I deserve it for going from 6 cups of tea & 2 cups of joe a day to absolute zero. Don't try this at home, kids. Leave it to the, uh, ~~professional~~ singing lunatic.

I - Improvement. Progress is slow, but being made. With regard to U & N, the suitcase has been unpacked (sigh) and put away, but its contents still stacked all over the floor, against walls; whilst the toiletries of neurotic nostalgia are being ruthlessly depleted day by day. In fact (see M), as of a half hour ago, all the Mor Fig & Olive stuff has been used up (double sigghh).

J - Juggling. The old life involved a million and one little things everyday that screamed for my attention and deftly, cleverly, I dealt. I will never know how I stuck for that long to waking up @ 4.30am everyday, working non-stop for 14 hours, squeezing in extra jobs on the side, gym, hanging out with friends at night, keeping up with everything scheduled. Now, if I have more than 2 things on my daily planner, I get confused and forget meetings, errands, etc. A four-hour rehearsal now and I'm a goner for the rest of the day. Look, also, under R.

K - Kindness. This seems a bit obvious, but I keep surprising myself with this simple fact: It's way easier to be kind to people whom you think deserve it and so not to people whom you think aren't up to par. And that's hypocrisy. So am trying to find any opportunity to be kind to someone daily. Even if it means having to suck it up and go against my every scroogerific instinct - especially on the road.

L - Little Shop of Horrors. Said musical is already living up to its name! 2nd week into rehearsals and I'm having sleepless nights and nightmares featuring the entire soundtrack played on perpetual loop at full volume. Sigghhh... Signing up for this = committing social suicide. Voice coach pushes us so hard that vocally, I'm drained as a longkang at the end of each 6-hour day. After which, I go straight home and cease speaking till the next day when the manic vocal acrobatics begin again. I haven't been out or ~~seen~~ spoken much to anyone in ages! I've given up bars, clubs and other smoky, loud places. I've given up alcohol and caffeine. Next on my ruthless list, spicy foods! Boohoohoo. I've started exercising (almost) everyday. I've started drinking 4 litres/ 1 gallon of H2O everyday. And so far, the only thing I've gained is an extra 6 urgent toilet breaks per day on average.

M - Mor. As in the divine cosmetics company from Oz. Finally found a twee little shop @ The Mount that sold their products and carefully carted one bottle of Fig & Olive Body Wash home. That was 5 months ago, thanks to careful rationing. Look also under N.

N - Neurotic. Do you know what neurotic is? Neurotic is rationing all the toiletries you may have bought over the last 6 months because you have weird, morbid fear of forgetting what has past. A fear that all your memories of the incredible, excruciating, sublime adventure across North Island & South East Asia will disappear down the drain with the soap suds. So there they stand sweating in a row, the usual suspects lined up on the humid mosaic of my bathroom, little jars and tubes and bottles with that last .0007th of product left clinging to their insides.

O - Old. Miss S. was tremendously relieved, as was yours truly to discover that we both can't hear anything in that TV ad about the secret cell phone ringtone that grownups can't hear. I guess it's easier to deal with your aging aural faculties when you're not the only one. Either that or the arses behind the ad are just screwing with our 31-year-old minds and they haven't actually included the sneaky teen buzz. In which case, I shall be very angry and take revenge with this.

P - Pregnant. Before the congratulations or complaints start rolling in... a) That's not me in the picture. b) It is a belly of the male persuasion (thanks, Mr T!), merely for visual purposes. c) I'm not with child. I just look like it. Hey, I've had a lot of catching up to do on Mom's home-cookin'!

Q - Quiz. As in yet another totally useless and meaningless self-test. I am truly ashamed. And curiously addicted.

R - Rest & Relaxation. Trying to strike some sort of balance between work and play. The workaholic in me is so hard to kill - Rehearsals are stressful vocally, but not mentally or physically, so I always come home feeling like I haven't actually worked. Then I spend the rest of my time at home faffing about, trying not to feel guilty for not having done much, except faff and watch telly. Feeling especially off-kilter because going out is also out of the question due to lethal combination of: a) being broke b) 2 month ban on caffeine & alcohol c) most R&R activities with friends involve lots of a) & b). Therefore I haven't seen beloved friends in ages and this sad state of affairs will continue till end Nov.

S - Signs. Love collecting funny ones. Here's another I spotted last night in a public loo:

T - TV. Is my new best friend. Due to self-induced social coma for the sake of preserving the vocal chords, my only connection to the outside world (beside IMM & email - I've even started ruthlessly screening phone calls) is via a 12-by-14-inch confection of glass, plastic and wires that sits on a shelf directly across from my bed. Therefore, I find myself home, yet again, on a Friday night, equal parts mortified and excited that Extreme Makeover is on now and Assault on Precinct 13 (judge if you must, but the pirated DVD of this movie I a friend paid good money for didn't work and so it's a matter of uh, indulging the deprivation) later. Right now, I am so deprived of human contact, that I'm not even ashamed to admit my insides leap about with joy to hear mom & dad are home and I can sit and watch TV with them. Sigh. Bah. Poo.

U - Unpacking. Or rather, the lack of said activity taking place! I've been home for almost 5 weeks now and am still living out of one giant suitcase, gingerly weaving my way around a room that resembles an obstacle course of bags, books and papers.

V - Vitamins. Part of the new health kick. As D. from work said, we're all on self-imposed social comas till the show's over, but at least it'll be the fittest (albeit loneliest) we'll ever be. True blue, Mr D. Especially since I now pop a multi vit, evening primrose/ ginseng combi and garlic/ horseradish capsule everyday. The latter is supposed to help with nasal ailments, but with the PSI readings soaring and the haze getting stinkier & thicker by the minute, my allergies are raging uncontrollably.

W - Words. Written by other people, they always help to make sense of the present:

5 feet tall and the ears say it all...
My ancestors were cross-breeding elves & hobbits.
"I tell you these stories because these things happen to everyone. It’s not about being starched or polished or cute or polite. It’s about having ears that stick out, about breaking yet another glass. It’s about seeing something for the first time and making a million mistakes and not getting completely discouraged."
– Maira Kalman

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond imagination. It is our light more than our darkness which scares us. We ask ourselves – who are we to be brilliant, beautiful, talented, and fabulous. But honestly, who are you to not be so?
You are a child of God, small games do not work in this world. For those around us to feel peace, it is not example to make ourselves small. We were born to express the glory of god that lives in us. It is not in some of us, it is in all of us. While we allow our light to shine, we unconsciously give permission for others to do the same. When we liberate ourselves from our own fears, simply our presence may liberate others."
- Marianne Williamson/ Return to Love: Reflections on a Course in Miracles - resurrected by akeelah & the bee

X - X. As in the roman numeral for ten. Which is the number of slices of bacon I've eaten over the last 3 days. In Jamie's twist on spaghetti carbonara, in the BK chicken sanwich for lunch, sprinkled over my minestrone soup for dinner. And if you are what you eat, then flip me in a frying pan and call me Salty Pig!

Y - Yum! It's all here, baybeh! The finest Earl Grey Cake I've ever made with my own two hands. Ok, I cheated on the no-caffeine ban, but come on, does it really count if it's baked in a cake?

Z - Zaftig. X + Y = Z. 'Nuff said!

Physics is Pretty... Or is it Math?

2006-09-16T14:07:00.000+08:00

Taking a breather from the innard inventory and making the world wide web a more beautiful place, via the always purdy JellyGirl.

Make a gorgeous graph of your own & watch it unfurl prettily before your very eyes, using something called an HTML graph applet!

Suffer Little Children

2006-09-11T02:16:00.000+08:00

Light a Candle for the Innocent Victims of Child Abuse

Multiples! Personalities! Disorders!

2006-09-02T01:44:00.000+08:00

Help! The B-movie bacteria are attacking my brain...
AIEEEEEE... IQ point suckage....

Why else would she sit home alone on a Friday night watching Anacondas: The Hunt for the Blood Orchid & Blade: Trinity? Ever notice how most movies with a " : " proceeding the title is usually a B-grade sequel?

AIIIEEEEEEEEEEE...

OK, fine. Melodrama over. Brainless movies require brainless viewing activities... I feel, like, so 13-years-old right now!

Star Wars Personality: Princess Leia Organa

"This is some rescue. When you came in here, did you have a plan for getting out?" Technically you're a princess, but there's nothing dainty about you. When your royal blood runs hot, you speak your mind and tell it like it is. Only a true leader would have the courage to stand up to an enemy as ruthless as Darth Vader, and like Leia, your strength lies between your ears (although you're never afraid to go head-to-head with the boys).
You are the type of person who fights for their causes. You are a defender of the downtrodden and an inspiration to all those who have been oppressed. You may come off as a little headstrong and cocky, but how else could you pull off the "ear-muff" hairdo?

Imbibations:
a) What Kind of Server: Dynamic Bartender

Hey there, bartender, is it any wonder people love to open up to you and ask your opinion? You've got the most dynamic personality around. Whether you need to give sage advice to a broken heart or mix things up, you've got the imagination, wit, and heart to do it all.
You're as happy as can be when you're the center of attention, with everyone calling your name. People, action, new experiences — you crave to enjoy the world around you and learn as much as you can. We'll take another round!

b) Comfort Cocktail: Southern Manhattan

Just like SoHo and the West Village of NYC, your charm and sophistication go unmatched. It seems that you've got that incredible sense of style and the cultural know-how that inevitably impress everyone with whom you come in contact. It's called "class," and you've got a ton of it. What's even better is that you've managed to achieve this level of understated elegance without even a tad of arrogance.
You're extremely warm, open, and approachable — which makes you all the more irresistible! People might be intimidated because you definitely are the "whole package," but once they get to know you, they quickly realize that you're just as nice as you are cool. So maybe it's time to try a cocktail that suits your sophistication.

Signature city: New York

Whether you like to have lots of options at your fingertips or you like to be in a metropolitan environment that's buzzing with energy, the Big Apple is the perfect place for you. Maybe you like to mix and mingle at some of the edgiest restaurants, shops, and clubs in the world. Or maybe you like to be in the middle of it all — in the bright lights and big city.
One night could be dinner and a show on Broadway, a stroll through Central Park the next, or a trip to the Met the next. From Grand Central Station to Greenwich Village, New York's got some of the biggest and edgiest things to see and do anywhere in the world. No wonder a trendsetter like you would be right at home in the Big Apple.

Which Friend from "Friends": Rachel

She's everybody's sweetheart, despite some (mostly) endearing quirks. And it looks like you too, have a little Rachel Green inside you. (If you're lucky, you might share her good looks too). Some may see you as a little spoiled, or at times naive. But overall you're a total doll. Like the real Rachel, you make your way in the world, figuring it out as you go.
Sometimes your story-book ideals of how things should turn out keep you from taking life as it comes, but that lovable vulnerability just makes people feel closer to you. You have true compassion, an idiosyncratic side your friends delight in—and, of course, great taste. Reminder, o charming one: People love it when you call them "hun."

Celebrity love matches (It's a toss-up between):
a) Dylan McDermott

Order in the court! Yeah, we mean you. We know it's exciting that Practice hottie Dylan McDermott is your celebrity match, but for heaven's sake, calm down. After all, the TV lawyer may be tall, dark, handsome, smart, suave... Actually, on second thought, woo hoo! Celebrate all you want; this brainy babe (and ex-fiancé of Julia Roberts) is exactly the right kind of guy for you — you love men who sweep you off your feet with their words, not just their biceps. We can just picture the two of you on a date: candlelight, a vintage wine, a deep discussion about literature or foreign film. Definitely swoon-worthy. He may be married (and a daddy!) in real life, but in the TV show in your head, we the jury find that this bright East Coast hunk is all yours.

b) Brad Pitt

We can hear your heart fluttering from here. Yes, it's true — Hollywood golden boy Brad Pitt is your celebrity dream date. This outrageously handsome, disarmingly sexy Missouri-raised cutie may have had Jennifer Aniston and now Angelina Jolie, but that doesn't mean you can't daydream about a passionate affair. After all, your preference for sensitive, romantically boyish guys means Mr. Sexiest Man Alive (according to People in 1995 and 2000, that is) is right up your alley. We can just tell that his athletic build and clean-cut charm are matched only by his desire to keep you satisfied (look what he did for Geena Davis in Thelma and Louise!). Sure, he dressed up as a giant chicken to make money when he first moved to L.A., but that smidge of goofiness intrigues you, doesn't it? We can just picture a perfect date between the two of you. Imagine a night at the drive-in: one milkshake, two straws. Need we say more?

Monster Match: Mummy

You've been dead for 3000 years, but you are still the life of the party because your monster match is the mummy. Has anyone ever told you that you look sharp in linen, and white is definitely your color? From head to toe, you are the best dressed of the zombie clan. You throw the best parties this side of the Nile, whether you rented out a suite at the Luxor or you're just chilling in your tomb, you know how to unwind and have a good time.
You put the "Rahhh" back in Rock and Roll and forget hip-hop, you're the original wrap artist. But mummies, you may need to get outside more. You could use some sun and that sarcophagus is starting get a little stuffy. Go for a walk (like an Egyptian) or maybe even a jog. It's important to have an outlet so life's details don't bury you alive.

Dog: Pug

No bones about it, you're an intelligent, playful Pug. Witty and charming, you're a lot of dog wrapped in a small package. People just love you — a wonderful approachability and sense of humor put you at the top of everyone's list. And because you're smart and quick-witted, you attract a crowd wherever you go. (Have you ever considered running for office or starting a company? You've got the charisma for either.) But that doesn't mean you can't be a little naughty or mischievous when opportunity knocks — you've definitely got a nose for fun! A happy, optimistic breed, you're admired and respected by all. Woof!

