esprit

Behold. My Esprit loot for the year. Will attack Hong Kong for Guess next year.

metal eggs

Behold. Metal eggs. Flavorful.

going off

This is it. I'm leaving to the airport at noon tomorrow. Can't believe I'm still working my ass off when I still have to bind the itinerary into a nice handy booklet for my easy reference, pack for the 12 days, and buy disposable panties...

So much to do! So little time! I'm totally freaking out. I've managed to pack my medications last night and I feel like a drug smuggler with those little bags of pills and whatchamacallits. I hope nobody stops me to prod my ass for more.

Here I come, Taiwan! Sniffling and coughing and lamenting, but I'm coming! And if I don't post for 2 weeks, rejoice. If I start posting again in the next few days, feel my wrath! I musta been deported for succumbing to the merciless winter. And that ain't gonna be pretty.

... and if anyone comments about my eyebags in this picture... well... uhm... no metal eggs for you!

paddy

I've always enjoyed driving this stretch of road on the way home. The colour of the paddy field changes from season to season. Awesome!

I was taking this inside my brother's car cruising at the speed of 100km/h, just imagine if we'd parked at the side of the road and take pictures... what glorious picture would it be...

...of me being squashed by a 18-wheel truck at 110km/h most prolly.

why oh why

I'm having a full weekend ahead. Will be celebrating KC's birthday and our one-year anniversary on Saturday, then lunch with Jac and Daniel on Sunday before sending them off to a performance, and 4 days later I'll be flying off to Taiwan...

But I am feeling no joy nor exhilaration.
I don't believe this!

This time last year, all was quiet on the office front. Now... pah. I shalt not whine.

How come 12 days in Taiwan don't add up to a vacation? Let's see. Besides spending more than a month to surf the internet for information and plan the nitty gritty exquisite details for each and every day... I have to submit and resubmit the itinerary to the council for approval. Since the whole troop consists of 2 grannies, 4 adults and a 6-year-old... I have to avoid bus rides more than 3 hours, long walks, long exposure to the sun/cold etc. Planning was hell. Nevermind. Now that everything is planned down to the smallest detail, I can sit back and enjoy my well-earned vacation. Guess again. Who's gonna keep track of time? Who's gonna direct the troop to bus stations and train stops? Who's bringing everyone to find chow and loos?

Vacation my foot. What a crummy lose-lose situation. I pay full fare. I do full research and work. My brains must have been full of shit when I agreed to shoulder this responsibility. Fuck.

Right now I just want pummel anyone who comes within a metre radius of my cubicle with a hammer and shove the whole Taiwan planning folder up the 6-year-old mom's ass.

my humps

My Humps.

I can't get it out of my head! It's actually not a bad little song. Catchy lyrics. Boppy tune. It's no Crosby, Stills, Nash, Young, or even close, and it's got lyrics which could be good if not for the whole silly "lady lumps" thing. There are a couple of clever lyrical tricks actually.

"Milky milky cocoa puff" isn't one of them.

I don't want no drama though.

dragon red

I'm still in a daze. And a little star-struck, p'haps.

Natalie from Dragon Red called me this morning and asked me to replace her in Fear Factor Celebrity. Flattered as I am to have a real celebrity actually grace my phone with her ethereal voice (may you have thousands of beautiful grandchildren, Julian!)... I couldn't go! *whine*

I wanna eat worms. I wanna jump from a chopper. I wanna eat and strategise and sleep with celebrities and see them without their make-up.

But I gotta work.

Because I'm going off to Taiwan in 2 weeks and I have to settle all that I can before I go.

Bwaaaaaaaaaaah...

worn out

You know you're worn out when...

You wake up, realise you're late for work, and then you go back to sleep.

You traipse lazily to your car after checking all the locks, start the engine, and realise you forgot the bathroom light.

You come up with 3 excellent ideas for a pitch and as you present it to your boss it slowly dawns on you that you have been working on the wrong brief.

You drag yourself in front the book cabinet, then pause for 2 minutes trying to remember what you went there for.

You MSN Messenger for 10 minutes with someone and then suddenly it dawns on you that you're chatting with someone else with the same name.

You forget to zip your pants and never realise until you go for a second pee 3 hours later.

pengsan man

Went to the supermarket with my brother one fine day at our hometown and we saw this guy passed out dead on a busy walkway. Everyone ignored him. Even the security guard standing 10 metres away. I took a picture and walked off.

Harry Potter

Harry Potter is such a let down!!! *wail*

I think I've been waiting a tad too eagerly. With too much expectations. The only part I honestly enjoyed was Harry's half-naked bathtub scene in the prefect's bathroom. He looks so fiiiiine! I can't believe I'm ogling (and seriously turned on with his uneasy squirming and fidgeting) a minor. Someone slap handcuffs on me! Better yet, someone who's 14 with Harry Potter looks (and fab body... and bashful expression... oooh) slap handcuffs on me! *wail*

After the movie, I bumped into J. Lo. The Malaysian (duh) one. And his daughter's name won't gerroff my head. Kaya. Who names their daughter Kaya? Sure kena tease like nobody's business. Although the right pronunciation is "Kay-Ah". Ya lar, exotic lar.

Then went for supper with KC. And he ran over a cat (or a branch). It sounded like some twigs cracking and I didn't see anything. Fortunately. I didn't want to see. It could be still breathing. Chest heaving laboriously against its crushed ribs, blood oozing out in bubbles from its nostrils while its eyes stare dazedly into the dark. I felt nauseous. KC turned on the emergency lights and was moaning at the steering wheel. My voice was calm, however, when I asked KC to keep driving, there're cars behind our car. Curious. Slowing down. We parked, ordered, ate in silence.

"Somehow I know this will happen. Remember last night I almost hit a cat? And we were discussing about the 2 dogs you had as a girl and how they died?"
"I don't want to talk about this."

The mind is a strange thing. I will erase this incident from my memory. Like it never happened. It was just twigs. Yeah. Bloody idiots throwing branches into the middle of the road.

emily rose

I really enjoyed The Exorcism of Emily Rose last night. And I thought she is Emily the Strange, because they're both, well, weird... and the cats! Jennifer Carpenter is one damn good (scary?) actress. *shudder* Piqued by interest, I did my homework and found out that the "real" Emily Rose was in fact a 24-year old German girl - Anneliese Michel. An upcoming German-language film called Requiem is expected to stay truer to the real events, and I can't wait. Movies based on true events intrique me, and the battle between light and darkness fascinates me. But most of the time I'd settle for bloodbaths, flying limbs and sexy half-nude babes squealing in fear.

Tonight is Harry Potter night. Ooooooh!

popcorn

Am in a cheery mood even though I worked till 4 a.m. last night and who cares if I very likely will be doing so too tonight... because... Harry Potter is 2 days away! Woo hoo hoo! I've re-watched the earlier 3 episodes just to get back on track and re-read the Goblet of Fire twice just so I don't miss any details out.

I'll be watching Emily Rose tomorrow first.

I think I'm gonna pee my pants in excitement.

wendy's wedding dinner

My cousin Wendy (go read my entry October last year, I have no idea how to link) got married last week. Flew all the way from California to have the Chinese ceremony in an armpit of a town called Ayer Tawar. I'm glad she did, anyhoo. It's rare to have the whole clan united in one place for the same cause.

Brian (the obvious one in the picture that's not a cousin) brought a troop of 8 other family members along. I was telling cousins within earshot that our typical 8-course Chinese wedding dinner must have been a 3-hour Fear Factor segment for the foreign visitors. Coupled with a few hardcore karaoke microphone-hogging guests (Brian's brother grimaced when the fourth off-key, off-tempo singer shamelessly announced, "and now I shall sing my 3rd song for tonight, a masterpiece from 1947...") also typical at such occassions, I was surprised Brian's parents didn't start yanking off their hair and run screaming out of the restaurant. Wendy must have prepared them well.

