taro

Nothing beats seeing your blood and sweat put up in real life! I didn't go for the full-day event this year though. Not even involved in the setting-up and last-minute checking. Didn't think it was necessary. I mean, I'm just the creative brain behind the thing, right? Once the finished artworks go out I can wash my hands and relax.

Then Wombat arranged to have dinner there. I strolled over casually to have a look while waiting for the rest to arrive... and was overcome by pride/excitement/regret/nostalgia.

This time last year, I was working alongside someone until 3 a.m. to get the buntings up perfectly. This time last year, I had the time to actually stand and observe the event for hours, smiling at how everything turned out and snapping pictures like nobody's business. Suddenly... I miss someone so bad.

And what better way to overcome grief and sorrow but good food? I don't care if it's overpriced waaaay overboard. I don't care if the waiter can't understand simple English. I don't care if the air-conditioning is dripping water. The pancakes at Paddington's are yummy!

And the bestest thing for dessert? Something sweet... something nice... something quirky and uncommon...




I wonder what Taro tastes like...

plastered

I totally mean it when I say it's about time I torture and pound my liver into smithereens with alcohol. There's no fun being the one holding a Coke when everyone else is having liquor. There's no fun waking up with rashes all over my limbs after only one shot. I don't handle rejection well, and by damn I wanna handle my liquor better.

So I proceeded to get myself plastered at Poppy Garden. 6 girls and 2 bottles of Chivas. I only managed to down a glass before starting to feel really really warm. And stupid.

But I was beaten by Wombat who guzzled the fire-liquid straight from the bottle. Crazy woman! But it was pleasantly rewarding to see those pristinely dressed and made up hotties cringe and do a little dry heave in the ladies when she hurled into the basin in plain sight.

Can't wait till Mambo Jambo night. And I want some Taro.

hey deze

Hey Deze.

Feels just like it. This has gotta be the hottest spell ever this whole year. My colleagues have been moaning and whining earlier this week, but I shrugged off the complaints about the unbearable heat because (1) the office is air-conditioned and (2) my room at home is air-conditioned. When the insurance agent I met up with over lunch told me she has to ditch the bed and sleep on the floor nowadays, I politely laughed and tsk-tsked obligatorily while mentally chastising her intolerance and spoiltness.

Then I was in the loo for about 5 minutes.

And I sweated more than I did this morning on the gym's cross-trainer.

DAMMIT IT'S HOT!

club med day one

Feeling very holiday-ey after checking out Air Asia's Merdeka Specials. Flights to Phuket is so cheap! But nobody wants to go with me! Not even my mum ("haaar, whole day just sit at the beach, nothing to see ar?"), not even Eryn ("haaar, you sure that time weather is good ar?")... and Bear-Bear just got back from Phuket so no point asking.

I WANT A BEACHY HOLIDAY!

Since cannot go forward, I go backwards. Introducing pictures of victim #8763 from extreme procrastination: Club Med Bintan! Yaya I know it was 2 months ago. But it still brings a swooning sigh from me everytime I look at the greens and blues.

DAY ONE

I'd be lying if I say the gloomy weather didn't affect my mood. Holidaying at the beach means red and hot-to-the-touch skin, sand between toes and ass-cheeks, and plentiful sun! Sun so hot you can hear droplets of seawater sizzling on your skin. Sun so glaring that the sea becomes one huge reflective blue-green foil.

Walking towards the ferry at Singapore's jetty, I miss my sun.

The clouds parted slightly when we reached the Bintan jetty, but it was still drizzling. I haven't done any research about Bintan, and I certainly didn't expect the jetty to be superb, but it was nice. Better than the Pangkor Island ones. But now that Bintan has many other golf resorts, maybe it's wise for the immigration department to have more than ONE counter?

The room is to die for. HUGE king-size bed with a day bed by the window! The bellboy said to not leave windows unlocked or monkeys will have a party. What, they know how to get the beer from the fridge and peanuts from the cabinet? The lanai overlooks a neat little cove. I must've stood (stoned) there for quite some time, because when I regained my bearings it was already dark. And that could mean only one thing.

Feeding time! I squeaked with joy at the entrance to the main dining area. I didn't know where to start picking up chow! One thing I noticed though, there're special sections for Japanese and Korean food every day. And yeah, most of the patrons were them. Food's great with an abundance of selection!

I didn't appreciate Club Med's practice of forcing their employees to dine with patrons though. The reason I say force is because it was damn obvious the 2 guys who sat with me didn't give a hoot about the conversation they're supposed to create. I got halfhearted "where're you from"s (the fact that they were attacking their food and only glanced at me in between mouthfuls made me feel quite B-class) and I gave the expected "which activity/department are you in charge of"s, cooed appropriately and then we exchanged lukewarm "see you around"s and they're off, stuffing handfuls of grapes/lychees/whatever snacks small enough to fit into their pockets.

And does anyone know what's that fruit with snakeskin-skin in the middle? The insides look like garlic. And taste weird. Nicely weird but lacking juice.

They have a few other themed restaurants like this one in the vicinity as well. But those had zero patrons. And the fresh orchid on a ribbon tied to the nicely-folded napkin whispered to me that I wasn't gonna be able to afford it.

The first night's show was a fusion of different dances. All the performers were employees in charge of day activities or some other stuff. I wonder how they manage to find time to practise. They're up when I was up, and they're still up when I've gone to bed. Hmmm. Maybe Club Med closes on a certain weekday? They do need their off-days, right?

(when I posted this picture, the first thing that came to my mind was: wow if only we get this kind of response at church)

DAY TWO and DAY THREE coming up next day. I'm mighty sleepy.

cats

Today I pet some cats in the pet shop.
Then my fingers felt itchy. Quite painful itchiness.
I must have scratched my scalp, because it's now itching like a bitch.
And my neck.

I should learn to wash my hands after I do animals.

why do you love me

I'm no barbie doll
I'm not your baby girl
I've done ugly things and I have made mistakes
And I am not as pretty as those girls in magazines
I am rotten to my core if they're to be believed
So what if I'm no baby bird hanging upon your every word?
Nothing ever smells of roses that rises out of mud

Why do you love me
Why do you love me
Why do you love me, it's driving me crazy

You're not some baby boy
Why you acting so surprised
You're sick of all the rules
Well I'm sick of all your lies
Now I've held back a wealth of shit, I think I'm gonna choke
I'm standing in the shadows with the words stuck in my throat
Does it really come as a surprise when I tell you I don't feel good?
Nothing ever came from nothing man
Oh man, ain't that the truth

Why do you love me
Why do you love me
Why do you love me, it's driving me crazy
I get back up and I do it again
I get back up and I do it again
I get back up and I do it again
I get back up and I do it, I do it again

SFX

My response to a coupla things...