Vehicle: Convertible

Ooo wee! You've got the wind in your hair, the sun on your face, and anyone with two eyes wishing they could nestle into your passenger seat. You're all about top-down, Convertible fun. We're thinking '69 Mustang, '64 Corvette, or Mazda Miata, in cherry red, of course. The car for you embodies youth, freedom, and summertime excitement. You've got a wild outlook on life and are always game for a good time. Since you're comfortable being the center of attention, you zip around town looking sleek and fresh, stealing flirty glances from your rearview mirror. Being so sexy and open, you attract friends, love interests, and joy riders wherever you go. It's no surprise if some hot number pulls alongside to challenge you to a little drag down Lovers Lane. You're the classic party mobile so crank up the music and hit the open road.

Theme Song: Funky Town

Bold, outrageous, and unafraid to ham it up. Like your signature song, you're upbeat and tons of fun. When it comes to having a good time, your imagination knows no limits. Whether you're out on the town or at home with friends, you can be counted on to be the ringleader.
People are drawn to your lightheartedness and offbeat sense of humor. You're not one to take life too seriously, and that's why you're such a hoot to be around. Not to mention, you always manage to keep people guessing what you'll do next. Stay funky!
woot-woot! blast from the past!

Movie Match: Groundbreaking Documentary

If you think documentaries are boring, think again. Like your movie match, you're an intelligent individual who makes people think. Documentaries span all sorts of topics, from the trivial to the profound. Perhaps your interests do the same, but one thing's clear — you're a smarty and you like to learn.
We'd guess you're the person at the dinner table or the water cooler who stirs up lively debates about the latest news or tidbits from the Discovery Channel. Part of you probably gets a kick out of creating controversy and getting people fired up about their beliefs. Another part probably likes opening people's eyes and sharing your thoughts. And for that, you get two thumbs up for trying to get to the bottom of things and making waves!

Hollywood Blonde: Gwen Stefani

From performing songs to designing her own clothing line, Gwen Stefani has never been a girl who just blends in. Like her, you're an original who's got your unique style that makes you stand out from the crowd. Even if you don't feel the pull of platinum, you know that you're a true individual with a flare for getting noticed — and staying in the spotlight.
Strong and sassy, you know who you are and enjoy expressing yourself — whether through music, fashion, or simply with your creative take on life. You'll never be just a girl — unless of course we're talking It Girl.

via

I am, like, so cool and popular and IT right now! Ya-huh...
I have to go twirl my hair now... Buh-bye!

Often Licked, Never Beaten

2006-09-01T20:14:00.000+08:00

Caviar today, Crusts tomorrow. Champagne today, Vinegar tomorrow is what I wrote before. It's OK. Everything's going to be OK. And when it doesn't feel that way, I breathe deep and look up.

Even though what I really want to do is hunt down another block of cheese and scarf it.

Actually, I don't have a sense of needing anything personally. I've learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I'm just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I've found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am.
Philippians 4:11-13/ The Message

Semiotics is a Big Word

2006-08-30T01:14:00.000+08:00

Is it because I don't love you enough?

Is it because I don't love you enough that I stray?
Is it because I don't love you enough that I run?
Is it because I don't love you enough that doing becomes the excuse for not being?
Is it because I don't love you enough that I fear?
Is it because I don't love you enough that I cannot decide?
Is it because I don't love you enough that I cannot commit?
Is it because I don't love you enough that I will not stay put long enough to listen?
Is it because I don't love you enough that I'm afraid of what I will hear?

Is it because I don't love me enough to care?

.......

so you found a girl
who thinks really deep thoughts
what's so amazing
about really deep thoughts
~ tori/ silent all these years

Trying not to think really deep thoughts, feeling not very amazing.

Hit By A Tai-taidal Wave

2006-08-26T02:49:00.000+08:00

i feel preettee... oh so preetteeeee...

I remember 13 weeks into my life on the road, I had the freaky chance of having a hot shower at a posh hotel in the heart of Bangkok. After 2 weeks of cold bucket baths, it was too much.
Rows of L'occitane products beckoned, recalling for me a distant past of spa weekends, luxury toiletries and weekly mani-pedis. Standing under the powerful jet of hot water, I cried, bewildered at this sudden and shocking display of emotion. Part grateful elation, part abject shame, I cried. Because of a hot shower.

As the end of my third week home draws near, I feel like crying again. But the tears won't come.
I'm getting used to the clash of feelings - I can eat caviar one day and crusts the next. Sip champagne today, drink vinegar tomorrow. It's ok. It's ok to go from the lack of to the surfeit of luxury. IT'S OK.

Being home is a curious thing. Everything is so familiar, but I can hardly recognise it. And yet as easy as a desperate hooker, I put on the old life once again. Calls this to mind. Maybe I'm being melodramatic, but these 2 things make me struggle (even though they happened quite by accident):

1. 2 hours at the salon getting scalp expertly massaged, hair expertly washed and conditioned then coifed. And I only happened to be there to keep stunning bride S. company, whilst she got hers done. But it was soooo much fun!

2. 2 hours at Sage & Sole getting fingers & toes descaled, detoxed and expertly dipped in the divine Hazel (neon mango) & Stephanie (shimmery midnight blue) polishes by Christina Fitzgerald. And I also only happened to be there to keep the purty Ms P. company, whilst she got hers done. But it was, like, soooooo much fun! Soooooo muuuuuuccchhh Decadant fuuuunnnnnn!

Arrrggghhh... Was not planning on returning to the life of a pampered Miss with Taitai aspirations. Will I ever be ok with who I am?

And in the End, He Made Me Foot the Bill!

2006-08-25T02:41:00.000+08:00

It was good to meet up with T. for Sushitei and a catchup tonight. We talked shop for several animated hours then I decided to fish for sympathy.

"Boo hoo, my foot very pain, leh! Did I tell you I think I fractured it?"

(Big sigh) "Yes, you already did. Didn't you fracture your foot once before?"

(Whining ever-so-slightly) "Yes! But it was the other foot!"

"Ah hah, must be the shock of ~~defeat~~ deFEET!"

Much snickering (from T's side of the table) & glaring (from my side) ensued.

I Think It's Broken

2006-08-22T16:14:00.000+08:00

I didn't want to say anything, but !@£$%^&*%!! my left foot hurts like !@£$%^&*&^%$£@! Pending an actual X-ray (and we all know my track record), I, in typical hypochondriac fashion, maintain that I may have fractured my left fifth distal metatarcel. And the reason I am so well-acquainted with said medical jargon is...

10 years (Lud!!!! TEN YEARS?!) ago, I fractured my RIGHT fifth distal metatarcel whilst pretending I was in Fame. Actually, I was taking my first dance class at the Northern School of Contemporary Dance, where the students REALLY danced through the hallways wearing tights and legwarmers! Feeling very impressed and very Fame indeed, I threw myself passionately into barefoot dancing to the beat of live African drums.

Halfway through corner-to-corner turns and leaps, Miss Twinkle-toes makes one ferociously enthusiastic jump and lands awkwardly, on the side of her twisted right foot. Sickening crack notwithstanding, she carried on leaping heroically till the pain threatened to eat her brain. "I think it's broken!" She wailed plaintively. Of course, none of her friends believed her. Of course, the rest is just fractured history.

A trip to the A&E next morning, when the foot in question had swelled up to twice its original size & developed a lovely deep purple hue, confirmed the Drama Queen's worst fears. She spent the next 6 weeks in a fibreglass cast, greatly inconvenienced, yet secretly revelling in all the attention the crutches and cast brought her.

Now I'm not saying I want attention now (though SOME WOULD BE NICE!), but my current foot woes smell like the the putrid past. Why won't anyone believe me? I'm in pain, dammit! And ponstan just doesn't cut it. I want an X-ray, and the tender ministrations of a hunky doctor, please.

Anyhow, this time, dancing was involved too. Occupational hazard, I guess. Allow me to set the scene:

2 kancheong girls on stage bump into each other while rushing to put away props and get back onstage to do next scene.

In the ensuing debacle, one pointy stiletto heel of one girl comes crushing down on the top of other girl's left foot.

Showbiz protocol darling... Just grin and keep shimmying through the grinding pain.

Get home 9 hours later, limping like a gangsta rapper.

Go to sleep with foot elevated.

Wake up with swollen purple foot.

Call doctor dad.

Painkillers prescribed.

Spend all of yesterday in bed watching crappy cable.

Write miserable, sorry-for-self post on blog.

Tomorrow, I'll get out of bed. Tomorrow I'll go get an X-ray. Tomorrow I'll find someone who'll offer me tea and sympathy.

Homesick?

2006-08-21T16:54:00.000+08:00

“Homesickness is. . . absolutely nothing. Fifty percent of the people in the world are homesick all the time. You don't really long for another country. You long for something in yourself that you don't have, or haven't been able to find.” - John Cheever

It's ironic I finally came home just as National Day celebrations were building to a fever pitch. As Singaporeans waved their little red-and-white flags and sang jubilant, nationalistic songs, I found myself familiarly indifferent. Detached. I haven't bubbled over with patriotic pride since I was a school kid singing, "One people, one nation, one Singapore...", so the indifference didn't surprise me much. But what did surprise me was how accutely homesick I felt, despite actually being, well, HOME.

I deliberately shut down the head & heart so I could cope with jumping straight back into rehearsals/ work/ being bridesmaid. I deliberately chose not to allow myself to process being away for the last 5 months. And I deliberately conducted emo erasure to avoid having to deal with settling back here.

Until now.

The emotional switches are slowly coming back on, but I'm not capable of articulating what's going inside yet. I will make these observations though:

Nothing on the radio or TV has changed - same songs, same shows - it's like I never left.

I have, though. Changed, that is. And being stuck between these 2 worlds is weird & surreal. And cliched.

Plunging Straight into Work + Killer Jet Lag = Extremely Anti-Social Behaviour. I haven't spoken properly to good friends yet and some people still don't know I'm back. Am making half-hearted attempt to feel remorseful.

Relief is going at least 3 times a day after 5 months of constipated travelling!

I ate a block of cheddar cheese and 4 tofu puffs today.

My 3-year-old niece speaks at least 3 times more than she did before I left and tells me she loves me everyday - yay!

I lost 5kgs whilst I was away - double yay!

I can still put on the glitter, false eyelashes and fishnets effortlessly.

MY. BODY. HAS. BEEN. REJECTING. BEER. Whaaaaat?!!! Expected, I guess, after being a teetotaller for the last 5 months.

I like Tim Tams and espresso (the parental units have purchased a spanking new machine that serves eye-poppingly good Illy coffee. Am telling everyone I know how to enjoy Tim Tam Slams.

Am trying to rid self of verbal habits. Especially using the word "awesome!" every 2 seconds.

Please don't ask me how I am. The answer is, for now, "I REALLY DON'T KNOW."

Absolutely

2006-08-20T01:34:00.000+08:00

It's a subjective world we live in.

We're so used to doing what feels good to us/ accepting what's good to others/ constructing our own versions of truth, that talking about absolutes doesn't exactly win you conversational brownie points.

I guess I can say one thing for sure. I absolutely believe in God. But I didn't expect to be discussing what I believe so soon after returning home. Over red wine (1 for me, 3 for him) tonight, P. challenged me:

"What makes you think that there is only one true God? How can you say that for sure?"

Uh-oh, out of nowhere, the proverbial can of religiopolitIcal worms sprang open... P. didn't exactly let me interrupt his stream of consciousness - he was on a roll... I guess he was trying to argue that everything in life is relative. Tipsily, I might add. Which always leads to an entertaining exchange.

Amidst bungled attempts at explaining my conviction, P. edged in the last word:

"Aiyah, D, the only absolute in life is vodka, lah!"

His humour remains as disarming as ever. But am I the only one who finds it ironic that the disarmer was getting absolutely legless in the process?

Holy Cow! Holey Possum!

2006-07-08T18:34:00.000+08:00

So here I am finally back in civilisation and it's weird.

Toilets that flush?! Showers that aren't from a bucket? Running hot water? Zero degree temperatures as opposed to sweltering tropical heat? Starbucks and wireless internet? Laptop and cell phone?

My body and mind almost can't handle the sensory overload!

Here's what the last week's been like:

Thursday 29 June: Dusty dirt roads and random neighbourhood cows in Bangalore, India.

Sunday 2 July: Proper tarmac and possum roadkill in Mata Mata, New Zealand.

It's winter! There's frost! I love it!

Pretty, naked trees everywhere and clear blue skies. Did I mention I love winter?

Back to the grind, working with local Maori kids.

I love these scamps! And they love hip hop - a random afternoon dance party...

Oh, and I turned 31 on July 3rd. Yay me. Thirty-something zone? We have penetration!

Aab Ka Nam Gya Hai?

2006-06-12T19:05:00.000+08:00

From Singapore to Mata Mata, New Zealand to Bangkok, Thailand to Bangalore, India...
Just a super quick hello to the www - Miss Dee is alive and well & invigorated by the stingingly aromatic curries of her current host-country.
Namaste!

Miss Contrary

2006-02-21T01:24:00.000+08:00

It feels like I've drunk more in the last 3 weeks than I have in the last year previously. Could it be overcompensation for, what in my mind is, a very long (impending) hiatus from any form of partying and booze? My mind is my greatest enemy these days. And even upon recognising this, what does the girl do first thing through the front door after a night out? 1 large serving of Tiger Beer sorbet. Oh, and a cup of tea - as if it negates the night's activities in any way.

Seeing Red

2006-02-20T17:20:00.000+08:00

Today has been a surreal day of exertion & exploration. I feel like I've just returned from a quest of mystical proportions. Probably because it’s beyond my comprehension how I let myself get talked into going in the first place. Miss D has plumbed the depths of dementia by plunging head first into the bewildering chaos known as the Heartland - all in hopes of purchasing a plastic stool. Yes, you read me. PLASTIC. STOOL.

The mothership had foot surgery this morning and needs a cheap, waterproof seat in the bath. Filial offspring that I am, I set off on said brave quest. Plastic stool? No problem. I was sure I’d find something simple. Tasteful. Grey. That’s when the problems began. Clementi Central was the first stop. Amid the uncles spitting out blender demos in Hokkien and the 10-bras-for-$20 sales, I stumbled upon XXXX Enterprise, which was next to YYYY Enterprise, which in turn was next to ZZZZ Enterprise, and found what I was looking for. Thinking to myself, “What an enterprising lot these shopkeepers are”, I noticed the stools only came in red. Pounding the scorching pavements and scouring the shops of Clementi, it finally dawned on me that stools only came in two styles. Red and plastic.