Aaah. They're so gonna have beautiful mixed parentage babies.

farking flu

I don't know if it's the superiority of the latest flu virus strain or the state of deterioration my body is in, but I've been fucking ill for the past 2 weeks. Been to the doctor's 3 times and ended up with 3 different combinations of medication. I can positively smell the fucking antibiotic in my breath this past few days but how the fuck come am I not feeling any better?

So, forgive me if I appear to be somewhat hostile and un-chatty.

almost...

Planning the Taiwan trip is taking more effort than I initially thought it would. But it does add a lot of excitement to my internet surfing, not mentioning the people I meet in this backpacking website I am frequenting. Being a tour leader is quite fun, actually, back-breaking or not. Planning an entire trip from touch down to the flight back home, with me calling all the shots, where to visit and not... nice. Travelling with 2 elderlies and a 6-year-old totally add an element of challenge to my planning strategy! (sounding chirpier than necessary)

Yes, planning for just 2 or 4 would be much simpler, but I'd rather have what I'm having than joining a tour group. After all, Taiwan is just, a small island (but with thousands and thousands of sightseeing hotspots!). The good thing is, everything in or about Taiwan can be found on the internet, from every street map and routes of the subway system, to lodging-eatery-sightseeing info with latest prices, and even maps of their pasar malam stalls! Sad to say, though, Malaysia is waaaaaaay belakang. When people ask for websites to know more about Malaysia, the search results I get are pathetic. So I ask them to just come over, stay at my place and I'll take them around. That or I'll have to start an association to provide friendlier info and tips to travellers.

I'm down with flu (what's new) again. Just hope I recover well enough to enjoy my first ever church wedding this weekend. Happy getting married, Fiona! Hmm, this means I'll be meeting the whole bunch of church folks. Means Elliot will be bugging me about the meme I didn't have time to respond to.

Blek.

whirlwind

It's been a whirlwind week. And now I can't get this song out of my head.

I like big butts and I can not lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tongue
'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she's wearing
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring
Oh baby, I wanna get wit'cha
And take your picture
My homeboys tried to warn me
But with that butt you got makes me feel so horny
Ooh, Rump-o'-smooth-skin
You say you wanna get in my Benz?
Well, use me, use me
'Cause you ain't that average groupy
I've seen them dancin'
The hell with romancin'
She's sweat, wet,
Got it goin' like a turbo 'Vette
I'm tired of magazines
Sayin' flat butts are the thing
Take the average black man and ask him that
She gotta pack much back
So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has your girlfriend got the butt? (Hell yeah!)
Tell 'em to shake it! (Shake it!) Shake it! (Shake it!)
Shake that healthy butt!
Baby got back!

I first heard this song in an episode of Friends. Sigh. The good ole' days (I always wanted a boyfriend who's a cross between Ross and Chandler). Then I heard it again in Shrek. Then I hear it all the time in my head.

And, what's the big deal about Gol & Gincu? *yawn*

scary

Phooey.

Boss just showed me a video clip from a Hong Kong subway advertisement back in 1993. The ad showed 6 kids forming a play train, but at the last second before the camera panned out there was an additional girl (we could only see her pig-tails) behind the last boy.

The boy died soon after the ad was completed. And the government banned the ad. Hmmm. I got goosebumps after seeing the scene played over and over again. Scary shit, that.

That and I'm on Mediaxal.
That and I'm totally buggered about my December trip to Taiwan.
That and I have to work this weekend.

obesity

I'm oozing blood and meanness. Stay away. Because I am Remus Lupin for a few days.

Dammit my appetite is more ravenous than the piggish-est glutton. So much for the 1kg-a-week diet plan. Sarah called me obese.

I want to curl up in the corner of my closet and suck my thumb forever.

murder

It's not quite the same when you read about it in the papers, hear about it in the radio or even look at it in the telly. My friend's wife was murdered. Cold blooded, vicious 16 wounds on her body. I saw it from the newspaper. And I don't know how to comfort him.

I know it's just ONE murder. And thousands are being killed in more horrible ways around the world every day. But like I said, as long as we don't know those people, it tends to hurt us less. And we still go about our happy daily routines, unaffected. Children die in hunger, so what? Himalayan tigers will be extinct soon, so what? Bali gets bombed again, oh, better tell the friend to not go there for honeymoon.

Sometimes I get very, very fired up for a cause. Then eventually it fizzles and dies out. Life like normal resumes. Until I read about an incident or saw in Discovery another issue that nags at me again. Then I'll talk to friends and people I think will care. Sometimes, the chain reaction is positive and we do a little that make us feel happier and less guilty. Sometimes, I hit a wall and slowly I lose interest.

Why am I like this? Why are we like this?

cinderella man

Cis.

Don't understand why some people say Cinderella Man is boring. I like it. Wholesome values and all albeit the bloody fights. Made me cry in several scenes even. *sniff* Nice.

Now I shall go write a radio script for the client, do the laundry and powder myself nicely for Fish Leong concert. KC has a totally zonked out sense of time. Just hope we don't have to jog uphill and downhill for 20 minutes like the Malaysian Idol night. That was crappy.

workshop

7.30 a.m.

Threw the alarm clock halfway across the room before realising it's my phone ringing. This is what happens when you sleep averagely less than 4 hours a day for the past 2 weeks.

"Darling wake up *yawn* you have to send me to the Make A Difference workshop in town."

" ... ... *grunt* ... ... "

Dozed for 5 minutes.

"Oii wake up-larrrr or I'll fall back asleep again. I also bloody tired."

(super duper dragon morning breath) "Then don't go."

"Actually you just too lazy to send me downtown right..."

"... mmm ..."

"Then how-la I wanna make a difference?"

"By getting enough rest..."

7.50 a.m.

Laughing like a loony ass while torn between the heartache of wasting potentially good (and free) hotel food and the need to really sleep like a normal working professional in the brainjuice-squeezing industry.

Still couldn't decide. So focused all my energy trying to force out a rich, healthy morning fart.

8.13 a.m.

Too late to get ready for the workshop. Glad that I don't have to make the decision whether to go or not. But I'm wide awake already. Dammit. Someone still happily snoring away, unperturbed by the fact that its mumbling less than 10 words managed to change the schedule of my entire day. Hmm. So nice to blame it on someone else. Tee hee.

And I still can't fart. Since last night. WHY????

dream

I had the nicest dream last night. I was out at the beach with friends, and there was a mini-tsunami. Don't punch me yet! Like I said, it was a mini-tsunami. But for precaution, my friends and I half-swam half-climbed up the highest coral reef in that part of ocean. The water was waist deep at our position. Then I saw something black glinted beside me.

Dolphin!

I love dolphins. Hence the tattoo on my left leg. I got so excited and kept reaching out to touch the dolphin. It swam away just out of reach, but not before doing a graceful sommersault, its skin reflecting the nice evening sun. I dove under the water, trying to look for more. There are! Two swam up to me and I stroked their bellies and backs. I saw a lot of big fishes too. The mini-tsunami stirred the big fishes up from the deepest parts of the ocean. One swam particularly close to me. It had a sad face. I wondered, how could a fish have a sad face? Do they have happy faces?

I woke up feeling exceptionally chirpy. What a good start to a good day ahead! Then I remembered. The dolphins I stroked are black and white in colour. I thought dolphins are grey?!

Shit. I think I stroked killer whales.

bangsar

Was bumming around in Bangsar waiting to get hungry. Oh yeah I do that. The nasi lemak beside the police station tastes quite good. And, to kill time (hasten digestion?), I went for a massage. I was hoping to enjoy my second experience because my first (in an island resort by a scrawny grandmother) totally sucked. Like how things usually go wrong the more you wished that they don't, this massage (pah!) session was no exception. I mean, the toady plump girl (oh why couldn't I get them hunky illegal immigrant masseurs?) burned more kinetic energy with her mouth than her hands! And I was being too nice to ask her to shut her yap. I just concentrated HARD on the ambience of flowing water and twittering birds.

