Lush rush

I had a Lush rush two months ago. You'll always know when a Lush store is near, their smell automatically make their presence known. Usually that gets me really excited, except when my nose is being difficult and sensitive, then I'd be sneezing non-stop and cursing. Anyway, I like their concept, and once in a while I'd give myself a little treat and choose something.

Back in London I was crazy about their lemon nail and cuticle cream, but after a while found it a bit too tedious to apply cream to my fingers and toes every night. And it got into the way of my enjoying biting my fingernails. The cream smells very good but doesn't taste great.

My latest happy discovery is Baby Face. It is perfect as a makeup remover. All I need to do is to rub the soap till it melts (as the weather gets colder here it gets harder to melt), then transfer some to my eyelids (my only makeup area), rub gently and then wipe off with moist cotton pads. It smells heavenly and doesn't irritate my eyes! I lopped off a chunk into a tiny container to bring along whenever I travel. Light and easy, no more juggling your liquids around trying to fit within the on-board quota! My bottle of L'oreal makeup remover leaked and I hated that. No more leakage problems now. I guess the drawback is you probably need to spend more time melting the soap with your body heat before you can de-makeup. I read some customer reviews that the soap can also be used as a facial cleanser but I haven't got the patience to melt enough in my palms to smother all over my face.

YC sent me Mr Butterball, a fizzing bath salt for Christmas. He made me feel damn good. The vanilla musk lingered for hours and my skin had this protective oily (not greasy, mind you) layer after soaking that felt so nutritious, I didn't need to lotion up even with the superdrying central heating on (it's winter!).

I wasn't so happy with their solid shampoo though. You can find out why here.

retail therapy

This morning I woke up to a massive attack (only my wife Andrea would get this I suppose - since it's her favourite music) of headache again. Could be from all the merciless cold wind at Hyde Park yesterday. Or the bucket of KFC we shared at night before crashing into fitful slumber and waking up half dying from our parched throats. Their tagline here should be "it's drowsy, thirsty and finger lickin' good!" although I'll lick two fingers less because they serve baked beans here as a side rather than mashed potatoes. How can!

Anyway in my throes of headachey anguish, I lost my senses and went out to do grocery only to come home with...

BUT thank goodness I haven't lost my good senses enough to lighten my wallet with heels or stilettos or wedges that I'd probably wear once and then rear spiders at a corner of the hallway.

The pair of black trainers is so comfy I wanna rub the softness all over my face and purr. Mr Aldo I love you!

And this is my first ever pair of flats so shuddup I don't wanna hear about how bling it is and how am I going to wear it out and what with... because I also dunno.

shopping

The sun came out to play during the weekend. Sitting in the car, stuck in a traffic jam going to the mall, looking up at fat clouds lazily strolling across blue skies, Muse on the player, air-cond blowing into my face... it felt just like home!

Anyway, the Ogress went to the mall for some shopping. Yes you read it right. The words "Jess" and "shopping" co-existed harmoniously in the same sentence. But I shouldn't do it too often. One can go out of her mind during Summer Sale. Everything is so cheap, dammit! (I've tuned my brains to not convert every single item into RM. Must. Think. Dollar. To. Dollar. Pound. To. Pound.)

On second thought: Aragon, you best not come London-lah. I retract my invitation to keep your sanity in good health.

Thank goodness I had only 10pounds in my wallet. Never in my previous KL life could I imagine paying RM7 for a pair of La Senza knickers. They're like the Tag Heuer of undies, non? It took all the willpower I had to not saunter over to the bra section and its evil, flashing 70% OFF EVERYTHING! sign. I want to upgrade from Triumph and Wacoal, dammit!

And what is the Jess without her happy-panties? Now I don't have to beg and grovel to friends to buy happy-panties from Target and mail them to me anymore. Finally. I have enough panties in my collection to not do laundry for one and a half week! Yay!

It's been very, very long since I'm a size-S, too. I love the UK!

meaning of gifts

When a man buys you a French press (fine, it's called cafetière here) when you moan about not being able to have good coffee like back home (Boo I miss our coffee-lah!), it could mean a lot of things. Maybe he likes your company, and by getting a French press you could have more coffee chatting sessions. Or, he's just getting it for you because he happened to see one when he's out buying stuff, and he's not calculative enough (or too shy) to ask for money back.

When a man hears about how your aunt in New York says Krispy Kremes are good and a must-try in London, and he surprises you with not one, but a dozen of different flavours, I think he must like you a little bit to remember details like this, and actually make the effort to spring a pleasant surprise at you. Ok fine, 3 donuts were eaten prior to taking of picture. Cannot abstain.

But when a man dashes out to get you a plunger for your clogged-up shower 10 minutes before the shops close just so you can shower without fear of flooding the house...

I wanted to say "I can feel the luuuuurve" but it's a rather sensitive word this side of the universe, so I shall play safe and say "he must really like you a lot".