Now, red and plastic are, in all probability, the worst combination since shoulder pads and bubble skirts, headbands and teased fringes, Liza Minelli and David Guest… Unless of course, you’re into fetish gear. But please understand, we’re talking stools here! Stools that would in no way match the parentals' black and yellow bathroom. Ironically, the half-dozen or so coffee shops surrounding me were filled with the exact grey plastic stools I needed. Undefeated, I drove to Ghim Moh only to find the same red plastic situation going on there. Defeated at last, I handed over $10 and brought the offending plastic posterior propper home to mom, where it’s been doing its job. Fugly-ly.

Deereeshus!

2006-02-14T05:11:00.000+08:00

I'm still terrified, but coming round to the idea of going away, I guess...

Quick, any distraction is welcome... so I went surfing and found an oldie but goodie. Engrish at its finest:
I'd like a Number 69, please!

Then on my travels in Reykjavik last September, I found this at a little (exhorbitantly priced) cafe - I highly recommend the Number 68 (salty!):

Baaaaaaaaaaa

2006-02-13T17:29:00.000+08:00

I'm Going!
I'm Going!
I'm Going!
And I'm BLOODY TERRIFIED!

New Zealand looms... I leave in less than two weeks & six months of my life hangs in the balance.

Why is it when you want something soooo much, you totally don't want it when you finally get it?

Humour hasn't eluded us yet, though.

Breaking the news to D, he remarks sarkily: Wah, so you're going to the countryside to learn about Jesus??!

Me: Hahahaha, if you want to put it that way (I call it a spiritual/ humanitarian retreat - everybody needs a timeout for soul food).

D: So how? You gonna come back a nun?

Me: Whaaat?! Protestants don't become nuns.

D: Ok, a Pastor then.

Me: ???

D: Although with you going to New Zealand, you'll probably come back a Pasture!

To quote JG, "MEH!"

Wicked Waste of Time

2006-02-11T02:19:00.000+08:00

{Via} If only it was this simple, to have your levels of goodness and evilness reduced to a mere formula! Because if there was a formula for this, then there'd be a formula for being gooder.

This Month so far:

Last Month:

Compared to a year ago when this blog started:

Ah, I see a slight improvement - 4% increase in goodness? I'll take it!

How wicked are you?

I Wouldn't Call My Family Melodramatic

2006-02-07T16:33:00.000+08:00

It was a very slow day at the office...

G says: (4:06:32 PM)
our horoscopes say we should go into business this year. rabbits and goats.

D says: (4:06:53 PM)
wahahahahaha. but i don't believe in horoscopes.

G says: (4:07:07 PM)
neither do i. unless it's good.

D says: (4:07:12 PM)
We can go into business anytime. Not just this year!

G says: (4:07:17 PM)
hahahahahah. chinese zodiac ok?!

G says: (4:07:22 PM)
and we are chinese!

D says: (4:07:41 PM)
oh my gosh! I'm Chinese????!!!!!!! gulp! gasp!

G says: (4:07:51 PM)
yes

D says: (4:07:51 PM)
and wait- YOU'RE chinese too?????!!!!

D says: (4:07:58 PM)
when did u find out?????!!!!

G says: (4:08:00 PM)
sorry to break it to you that way

G says: (4:08:04 PM)
it's hard i know

G says: (4:08:06 PM)
but....

G says: (4:08:07 PM)
well....

G says: (4:08:12 PM)
erm....

D says: (4:08:34 PM)
do my parents know?

G says: (4:08:42 PM)
well....

D says: (4:08:46 PM)
do YOUR parents know? how will i break it to them?

G says: (4:09:01 PM)
i think they have been trying to find the right moment to tell you all these years.. sigh

D says: (4:11:08 PM)
u mean...

D says: (4:11:13 PM)
*sob*

G says: (4:11:23 PM)
there there, don't take it too hard

D says: (4:11:28 PM)
they've known all this time?

D says: (4:11:43 PM)
hang on - that means you've known all this time!!!

D says: (4:11:50 PM)
and u never told me????

D says: (4:12:05 PM)
waaaaaahhhhhhhhh! i feel so betrayed!

G says: (4:15:10 PM)
i am sorry you had to learn it like this

G says: (4:15:14 PM)
but yes

G says: (4:15:17 PM)
WE ARE ALL CHINESE

G says: (4:15:22 PM)
the whole entire family

D says: (4:17:20 PM)
AIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. SAY IT ISN'T SOOOOOOOOOOOO! Chinese????? what will the neighbours say?

Says It All, Doesn't It?

2006-02-06T04:25:00.000+08:00

How will you be defined in the dictionary?

Deetourguide --

[noun]:

An alien

Highly unsatisfactory, so I tried...

My Real First Name --

[noun]:

A real life muppet

WTF?! What if I add...

My Real First Name + Last Name --

[adjective]:

Fuzzy to the touch

In futile last ditch attempt, she whips out her full name...

My Real First Name + Last Name + Chinese Name --

[noun]:

A person who enjoys the smell of rotten eggs

I like the smell of poo, wee and dog's feet too. Sniff Sniff.

Wonder what they're called?

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

2006-01-27T23:08:00.000+08:00

Will someone help me out of this conundrum already?!

What's with the sweetie-darling-muah-muah air-kiss thing? I don't ever get it right. Is it once on the cheek? Twice on both cheeks? Right cheek or left first? Three times allegedly like the French?

Obviously my kissing karma is not up to scratch because there's always that awkward moment when the person you greet only wants to kiss you once, but you lunge for their other cheek, bump faces and there's that awful, awkward moment. Or you pull away but they want to kiss your other cheek.

It all seems a tad trite and pretentious, but hey, so is life here in general. Why can't people leave off the European affectations and just give each other vigorous hand-shakes or hearty slaps on the back?

But OK, back to this air-kiss epidemic - I've tried committing to it, even if they pull away after the first muah, grab them and finish what you started - never hesitate, plough through the awkward should-I-should-I-not moment! But then again, I'm so not that kind of girl. I'm the kind of girl who wonders what kind of oily facial secretions are going to end up on my face. I'm the kind of girl who hates PDAs with strangers, or worse, people I don't like.

But then again, I don't ever get it right with friends either. It's neurotic, I agree, but I've tried keeping track of which friend air kisses in what way:

A. starts with right cheek and only once.
B. likes it wet and juicy on both cheeks.
C. pecks you on the lips (Arrggh!!! Another bloody spanner in the works!)
D. grabs your head and smacks you four times.
E. doesn't like being touched (I like your style, E!)

WHO ON EARTH KEEPS TRACK OF STUFF LIKE THIS?!
Oh, yes. Me. In any case this little experiment failed. Because none of my friends are constant with their labial affections (or is it infections?).

One day, they kiss me once, the next it's twice, then next time, they chock me with the old peck-on-the-lips routine. Why can't everyone just settle on one way and be done with it? Am feeling like the only geek who doesn't synch with anyone else. Is it too much to ask for an air-kiss SOP? It'd make social situations so much easier.

It could look like this:

Chapter One
1. Air-kisses are permitted only between consenting parties.
2. ALWAYS begin with the other person's right cheek.
3. Each air-kiss may only be performed for a maximum of 2 seconds.
4. Limit air-kisses to 2 per person, unless you are French, in which case please ensure that tongue remains stowed securely in mouth.

Although if it was up to me, I'd add these:
5. Do not air-kiss unless initiated by Ms. D.
6. Good-looking male specimens, however, may initiate anytime & in anyway they like.
7. Before engaging in air-kissing, a thorough face (no sweat, grease or acne, please) & breath (minty is the way to go) check is mandatory.

Glad to know other people have pondered this wondrous pratice of germ-mingling: lost in translation & savvy traveller.

Oh, and in honour of today's post-title, and in my best Shirley Bassey voice, PRRRRRESENTINNNNNG THE PRRRREMIERRRRR JAMES BONNNNND WEBSITE!!!

technorati tags: air kiss / PDA / Shirley Bassey / Mr Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

I had Fun, but I Lost a Rhinestone Off My Shoe

2006-01-26T04:04:00.000+08:00

Seen:

Dieting for loose women.

Heard:
"I can't believe Mariah wasn't at the top of the worst-dressed list!

"That's 'cos she was hardly dressed!"

technorati tags: funny picture / Mariah Carey / Mr Blackwell / worst-dressed list

What It Is

2006-01-21T17:11:00.000+08:00

technorati tags: comic / blogs / non-sequitur

The Deetourguide to Bowling

2006-01-20T07:19:00.000+08:00

For a gratifying game (assuming your goal is to actually hit something besides your fellow human beings):

1. Stand and aim from the next lane over.
2. Throw ball at the at the centre arrow-shaped lane marking (at no time should there be a graceful swing & release motion).
3. Listen for ensuing thud.
4. Watch ball hurtle toward pins.
5. See (some) pins fall.
6. Allow teammates to make encouraging comments like, "You was robbed, man!"
7. Make Drop it Like It's Hot your official team motto.
8. Always have nifty dance moves handy (if the All Blacks have their Haka, so can you!) - essential for limb-loosening & morale boosting.
9. Adopt said dance moves as occasional shock and awe tactics over rival team. Include shrieks of, "You're allergic to testicles!" for extra incredible results.
10. Beer optional, but recommended.

technorati tags: bowling / guide

Pfffffffffft

2006-01-19T06:34:00.000+08:00

I'm so glad to be working with S. again, my constant, my twin, my mirror image and yet, also my total 损友－ friend who's bad for you.
Case in point, our msn conversation tonight.

S: OK, that's it, I'm having a beer.

Me: Arrggh, don't tempt me.

S: Come on, you know you want to...

Me: Stoppit! You know I can't.

S: Yes, you can... Come on, the beer is calling your name... Sssssssss.

Me: Don't lah, you know my cellar is just a few steps away.

S: Come on! It's calling out to you, drink me... Sssssssss...

Me: Ssssssss?! Is that a beer or a snake?

S: Sssssss... It's the sound of a beer can being opened.

Me: Sssssss?! That's a beer can?! I thought they went Pfffffft.

S: I dunno what kind of beer you drink, but mine goes Sssssss! I drink Tiger.

Me (going for the obvious): In that case, shouldn't it be going Rawwwrr?

technorati tags: Tiger Beer

Gwa Mah See Leow Gai...*

2006-01-18T23:08:00.000+08:00

The February column finally done, rehearsals underway and the New Zealand trip extremely probable, I'm a happy bunny.

So this month, I shall continue to enjoy:

The! Great! Lynda! Barry! @ Marlys Magazine: starring Ernie Pook's Comeek.

Pretending to not eat carbs.

Getting in touch with my inner Ah Lian.

Memorising * Hokkien songs and singing them with a totally straight face (a one, and a two, and a three, to the obiang cha cha beat... Gwa Mah See Leow Gai, I also understand... Doo doo doo doo doo...

Dancing with Chinese fans.
This kind:
Not:

Reading, Reading, Reading!

Sewing, Sewing, Sewing!

Making, liberal, use, of, PUNCTUATION!!!?????!!!!!

technorati tags: lynda barry / Ah Lian / Broadway / Beng

I May Not Know Much, But This Much I Know

2006-01-12T03:08:00.000+08:00

I wear beautiful shoes that hurt my toes and rub my heels until bubbles appear on my skin.
Raw, painful bubbles appear.
Then I unbuckle my high-heels and poke at the extra puffs of skin.
Welts and bubbles pucker as I peel away until the exquisite pain bites into my conscience, protesting until I become acutely aware.
A raw, gaping hole remains to remind me of who I am, to remind me of my humanity.
I alternately pick and wince at it, to indulge my masochistic leanings.
I also pick at the delicate, sensitive skin on my lips. Peeling strips off, watching them as they dry, purple-brown, dry curls of dermis, enjoying the sharp streak of ouch as each curl departs from its origin.
Does your tongue hurt sometimes? Do the little dots of buds swell and scream?
Mine do.
Then I, like a biased teacher, single out each little bud of weakness and tweak it, prod it and scratch it with the nail of my index finger.
I soak up the blood with a pristine tissue, examining the crimson imprints - a beautiful, terrible pattern of myself.

technorati tags: pain / blood / personal

Doesn't Everybody Love a Controversy?

2006-01-11T17:55:00.000+08:00

I loved the book. And the only reaction I can muster, so far is, I don't give a rat's ass. It stands as is, ok?

The book still resonates, whether it's a piece of fiction or not.

The Controversy

The Allegations

The Retort

Just so you know.

technorati tags: james frey / book / scandal

Smells like Play Doh & Strawberry Shortcake

2006-01-07T17:31:00.000+08:00

Awww... I'm all nostalgic now. You had one of these too, didn't you? I LOOOVED my Speak & Spell when I was 6.
I musta spent hours twiddling with my Texas Instrument - wait that sounds SO wrong.
I musta spent hours playing with, uh, it.
But if you're from this neck of the woods (i.e. a Commonwealth, Post-colonial Anglopet), then you'd understand why I spent many of those hours frustrated with the little man I thought was trapped in the orange box.
You try spelling neighbour or colour with the Speak & Spell! I still have "That is incorrect, the correct spelling of colour is C-O-L-O-R." ringing in my ears. O, the childhood trauma! Somebody hand the lil' bugger an Oxford English Dictionary, already.
You have a go. Much fun!
Play with the Speak & Spell Emulator now!

This is of totally no coincidence, of course:
What childhood toy from the 80s are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

You're a Speak & Spell!! You nerd, you. Just
because you were disguised as a toy doesn't
mean you weren't educational, you sneaky
bastard.

technorati tags: toys / quiz / speak and spell / eighties

Cold Creativity

2006-01-06T22:54:00.000+08:00

After having my overnight bag along with all my favourite things knicked on New Year's Day, a fine cherry to top off my auspicious start to 2006 must be the lousy cold I've been tolerating all week.