My friend had to drag my oily and bruised body (thrown in with a headache by then) and walk around Telawi to make me get hungry faster. We were in this boutique selling Sg Wang type of clothings when I had quite a shock. A nearby row of flowery dresses rustled. Without anyone touching them.

Damn girl massaged my scalp too hard, I thought to myself. Brain must have short-circuited.

Then it happened again. Rustle rustle.

A cat? In Bangsar?

Then the thing came out into the open. And I screamed.

upset

I'm very upset. My housemates don't want to move their lazy asses to tidy up the house, and they don't want to chip in for a cleaning lady to come clean up the house. We've moved into this new place for 5 months, and we've (as in myself and my brother) only cleaned it once. Fuck. I don't want the place to turn into some seedy college student house. I've spent 8 years of my studying life in one, and enough is enough. I just want a decent home. A place that I won't feel embarassed bringing guests back.

Litter is piling up. Pleas and urges for the other 4 people that share the house to buck up are all futile attempts. I can finger paint in the dust on my stairway.

I want to kick them out. Or move out. But I cannot afford the rental of one whole house. And it's not time yet to move in with Boyfriend (although at times like this I wish it is). I don't know if it's because all the other housemates are his friends, or my brother is just born with too kind a heart. He volunteered to clean up the house. Under normal circumstances, I'd shush him and urge him not to be stupid, doing the job himself when everyone else is supposed to help out. And we'll end up doing everything, just both of us. Right now, however, I couldn't give a fuck. Why is he always standing on his friends' side? If he love to clean, he is most welcome to go ahead and do it.

What the fuck is the problem with coughing up 16 bucks for a nice, clean home? Just eat less Pizza Hut, buggers! I really don't know how long can I stand staying with these ignorant people. Alas, right now, the need for their money is more than the need to shift out.

Sigh.

daniel?

Daniel won. Just like the prediction of the online poll. Besides the bloody glaring mistake in the official website ("And You Idol Is... Daniel!"), I've made several interesting fact finds from the whole MI journey.

(1) Nita sings better, but Daniel the Jerk Head - just watch him sing, folks. He has this unique movement of jerking his head (I don't know what else to call that) speaks like a diplomatic politician. Smart move to capture the hearts of swoony young girls.

(2) Daniel has better skin than most girls/women and he smells yummy. Nevermind he's my height.

(3) Penang Chinese are a filthy rich lot. This girl told my friend she spent 500 bucks voting for Daniel. Uh huh.

(4) The Chinese community in Malaysia is damn (rich) powerful (note: this is a mere personal observation so please don't throw me into jail for this dear authorities), seeing how it's obvious that Nita sings and conquers the stage better but still she got shitty votes because many audiences out there voted for Daniel just because he's Chinese...

(5) KC made me promise to sign up for the next season.

Aaaah. Let me go drown my sorrow by stuffing my face with oysters at Shangri-La. I hope they have strawberry chocolate fondue at the Japanese restaurant. *slobber*

malaysian idol finale

Just had the best banana leaf rice in town (in my opinion) at Sri Paandi. Anyone who's had better please do let me know where. I love them fattening, eat-all-you-can exotic chow.

My client just called and said she has extra Malaysian Idol tickets for Results Night (tonight!). Whoa. Am gonna take a quick shower and fly up to Genting. Crazy, I know... but. We were watching Nita and Daniel sing on telly last night and the feel just wasn't there. Must. Get. A. Piece. Of. The. Live. Action.

I'm voting for Nita. All my Chinese friends are voting for Daniel. Just because he's Chinese as well. And I'm so gonna get skinned alive for my traitor votes. But I think the key word here is damn good singing, right? So glue your face to the telly tonight, dudes and dudettes. You might just catch a glimpse of me. Tee hee. Anyone who wants immediate results notification please text me. If you don't know my number means the service is not available in your area. Sorry.

stoppit!

Oh fuck a duck!

My neighbour's at it again! Having discovered the joys of karaoke just last week, this next-door (oh fuck it why couldn't it be next street?) neighbour of mine bought a home set and totally wrecked the harmonious and tranquil equilibrium of this cosy little neighbourhood. With his obnoxious tone deaf voice. Nevermind - he's brave. With his song selection of remixed hokkien oldies . Nevermind - he's old and maybe he had a tough life and now only can enjoy. With my room walls trembling and door jiggling with the pirated karaoke VCD's volume cranked up to the max. CANNOT NEVERMIND!

What the fuck! Old farts can just ignore the unspoken rules of courtesy is it?! My other neighbours, when house got people die, the chanting also go on until 11.45pm maximum only. THAT is called considerate. Another neighbour, last weekend her daughter got married, the bleating car horns and whole noisy parade started at 10am. THAT is called showing neighbourliness. This one, every fucking day starts his session at 7.30am, until now 9.23pm I'm nursing a bad headache wanna come home for a short nap before going in again for an all-nighter... until sometimes I come home at 11pm still singing (singing? pah!) away.

Dear God. I am truly truly sorry for cursing and scolding my colleague under my breath when she turns on her music very loud while another colleague is already playing the radio. I forgive her for not knowing the existence of headphones. I promise not to sulk in the future when this incident occurs. I will just go into Big Boss's room to do my thinking and conceptualising. Please zap this profane old fart and his equally obnoxious family (yaya you all don't know some of your neighbours have only Saturday mornings to sleep 2 hours more? and some families have kids that need to study/practise piano/play with pets?) to Timbuktu or somewhere else that doesn't have electricity.

I am so mad. But the Malaysian in me is still fighting with the Western me from watching movies. Like how to react in predicaments such as this one. And I've shortlisted the options to 3:

Western style
Bang on the neighbour's door and ask the fart to shut his yap or I'll puncture his car tyres.
Singaporean (is it?) style
Call the authorities (who? can someone gimme a number?) using an anonymous name.
Malaysian style

Complain to the security guards and other neighbours or their maids. Ask the other neighbours to ask the Neighbourhood Committee to talk to the fart. And continue to whine in my blog while hoping all this will end soon.

jaws 5

I must be out of my mind. I think it's the influence of an overdose of National Geographic (Born to Kill: Great White Sharks) and Starship Troopers (Casper van Dien) over the weekend - I rented Jaws 5 DVD last night.

What was I thinking?
*thwack thwack* (slaps forehead with a plastic ruler)

I wasn't hoping for Steven Spielberg, but neither was I prepared for the B-grade-ness of the entire scam. The movie looked like it was shot back in the 70's in Brazil or something. NEW on DVD shelves my ass. Cellphones so clunky you can throw at a shark and kill it. High-waist pants and loose-fitting orange satin shirt. *groan* The only consolation was the sharks didn't have a zipper on their stomaches and "made in China" tiny tags on their fins.

To think that I even cajoled KC into watching with me.

"How come this sequel doesn't have interesting shark attacks one..."
"Aah shuddup, it's coming it's coming."

"Wow, those good guys sure know how to dodge bullets and the boats chasing them..."
Grunt.

"You see! I know they sure will end up..."
Snore.
"... together one... HEY!"

I got scolded like crazy. For wasting my hard earned money on the stupid DVD. For forcing KC to watch with me. And for falling asleep while it tried so hard to be involved in the (lame) storyline.

him him him

He doesn't make a lot of noise. Maybe because he's new. But compared to the fresh-from-the-oven bubbly designer we have since last week, this new guy practically doesn't speak at all.

So cold, I was thinking to myself. Oh well. As long as his job gets done on time.

