bangkok

They say the ad industry in Thailand is very fun. Judging by the video clips of some ads, I must agree. Everything ad-related in Bangkok impressed me. And this leads us to a mini-walkthrough of my Bangkok trip with the ex a month ago.

I really like how they advertise all over shopping malls. I wanted to take more pictures but there were security guards on every floor of every major shopping complex that patrol and shoot anyone who takes pictures.

Cannot imagine any of our local language schools doing this.

Thais were celebrating Mother's Day when we were there. I was initially baffled, because, Mother's Day is supposed to be somewhere in May all over the world, right? Then a cabbie told us it's the birthday of their Queen Mother. Everyone wore a yellow t-shirt with an emblem (no idea what it said) for the occassion. Wow. I don't even know the name of our Queen Mother.

Fireworks display at night for the Queen Mother. And because the area we stayed at is very near to the Grand Palace, we didn't need to watch it from the telly. What can I say. Khao San and Rambuttri Road rock.

The only drawback of staying in Khao San area is the transportation. There're no BTS or MRT station, and I have no clue where the bus stop is. BUT there's a very cheap, fast and convenient (fairly) alternative - boats. They're punctual, never get stuck in traffic jams, and the view is really nice if you don't focus on the colour of the water.

I admit, waiting 20 minutes for the boat was quite boring. Okay, VERY boring. But one can always read a little, or stare at the murky water and look out for floating dead dogs. Or space out like me and think about what to have for dinner.

But the view (and occassional faceful of Chao Phraya water) from the boat is worth it.

Really. Travel during sunset (think the last boat to Khao San is around 7) and see all the 1200baht-dinner-cruise-package highlights for free!

I love Rambuttri Road. We stayed at Lamphu House, and once you leave the guest house you see rows of eateries like this. Food's not too shabby. GREAT crowd and ambience. Backpackers from all over the world, chilling and chatting, watching telly, reading... I felt very... belonged.

Even Jack Sparrow loves to hang around Khao San area.

Likewise for Grasshopper, Maggot and all kinda insects. Maggots taste milky!

Talking about food, there are several one musn't miss or prepare to be humiliated and ridiculed upon relaying Bangkok tales to friends and family. First is the vibrantly different versions of Thai salad. You can have it with squid...

... or salty crab (thanks a lot, Feef, for telling me the crabs are there for taste and not to be eaten after I damn near broke my teeth trying to chew through the innocently-looking-very-similar-to-but-not softshell crabs)...

... or real crabs with glass noodles.

Another must-try is the mango with sticky rice. Sinfully sweet fresh mango slices coupled with sticky rice damp and slightly salty from thick rich coconut milk... so nice can die. And I'm addicted to sticky rice. No wonder Thais eat sticky rice more than steamed rice. Totally wrecked havoc to my digestive system but don't care.

I enjoyed the fried egg with oysters too. Not as sticky compared to Taiwan-made ones. But what's with the beansprouts man. Almost every dish of Thai food overflows with beansprouts. Under food. On top of food. Beside food.

I don't like beansprouts-lah.

the l word

So hooked on The L Word. It's funny but wistful, loud but unspeaking. I don't know if it will confuse my already-confused sexual preference any further. Or fuel my resoluteness to come out and stay out. All I know is, I can totally relate. My questions are answered (some of them anyway). I've been bi-curious since my early teen years but I didn't want to be a social pariah so I kept my mouth shut. And jump from one straight guy to another. And then I was with a woman finally but that didn't work out too well either. So it might not be a sexuality problem after all but how I handle relationships in general. I might just be a insatiable curious person craving new experiences craving emotional rollercoasters so I can always remain in this "tortured soul" pain/pleasure plateau and fuel my creativity/angst. I really don't know. And right now. Right now. It's nice to just drift. No extremities.

I wonder if all the characters in the show are lesbians in real life. You've gotta be at least slightly interested to do it until Season 4. That or the money's really good. Looking at the cast, though, I'll do it for the chicks. Anytime.

post-trauma

In the throes of my post-traumatic experience over the weekend, one thing proves true: Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong, will.

Bloody heck. At my financial neediest...
(1) I confirmed another Bangkok trip in October.
(2) My room's air-conditioner is dripping water.
(3) My car is a month late for servicing.
(4) I bought a new insurance policy.
(5) My pc is acting up.
(6) I'm having major period cramps without the period.
(7) Which reminds me I'm a year late for my gynae check-up.
(8) I've 3 wedding gifts to get.