My ears are blocked, my nose is blocked and wait - my right ear is squeaking. SQUEAKING! IT IS!!! Should I feed it some cheese or something? Must be all the pressure building up in there. Now if my eyeballs explode from it, that would truly be a spectacular start to the new year!

But I digress. I'm here again to lay down proof of my supreme narcissism and inexplicable obsession with documentation for posterity (actually, sod the future generations, I want to come back here 20 years from now and laugh at myself. Assuming 20 years from now blogs and the internet still exist. Maybe by then all humanity will communicate telepathically through micro chips implanted in their foreheads. Who knows?!).

ANYWAY. Am still feeling extremely gulty for being a lousy, ingrate of a daughter to lovely parents who are probably now wondering who this changeling living in their house is. I'll admit it. Instead of smiling sweetly and thanking the parental units, I kicked up a big stink about not getting the exact iPod Nano I wanted for Christmas.

Want: Black, 4GB.
Got: White, 2GB.

My cheeks burn thinking how immature I can be. My 3 year old niece probably has more sense than me. OK, no, she's a demanding little wenchlet, but STILL.

So after a week of ignoring the offending present sitting on my dresser, I finally opened it up on Monday, thanked mom and dad and started syncing it with itunes on my mac. I shall reserve judgements on my brand-new piece of white plastic for now.

You may be wondering where this is all going. I dunno. The mucus is eating away my brain. Wait. Focus. Er... Yes! So in my bid to make amends (though I'm not sure how it does), I decided to make something beautiful out of the whole ugly mess I created.

Ladies & Gents, when in doubt, SEW!

I made a pretty case to encapsulate the object of my guilt. As if this concoction of felt and thread can make it all go away. The state of suspended reality I live in.

How incredibly girly of me, but here it is:

*inside*

*front*

*back*

And now someone wants me to make more to sell! Should I? I shall leave decision-making till the mucus has subsided.

technorati tags: flu / cold / sew / craft / guilt/ ipod nano

Your Wobbly Bits Will Thank Me...

2006-01-05T01:24:00.000+08:00

Uh-huh-huh... Thank you, thank you very much...

... actually, they'll thank Miss S. who sent some post-seasonal-binge cheer by way of this article from Oz paper, The Age.

In a nutshell, scientists in Bristol, England have discovered that fat people are happier than skinny ones.

Love the closer:
"If there really is a direct correlation between body mass index and mental health, when, exactly, are we going to start charging skinny people for their own Prozac? Huh?"

Then reality sinks in... I'm beginning to think I may need some of that Prozac! Am ashamed to admit am full of self-loathing over enormous weight-gain.

I submit Exhibit A (snapped during vigorous New Year's Eve Charades) as incriminating evidence:

caution: wide girth and dangerous overhang

Where's the fat-induced happiness the article talks about? Or maybe fatties SEEM cheerful to overcompensate for what they really feel inside (awww... group hug, please).

Or maybe Day #1 of my self-imposed carb-free South Beach Diet (I know, I'm a traitor to the fat-is-fabulous cause) has garbled not only my brain, but my insides too. Feel the need to hold-up the Macky D'S drive-thru RIGHT NOW!!

technorati tags: fat / thin / eat

Year-end Round-up

2006-01-02T23:49:00.000+08:00

What goes around come around, eh? I've been robbed, so I'm gonna do the same - sorry, JG! In honour of JG's birthday excesses, a smashing New Year's Eve and a not-so-smashing New Year, here's my version:

JG's Birthday (Part 1 aka Puke Fest Redrink) 28.12.2005 Wed
With: Friends who love a tipple
Where: P's place
~~Ate~~ Drank: Cosmos, chocolate martinis, A LOT of Heineken chased with K's supreme take on Angel's Kisses (he used Frangelico, Kahlua and Rum or something - YUM!), 1 Flaming Jedi (Sambucca, Chartreuse, Tobasco - lit, downed then inhaled).
~~Got~~ Gave: An ownself-decorated Edward Monkton Beautiful Frock card to the birthday girl.
Saw: All the non-smokers fall asleep one-by-one, leaving only me awake, whilst the cancer-stickers went outside for a marathon puff.
Best: Those YUMMMAAY beer chasers.
Worst: Singing O Holy Night and Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered acapella to the rowdy tipplers and hearing my voice crackle and rasp.

JG's Birthday (Part 2) 30.12.2005 Fri
With: As above
Where: Loof bar & Zouk
~~Ate~~ Drank: 3 Beers (recovering from Wed's spontaneous soiree)
~~Got~~ Gave: Items 2 & 3 from JG's Christmas wishlist, a lethal drink bought for JG by the water polo team.
Saw: A topless guy barfing his guts out in the VIP area - how glamorous!
Best: Celebrating with JG at a bar I'd never been to and taking silly shadow pictures (see left).
Worst: Having to leave early because of work next morning.

New Year 31.12.2005/ 01.01.2006 Sat/ Sun
With: Ditto
Where: Tea party with JC friends at home & Suite at The Oriental later that night
Got: Earrings from K who just got back from Sydney AND lucky at Charades (my team won both rounds).
Ate: Everything and anything I wanted. At tea party, snarfed 5 tuna-potato croquettes, homemade lemon pound cake, cookies, chocs and copious amounts of tea. Later, shared room service - 2 lots of fries, a huge, fully loaded burger (bacon, cheese, fried egg, mushrooms), Mulligatawny soup, clam chowder, bacon-wrapped cod, beef kofta. Countless chocolates. Next day - Enormous Portobello mushroom burger from Carl's, 2 lots of fried zucchini and chicken strips. And an iced Hazelnut latte from Starbucks.
Drank: Kahlua lime, Choc martini, K's super duper Colorado Bulldogs, more Lady Grey Tea.
Saw: Mean Girls on DVD at 4 in the morning.
Best: Fireworks light up the midnight sky (we made the elevator ride down 14 floors - along with the rest of the hotel's guests - to watch from the hotel driveway) and playing 2 rounds of California Kings, the card/drinking game K taught us.
Worst: (Sob!) Stupidly leaving my overnight bag on my car bonnet after checking out, forgetting it was there, going off to catch King Kong and then realising the bag had been knicked only when I was almost home. Lost my favourite warehouse sequined capelet, my entire Samsonite toiletries case and makeup bag. Plus my favouritest pajamas! Fie on the horrid thief - I hope my stinky undies were a nice surprise. Bah. Did I mention the nasty cold I woke up with the morning after? Double Bah.

technorati tags: christmas / new year / fun / celebrate / birthday

These are a Few of My Favourite Things

2005-12-30T02:09:00.000+08:00

OK, I was in a foul mood yesterday. Couldn't stop eating. Then couldn't stop burping. But today, there's no reason to be a grumpy b*tch, so I'm going to be thankful for a wonderful (albeit filling) Christmas and wonderful people who showered me with wonderful gifts.

Front Row (L-R): Accessorize Make-Your-Own-Corsage Kit; gorgeous Agate and Jade Earrings from Mudan in Far East Plaza; special bangles from Miss S's trip to India; iPod NANO (finally!!!! from generous parents); Bobbi Brown pink shimmer brick compact; pretty tea mug with strainer from JellyGirl.

Middle Row (L-R): Leather and suede covered butterfly notebook from Giftica in Sydney; Miso Pretty Gift Set; hand-made turquoise & silver earrings; Miso Pretty Body Wash; Luxe Shanghai City Guide; hand-made gold & green earrings; Living Language Spanish : Daily Phrase & Culture 2006 Day to Day Calendar.

Back Row (L-R): The Fabulous Fairy Pack (fluffy pink magic wand included!); SEI boxed album kit.

But my favourite thing this Christmas? Being in a pretty good place, spiritually.

"The more we give away, the richer we become, and the more we keep for ourselves, the poorer we become. That's the mystery of generosity, neither more nor less. But it's the mystery of poverty, too... All those who lay up for themselves treasures on earth will be poor one day, but those who have given away all they possess will never be poor. Besides, they have had great fun... For the greatest joy on earth is generosity."
"That may be so," said Elisabet, "but first you must own something to give away."
At that the good-natured Bishop laughed so violently that his whole body shook...
"Not at all... You needn't own anything at all to feel generosity fizzing in your veins. A little smile is enough, or something you've made yourself."
~ St Nicholas, Bishop of Myra (The Christmas Mystery/ Jostein Gaarder)

technorati tags: christmas / Jostein Gaarder / the christmas mystery / favourite / presents

Colour Me Crappy

2005-12-29T22:27:00.000+08:00

I'm all binged-out and in a bit of a post-Christmas carb stupor... Brain activity at bare minimum... Perfect time for one of these (courtesy of Kat via email)...

What's Your True Color?

You're green, the color of growth and vigor. Good-hearted and giving, you have a knack for finding and bringing out the best in people. Green is the most down-to-earth color in the spectrum — reliable and trustworthy. People know they can count on you to be around in times of need, since your concern for people is genuine and sincere. You take pride in being a good friend. For you, success is measured in terms of personal achievement and growth, not by status or position. Rare as emeralds, greens are wonderful, natural people. It truly is your color!

Oh Dear. Lies, all LIES! That's what I deserve for getting a machine to pscho-analyse me. Bah. Pass me the mashed potatoes.

technorati tags: grumpy / colour / quiz

Christmas Night - A Photo Story

2005-12-26T16:36:00.000+08:00

They don't call it Puke Fest for nothin'!

The Were-Rabbit bore the brunt of the evening's festivities.
Me? In typical loser fashion, I just fell asleep on the sofa and woke up covered with cat hairs at 5am when everything was over!

technorati tags: christmas / wallace & gromit / were-rabbit / booze

Merry Christmas!

2005-12-25T04:28:00.000+08:00

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. " Isaiah 9:6

Hope this Crimbo turns out warm and fuzzy and delicious for you!

I heard this one years ago, but it still makes me laugh. Hope it does you too.

A Russian couple was walking down the street in St. Petersburg when the man felt a drop hit his nose. "I think it's raining," he said to his wife.

"No, that felt more like snow to me," she replied. "No, I'm sure it was just rain, he said." Well, as these things go, they were about to have a major argument about whether it was raining or snowing. Just then they saw a minor communist party official walking toward them. "Let's not fight about it," the man said, "let's ask Comrade Rudolph whether it's officially raining or snowing."

As the official approached, the man said, "Tell us, Comrade Rudolph, is it officially raining or snowing?"

"It's raining, of course," he answered and walked on. But the woman insisted: "I know that felt like snow!"

To which the man quietly replied: "Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear!"

HO! HO! HO! And God Bless one and all!

technorati tags: merry christmas / jokes

Chocolate Truffles 101

2005-12-21T15:07:00.000+08:00

In bid to tighten up purse strings in anticipation of 6 months away in New Zealand next year, Deetourguide attempted homemade gifts this Christmas.
After a 7 hour process, they turned out alright - quite profashional, even if she does say so herself!

*blush* Martha Stewart magazine circa 2000.

pre-dipped, pre-coated truffs. flowery old lady housecoat/ apron optional.

crushed candy cane coating.

cointreau, amaretto and peppermint choc truffs!

she's so cheap, she made her own boxes too.

et voila!

technorati tags: christmas / chocolate / truffles

Pieces on Earth and Good Will to All Men

2005-12-20T23:41:00.000+08:00

Arrggghhh!!! My heart palpitates as Christmas Eve accelerates towards us. So many more little things I could do, my mind races, drawing up mental lists over and over.

Have spent large part of evening channeling ~~the devil~~ Martha Stewart and hand-making chocolate truffles in 3 different flavours - peppermint candy, Cointreau & Amaretto (adventures in truffle-making to follow). Oh, maybe palpitations are result of chocolate and booze overdose. I feel sweetly sick, yet strangely giggly!

Anyhoo, have finally acquired new book been dying to read: James Frey's A Million Little Pieces (as recommended by ~~the devil's~~ Oprah's Book Club). How on earth is it possible I'm juggling this many books at the same time?

WAIT! How is it possible I'm even admitting to following Martha Stewart's recipes and reading Oprah's recommendations?!

technorati tags: christmas / book / james frey

Phnom-enon!

2005-12-19T00:32:00.000+08:00

Who could resist faces like these?

Give me time, the old grey cells need to be gathered before I can even begin to describe the trip to Phnom Penh...

technorati tags: travel / phnom penh / cambodia

Jingle Balls

2005-12-18T01:28:00.000+08:00

supplied by freefoto.com
I announced my arrival home from Cambodia and found this reply from T. waiting for me on my mobile:

"Did you bring back my mail-order bride? I'd like to arrange a viewing."

"We had a little trouble at customs, but HE should out of qurantine soon!"

"I think a grave mistake has been made. I'm allergic to testicles."

"I knew it! You have no balls!"

"That was below the belt."

AHHHH... It's good to be home and to know some things just don't change.

technorati tags: christmas / jingle bells / balls

Phnom Penh is NOT the Brother of Sean Penn!

2005-12-08T23:56:00.000+08:00

Once again, I bid thee farewell, fair netizens of Deetour.

The capital city of Cambodia beckons and a week of ministering to children in the rural provinces calls. Theatre training fail me not, these kids are expecting all the energetic singing, game-playing and miming our team of 10 can muster!

Check back in a week - I'll be home on the 16th! Joom-reap Leah!

technorati tags: cambodia / phnom penh / travel

FalalalalalalalaLAH!

2005-12-07T03:38:00.000+08:00

The house & tree've finally been decorated, presents ~~bought~~ wrapped, turducken ordered and the smell of pine, cinnamon and orange peel fills the air...

There's something I really love about the Christmas season. Something I can't quite put a finger on, but it makes grumpy, cynical old me a little lighter on my feet, more thankful about everything and yes, I annoy everyone else with my Christmas cheer and unbearable need to sing and flit and hug (sorry, barf bags sold separately).