He is oh-so cute! I was practically gushing with joy (and saliva) when I came into office and "discovered" his presence. Took all the willpower I had to not run my hands all over his manly built *shudder in ecstasy* and plunge my wanton fingers into his... uh... insides.

Seriously, there's nothing better than a pick-me-up at work in the form of a handsome colleague. And I've been waiting for his arrival since I started here a year ago. Imagine my thirst and hunger! Rawr!

I don't care if Boss complains I make such slutty poses in front of the new guy.
I don't care if my other colleagues stare incredulously at my wantonness.
I don't care if I scare him with my straighforwardness and he quits next month.

It's been a while since I actually look forward to come to work.

Everyone say hi to my new colleague.

home sweet home

My brother and I saw
(1) a row of 6 monkeys snarfing bananas
(2) a 6ft giant lizard (komodo dragon?)
(3) an agitated cobra in attack mode

on the journey to our parents' and back. No, we don't have to cut across the National Park to go home. But the bumpy roads, overgrown bushes and lack of other traffic does make one feel that way. Too bad we were going too fast to take pictures.

Watched Starship Troopers for the gazillionth time. I don't know why but I love that show! I know, I know, the acting is cheesy like crap and the whole storyline sucks. Must be those bloody flying limbs and decapitated bodies and whachamacallit gory shit. I love those in muh movies.

But of course, I love random crap like this one too: Pop Star or Porn Star?

the mist

Gaaaaah!
The haze is baaaaaack!

Nah. Actually we're at the highest point of Cameron Highland. And we snuck into a communications tower and climbed up that. Then we're at the highest highest point.

And that was how I suddenly recalled Stephen King's short story - The Mist. And I scrambled down very, very quickly.

watercress valley

My first time looking at live watercress. And this huge watercress fan. Fear Factor will have so much fun with this little bugger. I saw tadpoles and moss and dirt in the shallow waters too.

Then HunHun (not to be mistaken for Attila) accidentally ended the fat watercress worm's fantasy of soaking in watercress-flavoured baths and chasing them cute little tadpoles around.

"Look, Jack! I'm flying!"

boh food, boo food

Remember when I told you guys about the evilness of the food in Boh Plantation?

Believe it. It was so bad someone had to take an emergency dunk at the roadside.

Aaah. The joy of traveling with kids. And their ability to pee every 10 minutes.

random crap

Last night I worked until 2 a.m. More like I worked some, watched "The Maid", and read an interesting girl's blog until 2 a.m. Such an exciting life she leads! Half an hour into her archives my eyes developed a glazed look and my scrolling and clicking on the archive calendar became mechanical (maniacal?).

"Oi. Go help do the visual mock-up." Boss sees.
Grunt.
"Oi."
Grunt.

I stoned for another 45 minutes.
Then went home. And stoned for another 45 reading Michael Crichton's Timeline.

Nowadays I can do with just 3 hours of sleep. Waking up in the morning is hellish (and beyond!) but after I drench myself in buckets of cold water... I can function as normal (minus the sleepy after-lunch-30-minutes). A small part of me wish I sleep for an average of 3 hours a night because I party too hard. But.

Is partying beyond me? What's the retiring age?
I don't think I've ever had a partying era. And now it's probably too late.
Dang.

boh plantation

I'm back. Very unwillingly.

The undulating landscape of the tea plantation and the rolling clouds chasing each other across the vast blue sky. Lazy afternoon of nothing-to-do-ness sipping yummylicious pulled-tea (!!) and fluffy curry puffs.

I wish.

Rectification: Rowdy morning with sulking children and swarms of Middle East tourists asking me to take their pictures. Just because I took some scenery pictures within their perimeter. Hmm. But then I do have magic picture-taking hidden talents, I realized. Everything I took turned out nicer than the real deal. Hire me now and save up on Photoshop costs!

The food sucked.
Tasteless scones.
Over-sweet mini pies.
Unspicy curry puffs.
Rock hard chocolate mousse cake.

Expensive waste of tastebud and saliva enzyme chemical activity.

heated heatiness

"Any issue worth debating is worth avoiding altogether."

This is one saying Boss and I should really imprint into our daily interaction. Like how almost everything in life is easier to get into than to get out of, we got into a big one today. Again.

My bad: Being over-protective over my work.
Boss's bad: Being over-critical without providing any effective solutions.

So, I burst into (flames) tears and Boss was pissed why I got so worked up. I told her I couldn't be Superwoman like her. Yes, she's upped my salary slightly but I still couldn't (wouldn't) be a Strategy Planner Creative Director Art Director Copywriter Client Servicing Executive Graphic Designer. Stressed out of my mind as it is! Nevermind that my namecard would be kickassy with the absurb job title. Nevermind the fact that I'll be drawing everyone's pay.

Management has been feeding me with "you have so much talent and ability" inspirational talks. A part of me feels good (of course!) to be appreciated that way, but... ability is like a cheque. It has no value unless it is cashed. And right now I don't feel like a Pound Sterling cheque. And yes, ability is a good thing. But stability is better. My mental state, that is.

Illegitimus non Carborundem!

anyam

Sigh. Another hellish battlefield day (night? morning?) at the office. The past 2 weeks had been pure hellfire and boiling tubs of lard.

But let me take a break and tell the anyam story.
Since it's still Hungry Ghost month...

It was late. The night was quiet as I trudged down 3 flight of stairs down the office. Already visualising my tempting bed and smelly (nice-smelly though) pillows. I was locking up the grill door when a movement to my right caught my attention.

I saw a man sitting on the corridor, weaving something. Looked like the strings food-stall owners use to tie up our bungkus stuff. My first thought was "damn that cheapskate employer! force the poor foreign worker to sit outside using free government provided street light to work". Plausible deduction, since the corner lot of this row of shop offices is a mini foodcourt. I quickly interrupted any further brainjuice usage to waste on trivial crap like worker abuse etc and drove home.

The next night, I saw him again. Doing the same thing. And it hit me. No matter how noisy I was coming down the stairs, whistling or humming a song or just plain being noisy... he didn't even look up. Yayaya, I'm no Miss Universe... but looking up when one hears something is... instinct, isn't it? Reflex?

I managed to get into my car while thinking about the weirdness of the situation. Then I looked out of the window. And he was gone. There was no one on the corridor.

Boy was I glad there wasn't any traffic roadblocks that night.

I've since then shared the incident with a coupla colleagues, but we didn't see him again afters. Publicity-shy fellow. I know I should ask the owner of the foodcourt if he's one of the workers there, but somehow...

I don't want to know.

Ribena

I've made up my mind.
Fuck getting knocked down because of one little betrayal.
The sun still shines. The cats still caterwaul at midnight.
My friends still love me and laugh at my jokes.
Horror flicks in cinemas still suck ass big time.

So. Screw being betrayed.
Life goes on.
Albeit with a little bitter aftertaste and a huge chunk of stone in my heart.
I'm made of stronger stuff, bitches.

I love Ribena. To help me go through my terrible terrible ordeal I brought my room's supply to the office. I prefer my self-made Ribena compared to diabetes-inducing ready-made ones. I like 'em not too sweet and not too bland. And COLD.

Can anyone not like Ribena?

betrayal

I have been betrayed.

freaking weird

I'm still recuperating from a terrifying trauma. The weirdest thing happened 10 minutes ago. KC's mobile rang and the caller id showed my company's number. On normal nights when I work late that phenomenon wouldn't qualify as something worth mentioning. But. KC picked me up from work half an hour ago and I was the last to leave.

KC and I looked at each other while the phone continued ringing. My thoughts during the few moments of shock was "why the fuck do you have to set this fugly ringing tone for my company's number?"... Finally the phone stopped ringing. We were still speechless. Then it rang again.

Fuck.

This.

Shit.
Is.

Weird.