And Pluto got booted from the planetary club. I grew up with 9 planets! Why are there so many changes right now! I cannot swallow!

Shitty mood alert. And you can shove the "so many people are worse off than you so count your blessings" preach up Uranus. Someone's better let me win Scrabble and Boggle at lunch.

trauma

Macibai. I walked 15 minutes under the burning sun to the police station and what do I get? Nothing but a throbbing headache and a bellyful of pissiness. I made my police report yesterday but the nice handsome young police officer said he couldn't get my report stamped and verified because it wasn't a normal working day so could I please come back tomorrow, pay 2 bucks and get the report stamped. Fine. Nevermind. Then just now I wolfed down lunch and did a mini walkathon over. And the bitch in uniform told me the "stamping officer" had gone out for lunch and could I come back an hour later. Stamping officer? What kind of BULL?! Taxpayers are paying an individual salary and supplying him/her a uniform to STAMP police reports? What about the rest of our much-trusted law enforcers who're lounging in the Damansara air-conditioned police station? Macibai indeed.

And I couldn't get a cent out from the bank because I don't have a temporary identity card. I couldn't get a temporary identity card because my police report isn't stamped. I couldn't stamp my police report because... some lazy asswipe sonofagun is too lazy to walk to get the stamp. I presume. I can too.

padini authentic

Grandmafucker! My wallet got stolen today at One Utama. Brought mum for lunch and was browsing through clothes at Padini Authentics at the old wing when some girls swamped me. So big space elsewhere but two of them shoved me while feigning to reach for clothes. I glared at them indignantly and went back to dig clothes for mum. Then I smelled something fishy and quickly checked my handbag. Machaohai it was unzipped halfway. I tore the rest of the zipper open, my heart weighing like lead. My gut feeling was right. Bitches took my wallet! I yelled. Everyone in the shop stared. My mum swore she saw the bitches walked/ran out.

I went to make a report at the info counter. Was still kinda dazed. As I was filling up the Lost Item Report Form, I saw another girl coming to report her stolen wallet as well. She was in Blook, checking out belts when someone shoved her. And ripped her bag open and took her wallet. Fuck. Her two thief-bitches had KNIVES ok. Her bag was literally gutted. Suddenly I realised that I know this girl of similar fate. She was in my college! Cibai. When we're both hugging and lamenting about our misfortune, an angry parent yelled at the info counter people to see their CCTV because his daughter's cellphone was picked. Oh. My. Gee. All within 5 minutes. Makes me wonder how many cases One Utama handles in a day. AND HOW COME THERE'S NO BETTER CCTV SYSTEM INSTALLED!

I demanded to see the CCTV recordings inside Padini Authentics (both floors) and outside on the corridor. Security guard said I need to furnish the police report for them to allow the CCTV recordings to be reviewed. Mahai. Nevermind. I did my police report, cancelled my cards and convinced myself that the 30-second incident really did happen. Then I went back to One Utama, showed them my police report and nicely asked them to check the CCTV recordings. I was sure I could recognise the two bitches. About my age, casual wear, hair in a ponytail, Malay/Filipino.

"I'm sorry Miss. We don't have CCTV inside the outlets."

Bloody hell.

"And our CCTVs on the corridors are static. And I don't think any of them point at Padini Authentics."

Hot bloody hell assreamerunclefuckergrandmalickerlittlekidstoucher.

Why say so confidently I can replay the incident through CCTV recordings and shoo me off to make police report-lah? Mahai. Pissingly I demanded to see the recordings of NEARBY CCTVs anyway. Then have to wait for the guard to photocopy my police report, slowly bring me to the Control Room, yak a few minutes with the supervisor there (who promptly took off after feigning interest in my case for a few minutes)... and then the tape with THE only POSSIBLE angle to identify my two bitches was kaput. When rewound it showed only grainy blackness and the word "Loss"... Macibai I know about my loss already ok. Show me the faces of the bitches so they can print it out big-big and display it everywhere in One Utama so nobody else has to go through what I did. Of course it'd be an added bonus if they're stabbed and robbed on their way home with my wallet... but I'm willing to take that back if One Utama cleaners find my wallet and IC and driver's license and return them to me. And my Uptown parking access and office access cards. And my bloodgroup and insurance healthcard. Take my credit cards, take my ATM cards. Take take take. Take the cash also. Gimme back my documents and important namecards I have inside macibaiiiiiii.