I pore over back issues of (shock-horror-gasp!) Martha Stewart and House Beautiful magazines searching for cookie recipes to systematically try and ultimately fail at. Really, there are only so many ways to ruin peanut brittle and jam tarts. But yet, the eternal optimist within that lies dormant most year round springs to life and once again, I find myself dusting off dem recipes, ready to fail all over again. Haha.

Seasonal books have also gotten a dusting, all the better for me to read again. Some of my faves, in no particular order:

How The Grinch Stole Christmas! - Dr Seuss

The Christmas Mystery - Jostein Gaarder

The Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis

12 Days: Stories Inspired by "The Twelve Days of Christmas" - edited by Shelley Silas

Also, finally finished off Polly Evan's Fried Eggs with Chopsticks. Most interesting humourous travelogue about China, which fascinates me, partly because I'm Chinese, but also because I'm so un-Chinese. I feel no affinity with the country or its people and it surprises me. Two years ago, I visited Beijing and Shanghai and realised this gap existed. I'm curious about my roots, my ancestry, my ethnic past, yet being 3rd generation Singaporean cleaves me from "the Motherland". To the Chinese in China, I am a curious creature with a curious way of speaking Mandarin, too western in my ways. But then again, I think I have a very modern Southeast-Asian outlook - a mix of east and west, if you will. OK, OK, this is beginning to sound like a bad essay from my Migrants & Post-Colonials module at Uni, so I'll just ceasefire for now...

That's the trouble with having too many thoughts, all jumbled up in the brain, only rusty equipment to untangle them with. I reckon I'll just go have a cup of Mariage Freres Esprit de Noel tea, then. Falalalalalalala...

----------------------------------------------

yule be laughing here!

They take their "trees au naturel" serious over there!

technorati tags: christmas / books / travelogue

Labouribus

2005-12-05T21:14:00.000+08:00

My view for 7+5 hours out of 48:
Turns out the NiCE Bus wasn't quite so nice after all.

What should've been a 5 hour journey turned out to be 7 hours long due to the blardee Causeway checkpoint traffic and then at the toll booth getting into KL.

I actually didn't mind the length of the journey - I'm a good traveller that way, but I kept wondering whose greasy head had been resting on the seat before mine, whose grubby face had left the oily streaks across the glass window, what kind of ground up animal parts were in the "complimentary" hotdog they served...

Plus the PRC (I could tell from his accent) guy the aisle over appeared to have swallowed an entire explosives factory, judging from the way he hacked and coughed the whole journey through. "Germs! Germs!" was my horrified, silent cry. Unfortunately and coincidentally, I happened to be reading this passage from Polly Evan's travelogue, Fried Eggs with Chopsticks - Around China by Any Means Possible when Phlegm Guy started his violent guttural symphony:

"A painfully thin man aged about thirty hawked loudly and spat a great glob of phlegm onto the pavement just centimetres from my foot... I sidestepped away from the phlegm. It didn't seem healthy to walk close to fluids emanating from that man's body. A middle-aged woman picked freely at her nose. Then, in a glorious culmination of this open celebration of mucus, an old man walked past me squeezing the tips of his nostrils as he went, and, with a mighty blast, shot two great jets of snot out onto the road."

So I was relieved to finally arrive in KL and to tumble off the bus, albeit on slightly shakey legs.

Then I realised I'd forgotten to change my Singapore $$$ to Malaysian Ringgits. Nervously flagging down a cab, I crossed my fingers and hoped he wouldn't mind (you already know my luck with taxi drivers) me not being able to pay till I got to T & C's and called them to come downstairs with the money.

Thankfully, this taxi driver didn't berate me for my single status, but did talk my ear off about why taking taxis are better than driving yourself round the very confusing KL road network. He then proceeded to totally contradict himself by getting lost on said network. 40 minutes later, C had to drive out in search for us instead. Lucky me, he paid for the cab before I had to do any explaining.

The best was yet to come though. The rest of the weekend (save meals and toilet breaks) was an endless stream of voice-overs and audio dubbing. By around 4am the first day, things got pretty hazy.

The view for a large part of my 48 hours in KL:

But if I occasionally turned my head to the right, I saw this out the window:

And then one time, a rainbow appeared to take the edge off non-stop slave recording.

NICE!

technorati tags: bus / taxi / hard work / voice-overs

There She Goes

2005-12-03T03:56:00.000+08:00

Song by the La's aside, here I sit, steaming bowl of pasta sauce in my lap (sans pasta - damn you, Atkins!), wondering if eating in the wee small hours is why I'm 4kg heavier, painful fingers on the keyboard, contemplating the fact that in 3 hours I need to have slept and woken up in time to catch the NiCE Bus to Kuala Lumpur for a fun-filled weekend of non-stop slave labour.
Should I start singing "Oh, what a beeyoooteefoool moooorning..." yet? Tralala...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

P.S. Hippo Birthday to you, O 34-year-old Bruvver o' mine!

"Call this an unfair generalization if you must,
but old people are no good at everything."
Moe, from the Simpsons

technorati tags: brother / birthday / bus / kuala lumpur

Cooking 101

2005-12-01T18:04:00.001+08:00

slutty spaghetti sauce!

Question: Is it still Italian food if it's cooked in a wok?

technorati tags: pasta / puttanesca / wok

Spot the Traumatized NDP* Commentators

2005-11-30T01:02:00.000+08:00

Repetitive Stress Injury.

Call me a ~~hyperchondriac~~ hypochondriac, but I'm so sure that's what I've been suffering from. Hand-wise and heart-wise, I suppose.

Physically, the ache from finger to elbow has been enough to make me stay away from my beloved i-book, but what does one write when one feels so affected by the events that have come to pass?

And a sort of overwhelming paralysis has taken over.

So as usual, instead of dwelling on the immediate and present, which bores me and scares me, I shall totally waste everyone's (including mine) time by transcribing an actual MSN Messenger conversation I had a little while ago, just after I'd done the huge (and on-going) clean up.

This incessant need to clean and clear all the clutter from the rooms in my house - I guess you could call it a need to clear the old mental cobwebs. Rawrrrr! Does that sound schmaltzy & cliched? I HATE schmaltzy & cliched! Which probably means I AM schmaltzy & cliched!!! Make that schmaltzy & cliched AND Queen of Finding-Ridiculous-Stuff-on-the-Internet!

Anyways, back to the MSN Messenger transcription...

D says: (3:47:39 AM)
   back to my work crap, i discoverd a lot of your crap too! also, pictures of when we were all thinner and younger!

T says: (3:48:35 AM)
   heheh i wanna see

D says: (3:48:51 AM)
   and the first b-day card i got from u and P. for my (gasp!) 25th bday!

T says: (3:48:57 AM)
   oh my god

T says: (3:49:05 AM)
   u were so old then

D says: (3:49:17 AM)
   shaddup!

T says: (3:49:18 AM)
   that makes me even older now that i'm older than u were then

D says: (3:49:29 AM)
   SHADDUP

T says: (3:49:45 AM)
   heee. yeah we had some fun times

D says: (3:50:57 AM)
   and not so fun ones... I just tossed a giant bag full of NDP* 2000 crap!

T says: (3:51:14 AM)
   holy cow i almost forgot bout that

D says: (3:54:32 AM)
   glamour and glitz seems to have been your fave phrase then. noob head!

T says: (3:54:49 AM)
   i've since learnt never to use that again

T says: (3:54:59 AM)
   along with pagentry and pomp

T says: (3:55:09 AM)
   joy and jubilatiion
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

And now, D adds:
how bout DUMB & DUMBER...

Owww. My wrist really hurts. Ok, that does it. I'm calling it a night. RSI is not in my head. Repeat: IS NOT IN MY HEAD! Is in my hand.

*NDP = National Day Parade, otherwise known as the televised event no one I know watches.

Deetourguide - slave to the system. Gahmen say must do, so I do!

technorati tags: National Day Parade / carpal tunnel syndrome

2005-11-23T12:25:00.000+08:00

You might be covered
by eyelids closed
over your whole being,

or reach with desperation
for something alive
to hold onto.

Your fingertips will hide
in a fist. No more palms
open to life.

Humbled, the very ground
will seem so large. Someday
the earth will own you.

Or you see there's no time
to waste, and plow
into previously feared goals.

Try to be patient
if it takes you years
to return.

This is the exit from Eden,
when you have chosen life
while wanting to die.

This is the fall that gives
wisdom, perspective, gratefulness.
It is worth the crawl, back to life.

~ for T: battered, bruised, but not consumed.

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little...

2005-11-19T02:28:00.000+08:00

what's it like on the other side of the counter?

"When are you gonna stop torturing yourself?" P. asked, referring to my inapptitude at being a shop girl.

This is something I've been pondering for the last couple of weeks. When, indeed.

And my conclusion? Never. I will never stop torturing myself. I can't stop. I'm addicted to pain and suffering. Turmoil of my own conjuring, as it were. I chose to be a shop girl, so a shop girl I will be!

Ah, yes, something I haven't as yet described in shocking, lurid detail... My adventures as a sales person. What joy! What fun! What crap!

Me, Lady D, University Graduate, holder of B(A) Hons in English Literature & Theatre Studies am a shop girl, workin' hard for her money, hawking pretty paper to rich tai tais who are sometimes ~~not very nice~~ evil fire-breathing, small child-eating, she-devils?! Busting my ass for up to 10 hours for a measely $50 a day?!

Oh wait. Silly, silly me. I have a B(A) Hons in English Literature & Theatre Studies. IN SINGAPORE. Land of Doctors, Lawyers, Bankers, Engineers, PROFESSIONALS. Is it really any wonder?

But nah, aching body and aching ego aside, I do what I do, part-timing, part-channelling Donna Summer & Dolly Parton because I can. I quit my old job to find more peace of mind, more time, more me. And ME says I should help a friend in need. The clever, entrepreneural Miss E, who found herself up to her eye-balls in part-time staff woes, asked if I could help her out in her scrap-booking store. Of course I said yes gladly.

However, I clearly did not know what I was getting myself into. Like a rasher of bacon wandering into an Overeaters Annonymous meeting, I showed up at the shop on the first day and since then, it's been a WHOOOSH!!! of !@#$%^&*@#$*&^%. Words cannot describe the frenzy of ladies of leisure at a 20% store-wide discount, picking patterned paper to go with their photograph collections.

Ah yes, the tricksy 20% store-wide discount. Where do I begin with this doozy? Three days ago, I went a little cash-register mad. Giddy with glee at being cashier for the day, drunk with my sub-totalling power, I neglected to notice what I'd done till it was WAAAY too late. 10 customers & hundreds of dollars of sales later, I realised I'd been happily dishing out 20% discounts on stuff that weren't really on sale. Uh-oh.

A quick round of mental sums revealed that the amount I undercharged customers was almost equivalent to the amount I would've earned at the end of that day. Good going, Shopgirl! Duh.

I'm so lucky Miss E is very gracious and forgiving. But feeling very sheepish and guilty, I embarked on a shopping spree in the store and ended up spending 3 times what I lost through discounted sales. Talk about overcompensation!

So returning to the very beginning of this post, Torture and Turmoil. That's my specialty. But in every excruciating situation I get myself into, I must admit, there's always this little nugget of pleasure. And I ain't just talking about when I'm working in the store, either.

Although it has to be said, back-breaking boo boos aside, I actually like being a shop girl. And I like doing something good for a good friend. And while I think about the moola and how much more I make per hour doing my other projects, it only draws attention to what I lack. Experience of the real world. Minimum wage. Unpleasant tai-tai customers. Taking the bus. Getting caught in the rain. Rubbing smelly shoulders with the plebians. Bah.

Millions of people do this everyday. I feel like a nothing, a nobody - people look right through you when you're on the otherside of the sales counter. It's like I have a secret life, slumming it with the rest of the service industry. And then next moment, I can be strolling into a recording booth, talking for 15 minutes and making 60 times more $$$, before driving off in my A3. Oh no, I'm a sheltered, spoiled snob! Double bah.

See? I always feel something then feel guilty for feeling it. The sense of being in limbo and being pulled in two opposite directions is something I keep writing about. And then, because (contrary to my illusions of grandeur, I am not the great writer I expect myself to be) I'm probably more of a great READER, I read this. Thus behold, my innards have been given eloquent meaning:

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations. ~ Anais Nin

*******

We are all made of stars. ~ Moby

*******

Which simply means we are all full of hot gas. ~ Me (haha!)

technorati tags: shopgirl / anais nin / stars / limbo

Little Mirthquakes

2005-11-17T22:34:00.000+08:00

The reason why boy bands are fun. Takes a while to buffer, but soooo werf it!

Overheard on a bad sitcom: two characters exchanging breakup rhymes...

Run to your mother cos' I've found another.

Yes, you are hated, so it's time you vacated.

Kicked to the kerb 'cos you smoked too much herb.

Smack your lips cos' you're losing these hips.

Er, maybe you had to be there.

technorati tags: mirth / boy band

Wing... Wing a Wong...

2005-11-16T23:40:00.000+08:00

"Things move on, D, things move on," he said.

And he's tritely right.

The magic slideshow of tragedy-mirth-tragedy-mirth clicks away and we oscillate between sobs and laughs.

Sometimes both.

Always the limbo queen, I found myself exactly there, stuck in the middle, last night.

4 Asahis later and feeling no pain, I mentioned to Mr T what Mr E had playing in his car on the way to Wala. An absurd, ridiculous, delicious combination of two incongruous ingredients - This Little Old Lady sings ACDC (amongst others)! Sheeeeeeee's WIIING!

T: Who?

Me: Wing!

T: What?

Me: WING! She's a little old lady from Hong Kong who lives in New Zealand & records covers by famous musicians! She rocks! Wing!

T: Okaaay... I guess her albums really took flight, huh?!

Me: Grrrrrrrrr...

T: Come on, we're birds of a feather!

Me: Grrrrrrrr...

T: OK, OK, that was a chirp shot.

Me: GRRRRRR... Why must you tweet me this way?!

T: Wahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Me: Wahahahahahahahahahahaha!

[pause]

Me: Hey, no one else is laughing.