I squealed and dove into my bed covers as KC thrusted the mobile into my face and wheezed "answer it" over and over again. No fucking way. I've seen my fair share of freaky Japanese and Korean horror flicks surrounding mobile phones ringing when it shouldn't.

When the ringing finally stopped for the second time (and I've switched off both my mobiles), we started calling my colleagues and asked if anyone came back to the office after I left. Everyone was home. I even asked Big Boss to call the office to see if someone's there. No. Zilch. Takde.

Today is the 14th of the 7th lunar month. What the Chinese call Ghost Festival. Bizarre crap doesn't get weirder than this. KC refused to discuss the incident.

I think I'm going to poo green crap from fright.

increment

I'm finally getting a decent increment! Nothing's cemented as yet, but it's decent. Boss says it will be slightly more if I help win the pitch on Friday. Focus focus.

The developer of my over-priced, crummily located apartment has finally billed me for the differential sum I owe. After one whole year of silence. And they gave me 3 days to cough up 18,000 bucks or I have to bear penalty charges. I say fuck you, Landmarks. So what if you've sent out a letter informing me? Couldn't you call when the letter was returned with no recipient? Couldn't you call earlier and not give me 3 unbelievable days to come up with near 20 grand of moolah? Sons of bitches. You told me it's going to be an "exclusive" apartment with no other similar properties around when I bought it and now you're building more and more apartments within the vicinity (all also exclusive, I bet my ass) and most of them going for cheaper than what I paid for. I want to shove the unit back up your ass and get my money back!!!

Gaaah! Anyway, there goes my increment. Damn overpriced overstated sugarcoated apartment will suck me dry. Well fuck me if I don't fall into this kinda gimmick when I'm in advertising myself. Bah. Focus focus. More more more increment~

haze

The haze is very bad the past coupla days. I almost resorted to getting myself a pussifying surgical mask but that would take a chip off my glam factor. Deciding full well to bear the consequences, I am now ill. Throat itching like a cat in heat and nose leaking like a babe who've downed three bottles of milk with no Pampers.

Why do forest fires have to be perpetual? Won't the trees burn out one day? Won't the fire spread and spread until a whole country's wiped out? One way or another, it's gotta stop at some point of time, right? Someone's gotta let me in the finer details because I sure am not getting the logical part of this shit.

Even though I'm quite a nerd.

seeing Malaysian Idols

The heat is such a bitch. I wonder when will it rain. I wake up every morning drenched in sweat. Makes me look like an idiot for showering 5 minutes before I hit the sack. But I can't not shower before sleeping because I'll be sticky as hell (or thinking about how I'll be sticky as hell). Mom says I'll definitely get joint-pains or arthritis when I hit her age if I jump into bed right out of shower at night. Fug arthritis. If I don't sleep I won't even reach Mom's age. And I thought after staying in The Land Where It's Always Summer for 20 odd years, I would've gotten used to the fugging heat. Groan.

I got VIP passes to Malaysian Idol tonight. Wheee. Too bad I'm not much of a fan. If it was Simple Plan I'll be kissing random strangers on the street and spread some love to the world. But a VIP pass is a VIP pass. The only problem now: time management.

My parents are coming up for the weekend tomorrow. I have buckets of laundry (oh, tiny orgasm), unwashed loo, bird-shat car, hairballs on room floor and revision for tomorrow's class all lined up to take care of... but no time. And here I am, blogging. Groan.

I hope Mom's carrot-pineapple-walnut cake turns out luvverly. I hope Dad would lay off my body shape. Of course I'm in shape. Isn't round a shape?

Malaysian Idol

Someone (who shalt not be named) commanded that I shouldn't blog about work in such a negative manner anymore. So, I guess from now on what I can blog about is gonna be blue skies and smiling babies' eyes and raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, folks. (unless and until I want to gouge my eyes out and slice my skin off if I don't say something nasty)

Negativity aside, the company had a slice of doing up the Malaysian Idol roadshow event thingy during the weekend. Like most events, this one had its own hiccups and screw-ups and we had to work into the wee hours of the morning.

But the hard work was worth it when we saw the finished product. Nice, innit? Untouched and unraped by droves of crowd, fresh and spanking clean first thing in the morning.

And then the crowd came. And the rest is history.

sucky pay

I've discovered that I often visit the state of depression, and I know my way around pretty well.

My pay sucks. On the company salary pyramid, I'm just a rung above the despatch boy and accounts clerk. I'm working two positions but nobody's supposed to know about that. I only got my copywriter namecards (which I cannot distribute to clients) after 6 months of incessant bugging the management. I dread calling up friends for contacts and business development because their staple question would be "I thought you are writing advertisements?" and I could only grin sheepishly and quickly change the subject.

Boss said my days of beating my chest in pride and announcing to the world that I'm a copywriter is still in the bleak future. Reason being we're not busy enough and my workload is not heavy enough, and I can usually go home at 7pm.

I'm due for increment soon (I think). I wonder if I can get the same pay as the previous Art Director who also had one year of experience. The same Art Director who wanted to bill the company for every piece of design work she had to do, because Art Directors don't dirty their hands in designing. I'm much nicer. I do translations for the company free of charge. Just because I don't want the company to incur extra costs. And I'm a super genius with immaculate proficiency in 3 languages. I'm slightly comforted by the sole acknowledgement given by my new and soon-to-be ex-colleague. I'm almost sad she's terminated after 2 days of work.

I guess it's true what they say. It's not how good your work is, it's how well you explain it.

baby louis

My best friend aka blood sister from the 13-14 years old era is a mum now. Baby Louis is terribly adorable. So much so that I want to be impregnated too. Preferably by CSI Greg Sanders. But then Baby won't have cute Chinese eyes ya. They'll be azure (ya ya, blue is blue and not azure or cobalt or cerulean but it's MY baby and I can call the eye-colour anything I want so shuddup). Wait, darker shades is the dominant gene, so Baby might have hazel eyes after all. Uhh, wait... maybe not.

Damn you, Form Five Biology lessons. If you decide to elude my brains then pack your fatass and GO. Don't come back and haunt me in bits and pieces. I'll think that I know and then I don't and then I do and then... and my brains will combust then implode violently.

sugar

I'm on a chocolate binge! This crap happens every time I swear to lose some weight. This time I want to lose weight to prowl the Bali beaches in a three-piece. Wham. Right after I steeled up the willpower to do so, my body screamed for chocolate. And since my willpower was steeled, I steel-ily drove straight to 7-11 and got me chocolate ice-cream and 2 bars of sin for good measure.

I think the root of all chocolatey evil in me starts from this bag of sugar from the client! I don't even LIKE chocolate! Ask KC! What's happening to me? WHAT?

I think the only three-piece I'll be wearing in Bali is gonna be my tee-jeans-sunhat ensemble.

melissa

Had a meeting with a client I've spoken and emailed to hundreds of times but never met. She is so pretty! Not hot-sexy-come-and-get-me pretty but petite-porcelain-skin-perfect-teeth pretty. As an A&P manager she knows jackshit about marketing or advertising or promotion, and the questions she asked had me grinding my teeth in a disguised smile and digging my fingernails into my palms to keep myself from strangling her pristine neck... but she's so pretty! I don't care if she's spent the past 5 years on top of a Swiss mountain soaking in the mud and drinking waterfall water... she's so pretty!

Ya. Those who insist that inner beauty rules are probably unpretty themselves. Try flying first class with Wookies as stewardesses and tell me the ticket is worth the cent. Good-looking people always have, and always will, have an advantage over others. Sad (for so-average-that-shop-signboard-fall-down-also-can-hit-three folks such as meself), but such is the fact of life. And life's a cruel bitch sometimes.

coincidence?