ONE
Italy won against Germany! A bit hard to swallow that a bunch of old farts could beat the hottest potential World Cup 2006 champion. That aside, I'm in a conundrum about the next match! I enjoy Portugal very much (including how they're good in provoking others muahahaha that takes damn good acting skills can... and of course Ronaldo has to be so bloody good-looking) but on the other hand I don't want this to be Zidane's final game. He's got skills, experience and style. I like. France or Portugal. Portugal or France. Why can't they BOTH be in the finals. Siiiiiiiiigh.

TWO
Superman. *swoon* Yayaya I know he's got like 3 different facial expressions throughout the entire movie, he doesn't light up the screen, he seems too young and carefree, but... *swoon* I have to quote my colleague: If you didn't enjoy this movie, you're not the target audience. Only thing I'm unhappy about is the fact that he fathered a child. HOW CAN! How can any woman have Superman?

I'm watching Superman again. Tonight. Yes I'm watching it two nights in a row.

blurry

I habitually reached for my pass as I neared the auto-gate to my office parking this morning. See, I'm a systematic person. I prefer some things to be habitual. As soon as I leave my house, I'll take out the Touch & Go card and my parking card, and put them in the small groove alongside the window buttons. On the way to the office, the Touch & Go card will be nearer to me, because I reach the toll booth first. Once I pass through the toll gate, I'll slip the Touch & Go card behind the parking card so I don't have to look for the right card while driving (very dangerous!). Then on the way home from the office, I'll just reverse the arrangements of the 2 cards. (luckily I don't need more than 2 cards at any time, or else it'll be a race between my coherence and your patience reaching the eye-rolling irritation zone)

Anyway, after habitually beeping my parking card and habitually going past the boom gate and rearranging my cards in the groove at the same time, I habitually took off my sunglasses and threw them onto the passenger seat because the parking lot is, y'know, dark.

Then, suddenly, my whole world became blurry.

I forgot I didn't put on my contact lenses today. Those were my new glasses bouncing off the passenger seat onto the floor! I wailed in dismay and tried to grope around for them and control my steering wheel at the same time. Someone honked at me from behind and I had to drive up 4 winding floors to a vacant parking spot based totally on my instincts and boldness bolstered by The Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift.

At least I'm nicely bespectacled and typing this now.

gym bike

The gym bike bit me.

Sweat was extra painful today, so I examined my thigh and saw a slab of skin rolled up into a human skin Chinese spring roll. The pain intensified, I swear. All I could do to not yell in the shower was focusing on the smell of poo wafting from across the toilet cubicles.

Discovery #1
Toilets should be built further away from shower cubicles. Especially if the shower comes with hot water. The heat emanating from 10 showers combined gives the poo smell, a riper tang. I know the piping and drainage system and whatevernot makes it only rational and all, and 10 different brands of shampoo + shower gel flavours are quite effective coverups but how come I still know that someone's pooing when I shower?! No, I don't want to change to richer-smelling shampoo.

Discovery #2
Do not hit the gym bike in shorts. The seat is designed by a evil, cruel person whose intention is to make it as hard as possible (for greater impact upon contact with the ass to transform fat into slapping sound energy or bouncing kinetic energy) and as wide as possible (to avoid the seat from disappearing between asscheeks and ensure maximum friction between seat and inner thighs to transform fat into skin-peeling heat energy).

Wear long, thick pants, folks. Layer the seat of long pants with tissue, if you must.

And I shouldn't have laughed when my friend told me the other day that virgins should be prohibited from using the gym bike.

I don't know how long must I walk with kangkang legs.

beached

I can't believe how bushed (lazy) I've been with work and getting a social life back (and watching downloaded nonsense) to write something worth reading.

Woo. I have a social life! Have been making new friends at the gym, got reacquainted with some ex-colleagues and I was hit on for the first time in my life at the club last night. Alright, he was falling-down drunk and blabbering about it being his friend's birthday and all... and he was all over Eryn before sauntering over my way... but a first's a first. And by G I shall choose to erase these little unimportant details and remember the occasion fondly.

Gosh do I sound like a high-school girl or what.

I'm brimming with positiveness and bubbly excitement. Must be the alcohol (I had a sip of JD) and fitful 2-hour sleep. That or the hottie holding my hand steering me through the crowd last night (aaah the simple pleasures of life - and being at 154cm).

Eryn, eat your heart out. *insert dramatic evil laughter with echo*

fitness first?

I can't stand the personal trainer calling me day in day out to sign up for sessions with him. I can't stand myself for not being able to just say a firm "no" and stop the harassment. I always, always have a problem rejecting people. So now the beating around the bush has taken the beaten track of needing to consult my doctor, talk to my friends first... the works. What the hell was I thinking? Why do I need to cook up excuses? To not hurt his feelings? What if it just gets his hopes higher? Why do I even care? I won't be the only one saying "no" to personal training! Aiyaiyai.

I'm either a too-nice blurbat or an evil liar.
Either way, it's not good. How to change?

On a totally different note, Eryn just got back from Pulau Rawa with her housemate and some Spanish hunks. I also want!!! (a holiday with abundant sun and sea... Spaniards... optional)

prison break

I'd love to write more often, but I'm too hooked to Prison Break. And gym. The former very supermegawillingly and latter... siiiiiiiigh. What needs to be done still has to be done.

firsts

A week of firsts for me.

I saw my little brother hold hands with a girl. I felt half-weirded out, half-jealous.

I started work at the new office. Colleagues and bosses are lovely. Some little hiccups on my working tools but I'm sure they can (and will) be fixed.

I joined Fitness First. Cost me a bomb but I swore to myself I'll go everyday before (and maybe after) work. The reason of my sudden gungho-ness is below.

I almost had a heart attack (I think). Was at Kinokuniya and listening to mum explaining from a recipe book how easy healthy food can be prepared when I suddenly could hear nothing but my heart thudding against my ribs. The beats accelerated. Blood rushed to my brains and my lower body became numb. I started suffocating and swaying off my feet. I tried to call for my brother but couldn't utter a sound. 5 seconds of this and my vision started to clear. My heart was still racing. I was scared shitless! Was that a stroke? Pre-stroke? Mini cardiac arrest?