Bitches, may your assholes be infested with the fleas of 1000 Afghan camels and may your arms grow too short to scratch.

One Utama, seriously... do something about the CCTV. And please ask your managers on duty to have some balls. Why don't dare to see me? What kind of effing customer service is this?

tongue

I'm not kidding about the tongue action. Last I checked it hasn't gone into any of my colleague's ear so I guess I'm still alright. Papa Whale did make some colourful remarks though. Hilarious.

I feel damn happy seeing my colleagues displaying the souvenirs I got for them around their workstations. Almost everyone said thank you! I'm so glad I didn't just grab some spicy Thai crackers and chucked them on the studio's table.

Bangkok, I'm coming again! Have more interesting stuff on sale for me, will ya?

back from bangkok

I'm back, alive and kicking. And I can't wait to go back. Bangkok, that is. Not the office drinking session. Because I talk too much when I'm tipsy. And my tongue tends to go places where no tongue has ever gone before. In public.

Mum's coming for a visit this weekend. My stuff are still all over the room. Toilet still clogged with hair. And my baby brother moved out while I was gone.

Drat.

bangkok

Yellow lorry. Say that 10 times. Fast. Then say yellow lorry red lorry. Fast.

I was chanting that as I drifted into fitful sleepdom last night. Boss poisoned my brains with the challenge and I cannot get over not being able to say yellow lorry red lorry 10 times in 10 seconds. Stress! No wonder sleep was plagued by nightmares. Jerked awake 2 times in the middle of the night, once with the corner of my pillow clenched between my teeth. Ugh.

I be flying off to Bangkok tomorrows! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee... Can't wait to try Thai massage foot massage manicure pedicure haircut hairdyeing tattoo mango with sticky rice buying Naraya bags by kilos tomyamkung coconut juice dinner cruise Sirocco view...

We shall see how many I manage to strike off the list once I'm back next week. Immediate challenge right now is getting a place to stay. I have an orphan night without accomodation.

And I have many many love for my boss. He shifted the company's drinking session forward so I can get a fix before I fly off (so he says and I choose to believe him, can). Awwww. I'm already grateful as it is that he lets me off for 3 days even though I'm not yet a confirmed staff. I love my Papa Whale.

liquid

I dream about a girl who's a mix of Destiny's Child
Just little touch of Madonna's wild style
With Janet Jackson's smile
Throw in a body like Jennifer's
You've got the star of my liquid dreams
My liquid dreams

Way to go, O-Town (by the way, anyone knows what's happened to them?). My liquid dreams were shattered at Liquid last night. Most happening gay bar in town my foot. Got me so excited about the All Girls' Party for nothing.

See. No people on the dancefloor. Damn dead the party. Turn out wasn't fantastic also. But it was still an eye-opener for me, seeing so many girls who like girls dancing and hugging/kissing/groping. The pairings are so... vibrant. And all along I thought the masculine-looking ones will pair up with feminine softies with wavy locks. The possibilities... wow. Educational. Then there's this yummylicious chain-smoking andro surrounded by superhot chicks... dayum!

Maybe because it's pole-dancing night, that's why the party was deader than a vulture-infested bloated carcass in the Gobi. When I wasn't standing at a corner feigning interest at the dancing crowd while checking out the hot andro, I sat at the bar with my beer (they only have Carlsberg, Guiness or mineral water! What the....) and camwhored.

And I think I took pictures at 20 different angles of this same bottle and lantern light. Did I say how dead the party was?

poppy again

It's official. I'm a party animal. I've never been much of a clubber since... college, but now I'm hitting the club scene every weekend. And true to my words, I'm paying 50 bucks each time to learn how to hold my alcohol. Last night I drank sliiiiightly more than last week and I didn't hurl. Whoopdeedoo. I have a nasty rash on my right arm but it's alright. Next weekend will be better. As long as I don't party with some unmentionable people from last night. I thought colleagues are supposed to be chums and all, but some can be such asses. Or maybe I'm the ass.

Last night the stock price of my right nipple hit a new low due to over-exposure and publicity. Attention-deficient naughty little thing. I guess it proves a coupla things. My left breast is fuller than my right (like my left ear is lower than my right)... and I'm a woman. Because I was in a MNG lacey top. Not Nike. Not Diesel. Not some funky-too-young-for-my-age Japanese tee. Which I bought and not borrowed.

I'm starting to buy women's apparel. Oh the horror.

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.