I don't know if there is such thing as a coincidence. Or is everything preplanned by the mysterious higher powers? Today I was forced to ponder upon this deep thought. Already running late for band practice, I was surprised (pleasantly... but with a sour aftertaste) when the traffic light turned green the moment my car approached it. Nevermind, such occurence wasn't that rare. Then I came to another traffic light, and voila, as if by magic, it turned green also. Oooooh, nice coincidence, I thought. Then it happened again.

I looked at the clock: 8.50pm. I will try these 3 traffic lights again tomorrow. But at that split second, I didn't know to consider myself lucky that such wonderful coincidence happened to me at such an opportune time, or was it an act of God, sensing that I was late for practice and having mercy on me (after such a ratty week)?

Should I take everything that happened, or will happen, as a premeditated chain of events preplanned for me, in response to whatever decisions I make along my life? I cut my thumb the other day. What did that stem from? And and, my Superman accident on the road... why then? Why me? I think I'll drive myself bonkers reflecting further on such deep stuff. Should I even be doing this? If not then how?

Waah, tonight I damn lucky-hor...
This is so much easier on the brains.

starlight cinema

Went to Starlight Cinema with KC. Ended up doing something hot and sticky that had our backs almost breaking and my panties very wet.

You try sitting for 3 hours straight without anything to recline and tell me your back wants to break or not. And the grass is so wet moisture seeped right through the mat into my jeans into my panties. And the Buffalo Wings we ordered from the on-site TGI Friday outlet sucked harder than a vacuum cleaner.

Revenge of the Sith sucks. This is my reaction to Anakin huffing and puffing above the pristine Natalie Portman (although what she did in this show cannot be called acting - wait, it can - she was a frigid wax figure) and impregnating her with his lethal sperm. My best moment of the show was Anakin being burnt alive by molten lava. I could almost smell the crispiness of his legs. Yummm. But I don't understand why didn't he die earlier skateboarding over the lava. According to National Geographic, his skin should be steamed right off the meat and flapping in the wind from the heat. Obi Wan too. O Be One Two. Wahahahahaha *slap thigh* I'm so funny.

grrrrrrr

Sometimes I just bring shit upon myself. Why the hell did I bum a ride from Boss to work today, of all days? What kind of fucking interview lasts until 11.30pm? What the fuck am I still doing in the office, eyes too tired, shoulders aching too much, to be doing anything productive at all, besides rambling and complaining and exceeding my ciggie quota for the day? Why do I have to be relocated to another company fuckyears away from home?

Why the fuck does fucking crap happen to me?
Fuck you all to hell.
You muhfuhs leave me alone.
Fuck.
I hate everybody this very moment.

Yoke

Last night I met a girl named Yoke,
She talked so fast my brain almost had a stroke.
How we hooked up is a total joke,
If you want to hear everything go buy me a coke.

Since I'm writing here's the synopsis:
We were born of the coupling of Digi and Maxis.
I laughed at her sms-es so much I almost pissed.
Our wit and humour definitely belong in the same axis.

Yoke came to my office for an interview.
I emailed her our location map because she's new.
She thanked me and I sms-ed her back, out of the blue.
(I seldom sms people first, mind you)
Alas, she proved to be more than I can chew.

How can I chew when I'm laughing so hard?
I can barely keep the bursts of guffaws apart.
Yoke is as tall as the coconut tree in my backyard.
And unlike me, she's not a tub of lard.

Everybody go visit Yoke's blog,
It's got something to do with a dancing frog.
Her amusing entries got me following them like a dog,
Yoke oh Yoke you rock my socks!

(Daaaaaamn I'm lame...)

first time?

Fuck oh fuck oh fuck. For the first time ever in my blogging lifetime, I'm meeting another blogger (not counting church members or family members of church members or friends of family members of church members... etc). I'm meeting a stranger blogger! I'm not much of a supporter for bloggers meet-up and other curricular activities organised by the better, more gung-ho clique, but... I can't avoid this! And all this happened in such short notice that I'm still clad in an over-priced British India frock (I'm still in the office after all) that makes me look like a bitch pregnant with 8 pups. And I have a paper-clip-makeshift-into-hairclip tangled up somewhere in the tassels on my head. And she's gonna be here any minute. And I'm excited and in suspense and a bit embarassed and... Gaaaaaaah.

My first time. Anytime soon. Anytime.

near accident

As I was speeding off for the jam session 4 hours ago, I met with an accident. Actually I was met with the debris of an accident, but if I said that it'd kill the intensity now, wouldn't it.

There was no warning. No earth-shattering crash. No dramatic metallic crunch or screech of tyres. I just saw a motorcylist doing a Superman from the right lane towards the left. And he rolled. And rolled. And there were a lot of loose scraps of metal and plastic and (bones) and tins (what the heck was the motorcylist doing with so many tins? siphoned illegal gasoline? biscuits for the family?)... and my first thought was "oooh who's the idiot littering on a busy road". Yeah. Idiotically funny, but that really was my first thought.

Then everything happened in slow-mo. The car to my right was brought to a halt. The car behind crashed into it. I crashed into debris. The motorcylist was still rolling and screaming on my left. Thank goodness there wasn't any vehicle in the left lane. I heard a sickening crunch as something went under the front. I was relieved (slightly) that it wasn't a meaty crunch, but a metallic one. The rolling guy was half-crawling (scrambling, more like it), half-sitting on the shoulder of the road, still screaming. Sounded more like rage than pain.

I realised my car was stopped dead-centre diagonally across a busy road. A van screeched to a stop beside me and the driver glared. Then, upon satisfying himself that I wasn't the one responsible in mowing down his "clan member", he came out of the van to check on the motorcylist. Traffic resumed as normal. My forehead started to throb violently. Then I remembered mashing my face into the steering wheel when I had to perform a sudden stop with the car at 100km/h. I could still smell burning rubber. The throbbing was evil. And people were already blaring at me to get moving. Fucking inconsiderate shitheads. I took a last glance at the motorcylist (who was very much alive and animated), at the debris on the road and some splatters of blood, at the cars on my right (hey, didn't the first car just mowed the motorcylist down? or did he fell down himself? or did he hit the divider? I guess that would remain a mystery forever more) hauling ass... then I left. My hands were shaking. Or maybe that was my shook-up brains misleading me.

I only got down to inspect the car upon reaching a more secluded area. Everything looked alright, except for the registration plate with half of it missing. I touched it gingerly, and the rest fell to the floor in a clutter. Dang. Oh well. At least I didn't have someone's head landing on my windshield. Now that would be traumatic. For the head. Hmmm. Should I start worrying about my own head?

Winner

Ain't Winner a darling? Winner is my client's dog. Now I know why the client wanted to meet up at her home and not her office. If I have a dog like Winner I wanna be a full-time mummy. I'm practically gushing with motherliness whenever I lay eyes on Winner's picture. That was the first time a dog hugged me like a baby. I've carried cats and puppies around but this dog can HUG.

Ooooh navdsjhnediufnmsa;kcaujhdgblvndsa;eklfn... *gush*

all for nothing

I give up. Getting the gift for a loved one is tougher than digging a tunnel from my front yard to Taiwan using a blunt spoon. See, KC and I had this ongoing month-long little tiff that blown up into a full-fledged loud exchange of hurtful words that had us both in tears and very, very exhausted. So, to make up, I was planning to buy KC this shirt that it liked very much. For our half-year anniversary this weekend.

And it turned out that all the Topshop outlets in the whole city ran out of stock for that particular shirt. I went to 3 different outlets to verify personally, and I called the other 2. I endured cold treatment and suspicion from KC for acting fishy. I lied about my sudden urge to visit ALL the major shopping complexes in the city and my insisting that it stay in the car while I run down for a little while, thus increasing my level of stinkiness. I feel like shit this moment. I really wanted to surprise it. I'm really looking forward to see the reaction on its face when it gets its dream shirt for free.