T: That's 'cos it was only a mynah joke.

Me: Squeeheeheeheeheeheehee!

T: Rawrhahahahahahahahahhahahahaha!

Yes, so we get pushed along by bouts of contrast. Yesterday, tragedy; today, mirth. And I am grateful for it.

*****

Random Thoughts:

Do you think Wing's favourite poem is this one by Maya Angelou?

Time heals... Life moves on... Cliches, Schmliches... Solomon Short tells it as it is.

technorati tags: wing / tragedy / mirth / pun

Personal Effects

2005-11-15T20:06:00.000+08:00

Much of today was spent going through boxes of my past. Boxes from as far as ten years ago when I was at uni, boxes from when I left my job a year and a half ago.

I don't know how else to describe the ache, except that it feels like death. It's almost like going through someone else's personal stuff. Someone who was close, but someone who has gone, never to return again.

Going through old words I have written & photos capturing images much younger than they would be today, I can barely recognise the girl that was. That girl seemed so sure, so confident, so happy, if I knew her now, I'd probably wanna punch her.

I guess that's the problem with being older. I'm not wiser, just hyper-aware of my short-comings, uncomfortable in this state of limbo. Back then, I didn't look back or forwards, I enjoyed being in the moment without over-thinking it.

For the most part, I try not to resort to self-indulgent, sentimental drivel, but rifling through sheaves of the past seems to have shaken up more than I bargained for. It smacks of narcissism to speak this way, but I can only speak of things in relation to me. Call it a boomerang butterfly effect - one small gesture has led to this big one.

As I was making my way through a pile of papers from the past, I got a text message. It was a friend I hadn't heard from probably since I was nine. Y had bad news. Our mutual childhood friend had a heart attack in KL and died. DIED? This same friend I bumped into a few weeks ago who said he'd get in touch with Y so all 3 of us could meet up? he did and that's how she got my number. Only now K is gone without me ever getting to know him again.

And here comes the irony: I talk about feeling old when looking back at my 19-year-old-self, but can't help wonder how someone like K, who's my age, could have died so young.

I have no other way of mourning what I don't know anymore, so I'll mourn this way, with the lyrics of a song that came on the radio when I found out you'd gone, K.

Runaway train, never coming back
Runaway train, tearing up the track
Runaway train, burning in my veins
I run away but it always seems the same

~ runaway train/ soul asylum

technorati tags: personal effects / past / runaway train

W-Hoo-oo?

2005-11-11T03:27:00.000+08:00

NIGHT OWLS are evidently LESS dependable, cautious, and persistent than early risers.

Psychiatrist Herve Caci and his colleagues at Nice University Hospital in France studied the temperaments and natural sleeping schedules of 552 men and women.

Impulsivity and the desire for new experiments were traits particular to night people, as were extravagance and disorderliness.

The researchers believe that people with impulse-control problems (about shopping, sex, or aggression, for example) could benefit from resetting their body clock with melatonin or light therapy, in addition to receiving psychotherapy or medication.

~ Allure Magazine, November 2005

Please note time below. 'Nuff said. Bah.
Just because I don't sleep before 2am, can't get into bed before moving piles of clothes, papers and books, have bungee-jumped under the influence "just-for-fun" and have cupboards full of "what-was-I-thinking-when-I-bought-that" shoes and clothes, doesn't mean I'm undependable, rash, impulsive, extravagant and disorderly... Either that or I should get the shrinks to up my meds!

***

Back Off B*tch II

The 4-year-old son of a customer called me a Fatty-Bom-Bom yesterday. And the salesmen hawking UZap tummy trimmers from OSIM keep eyeing me like hungry barracudas everytime I walk past the shopping cente atrium. Meds! Bring me meds!

technorati tags: slimming products / medication / night owls

Confessions on the Shopfloor

2005-11-09T23:38:00.000+08:00

My feet hurt.

My arms hurt.

My eyes hurt.

My back hurts.

My ego hurts.

10 hours at $5 per hour later, I have been officially initiated as a salesgirl.

There's a story that goes along with this, but I'm too tired to type.

Suffice to say, respect to shop assistants around the world. And respect (or derisive laughter) to me for making it through the day on 3-inch suede wedges!

***

Not too tired to mention this, tho':

Madonna is Dancing Queen again, if Hung Up is anything is to go by (but I'm not 'fessing up to being part of the leak of her new album. Looove her clothes in the video! 80's leotards & glitter belts rule! Confessions on a Dancefloor drops November 15, 2005.

technorati tags: shop girl / suede shoes / madonna

Back Off, B*tch!

2005-11-08T00:05:00.000+08:00

All women bloat, right? Some just more than others. Commiserate with me, if you will...

I'll be the first to admit my self-esteem is at best shakey, especially when Aunty Flo comes to visit, but can you blame a girl when she's constantly bombarded by invitations from salesgirls to "try this new slimming product"?!

Obviously I must need it in skinnycentric Singapore, cos' I swear these salesgirls hide behind rows of shelves, scanning the shop for victims to pounce on.

These flabthirsty flockers of fat-busting products zero in, lock on to their unsuspecting targets and mete out their deadly judgements within earshot of all around:

Heheh, target approaching, this fatty must ~~die~~ buy!*
"Hallo Mees, you want to try our new sleeming product? Very good, can reduce your fats. You want, I demonstrate on you now?"

* OK, OK, words in blue italics are mine. Bah.

I guess I take offence at the audacity! The humiliation! The discrimination! The sheer lack of tact! Who died and made you Fat Detector, you sales-person-who's-not-exactly-slim-yourself?

But then again, the truth hurts, don't it?

It's just as well I bought a spanking new pedometer - it's back to the old 10,000 steps-a-day routine. I'm so excited I could cry. Rawr.

technorati tags: slimming products / fat / pedometer

Welcome to the Hideously Embarrassing Family, Kiddo!

2005-11-06T23:58:00.000+08:00

Dear nephew, barely 2 days old and lookee, your very own piece of virtual real estate! Featuring YOU in all your naked newborn glory, too! Aren't you a lucky boy, yes you are!

See, stick with me and it'll be champagne dreams & caviar wishes all the way with Auntie D, baby! I got dibs on grilling your future girlfriends and showing off nekkid baby pictures of you to complete strangers, by the way.

This is your heritage and my legacy to you. After enduring years of much the same, plus the *bonus* retelling of THE STORY THAT WON'T DIE (i.e. my close encounters with a potty full of poo), it's only fair that Auntie D upholds this glittering family tradition. There's soooo much to look forward to, no? Oh yes, there is, baby! Koochikoochikoo...

***

P.S. I still love you even though your dad decided to name you... Sorry, I need time, I'll get back to this when I'm all recovered from the shock. But rest assured, a lot of thought went into your name. But of course your dad won out in the end. Hmpf!

technorati tags: newborn / baby / nephew / family / tradition

Guilt Trip by Taxi

2005-11-04T19:44:00.000+08:00

Let this be a warning to you: No one is safe anymore.

Why, on the rare occasions I'm in cab, does the taxi uncle feel the overwhelming urge to meddle? I swear my family are in cahoots with EVERY. SINGLE. LAST. TAXI. COMPANY. IN. SINGAPORE!

This is how I imagine how the wheel of my misfortune was set on its inevitable path of destruction...

Last night, after asking the Mother if she'd give me a lift to work in the city, she says:

"Hah? No lah, no time, I think you take taxi better."

Shrugging, I say OK.

(Cut to mom behind closed doors, taking out secret CB radio) "Calling all taxi units, come in all taxi units. The princess has taken the pea. Repeat, Princess has taken pea. OVER."
(Answer from a thousand eager taxi uncles across the isle) "Roger that, Operation Mattress in motion, rendevous at 1000hrs then 1800hrs. OVER."
(Mom nods at Dad, they chuckle with equal parts glee and menace) "Excellent, bwahahahahahahaha! OVER AND OUT!"

This morning, I hailed a cab and had a blissfully quiet ride to work. Taxi uncle, the BBC World Service and me.

This evening, I should have known better.

Stepping into the cab, a wall of medicated oil fumes slammed into my nostrils. But I soon got used to it and the ride went swimmingly silent, the way I like it. Just me and the wizened little old uncle with the crew cut, toothless smile and driving skills any Dodgems enthusiast would be proud of. Before long, we were pulling into my road and foolishly, I thought I was home free (figuratively speaking, of course). Wrong-o! He couldn't resist. He turned to me and wheezed in his curious mixture of Hokkien & Mandarin:

"Xiao Jie, are you married? NO?! WHY? How old are you? Hah? So old, must marry! Got money, what for? No good, got money also cannot finish using. Better have children. Then when you go home, got people say, "Mummy, eat!" Why you no married? No married no good! People must have descendents! I got one friend, borned 1976, you want? He earns more than $2000 a month, never smoke, never drink, never bet horses. Very good."

I tried to divert conversation to his four daughters and only son, but he persisted:

"Ya, ALL my children married already. My son, your age, married! Why you no married? Must marry! Must have children!"

I threw my cab fare at him as politely as I could, laughing in that helpless, hideously embarrassed sort of way and scrambled out to safety. And all I could think of was, here's another gem for the blog. I watched the uncle drive away, grasping for someway to compute what had just occurred.

(Cut to cab interior, Taxi uncle on his secret CB radio, still in his mixture of Hokkien and Mandarin) "Come in Queen Bee, Princess land on Tilam, liao! Sure can feel the pea, one! Donch worried, tiok liao! OVER."

(Mom upstairs behind closed doors, cb radio receiver in hands) "Roger that, kum siah, uncle! Bwahahahahaha... OVER AND OUT."

technorati tags: taxi / marriage

Homegirls of the '80s

2005-10-30T04:05:00.000+08:00

Via Jellygirl's brilliant reminiscence, my two cents' worth:

technorati tags: retro / cabbage patch kids / wonder woman / barbie / little miss naughty / little twin stars / scooby doo

Where's the Gork* Section?

2005-10-28T00:29:00.000+08:00

According to the THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST, I'm a...

Modern, Cool Nerd
60 % Nerd, 60% Geek, 39% Dork

You scored better than half in Nerd and Geek, earning you the title of: Modern, Cool Nerd.

The Modern, Cool Nerd is intelligent, knowledgable and always the person to call in a crisis (needing computer advice/an arcane bit of trivia knowledge). They are the one you want as your lifeline in Who Wants to Be a Millionaire (or the one up there, winning the million bucks)!

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.

Nerds didn't use to be cool, but in the 90's that all changed. It used to be that, if you were a computer expert, you had to wear plaid or a pocket protector or suspenders or something that announced to the world that you couldn't quite fit in. Not anymore. Now, the intelligent and geeky have eked out for themselves a modicum of respect at the very least, and "geek is chic."

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 58% on nerdiness
You scored higher than 81% on geekosity
You scored higher than 70% on dork points

* Geek + Dork = Gork (See also previous posts here & here).

technorati tags: self-help / test / nerd

Ole Ole Ole...

2005-10-26T16:16:00.000+08:00

Today, my 3-year-old niece declares to me proudly, "I can speak Spanish!"

So Grandma asks her to say "please" in Spanish to me.

Without missing a beat, she says, "Pleaseinspanish!"

For this, I guess I have Dora the Explorer to thank.

technorati tags: spanish / niece

Learn You Engrish

2005-10-25T01:43:00.000+08:00

Siren si·ren (sī'rən)

1. (The New Dictionary of Cultural Literacy, Third Edition)
In classical mythology, evil creatures who lived on a rocky island, singing in beautiful voices in an effort to lure sailors to shipwreck and death. Odysseus ordered his crew to plug their ears to escape the Sirens' fatal song.

2. (The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition)
A device in which compressed air or steam is driven against a rotating perforated disk to create a loud, often wailing sound as a signal or warning.

3. (The Conglomeration of People Who Have Nothing Better to do at Wala, First Edition*)

Unfortunately, my brilliant doctoring of Charles Edward Boutibonne's Sirens is barely visible here, but you get the picture (ooh, punny!).

* Otherwise known as "Excuse me, but your VBL** is showing."
** Very Bo Liao.

technorati tags: siren

Infinity and Seven Hundred

2005-10-24T23:34:00.000+08:00

Get thee away, old lady, only young 'uns allowed here!

So I've been volunteering at a kindergarten, training 13 little boys for their graduation concert performance of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat. 2 weeks later, my voice seems to have taken on a permanent rasp to it and my vocabulary seems to have shrunk to a few choice words (usually put together in different permutations of "keep quiet", "stop playing" & "look at me when I'm talking to you"). But really, Jacob and Sons have been an endless source of hilarity for me.

Today, in an effort to get friendlier with my bunch of 5 and 6-year-olds, I asked them questions then they got to ask me questions. OF COURSE, they'd ask me, "How old are you, teacher?" And OF COURSE, I walked right into that one. I ASKED them to GUESS.

"One Hundred!"
"Sixty-two!"
"Thirty-six!"
"Infinity and seven hundred... and seventy!"
The chorus of little monsters yelled, all clamouring to answer my stoopid, stoopid question.

Then one little boy said very seriously, shushing his friends, "No lah, she's not so old!" Then turning his big eyes to me, says with great conviction, "You're forty-something, right?"

Boo hoo hoo... How did I age another 10 years in the space of forty-eight hours?

technorati tags: age / children / graduation / concert

Sounds Like "Stir-Tea-Come-Ting"

2005-10-22T04:44:00.000+08:00

It's no coincidence, OK? Toto, I have a feeling we're not in twentysomething anymore...

We always play charades whatever bar we're at and tonight was no different. We always try to sabo each other by coming up with the most impossible movie/book/song titles, so was I surprised that the evil Mr P gave me that old TV series Thirtysomething to act out? I broke it down into 4 syllables and ended up with, "sounds like: stir-tea-come-ting". They got it in the end.