Happy birthday Nene. Not everyone can share the limelight with the devil. You have it this year so flaunt it ya! I love you.

dentist

I'm back from the dentist's for my half-yearly scaling and polishing. Sometimes half-yearly becomes yearly, or bi-yearly, but a mild toothache has been bugging me for some time now. Nothing I lost sleep over, but enough to give me the tingles when I have ice-cream, and wanna headbang my bookshelf when I accidentally bite down hard on something harder at the hardest angle.

The pain echoes. And then ebbs to a dull, thudding discomfort from the deepest part of the cavity. This is when I feel like yanking my tooth out (but don't know which one) with a pair of pliers than sit around unable to focus on anything else but the dull, small pain. Day-um.

So I had a filling. The tooth kind, not the stomache kind.

I told the dentist I didn't feel any effect a minute after the first anaesthetic shot. She said maybe I'm the slower-to-pick-up kind and waited with me for another five. I should've kept my mouth shut and just wait as long as it takes for the numbness to take place. Obviously I didn't, and told her no drill is going into my mouth until saliva runs down the left side of my face and I don't feel it.

She gave me another anaesthetic shot. 3 seconds into that and I couldn't open my left eye. My eyelid drooped all of a sudden and I was like, whoa... why's the room tilting, why can't I focus my vision... and I keeled over the dentist chair. My heart was pounding. The dentist chuckled (evil snicker, I'm sure) as her nurse observed how I'm similar to Margaret the white woman. Apparently her visual nerve is located close to her tooth nerve (whatever) like me and the anaesthetic affected both nerves. So many nerve explanations got me more nervous. I don't give a hoot who's Margaret. Will my contact lense roll up into my eye socket? Will I be able to drive home?

The dentist chuckled some more and said, relax. Then I heard the drill starting up.

going home

I'm on a one-week break before reporting at the new company. I still have no idea how the parking system works, where to get my monthly pass, when to sign up (should I even?) for the gym opposite the office, where to stay if my housemates quit the house... etc.

I don't want to think and worry about those just yet. A break's a break!

And I'm driving home tomorrow. Alone. Must remember to pack 4 hours worth of CDs. And food. After all, it's the first time I'm driving back to my parents', and I seriously have no idea about directions. Let's hope the roadsigns are clear enough. Clear as in not blocked by unkempt trees. Clear as in close proximity to one another and placed at every junction/traffic light. I don't wanna ram my car into someone's face just because that someone decides to pull something funny when I'm forced to stop and ask for directions.

Am effing tired because last night was closure night. Glad it went well, but boy am I bushed now. Brains still kicking and screaming for another round of intellectual pummelling from CSI Season 6 (I finally learned how to download stuff from the net!)... but... eyes... cannot... open...

chivas?

Oooer. I just passed up free tickets to Genting this weekend for some Chivas event. Somehow the phrase "free flow of booze whole night long amidst satin-clad hot chicks and suave hunks with half-unbuttoned shirts" doesn't really register anywhere within my comprehension range.

But I know some names who'll kick my ass (hard) for not giving them the tickets instead.

So I have my response ready already.

"My life is brilliant.
My love is pure."



Ya I think this entry is totally pointless too.

random posts

I know I still haven't put up pictures from Club Med Ria Bintan. I know I have to do it soon or the feelings and memories of the place will start slipping off like the straps of my spaghetti right now. But not now.

Now I want to plant my ass on the floor, kick my stubby legs and flail my flabby arms and whine. Because KoL is down for maintenance.

Ya I'm hopelessly addicted to Kingdom of Loathing. You Red Alert, FIFA and super graphical colourfully realistic visual gamers can laugh all you want. But I can play KoL whenever I'm stuck for ideas at work. Can you? Caaaaan you?

So I cleaned up my desktop. Been procrastinating but cannot anymore-lah, it's my last week (I think) at work. Boss hasn't said the word and he's abroad so I cannot uncross my fingers until Thursday. Found some interesting bits of pictures so I shall blog about these instead:

Couldn't resist taking a picture of this guy standing in front of me while queuing at the cashier in Isetan KLCC. I think it's his company tee. I hope the pun is intended. A company that innocently (and proudly) shouts the tagline "gentle touch, hard results" is so asking for it. I like it though. Totally bold!

I was so proud - I cooked lunch using the office microwave. The franks were black pepper flavoured. The baked beans were tomato flavoured. My ass cursed and suffered. Let's just say there was more than a load and I discovered an ass can do much more than just explode.

Oh and Sarah bought me a huge-ass box of mint chocolates from Langkawi. They were too sweet for my liking.

What. You expectin' something wittier?

jogoya

The reason for an identical facial expression in photographs 20 minutes apart is either (a) the food was so good throughout that I stoned in a dreamy, gluttony trance for 3 hours, or (b) the food sucked balls so consistently hard that I had to force myself to consistently smile the fake, enjoying-it smile.

In Jogoya's case, sadly, it was the latter.

They should place more literate, English-proficient staff before the entrance. This dude didn't even smile while shoo-ing me to queue at the registration counter (I made the grave mistake of walking straight up to the payment counter before registering but how would I know). I asked what I'm supposed to do first. He pointed again to the little queue-less counter at the side. I stood there totally lost until a Chinese guy in a better suit came and explained.

They should place more literate, English-proficient staff at the entrance. Not someone who shrieks "See receipt! Show me receipt!" while flagging customers two-steps onto the red carpet leading to the 30,000 square feet (so I was told) interior. If this is a semi-fastfood franchise, I'd understand and smile apologetically and speedily dig out the receipt from my already-cluttered handbag. But I just paid RM101.20 for dinner and my mood sank lower at the cheapness everything was oozing before I even set foot inside.

If this is your first time at Jogoya, I guarantee you'll be awestruck by the spaciousness of the set-up and the layout of the food. I got lost trying to find my way back to the table a coupla times. Ya I know I have no bloody cow sense of direction to start off with, but this place is huge.

Check out the dry ice for the smoky effect. Woo! Alas, the 2 workers featured here got into a scuffle. With real punches being thrown and shoving until another burlier worker had to stand in the middle and pry them apart. All these unfolded right in front of maybe 5 guests queuing for dimsum. Does wonder to one's appetite, this.