Now I have 2 days left. With no shirts. And no idea on what else KC needs.
I
am
so
exasperated...

diseased

First when there's nothing
but a slow glowing dream
that your fear seems to hide
deep inside your mind

Now you are this evil thing
making me so sick I wanna scream
on this diseased rollercoaster ride
you really have me in a bind

This is really such a diseased year for me. Not auspicious at all. For a few days I was Loo Queen, sitting on the throne the entire day with thorough colon cleansing. Then I had a 102 degree fever with swollen gums and achy bones. I had to squint whenever I open my eyes for fear of my eyes popping out.

I'm supposed to go for a blood test today. Doc suspected I might have dengue fever. But I told him I haven't been bitten. Doc said I don't have to understand so much, just do as he says. I asked a million more questions and he gave the exact same answer. I felt like kicking his... shins. I thought as a paying customer, I should be given SOME information about my own body and how the general health works. Anyway, Doc cancelled the blood test after seeing me just now. He said my fever has not worsened and I'm not having chest pain, hence it couldn't be dengue fever. But he insisted that I stay home and rest or I'll be feeling ill for another week.

Little did he know that, home or office, I still have to work...

dark side

It's the time of the month. This round is bad. Serious bad. Traipsing on the fine line separating dot-on-my-pain-threshold and someone-carve-my-womb-out bad. I'm oozing black blood. Damn. Them aliens musta brainwashed me to the Dark Side without me knowing. I'd better get started on collecting autographs while I'm still here.

he

He has so many secrets, so many charms, so many undiscovered territories no matter how careful I am each time to go into details. Every time we are together, it is better than before. I love the way he smell, the way I hold him, my hands caressing his spine. His skin is smoother than the finest silk. I am richly inspired and my imaginations run wild just by looking at him.

Oh... The Copy Book...

stop

Please, nobody ask me about my birthday and how it went. This questions sends me into bouts of depression and I'm already at my 23985th bucket of tears. Oh well, at least the agony and hurt from last year's birthday breakup paled in comparison and has faded from memory somewhat.

So, for the first and last time... my 26th birthday is totally screwed up. FUBAR. End of story.

But I would still accept belated presents. The stats cannot stop at 2! Nooooo!

birthday?

It's my birthday tomorrow. And it's going to be one of the suckiest, ranking slightly behind the birthday when Jien asked to part ways as friends. I'm not at good terms with Boyfriend, him complaining for the 13846th time about my clothing, and me defiantly defending comfort should come before ego, that comfort accelerates my productivity at work, and revel in my sloppiness.

My birthday is destined to suck harder because I have to come out with 12 different copies for a product that boasts a hell load of crap more benefits than it actually has. I swear I'm going to be a helluva fairytale writer in no time.

I'm still coughing up a storm. I miss my angelic, melodious voice. The doctor says it's not Ebola (twice), but judging by the amount of goo coming out of my holes I want a second opinion. If I don't blog for a week after this, just go ahead and assume that the Ebola got me.

Update after 4 hours...

Gosh I can't believe the boredom that's spiritually attacking me right now. My mind is supposed to be either crammed full of ideas or little sparks of them for my 12 copies. That or planning how to celebrate my turning 26 with a bang. But my mind is... blank. Numb. Unfeeling. Is this how getting older feels? But I love birthdays! I love receiving gifts and unwrapping them and keeping the wrappers for my Christmas present-wrapping. Seems like getting older means decreased enjoyment in receiving and unwrapping presents. I didn't even get an e-mail or text message or card. I'm unpopular. Fuck. But I received 2 presents so far from college mates. A Mango Body Butter for Very Dry Skin from The Body Shop. Makes me feel like a fucking reptile. Ogres are mammals. Frisky mammals, albeit the size and stature. Another present is a silver, aluminium-like picture frame. Awwwww, how quaint. *smack it off the table*

But I love presents. The right ones.

Dating Quiz

Your dating personality profile: Stylish - You do not lack for fashion sense. Style matters. A staunch believer in individuality, you stand out from the crowd with your mum's clothes and brother's shoes. You wouldn't want to be seen with someone who doesn't care about his appearance. Athletic - Physical fitness is one of your priorities. You find the time to work athletic pursuits into your schedule, like breathing. Or occasionally turning your body during sleep. Or eating extremely chunky chewy slabs of steak to exercise your jaws. You enjoy being active. In bed preferably. Funny - You laugh often. At people. People never accuse you of lacking a sense of humor. Just mercy. You don't take yourself too seriously. And neither does anyone else, most of the time. Especially your Boss.

Your date match profile: Stylish - You cannot put up with someone who is lacking in style. You want an original, someone with flare, someone with good taste. Someone who thinks a beached whale is the sexiest momma in the history of mankind. Funny - You consider a good sense of humor a major necessity in a date. If his jokes make you laugh, he has won your heart. If he doesn't mind others laughing at him, he has won the left side of the bed. Fragrant - Forget aphrodisiacal manly aroma and bushy afro body hair, you need a sweet-smelling match. Receiving perfumes of all brands interest you, and a scented man will offer the vanity and moolah you need.

Your Top Ten Traits 1. Stylish 2. Athletic 3. Funny 4. Big-breasted 5. Freaky 6. Liberal 7. Intellectual 8. Religious 9. Hungry like the wolf 10. Mammal

Your Top Ten Match Traits 1. Stylish 2. Funny 3. Fragrant 4. Into bondage and biting 5. Moisturising 6. Filthily rich 7. Wears glasses 8. Cooks 9. Yummylicious 10. Obedient

Take the Online Dating Personality Quiz at Dating Diversions

chilli cream

I don't know if it's a PMS-related erratic whim or pure, unadulterated idiotism, but I've signed up for a slimming programme using chilli. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I'm afraid this is the last resort for me to transform into Dainty Dolphin from Beached Whale before the next seismic disaster hit. Actually this stems from KC's incessant nagging for me to be reedy enough for him to carry around, and as much as I get tremendously pissed from this obvious need for superficial perfection in one's significant other half found mainly in the male genes, I thought to myself "heck, end times are near and I simply HAVE to strut around looking babelicious in ultra-revealing slutty clothes before being swallowed by a giant wave or a giant mutated earthworm".

So I rubbed some chilli cream on the huge tub of lard that I used to recognise as a stomache this morning (preview of what to expect during my slimming sessions), and boy oh boy did it hurt. It fucking burned like Gollum's fairy leash. I was writhing and wailing in agony like a leech on a salt mountain, tempted to break the bathroom mirror and hack my skin off. I now fully comprehend the phrase "no pain, no gain". And this chilli cream thing had better work. Or else I swear I'll *censored for extreme gore and obscenity*

I will apply chilli cream again tomorrow. I must get use to it somehow. It's only fair to the beautician that her other customers and civilians within the mile's radius don't flee in terror when I go in for my session.

Anyone who has a better recommendation speak now or forever be silent, unless and until I come back as an obese vengeful apparition denied of a chance to wriggle into a bikini and walking the walk before Christ's second coming.

ikea

I... see... old... people.

Went to Ikea today for the last few batches (hopefully) of accessorizing my new house and room. As usual, the weekend crowd was stifling, but the exceptional phenomenon today was the demographics. I see old people everywhere. It's not a sudden hostile invasion by Planet Septuagenaria. These folks have been around and about all the time I'm sure, but habitually I just see them and smile to the occasional genial, non-frowning ones, and go on my merry way. I see but I don't see. And today I saw. And start to think what it is going to be like for my parents to grow... old. I saw this old lady staring into space, mechanically rocking a toddler in a shopping cart back and forth, back and forth... and I imagined Mum like this. I saw this old man hungrily wolfing down pastry, crumbs dropping all over the place, oblivious to passer-bys... and I imagined Dad like that. Sure, my parents are no longer young and energetic, being more than half a decade old. But still it pains me to imagine them with wispy white hair and hunched and wobbly one day in the future.