Then when I get home to check my mail, look at the fun yet frightening doodah I got from :0) Super Agent BaBOON:
THE BIRTHDAY CALCULATOR
As of 10/21/2005 4:44:55 PM CDT
You are 30 years old. ~ yes, thanks for the reminder!
You are 363 months old.
You are 1,581 weeks old.
You are 11,068 days old.
You are 265,648 hours old.
You are 15,938,924 minutes old.
You are 956,335,495 seconds old. ~ whooppee, that's 7 x "old".
There are 255 days till your next birthday
on which your cake will have 31 candles ~ what joy. really? I. HAD. NO. IDEA.
Those 31 candles produce 31 BTUs, or 7,812 calories of heat (that's only 7.8120 food Calories!).
You can boil 3.54 US ounces of water with that many candles. ~ great, why not stab me in the heart & cook it in the boiling water too?!
Your birthstone is Ruby.
Ruby is said to open one's heart to love. ~ hahaha. then i think my birthstone is broken

technorati tags: birthday / calculator / thirtysomething / charades

Today Velly Or-leng!

2005-10-20T23:11:00.000+08:00

Woke up, it was a chelsea morning, and the first thing that I knew
There was milk and toast and honey and a bowl of oranges, too
And the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my senses

Oh, won’t you stay
We’ll put on the day
And we’ll talk in present tenses

chelsea morning/ joni mitchell

*******

A surprisingly optimistic song from Joni.
I love the bit about talking in present tenses. It would be lovely not to look back at the past and not to worry about the future.

technorati tags: joni mitchell / chelsea morning / orange

It's Not Just a Trifle, It's Serious!

2005-10-19T23:09:00.000+08:00

Look what I made! P, R & lovely new friend, K came over for dinner tonight. Missing B's magic piano fingers, we couldn't actually rehearse anything afterall, but the evening was not entirely a waste.

We had a gut-stuffingly good time and finished the meal off with trifle, served up in individual glasses. I think they look pretty impressive, but taste-wise, nobody can beat JellyGirl.

She is a dessert diva who feeds our tummies after our souls are fed (heh - we meet & eat at bible study, what!) and you need to read this and this to understand why I'm obsessed with making trifles!

JG, thank you for being my makan muse!

technorati tags: dessert / trifle

Mum-mum Meme

2005-10-18T18:04:00.000+08:00

Here's one from the scrumdidilyumptious Skrat.

For a girl whose first words were mum-mum (baby talk for food), it's no wonder this meme's been especially fun to do. Only thing is, it kinda took on a life of its own and I ended up with a little more than the specified "Five childhood food memories I miss (or don't)":

1. COMFORT FOOD

Something mom used to make for us when we were little: Make a little well in a plateful of steaming hot rice, crack in a raw egg and stir it all up with sesame oil in soy sauce and pepper - mmmmmmmmmm!

Maggie mee. Chicken flavour. First thing I learnt to cook. Been making and eating it since I was 6. Who can forget the TV ad of school kids climbing up the steps singing “Maggie Mee, fast to cook, good to eat”? A little later on, a staple during midnite feats at girlie sleepovers. My friends taught me different ways to cook instant noodles, like cracking an egg in, then separating the noodle/ egg mixture from the soup and seasoning it with ketchup and chilli sauce (see also FRIENDS).

2. FOODIE FRIENDS

When I was about 5, I remember going for a daily “joyride” with my neighbour Ruth. She was a year older and was already in Primary 1. I’d hop in the car with her and her nice uncle (who had a '70s 8-track cartridge player in his car), who’d drop her off at MGS (then at Mt Sophia) and give me 10 cents to leap out and buy a take-away bag of “birds’ nest drink” from the auntie who had a stall just outside the school. It really was just cold sugar water with bits of jelly floating inside, but yum! Then I’d leap back into the car, waving goodbye to Ruth and then Uncle would drop me off back home.

The BEST, and I mean BEST, mee pok you’ll find in any school tuckshop. Our daily ritual was to get it dry with chilli and extra fishcake & fishball, eat the noodles, leaving the liao behind. We’d then carry our bowls of wonderfully soy/oil/chilli-coated fish cake/balls back to the Ah Chek. He knew the drill. He’d ladle out hot soup into our bowls, to which we’d add more soy sauce, lard and giant dollops of his super hiam chilli. Mouthwateringly, tear-inducingly shiok acid soup! SCGS Alumni, you know what I’m talking about.

Contraband french fries. The tuckshop Makcik wasn’t allowed to sell us unhealthy food, but we created such demand, that she’d sell her greasy, soggy, salty “fries” in little packets from under the counter, with a shifty eye on the lookout for marauding teachers. 9 years old and we were already experts in espionage!

We loved food so much, the year we discovered boys (1986), we developed code names for boys according to their attractiveness: Tunafish sandwich = Not great, but will do. Taco = Quite tasty, Hot! And so on the list went.

 
3. GRANDPARENTS = GLUTTONY!
a) SATURDAYS AT KONG KONG POPSY’S
(see topmost photo) dinnertime @ grandpa's - he custom-made the little wheely table so we'd have our own eating surface.

Buddy Buddy in Serangoon gardens was a wannabe fast food joint that had Fred & Barney from The Flintstones as its copy-right defying mascots. Fried chicken and hamburgers from there were our Saturday staple dinner, when we went to stay over with Kong Kong P. He used to pronounce hamburger as “ham-ber-Jers, bless his cotton socks! He’d also mix us Campbell’s cream of mushroom and chicken soup to eat in front of the telly, when stuff like Magnum PI and Simon & Simon were on.

Next morning, we’d be treated to chicken curry puffs (the deep fried kind with a hard boiled egg and chicken chunks inside) after Sunday School from Sputnik Eating House in Serangoon Gardens. Better than Old Chang Kee, any day!

b) SUNDAYS AT LORONG J, TELOK KURAU

Kong Kong & Mama’s soft boiled eggs (everyone who grew up here seems to have a soft-boiled egg story!).  Served up in their little shot glasses with soy and lots of white pepper.

Watching Kong Kong make thick, strong black coffee the traditional way. i.e. using that thing that looks like a sock. Mama and Kong Kong would keep their sweet black coffee in a thermos with a cork stopper, which we all could pour and drink anytime we liked.

Walking with Kong kong to the coffee shop to buy lunch, then improving on the hawker food by tweaking mee pok with extra vinegar and sesame oil, mixing chicken rice with a careful concoction of dark soy, till the rice turned uniformly black (see also BIG BROTHER, BAD HABITS).

Condensed milk sandwiches. Another bad influence from my brother. We’d steal the gooey milk from a jar in the fridge, smother slices of bread in the stuff and cram it all into our greedy mouths before mom could yell at us (see also BIG BROTHER, BAD HABITS).

4. TASTE-BUD TRAINING WITH MOM & DAD

Look at 'em at their wedding dinner in 1971 - they love a party and a glass of red (or 15)!

Mom and Dad make a lethal combination. Dad loves to eat, mom loves to cook - funny, since she didn't even know how to make a cup of milo when they were first married. My parents learned from each other and still throw the same crazy parties where the old folks get pissed and someone always drags out the guitar for a loud oldies singalong. Get a load of their funky festive headgear. I spent a lot of of childhood feeling very embarrassed. Haha.

Growing up, family time meant food, food & more food. The house was always full of friends and relatives sharing the good times, taste-testing new dishes, experimenting with new recipes.

Thursday night family dinners were also pretty elaborate affairs. When Dad and bro were not arguing and I wasn’t sitting there wishing I was somewhere else, the meals cooked by mom were phenomenal. Usually flirtations with “Western-style” cooking. Full roasts – especially chicken, beef and pork with crackling. Or, we’d go with dad to the Daimaru supermarket to get fresh take-away sashimi for dinner. Mom and Dad would encourage us to try everything, including urchin and sake. Which leads me to…

Wine (& other alcoholic bevs). Dad’s life-long passion and the elixir I’m named after. My first taste at age five set me off in fits of giggles before I passed out. Actually, not much has changed!

Fine-dining. From Steak Tartar to Fois Gras, Mom & Dad treated us to a childhood of culinary adventures. I remember loving the whole ritual of going out to dinner, dressing up and feeling terribly grown up. Of course, having to endure 5 hour-long dinners, never-ending sets of cutlery and unpronounceable menus by candlelight, was the catch. Anyone else remember L’Escargot at the now defunct Imperial Hotel, Restaurant de France at Le Meridien, Latour at the Shang, Harbour Grill at The Hilton, Baron’s Table at Holiday Inn?

5. BIG BROTHER, BAD HABITS

Chicken rice, eaten Kor Kor style, which he learned from Kong Kong KC. Mix rice with soy till black, peel skin off chicken and hang them off the side of plate. Eat everything, saving skin for last. When plate is clean, slurp up skins one by one with great relish, heart attacks be damned!

Hawker Centre Ritual. After eating, we’d pour leftovers (food, drinks & all) into a communal bowl and smoosh everything together, giving the mess different names, trying to out-gross each other.

This one’s warm & fuzzy : Milk from school. My bro used to bring his little packs home to freeze. Later, Mom would snip the frozen packet open and he’d share some with me. It was our own version of ‘ice-cream’!

I Tag...
My busy busy friends who probably won't even have the time deal with a meme:
JellyGirl
Peekabooboo Duckling Adventures
Tim O
Toothless Monster
Yummy Mumster
And anyone else who wants to do this (just let me know, so I can read your version!)

Extra-extra:
One of my fave cook books based on childhood memories and family history is beautiful, engaging and quite simply delicious – Falling Cloudberries by Tessa Kiros.

technorati tags: meme / food / childhood / memories

Call Me Stephanie

2005-10-17T23:48:00.000+08:00

Grease 2 synopsis here, straight from Blanche's website!

I really suck at bowling.

Even when the system screwed up on Saturday night and awarded me with a spare even though I hadn't hit a single pin, I still ended up the big loser of the evening. As usual.

I think I suck so bad because I always half-expect my fellow bowlers to break into a song-and-dance number, just like they did at the Bowlarama in Grease 2. Then I get really disappointed when nobody does. Nobody singing, "We're gonna score-hore-hore tonight!" in an encouraging fashion. No one. That distracts me. Makes my aim bad. That's the story I'm sticking with, anyway.

Now I KNOW Grease 2 may possibly be one of the cheesiest, worstest movies to emerge from the bowels of the '80s, but in my 7-year-old heart of hearts, it ROCKS, ok?

One fateful afternoon in 1982: I caught the Rydell High gang Rock-a-Hula-Luau-ing at a neighbour's house (obviously a huge treat, since hardly anyone owned a VCR back then), and thus began my geeky Grease 2 obsession.

I don't even mind admitting I can quote most anything from the movie and I know every last cheese-tastic song by heart.

I'll admit when I saw the Grease/ Grease 2 DVD Box Set at HMV in London, I screeched gleefully and snatched at it, then felt hugely insulted that it was going at the baragin bottom price of ~~£9.90~~ £7.97.

I'll even admit I begged my mom almost everyday to change my name to Stephanie (after the Pink Lady character played by Michelle Pfeiffer). When that didn't work, I tried to convince her we needed to become Catholic (when you're 7, you think only Catholics can have 2 names), so I could have "Stephanie" added as my second name. My last name, would be Carrington, of course, once I grew up and married Michael (Mr Cool Rider himself, played by Maxwell Caulfield) - I didn't mind sharing him with Michelle. And I also don't mind sharing with you that he was probably my first celebrity crush...

not even 7-year-olds can resist a man in leather pants!

...Not even seeing him in goggles and slashed-to-the-navel silver lame, perched astride a spinning motorcycle, amidst a smog of dry ice, could stop my girlish affections...

...it all ~~changed~~ died when I watched Empire Records and witnessed my Michael Carrington incarnated as the washed up rockstar Rex Manning...
Which Empire Records Character Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty

I guess there IS a limit to how much cheese a girl can handle, after all. No more leather pants for me. No more bowling for a long time too.

But you can still call me Stephanie.

technorati tags: Grease 2 / bowling / Maxwell Caulfield / Michelle Pfeiffer / Empire Records

THE Reason Why You Should Move to Singapore

2005-10-16T18:36:00.000+08:00

Safety first on Keong Saik Street!

Unexpected night-time encounters can sometimes make for excellent blog fodder. In usual procrastinating fashion, we ended up at BS last night, promising to "protect" M, who had to meet up with a friend from Nu Yawk.
Said friend wants to move to Singapore. We were puzzled over his rabid love for our little island. Until he explained, eyes-rolling & wrists flapping:

"Well, the boys aren't that cute, but the apartments are fabulous!"

So let that be our consolation, we're ugly, but at least we live in pretty houses!

technorati tags: relocate / singapore

Ono-ma-whaa???

2005-10-12T10:22:00.000+08:00

the irony! mr potato head endorsing fries! interesting take on the irony.

I realise normal people don't actually slip a word like onomatopoeia into their everyday conversation. Except one-time lit students maybe. Or pompous geekstresses with overblown poetic inclinations. Which I have been called many a time. Which calls to mind one dear friend who, despite being a philosophy major and powerful example of a brain that works at frightening speed, said to me, "Ono-ma-whaa???"

For the rest of the night he continued to mispronounce onomatopoeia as "Oh no, my potato!"

I like it when friends use humour to remind you to get your head out of your arse. Even if it means I can never look at a french fry the same way again.

*******

When everything seems to be set
to show me off as a man of intelligence,
the fool I keep concealed on my person
takes over my talk and occupies my mouth.

While I am writing, I am far away;
and when I come back, I have already left.
I should like to see if the same thing happens
to other people as it does to me,
to see if as many people are as I am,
and if they seem the same way to themselves.
When this problem has been thoroughly explored,
I am going to school myself so well in things
that, when I try to explain my problems,
I shall speak, not of self, but of geography.
- Pablo Neruda, We Are Many

technorati tags: pablo neruda / mr potato head / potato

Meat Market

2005-10-11T11:08:00.000+08:00

Once a playa, always a playa, baby.

Eating dinner @ Carl's Jr tonight, G spotted her best friend's brother who came over for a chat. He makes us both laugh with his cheesy sleaze. Or is it sleazy cheese?