Bamboo clams, herbed snails, custard paos and ginseng soup. Only the custard pao tasted nice. But their raw food section was good! Oysters were the biggest I've ever sampled, and the salmon freshest. Other than that... errr...

Do not, I repeat, do not go for their king crab whatever extravaganza. There's this little special placard that says VIP members are entitled to king crab rolls, grilled king crab, curry king crab etc, and small fry customers like yours truly got all excited when I saw that I could actually order a soupy king crab do in some special fireproof, waterproof paper... and did. Oh my gee that was the foulest crab ever, royal descendent or not. Tasted like yesterday's VIP's leftovers now passed on to small fry customers to clean up.

Proceeded to sample desserts very quickly (what to do, main courses didn't excite me). The cakes and pastries were nothing to shout about, but

the lime & lemon sorbet and mango & passionfruit sorbet were heavenly with a capital H. I think they're from Movenpick. Said so on the container-lah. Yummylicious! The mushrooms were okay too (no, these are not dessert, it just arrived... very late). And the coconuts, oh the coconuts (mouth waters). I set myself a goal of emptying 20 coconuts (to make up for the RM50 I didn't/couldn't consume on food) but I could manage a meager 5 before giving up. The remorse shall follow me to my grave.

What's a Taiwanese franchise without Taiwan's very own mwah-chee? I fell in love with this sticky pepejal ever since my first Taiwan trip 4 years ago. Rock hard and whitish uncooked, jelly-ish and semi-transparent cooked, it's a larger version of our local Chinese tong-yuen (little glutinous rice balls one eats a month before Lunar New Year) without the sesame/peanut stuffing. A bit too sweet, this, but fine nevertheless.

Jasiminne the Penguin has much better pictures (and more positive comments) about Jogoya than I do. Go go.

birthday post

My sum of birthday celebrations had been wonderful this year. I had 3 cakes! A blackforest from dad, a cheesecake from Temptations (and being the good girl I am, I shared with my colleagues) and a tiny but delicious (have to say this or I'll be nagged till the cows come home) cappucino cake from Eryn.

At home
It still warms my heart listening to dad, mum and Ian singing Happy Birthday in perfect unison (although the clapping-while-singing era has passed) shyly. I love this tradition of our family. Year after year, blackforest after blackforest (dad proudly assumed it's still my favourite cake and I love him too much to tell him otherwise), shy Happy Birthday after Happy Birthday in not-too-loud voices... I don't want this to ever stop.

With the special someone or ex-someone
I've decided to just forget about the whole "is it right is it wrong" debate and just bask in the attention and loving while the moment lasts. How can you suddenly just stop loving someone anyways? Had pre-birthday dinner at Renaissance (realised I couldn't eat as much at a buffet like I used to... hurray!) and a cosy first-time jazz experience at Cotton Club. Then on my birthday we went to Rahsia (ptui!!!) which I really hated. The "renovate a rundown bungalow into a hopefully niche acquired taste expensive eatery" concept totally didn't appeal to me. Reminded me of just another Sitiawan house and it brought back the smell of this particular corridor in my kindergarten and the front yard of a neighbour's house when I accidentally kicked and broke his flower pot... *shudder* And us being the only patron wasn't exactly encouraging. To add oil to fire, I was aghast with the price of the food and beverages. I won't go there again!

With Sistahs

My favouritest, coziest, best-equipped home beside my parents'. I've always loved going to Angela's. Singapore might as well be non-existent in my vocab and geographical knowledge if it isn't for Angela's apartment. It's a real home.

Had a blast shopping, watching TV, shopping again, clubbing at MoS (this is worthy of another blog entry altogether), making vegetarian hotpot, failing a chocolate muffin session, and our MOST IMPORTANT RITUAL (must-do in every visit)...

...cooking bacon and eggs for breakfast. I love my dear, dear Sistahs!

With college mates
After a few birthdays in Chilli's, we have now officially switched to Italiannies! Although they don't have bottomless drinks (tomato is the way to go), their bottomless warm slices of bread with olive oil and vinegar can be quite addictive. I was quite disappointed that the guys couldn't make it (sigh, guys... got girlfriend already cannot expect too much outta them) but us girls had a good time anyways lamenting about how we're all 26 or 27, successful (somewhat) in career, have pleasant personalities... but are all boyfriend-less. Then we launched into a debate whether being courted by a lot of great guys or just one Mr Right is better. Typical single women's topic of the day/week/month/year/until we get hitched.

Are we all single because we're not skinny?

the wine company

My first RoM do. First afternoon wedding party. First anything associated with getting married that's not held in Dewan Orang Ramais, hotels, chinese restaurants or high school assembly halls.

The Wine Company is such a cosy, lovely place! Adore everything about it, from the dimly-lit interior to spacious patio. I was thinking, aaah, Jamie is so thoughtful to throw a little party for close friends at her solemnisation. In such a sweet little place! And nice deco! And good food with musical arrangements! See! Advertising people are delightfully different this way...

I was gushing with excitement when I proudly related (show off) this fellow advertising industry member's creativity to college mates working in Singapore.

"Aiyo, everyone in Singapore does this-lah. To them, RoM is a big event because they can finally buy a house after that. And by getting rid of close friends at this event they don't need to be invited again to the main wedding dinner thingy. And usually the dinner is maybe 2 years down the road. So any other lounge or coffee house would have party packages like the one you went to."

*poof*

rice burgers

Land of McD's rice burgers, here I come again!

That's right bitches. Tomorrow I shall be going to Singapore, where good Sistahs bake and bad Sistahs shake (you no bad, Eryn. Val bad). And I promise to happily lick the last bit of my home-baked too-sour lemon cheesecake this time, Nene. It'll be a bitchin' weekend.

I should've just shuddup yesterday. Why post about good things to come and the crap. My equally-insecure-as-the-owner handphone got upset and took "more good things to come" personally and my memory card went kaput.

Corrupted memory card.
Precious pictures, ringtones, video clips of my deceased gramma and the band...
All gone.

FUCK!

birthday

This year, my birthday is going to be special.
Because I quit my job, quit my house and quit my relationship.
Because the year ahead is filled with endless possibilities
and better things to come.

Because I have the privilege to be 27 with added vehemence and gusto.
01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06.
Only happen once in a century, baby.