When we're young we think our parents are invincible. As we grow older we see their mistakes and realize that they too, are human. And we can't wait to leave home, away from the incessant nagging, away from stringent house rules. Then when we're finally out in the world by our own... there'll be moments when we miss them terribly and just want to cuddle with them in bed on stormy nights, cry on their shoulders when things don't go our way, have a simple home-cooked meal and talk about the day's happening...

I miss my parents. This very moment. So much. I'm overwhelmed with love for my parents, and I don't understand why every time when I go home for a short stay we'll end up quarrelling. Mum's nagging becomes increasingly irritating. Dad's reminiscing his glory days becomes boring and pretentious. However much I love my parents I don't know how to love them in the way they understand and appreciate. I want to spend all my holidays with them at home but there are so many more other "youthful" and enjoyable things to do, and when I do stay home for a long visit we'll end up fighting. I want to bring my parents away on a holiday, a family trip (our last was when I was 11) but I cannot afford a good destination, and the family members all have different days off. Frustration leads to ignorance, and time washes all feelings and dreams away.

Right this moment, I just want to record down the immense love I have for my parents. Whatever mistakes we all made, whatever bad things we thought and said about each other. I know that if I just let this thought - this love - pass from my mind, I'll grow numb again tomorrow and our busy lives will just continue as it is. With Mum calling me once a week to catch up, and Dad writing the occasional email reprimanding Brother and I for not keeping in touch or going home for a visit.

How do I love? How should I love my parents?

Today, I received my first bouquet of ad hoc flowers. Ad hoc because it's not my graduation convocation or birthday. The flowers are for my moving into this new home. The pink daisies are gorgeous and smell delicious. But since it's my first ever bouquet from a boyfriend for no reason at all, I screwed up my execution of "gesture of appreciation". And pissed off the giver big time. Sigh. Etiquette etiquette. I usually warn admirers (yes, I do have one or two sometimes) to not buy me bouquets, not because I hate flowers... no. I think bouquets are overpriced. And I'm allergic to certain super-pollen genres. I like flowers best when they're still breathing in the ground. Or sometimes when I walk around the marketplace, a certain few will beckon secretly to me with a promise to brighten up my space. I don't feel that connection with a bouquet. Somehow it feels plastic and overdressed - and overpriced. Call me realistic. Call me unromantic.

Yep, I must be a cactus or aloe vera person. And I need one for my toilet.

new den

This weekend, I'll be shifting out of the dump I've been living in for the past 8 years. It stopped qualifying as a house around the 5th year when the upstairs water-tank leaked and neither our upstairs neighbour nor my houseowner wanted to pay for repair, shoving blame at each other until the whole place stank like a pig-pen and was covered in moss. For months I lived in fear of the ceiling collapsing on me in my sleep (I had a lot of unconfessed sins and hence wasn't ready to meet my Creator just yet... and come to think of it... not now either) and had fretful nights of sleep dreaming about evil mushrooms growing on the walls and ceiling and releasing evil spores into the air which would then travel down my respiratory system... *shudder* (shuddup, smoking is nowhere as scary, mmkay?)

Anyways, plenty of cleaning and packing to do, and of course not forgetting the best part - buying new stuff! I've basically piled all the clothes I want to bring along into one of the Dell CPU boxes I bought from the garbage lady for 50 cents a piece. The exciting journey of trashing unnecessary knick knacks and discovering long-amissed documents/pictures/junk in the weirdest nooks and corners will officially start today. It's gonna be tough, since I'm not really a throw-away-old-stuff person. (whaaaat... I'm nostalgic, mmkay?) I can just imagine someone rubbing his hands in glee at the prospect of throwing away stuff on my behalf, though. Sigh, sad parting... oh junk.

Am going to compare prices later at a coupla hypermarts. I don't reckon I have enough moolah to Ikea-nize my place just yet. But that won't diminish my determination to turn my room (alas, I can't afford the whole house either) into a college student's wet dream. I want it to represent every country's typical decor. I want it to be culturally eccentric in its mish mash of worldstuffs. Translated: Anything cheap goes!!!

I think KC will kill me.

tumbleweed

It's funny how life works, sometimes. The pain that you thought you couldn't recover from losing an important something or someone fading into numbness and then one day you realised you've totally forgotten about it. The things you hold on to for dear life, afraid of not being a complete being if you lose them... you lose them. And when the tears dry up, when you finally accept the harsh reality of the cruel fact, the very thing you lost once again appear out of nowhere, by chance, by fate... like a klump of hairball you find under your bed meandering towards you, gently aided by the wind...

Some might say it's God's little early Easter present. He tests you, to see if you are willing to let go of worldly possessions, even when you like them very much, even if you think you cannot live without them... with goodies in store for good boys and girls that are obedient enough to screw their eyes shut and suck in the mucus. Or, some might say it's the work of the Devil. The flaming asswipe invades forlorn and sad minds to conjure up remedies that are soothing and calming in the short run and damaging to health and relationship with the Big Boss above in the long run.

So what's my deal? Which promo pack am I getting? I don't know, I'm busy smiling.

"But I will go down with this ship
I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love, and always will be"

bliss!

I am outlandishly magnificent. I am exquisitely intelligent. All you inferior earthlings, cower in terror! Bow in awe!

Wow. That was extremely therapeutic. And, contrary to my feng-shui premonition and tarot prediction last night, today went SPLENDIFEROUSLY great. Yeah, like, totally.

Come on come on ask me why FASTER ask me why ask me ask me ask me I need to get it out please ask me why ask me...

I was appointed the acting Art Director today. Whoa yeah. As I'm typing this I feel chilling goosebumps riding up my spine, I kid you not. Like, last night I was just exploring the possibility of being an Art Director someday, right. Sometimes I have this creepy mental image of Boss reading my blog in the dark, rubbing palms and chuckling in evil glee. Nowadays whenever I blog in the office I commando-crawl and slither around securing the perimeter first. ANYWAYS... I came up with 4 concepts, direction and copy for the day. And the feeling of looking at my brainchildren being transformed from scribbles and drawings of stick figures on scrap papers into multi-coloured things that seem ALIVE... Well... Like children, you can't understand until you've had one.

I have this overwhelming urge to start whistling. But I'm having these dry fits of coughing that make my lungs and tummy and head hurt. Not mentioning the dry heaves. I'm wishing for phlegm to come at this point of time. Then I'll have a proper, deep, glamorous cough.

rawr...

Another weekend has come and gone and I'm sitting in the office past midnight trying to do the math to justify where the heck did my weekend go. It was a blur of work, dinner with friends, some shut-eye, and more work. Things are really picking up at the office now, which is actually good because it forces my frazzled brains to the grindstone. And Boss has been approving the stuff I write without amending a sentence, which is great (from both professional and emotional viewpoints). Either I'm beginning to churn out stuff more interesting than lukewarm gnat's pee, or Boss has grown too sickened to even try to pound the right concept into my creative juicer machine upstairs. Either way, I feel like an award-winner. Woo! And I did help a little in the major pitch that the company won.

I'm in such a peppy mood. An encouraging "I like this line" or "Good job" can do such wonders to a broken and battle-bruised ego and morale. Really. I'm so inspired to go further at work. Even if it means cancelled appointments with favourite friends, or murdering the weekend doing research and conceptualizing, or catching precious naps in church mid-sermon, or not blogging for almost a week. Yep, tomorrow can be a bitch (very very likely, as I dread writing crap for banks), but today is dandy. Let me just hold on to the dandiness a while longer. And dream about being a super-successful and sought-after Art Director someday. Then I'll work from home writing only things I like. I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, comrade. It's so good to feel ambitious about something again. Woo!

There's a humongous load of laundry to be done at home. I should probably get to it, before the aura of warm ambition wears off and I run out of clean underwear. Hmmph.