This is the same fella who, on our first ever meeting, described some hot ass he'd seen at some nightspot and finished it all off by quoting Jay-Z, "Can I get a What What", complete with ass spanking hand actions and a wink.

Who on earth is this oozing slab of smarm?! I thought to myself. Thereafter, G. kept Mr Smarmy-pants at bay from me by threatening bodily harm (to him, of course, not me).

So fast forward 4 years later, we meet him again at the double juicy, beef cakey, Mother of all Cooked Meat Merchants and I think, How Appropriate.

G (to Smarmy-pants): Eh, you've lost weight, ah?

SP (complete with pelvic thrusting action): Actually, I put on weight cos' I broke up with my girlfriend lah, so no more gerder-bak gerder-bom*, know what I'm saying?

Me (to myself): I'll give you gerder-bak gerder-bom, you male slut-monkey!

* read it quickly - it's more onomatopoeic than anything else!

technorati tags: carl's jr / meat / sleaze / smarmy / funny / onomatopoeia

Ear Wax

2005-10-10T00:11:00.000+08:00

It's done.
Finished.
All out.

And I feel at least 20 pounds lighter.

Decision-making is never fun (esp. when your future is involved) for a ditherer like moi, but all is resolved.
Learning to say "NO" is the hardest lesson I'm having to learn and I think I'm still at grade school level.
Learning to not care what other people think as a result of your saying "NO" is even harder for someone who's been a people-pleaser all her life. Believe me, it's hard when you have bitchy producer on the other end of the line saying, "Well, you only get to say no once to me, honey!". Who says that sort of thing anyway?! He may as well have added, 'You'll never work in this town again!" for extra effect.
But that's exactly what I said. N-O. Then followed that up with profuse apologies. Twice, to different potential employers (See? Loooong way to go!). But still, a no's a NO.
It's difficult to believe I did it. Relief didn't come immediately, unless blubbering and flapping arms around for 10 minutes counts as relief, but relief is what I feel now. Peace that I've made the right decisions.

I call it divine intervention. And along the way, I've learnt a lot about myself and what I want. Miss Non-commital has realised the value of committing to a choice and sticking with it. But I don't have to like it! It's been a continual struggle and I suspect it'll always be (maybe in lesser and lesser degrees, hopefully). I've lived so much of my life in the past and comparing myself to what I was, I need to look forward with no regrets.

But from today's and Friday's NO sessions, this control freak may just be learning to unclench her butt muscles a smidge.

And the angels sent to nudge me along?

She provided the rah-rahs. Thanks for turning my idea of an eeww-logy into something closer to an eulogy! And for the jasmin ball tea, hand-holding & straight-talking.

She provided the soul support. "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have you found? The same old fears." Seemingly bleak lyrics, but know this: we share the same fears, the same struggles & even though we feel stuck, HOPE is the promise. Look forward and upward, girl!

technorati tags: decisions / ear wax

Stuff Between the Ears

2005-10-06T22:48:00.000+08:00

Silence on the blog front can only mean one thing.

Heavy things press on my puny mind. This heaviness I ponder will take a while longer for me to carry, but hopefully all will end in smiles. Decisions, decisions. Fickle me needs to focus and act. No one's gonna hold my hand or tell me what to do.

So while very untrivial things occupy the space between my ears, I can only write of very trivial things.
Like how I went into HMV looking for ONE CD, couldn't find it, and somehow FIVE others ended up in my bag (after I paid for them - what were you thinking?!).

See?

click on cds for info - go on, do!

Bonus! While @ a recording session, the generous Mr A of UM bestowed me with the delectable Jack Johnson's new CD (see detours du jour in sidebar). Perfect pondering music, tho' one is suddenly overcome with ideas to run away to Hawaii and sit in a hut while the rain falls down outside. Don't ask.

technorati tags: ponder / new cds

Shoe Dreams Are Made of These

2005-10-02T03:50:00.000+08:00

Question: How long does jet-lag last?

Nevermind, had to get up after tossing and turning for the last hour or so. And decided to hunt down the makers of my new aquisition and fave shoe of the moment. Notice the ornately carved blue-tinted perspex heel and the tiny purple swans painted on the side! I love them so much, I'm loathe to share them, but what the hey... Massive eye candy here!

I wanted to get these, but managed to stop myself:

P.S. Finally rolled out of bed at 1pm yesterday to retrieve trapped car. Grumpy from a nightmare that parking fees were $45, I drove puffy-faced and puffier-eyed to the !@#$%^ library and discovered the parking charges were $17. Thanks to the nightmare, I felt strangely relieved.

technorati tags: shoes

Confounderation!

2005-10-01T18:17:00.000+08:00

Why it happens, I'm not quite sure, but mischief and misfortune seem to follow me round, hiding behind a potted plant till the very right time (for them, worst for me) to attack.

After a lovely time at Quidam and post-dinner drinks/ snacks at the Intercontinental, I waved a cheery buhbye to the girls and tottered off on my skyscraper-high Office rainbow wedges in the direction of the National Library.

How cunning , how clever of me, I thought to myself, to park there to avoid the massive queue into Parco Bugis. Then I realised the National Library was on total lockdown. It was shut tight. Uh-oh.

How do I get to the car park? Ah... I'll just walk round and down the ramp at the entrance.

So off I tottered, got lost, circled the perimeter of the library several times, got my feet lacerated by pretty but killer heels, then finally conceded defeat. The entrance to the carpark was locked too, by a set of ultra strong metal roll-downs.

Who's feeling cunning and clever now???!!!

Proverbial tail between my legs, I flagged a cab. The car would have to have its first sleep over.

In the cab yakking nineteen to the dozen with G. about the sudden slew of job options, the things I need to do, all my reservations, etc, etc, I finally got home 45 mins and $24 later. Before I got out, the taxi driver said to me, "Sounds like you are doing a lot for a lot of people, got no time for yourself." He said this twice, handed me the change and drove off.

I was gobsmacked.

Then later on, I accidentally dropped my favourite black eye-liner into the toilet bowl and flushed it before I realised what I was doing.

*******

The cherry on the cake? Now I don't believe AT ALL, but 2 days ago when G. was reading P & me our horoscope according to 8 Days, we all couldn't help but laugh:

You're full of good ideas, but for WHOM? And for WHAT?!

Makes sense though. And good questions to ask myself.

technorati tags: misfortune / car

Mixed Up

2005-09-30T08:37:00.000+08:00

Just when you think you almost got the jet lag beat, you really haven't.
What time is it now? Ah yes, 8.37am. I haven't gone to bed yet, which means I've been awake so far for 20 hours.
Maybe it was the 2 teas I had at 2am. Maybe I'm too wired from thinking about what's at hand.

Do I join XXXX, a competitor of my previous co.? Even if it's just a part-time thing, I feel weirdly guilty, like I'm a traitor - burn the betraying b****h at the stake! - or something. But that's completely irrational, since I left like more than a year ago. Do I even want this? I want the $$$ which takes me one step closer to leaving this country next year, that's for sure.

Then there's the next gig of the month... which involves a lot of moozik research. Jazz research! Have spent the last 5 hours digging through years of CEEDEEs & *jangjangjang* KAIR-SETS!!! Whoo hoo, yes, good old, mouldy cassette tapes!

Got very distracted by the discovery of a mint collection of my own mix Cassette Tapes! Remember when you thought you were the bee's knees if you had a hi-fi set with the double-tape deck, one side for playing, the other side for dubbing? And if you were REALLY cool, then your hi-fi would have the special hi-speed button, so you could make your mix tapes at twice the usual speed?

Then after that, you would use many colourful pens to design and decorate the sleeve (these were the days before computers, photoshop and printers)? Also, if you were feeling really generous, sometimes you would spend hours making mix tapes for friends AND if a guy gave you a mix tape, WHOA, meant he spent a lot of time on it, meant he LIKES you, so you'd like, play the tape over and over until one day the player eats your tape and all you have left is a ball of thin, mangled brown plastic strips after you tried to snatch the cassette from the jaws of audio-munching machinery?

Haha. I had fun hi-speeding my way back in time. Good way as any to pass the hours if you're jet lagged.

technorati tags: mix tapes / cassette

Chew on This!

2005-09-28T18:41:00.000+08:00

Full Icelandic Adventures of Deetourguide pending, I thought I'd share one of the most memorable bits of the trip - Tasting & Purchasing the Dreaded Hákarl!

Hallo! Would you like to buy some deliciously rotten shark meat? Great with Brennivín, our national Schnapps!

Aiyeeeeee... ammonia!

In a nutshell, it's putrid shark meat and according to weird-foods.com: Traditional Icelandic food is not as bad as it sounds - in fact several dishes are actually edible. The one glaring exception is hákarl, putrefied shark meat that has been buried for up to six months to ensure sufficient decomposition.

So bad, it's good, I'll take some. Ring it up, Mister Fishmonger!

Contrary to popular Hakarl-eating mythology, it was not the heart-stopping, vomit-inducing experience I'd psyched myself up for. It actually turned out to be a tasty treat, especially if the searing aroma of ammonia doesn't bother you all that much. It was tasty, chewy, salty, kinda like abalone. Ms L, my travelling companion had other things to say about it though. Most of which is untypeable. She likened it to chewing gum in a men's public loo that hasn't been cleaned since the turn of the century. But what does she know?! Haha.

See here and here for more on this Iceland delicacy whose reputation far acceeds its reality.

Oh, and this & this are someone else's fun encounters with Icelandic foods - great pictures too.

technorati tags: iceland / food / shark / hakarl

Love, Mom

2005-09-27T17:19:00.000+08:00

Many Happy Returns... 27 September 1945

I love this picture of the mother unit when she was young and in love. On the back of it in her loopy, architectural handwriting, it says, "To My Darling PY. With all my Love, Pom".

technorati tags: mom / happy birthday

Coming Home

2005-09-26T15:34:00.000+08:00

Has it really been 21 days since I last wrote? The time I spent away seems so much shorter than the sum and total of those days. Leaving this place was exactly what I needed and returning has been as if I never left. Or maybe it's just the jet-lag talking. So instead of me talking, I'll let what I've read speak for itself.

"They were all things she would not give away... she watched others tell their drunken bar stories, prostituting their families and their traumas for popularity and booze."
Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones.

Don't we all?

Happy Be-earlied Birthday, Mom!

Kveðja , Ég er að fara burt til Ísland og London!

2005-09-06T03:54:00.000+08:00

Behold, a fluffy Icelandic ~~Pony~~ Horse! Neigh...

Call it prep for my next trip, but wheee! I've finally got BBC Prime on cable (plus a whole host of channels including Animax and Turner Classics, thanks to the cable upgrade)! Antonio Carluccio is fab - he makes Italian food look gorgeous. Last visit to London, I kept dragging Ms. L to his restaurant for soup - chicken or wild mushroom, out-of-this-world!

Next on, Changing Rooms, a home-makeover show I was psychotically hooked on back in the day. Ahh... the anticipation of returning to England. Now that I'm finally packed, I can relax. Tell me why does it take a girl 6 hours to pack for 2 weeks?! I hope the boxes of mooncakes for S. & L. don't explode in my suitcase...

OK, I'm officially excited! Putrid Shark Meat, Phallic Museum, All-Night Partying, Reykjavik here I come!
Only gripe is, the currency rate is comparable to the UK and my large amount of S$$$ has sadly shrivelled by 3.15 times!!! I am very poor now. Have been advised to skip meals and not shop. That's so not gonna happen, lor.
Actually, I have one more gripe. This always happens to me - I finally decided to try and book this trip early and thought I made a pretty OK deal on my Royal Brunei tickets. Then !@#$%^&* Malaysian Airlines comes back with their legendary $630 Return airtickets to Europe. Bah. I could've saved close to $200 had I waited. Now I'm stuck with my expensiver tickets and a 4 hour transit in Brunei. Double Bah.

But nothing really can put a damper on the anticipation of a ten-year-old dream about to be fulfilled.
See for yourself why I love Iceland so much.

See Y'all in 2 weeks! Waheeeyyyyyyyy....

Poll Dancing with Deetour #3 (Miss Tan in Bintan)

2005-09-02T00:42:00.000+08:00

Leaving for the poor-man's Bali in less than 7 hours and I haven't packed a darned thing yet. But am muchly looking forward to doing nothing but drinking and burning myself under the sun for the entire weekend. Ooh, and those gorgeous Nirwana resort massages - yes, please!
Sooo in honour of said imminent trip, please feel free to poll dance for moi:

Amazing Psychic Underwear

2005-09-01T02:23:00.000+08:00

scoff if you must, but there is cunning, crafty, cluedoriffic method to these chicken scratchings

Slowly, I'm clawing my way out of the black hole I seem to have fallen into, so with a skip in my step and a song in my, er, vocal chords, I look ahead with great anticipation to a September filled with:

Cluedo

Cooking. And boasting about it. Here

Burning my own mix CDs

Bintan, BBQs & Beach-bumming

Shiny Metallic belts

Finding the perfect lipgloss (MAC's Dewy Jube Lipgelee comes pretty close)

South America (Yo quiero ir el de vacaciones a Suramérica!)

Everything Icelandic - 6 days to go! (Halló! Hvað heitir þú?)

Simplifying & Spring-cleaning - detoxing by throwing stuff away. Cleansing away the old, making room for the new. Underwear drawer? Check. Jeans Cupboard? Check. 2 down, a gadzillion more to go...

Prepare to scale Mount Jeans...

Yes, I have tacky, fruity undies... but some are special... Could it be that more travel is in the ~~cards~~ undies?

technorati tags: travel / spring cleaning

Dirty Little Secrets

2005-08-29T18:25:00.000+08:00

The All-American Rejects are back with their new single Dirty Little Secret. Ok, I confess, I enjoy a little college rock now and again. And their music video spoke to me.

I am a Bloody Mary

A fairly serious drinker, who's experimented a lot with different drinks.
A drunk, but a stable drunk who never lets drinking get out of control.
What Mixed Drink Are You?

technorati tags: dirty / little / secrets / mixed / drinks