Tonight
I shall wait for the 1st hour, 2nd minute and 3rd second of my birthday.
And sleep... knowing the world is green with envy at my fortune.

face off

This will be the day when it all comes apart
In another room, an important meeting is taking place
It will produce one's future and another's heart
It's a war between values, obligation and face
Priceless should be this brainchild both built
In fairness and respect should both take their fill
Why does he cheat and bully without guilt
The brainchild is going down the drain, yes it will

I hope the underdog can win
Like a feel-good movie's closing scene

aquaria klcc

Aquaria KLCC is a total rip off. My expectations were high, yes, but so was the ticket price! What's with all the empty "men at work" tanks? Sharks ate the men at work? I was also pissed because none of the fish were willing to be photographed. I smiled my sweetest superwatt-charged smile, I cooed and clucked, I waved... but them damn fishes just swam about nonchalantly and I didn't know how to set my camera and all I got from my shots were blurs of motion or hideous distorted deep sea monsters-lookalike.

This is probably the highlight of the entire two-floor Aquaria. The shark-feeding (3 times a week!) is supposed to be THE highlight, but with the measly crammed area in front of the shark tank, I gave up darting my head in between the shoulder space of people in front of me (why can't they have steps to sit on or something!) and catching whiffs of damp sweat smell and BO. *hack*

alexis

It was my first time in Alexis. I could get used to the soft jazzy music, minimalistic decor and general mood of laziness enveloping me after staring at passing traffic for 10 minutes. If the food isn't so exorbitant. But it was the first time I had jasmine tea with real honey, so... can't say it's not a good experience.

From the corner of my eye I watched a table of Mat Sallehs chatting amiably on the patio with a glass of wine each. Then their food came. The woman attempted feebly to pick up her tempura with chopsticks. She caught me looking and I smiled encouragingly before diverting my eyes (it's only polite). When I dared myself to look again, she was using her fingers. And she was staring at me.

Realisation dawned. Turnabout is fair play. I can never roll spaghetti into delicate, edible balls properly with my fork. They squirm onto the table and my clothes, they unfurl and slap me on my face, they spit on my glasses... I cannot control my Italian noodles. And I must have looked a picture of anything but elegance and poise forcing my mouth as close to the plate as possible and raking the noodles in.

Reminder to self:
No looking down at anyone's chopsticks-wielding handicap.
Fix own bumbling forking skills.

Who wants to cook spaghetti and let me practise?

band aid

I think the band's performance was accepted well on Saturday, despite very apparent instrumental fumbles and shaky vocals. Youth Believe seriously has a more supportive audience than ours. Even the 60-year-old granny came over to shake my hand and persuaded me sincerely to come back for another gig. But that's not the most bizarre event of the night. Their pastor happened to be intimately familiar with my hometown's geography. Nevermind. Then when I told him which church I attended, he recited several elders' names and talked about them like old chums. I was still struggling to accept the fact how small the world can be when he asked if I knew his good friend, a naval officer with two kids who'd migrated to Italy.

The naval officer was my next door neighbour for 10 years.

This is too freaky to be a coincident. Lately, all the events that happened to me were all too freaky to be coincidences. Gaaar, what's going on?! *yank hair*

To my own church folks and band boys, I apologise for not being there on Sunday. During my break up, certain hypocritical comments from seemingly genial church folks were brought to my attention. I think I was never supposed to know about the comments. But I do now. And I am disappointed at how things were handled. I know I am a disappointment too sometimes, and we as fallen beings are all imperfect... but I cannot help feeling angry at how the church preaches love and acceptance loudly but seldom take the effort to follow up with action.

I admit, I wasn't feeling so ill that I couldn't attend Resurrection Day service. I didn't want to be exposed to the unhealthy opportunity of being two seconds away from doing some serious atom smashing with the particles in my foot getting dangerously close to colliding with those in certain people's asses/smiling faces. My apologies to those who genuinely care. Sorry if you guys got worried. I'm fine. Really.

My mind is a mess. My life is a mess.
I'm still doing up a to-do list to fix myself.

done

It's done.
Right now I'm void of any feelings.
They'll come later.
Oh how they'll come.
I'm scared.

v for vendetta

Last night has got to be the coldest and longest night ever. Also the most effed-up since... Hmm. It's unprecedentedly effed-up. There was a lot of crying, wall-punching, stuff-packing... but we decided to give it another go. Still a lot of things I have to make up to her.

Finally! I booked my virgin online GSC tickets! Gonna catch V For Vendetta tomorrow night. I'm probably one of the last few jungle people who hasn't watched this one. *shy* There's a lot of differing comments about the show though, so vague or vogue, I shall decide. I've just realised I need to collect the tickets 45 minutes before the show. Dang. I'd have to escape from Big Boss's baleful laser-beam stare and sinister claw. Make way when you see Lisa and I doing 120 on the road!

And I cut my hair yesterday. Love it. Think I look bimboistically hunky-dory. For over 200 bucks, it'd better be. My wallet is still beating its chest and wailing in agony.

nursing home

Aren't balloons the most delightful and affordable impractical indulgence in life?

This post is supposed to be about the nursing home for elderly and disabled folks I volunteered at yesterday. But I can't help putting this nicely-angled picture of happiness as the main event picture. Am I the only one who gets tipsily high-ish around helium balloons without even inhaling the helium?

Anyways, the event was alright, even though it felt like a huge party rather than a heartfelt visit. The group I went with was better-funded than some, and we had thundering sound systems (plus a karaoke set), free t-shirts for painting, free picture frames and instant photos etc. I didn't stay for the afternoon half because I hitched my ride.

My partner Sweet-Azreen and I was focusing on this amicable (and very chatty) granny, Alice. She painted a castle/villa on her t-shirt because she really, really wants her own home rather than staying at the nursing home.

Alice then launched into a story of how she's supposed to be queen but her husband had many more wives whom he forced into prostitution so she fought with him and was sent away to this home 3 months ago. She hated this home because (1) she lost her rightful residence (2) the workers there do hit the inmates (3) some of the inmates were sent there to kill her. I don't know which parts of her story are real. But a worker did try to eavesdrop on what Alica was telling Azreen and I in hushed tones. And it could be my imagination running wild but he didn't dare meet my eyes when I stared at him as Alice pointed him out as the person her husband "sold" her to. What does "sold" mean? Is she just rambling?

What actually happens behind the scene in nursing homes, I wonder. Alice wasn't the only one complaining that the workers hit/pinch/hurt her. Are they old and lonely and tend to create stories just to get out of the nursing home, or things that shouldn't happen really happened?

joke

"I started a joke, which started the whole world crying,
but I didn't see that the joke was on me, oh no.

I started to cry, which started the whole world laughing,
oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me.

I looked at the skies, running my hands over my eyes,
and I fell out of bed, hurting my head from things that I'd said.

Til I finally died, which started the whole world living,
oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me."

It was the first time I work alongside a lesbian. She was (and still is) a good boss, a great friend and wonderful mentor. As a team, we were (and still are) efficient, aggressive and the clients loved us. I got really interested in her. I sms-ed her. And we fell in love.

I was curious, selfish and irresponsible.

She was honest, trusting and faithful. And still is.

I told her I could eschew my religion, convince my loved ones and be with her for a very long time. We planned a wedding away from disapproving eyes. We named our first son. We made a 45-year plan.

Then the guilt came. And the arguments began.

Eryn said I was just a lonely soul searching for love and companionship, be it from a man or woman. So what's wrong with that? I defiantly answered. Plenty of Christians are hypocrites, unequally yoked and some just act righteous and churchey in public. I am a sinner, yes, but who isn't?

I reasoned. I justified. I tried to be more generous, benevolent and friendly to others.

But I still felt the immense pressure and nagging guilt.

Now, I'm struggling and she's suffering. I started this and I should put an end to this. Everybody knows. But it's not easy. She's done no wrong except for loving me as fiercely and unconditionally as she could. I'm the asshole who promised her the world and all I've delivered is just hurt and lies. She is the best partner for life anyone could ask for, but she has to lose out everytime because she doesn't have a penis? This is not right! This is unfair!

But I really don't know how to make it right.

inside man

Inside Man suck balls. Simon says the art direction is good but who the heck scrutinise that during a movie? Unless it's some crappy nonsense like Kill Bill. I've never yawned so much during a movie since a very wrong choice of a Cantonese comedy a few years back (lesson - never settle for another movie when your main choice and second choice are sold out) and for two hours my heart wailed tears of sorrow because my ovum's lifespan was shortened being wasted on a lower-than-average movie.

In short, Clive Owen got his diamonds and I got wasted-two-hours hyperactive ovum.

Next time I shall be the one choosing what we watch.

rachel

It's a fine day! I'm so free sitting in the office. I even have time to go grocery shopping with my newfound colleague-friend! Remember Rachel? I blogged about deciding not to like her before I even met her. All because I chose to trust 2 of my ex-colleagues and they sold me out and I was very, very hurt. Boo hoo. My bad. But that was the past, baby. I've learned to trust again. And I bonded very well with Rachel. I don't know what will happen in the future but it's nice having a friend in the office. Damn glad we went to the 2-day seminar together.

It's a fine day. I'm so free sitting in the office. Going for a movie (after what, a few months of zero social life) later. Planning with Eryn about our NZ working holiday trip. Laughing our heads off with Geylang-Si-Paku-Geylang.

It's a fine day. I'm so free sitting in the office. And I'm ovulating.

kate bush

It had been Il Divo *swoon* since last month until last week. All because I read the latest Off the Edge on the throne, and decided to check out Kate Bush (how could her reviews be so darn good when I haven't even heard about her?)... I'm now addicted.

Val's recommended Pandora is fantabulous! And I thought the best-est online radio is iTunes. Pandora has nicer selection of songs and I like the display method and the song runs don't get interrupted (I hate abrupt intervals of lagged silence halfway into a song) even though I'm sharing the network with 8 other workstations.

And anyone who can put the entire pi value (3.14159265358979323846...) into a song (and the tune's bearable!) deserves to be heard.

holiday?

I've been standing at this crossroad so long it's a wonder no truck has run over me yet for being so indecisive and wasting everyone's time. I really don't know if I should quit my job and go for a sabbatical. Backpacking budget traveling and working holiday appeal to me maximum. They're something I wanted to do since a long time ago. Or should I just do the practical thing. Don't quit. Or quit and find work in a better company.

My brother's hotel in Sweden. He got to see snow. Touch snow. Slip in snow. Gaaaah!

YC emailed me some pictures she took in Venice. My colleagues and I both had goosebumps just pressing the scroll button. I don't even know where's Venice if a world map hit me in the face. It never occured to me Venice is... attainable. In my lifetime.

JH went to Phuket for his honeymoon. Need I say more?

I'm trying hard to convince myself that my mum is right, my relatives are right, that I should focus on my career before thinking about traveling and especially nonsensical notions like flying to New Zealand for 6 months to pack kiwis. Then I look at the places my friends have been. And realise how big the world is. And how small my career advancement issue is. I've never studied overseas. I've never been anywhere outside Asia. I've never seen snow. Dammit.

Someone please pick me up at the crossroad between Financially Secure Street and Aimless Traveling Road. I'm the one with a tattoo on my left and right ankle, pacing restlessly and biting my fingernails.

accomplishment

It's proven. I am a superbeing. In half a day, I've written and rewritten (comments by Small Boss in brackets):
2 catalogues ("I want a lifestyle one, and another edgier one")
2 invitation card/letter ("give me something the client can't say no to, and the other one you can play with your creativity and wittiness to the max")
1 press ad ("just give me something by today")
2 personal super-long emails ("HOI what do you think you're doing")
...and I thought coming up with 2 informercial scripts yesterday was bad enough.

It's a wonder how food gives me such motivation. The idea of having lunch with my favourite client (dang I hope we're going for Chilli's) tomorrow totally stirs my creative juices. Must finish everything tonight, by hook or by crook, so I can go out tomorrow. Free food! Glorious food! Angels we have heard on high...

My ability to keep writing when I don't even know what I'm writing about never cease to amaze me.

Oh bollocks. I believe my Servicing colleague is printing out a new brief for me. Now. At 8.54pm. Gaaaaah. Is it even legal to brief the creative team at this hour for something to be presented tomorrow morning?

cameron

Cameron Highland looking ethereal right before it rained on Saturday. I willed myself to imagine that I was in a Swiss mountainside ancient-castle-turned-hotel looking out while waiting for the steamboat soup to boil.

It was a short stay so there wasn't much happening. We were there for less than 24 hours. All I did was take picture after picture of people and sceneries. I'm convinced that I have a sharp eye for killer angles. Just need some practice to solve my shaky-hands problem.

My Boh Tea Plantation angle nice or not?

melaka - food

What is a Melaka trip without savouring its mouthwatering chow? I made a point to shoot my food prior to digging in, but at times it proved too trying. Asking me to look at steaming hot food but not touching is torture. Even if it's 30 seconds to snap a shot. I'm all for instant gratification.

Trying to follow the makan trail left by the people behind Foodsters Guide, my first stop was chicken rice ball in Chung Wah. I'm not proud to announce that although I've been to Melaka many times, I've never tried their chicken rice ball. The secret of the rice ball is not important to me. I don't care how they roll the rice into balls and why they don't come apart. Their. Chicken. Very. Very. VERY. Heavenly. My mouth still waters whenever I think of the tender, succulent chicken. *swoon*

Went for a stroll along Jonker Walk after lunch craving for something cold to offset the humidity - and I found this place with a decent throng of customers. 88 Jonker Dessert. Their cendol is quite different, with thick gula melaka sticking to the spoon, bowl and my teeth. Didn't quite like how the sugar sticks to the bottom of the bowl, making the final few mouthfuls too sweet for my liking.

My first time eating satay celup. Chose to patron Capitol because it's the oldest place with more variety (said a Jonker Walk shopkeeper). Coupled with the praises sung by my guidebook, what could go wrong? What could go wrong indeed. I didn't like the experience one bit. Gravy to dip my satay tasted like... nothing. Just some thick goo with no taste. I expected slightly peanut-ish flavour, but alas, even the diced cucumber tasted like classroom blackboard. The yummiest item in the shop was the Coke I ordered.

Since I had only about 6 sticks of satay celup earlier, it's time for some real food. And we headed towards Jalan Bunga Raya for the recommended-by-guidebook "oh-jien" (oyster fried egg). It was a long wait, but I was glad to have at least half an hour for my protesting stomache to calm down. This is probably the best oyster fried egg I've eaten for a looooong time. I was told that this place sells the best char-siew (roast marinated pork) in town during the day. I'm jotting this down as a must-try for my next trip, together with the Sun May Hiong pork satay. Have to bring a pork-lover along as well because the boyfriend doesn't fancy pork. Interested parties please leave me a message.

Hotel breakfast was just enough for a 5-year old (which is a good thing actually) so I went for more food right after. My guidebook says the best cendol in Melaka is here in Min Chong. Like the good girl I am, I ordered exactly what the book advised. The veggie rojak was delectable, just the right portion of everything with just the right level of spiciness. Same goes for the cendol. The gula melaka wasn't as thick as the one in Jonker Walk with generous dollops of coconut milk. Yummylicious to the last drop. This shop is a tad "historical" (translation: run-down) and easy to miss if you're concentrating on the traffic instead of names of shops. I think it fits only about 10 people at one go so make sure to time your visit correctly or you'll be standing under the sun!

The second last meal before I left Melaka! I was forced by Eryn to try the pizza in Coconut House. "It's right opposite your hotel so you must go!" Although the food's a bit pricey, they have the best freshly-squeezed pineapple juice on the planet! The pizza was alright, cooked using authentic woodfire and bla bla. I think we can find the same quality here in KL anyways. Because of the irritating mosquitoes (and the price of food), I rushed through a small pizza and then headed straight to Chung Wah for chicken rice balls again.

I'm not stepping on the weighing scale until next month (and few sessions of morning jogs).

rain rain go away

It's pouring like a mother outside. I went to the back of the office for coffee and a piss with my arms protecting my head. The wind howled as the toilet cubicle door shook and moaned. The damp curtains damn near got stuck to the ceiling with them blown to a freaky 90 degrees. Dammit, the end of days must be near. How else can you explain such sci-fi twilight zone-ish phenomenon happening outside the telly? I eyed the toilet door opening and slamming shut in the wind warily. One-eye waist-high beings in silver spacesuit might just emerge. That or my big boss and our ex-art director (contributing to banging and shaking the toilet walls).

I've reinstalled The Sims and the whole expansion ching-bang into my home computer. And for the next few weeks, I won't need books, DVDs, friends, (work), or a boyfriend. Muahahaha. But I promise I'll put up the great food pictures from Melaka. Soon.

melaka - lodging

The heart of Melaka - where gastronomical orgies are performed. My two-day trip was all about food. Chinese, mamak, Portugese, Italian... but let's not go there first, lest I cannot restrain myself from driving 2 hours there on impulse for another cendol.

We stayed at Baba House, just a street beside Jonker Walk. They're running a promotion and I got a Deluxe room at just RM89 (with crummy breakfast, but still...)! Hotel Puri with a similar heritage-y setting right opposite Baba House is charging twice the rate. My gain! I'm definitely staying here again the next time I'm in Melaka.

Okay, the room was a bit musty but I liked it just the same. The whiff of room smell I got when I first opened the door reminded me of my gramma's house during our Chinese New Year gathering. It smelled like... a lot of history. But it wasn't dirty or anything. Some said the place is cheap because it's ridden with ghosts. I say bullshit. Value stay is value stay. But you don't-lah expect 5-star amenities. Air-conditioning, telly, hot shower, soft pillow... I got all I needed.

Baba House is huge with spacious corridors, nicely decorated balconies and quaint reading/afternoon-tea lazing area. Located smack in Jonker Walk area, I thought sleep would be tough at night, but this place is an unexpectedly quiet (minus the rowdy children running along corridors and banging on their relatives' doors) oasis.

No, I didn't imagine the children.

rexona

I got myself a new Rexona at the pharmacy last night and I absolutely love the smell. I guess nice smell isn't the best word to describe a deodorant, but it really smells different from my usual. I can't stop sniffing at my armpits.

Before you roll your eyes in disgust and foam at the mouth, I don't do it blatantly okay! I have tact and finesse.

This morning, I've been reaching for a lot of books on the high shelves. Muahahaha.

have a break, have a kit kat

Bummer. I'm at a bottleneck here. How do I sell aloe vera juice without saying I'm selling aloe vera juice? These kinda ads are especially challenging because of the restraints I've to keep in mind. Cannot make claims. Cannot use over-promising words. The ad's in black and white. Pah. So hard! My brain simple refuse to accept any information except "It's Friday!" and "I'm off to Melaka for chicken rice balls and satay celup tomorrow!". I totally deserve to have a break (insert Kit Kat lame jokes here). The invisible tension in the office is so heavy and heated I could carve an alphabet chart for kids with a butter knife. Being stuck in the middle of two feuding and scheming superiors is no fun.

A few nights ago I had a nightmare where I was stealing the office's pens from our administrative clerk's drawer and caught red-handed. What the hell? PENS?! I think I'm halfway to stress-dom. Why only halfway? Because real stress is when you wake up screaming and then realise you haven't fallen asleep yet. Oh yeah I'm close.

On a lighter note, I'm supposed to let my brother's car engine run a bit while he runs to Sweden (land of Ikea and meatballs?) and I found The Foodsters' Guide in the backseat. Apparently he managed to nab a free copy from one of the contributor (my little brother with non-existent social life has contacts!) or something. This book is definitely following me to Melaka. Too bad it doesn't come with a comprehensive street map on how to get to those yummylicious places.

On the road again...
Just can't wait to get on the road again...
The life I love is makin' music with my friends...
And I can't wait to get on the road again!

rip off?

I just bumped into Jill the Ripper. And I don't know how to react. Yet.

What to do when you discover someone ripping ideas off your blog? Take a few lines here and there, add in a word or two... and claim it as yours? I don't mind much if it's just the "idea" but when I see my own sentences in someone else's blog... it's a strange sensation. A bit excited to see that someone actually reads my crap and hold it important enough to kickstart a blog entry of his/her own. I mean, all the time I just ramble and whine. But at the same time I feel a wee bit irritated. Am I being plain possessive and jealous? Is this intellectual property?

I don't know how to feel about this, really.
Right now I feel as though someone punched the air out of my lungs.

*still in shock*

all the small things

I was queuing up at the traffic light on my way to work and saw a lanky man approaching the cars ahead, standing beside the driver's window and holding up a piece of small sign. Pah, another bummer too lazy to get a proper job, I sniffed in disdain. All the drivers ahead ignored him as he got closer and closer to my car. How did they dismiss him - Wave a hand while mouthing "no"? Stare straight ahead and ignore the man? How should I dismiss him? Smile apologetically while shaking my head? Will this hurt his feelings less?

As he got closer, I saw that he walked with a slight limp. He looked harmless. Should I roll down my window to give him some cash? The sun is so hot and he's alone and... Then he stood right outside my window. I saw some Arabic writing on his piece of paper. I don't know if it's reflex or media's education, because I suddenly busied myself with my cellphone and waved him off impatiently.

I watched him through my rearview mirror. Still limping, still smiling, approaching car after car behind mine. I felt like shit. I didn't feel any satisfaction by doing my part in not encouraging the begging phenomena in the country. My afterthought brought in another possibility: The man could be dangerous and armed beneath his robes, and if I rolled down the window, he would take out a knife and stab me and take the car. But we're at a traffic light. Unmoving. With cars in front and behind.

Sigh. Am I being too sentimental? Do other people even think twice and feel bad for ignoring beggars on the street? I always get this pang of guilt whenever I ignore the forlorn woman holding a child and the dirty man sitting in the middle of a pasar malam, but I feel angry when I see tourists dropping coins and bills into their cups.

What's the right thing to do?

the iron

I was watching Big Wing (with my favourite Japanese actor) for the gazillionth time on my computer when I came back from work. Suddenly I heard a familiar ticking noise in the room that I couldn't quite place at that particular hour and mood.

Then it registered.

No way! I thought to myself incredulously. It couldn't be the iron.

My fear peaked into a sudden rush of anger as I turned towards the switch on the wall. True enough, the iron and hairdryer's red light indicator is on.

Oh. My. &*()$$@$^%*&&$%.

The iron has been left on like this for 12 hours, since before we left for work.

There could be a fire! All my important documents could've been burnt! My sleeping housemate could've died! The electricity bill is gonna bomb!

I hate it when KC forgets little details like this. Socks all over the floor, keys and glasses on the ironing board, damp bath towel on the bed... anything that messes with my order pisses me off big time. And right on top of the "1o things that piss me off" list is forgetting to switch off anything that you switched on. Not so much when it comes to lights and fan, but definitely a no-no when it's the iron or air-conditioning. To be fair, I'm not a super systematic and organised person. I do forget where I leave my wallet/keys/glasses/ring in the room sometimes. But to let that happen on a daily basis and then whining for me to find the mislocated items is very irritating.

Is switching off the iron right after using it too big a task?
Are all men insensitive and retarded in that department?

Am I being too demanding?

I proceeded to switch off the iron pronto. Blue fire zapped from the plug. I quickly withdrew my finger. I want to add another lament to my earlier paranoia.

I could've been electrocuted and die a gruesome death.

art director

I think I may have found my ideal partner. She is gentle, humble and laughs like she means it. She doesn't just hear my suggestions but listen attentively to find useful sparks of ideas. She exudes an aura of simple stylishness even when she wears a crummy Abercrombie white tee with jeans. She carries herself in quiet confidence, never authoritative, never flaunting her knowledge and experience.

She thinks faster than I do most of the time, which is a long-awaited first.
She is full of delightful ideas and solutions that I often wish I thought of first.

Finally. FINALLY!!!

I love our new Art Director. I'm gonna learn as much as I can from her and bring myself to another plateau of creative brilliance.

pissiness

This weekend is a weekend of pissiness. I'm pissed off by mostly everything and everyone.

I'm pissed off by how my period quit on me after 2 drips of output but the full onslaught of enormous smack-in-the-centre-of-my-face zits and painful tits came rushing anyways.

How not to be pissed when a normal 3-minute drive to the traffic lights took me 30 minutes? Why is it congested when I'm rushing off to meet someone and free-flowing when I've nothing to do and can take all the time I want in the world to reach home?

I'm pissed off by the "oh initially we wanted to have a friends' gathering but everyone couldn't make it except my ex... so we met up anyways" whole crock of bullshit incident. If you know that I'm gonna be touchy and pissy about the session, just cancel it! What's so difficult?

I'm pissed off with how my little brother is all grown up and dating now (without due warning that I'll not be getting his full attention anymore!) and flying off to Sweden tonight for work. I've been dying for a job that flies me to different countries every month since young and I'm pissily jealous. I'm pissed that even though we quarrel most days and don't speak much to each other on other days, I know I'll miss him like hell these 2 weeks.