abalone

I detest the pivotal moment of crossing over the threshold into adulthood, or rather, auntyhood. With Chinese New Year looming up just around the corner and KC's incessant pestering about my not-so-presentable wardrobe contents; I tagged along dutifully behind KC into the mall. And discovered the joy of swooshing someone else's card to get clothes for myself. The thrill of not having to feel the cash leave my hands and watch my wallet size dwindle almost had me grabbing clothes from their hangers and march right up to the cashier in a trance.

Then the not-so-fun part began.

Traipsing into the supermarket section, I received a text message from Cindy (cousin) asking if I'm getting anything for Popo (grandma) for Chinese New Year. KC promptly snatched the opportunity to unleash a 10-minute lecture about how I'm getting older and should act more proper and adultlike, which, translated into layman terms, means buying overpriced unnecessary exotic foodstuff for the older generation of relatives whom I'm going to meet during Chinese New Year who probably have tons of such foodstuff already and would just cluck at my exorbitant spending habits and proceed to stash the goodies away for private consumption much later while dismissing me with an oozing-with-insincerity "oh you shouldn't have" then return to gossiping with other older generation of relatives about how un-filial whose and whose children are for not buying them anything for Chinese New Year. And the scariest part is, once I start this terrifying annual cycle of buying inflated gifts... I'm not allowed to stop. Ever.

I don't want to step into auntyhood so soon! Gaaaaaaah!

I bought a nicely-packaged nifty abalone and pacific clam canned set for Popo. Then I imagined Dad throwing a tantrum at me for not getting his mother anything. And I took another set reluctantly. Then I thought "Like hell am I going to spend hundreds on these babies and not even get a chance to taste what they're like" and promptly grabbed another set from the shelf. It's high time I fulfill my filial duties towards my parents anyways, right?

post script: I did my maths later last night to come up with how much I need to pay KC back for the reckless shopping spree... and my calculator overheated and exploded, its red-hot battery shooting out and punched a hole through my heart right out of my back. With blood splattering down my torso, I weakly text-messaged my company's account personnel to just put KC's name on my next paycheck.

the ring

Subsequent to my recent post about my phobia with men and their simple gold rings... KC took its off a few days after. I pretended not to notice (my heart was whooping with glee and a rather evil sense of success) until it mentioned the fact to me, claiming a rush of guilt when it read my disturbing entry. Holding hands have never been sweeter after that. (What? You're dry heaving already?)

We got ourselves a pair of rings today. They're supposed to be our 2-month milestone keepsake cum Valentine's gift, but we couldn't wait for the exact day to come, so we mentally donned our time-travelling protective gear, took an elevator down to the centre of the universe and fast-forwarded time.

Knowing how much a ring from a loved one means to me (never had one from anyone except my mum when I was 17), KC tried with immense effort to say something really meaningful when it put the ring on for me.

" Sweetie... I promise you... (all's going perfectly well till this instant)... this ring won't be your first."

Grey matter inside my skull went into fits. What the heck?
I managed a feeble, "Huh?"
KC repeated the exact sentence verbatim.
I didn't know to laugh or to throw a royal bitch fit, because (a) KC knew perfectly well the ring was my first from any boyfriend/girlfriend; (b) maybe KC meant that the ring wasn't ITS first, but why would it say that when I made it very clear how I hate to be reminded that it had a wonderful 7-year relationship with another female species...
Reaction-wise, I chose the former. And laugh hard I did.
KC realised something was terribly wrong with the romantic heartfelt confession, and tried to salvage.
And repeated the same freaking line again.
I swear, laughing till the bed shakes with tears of exasperation running down one's face is indeed a sensation beyond description. I decided to call it quits and put my hands on KC's shoulders and said, "Could it be what you meant is that this ring won't be my last?"
Sheepish grin. Shoulders sagged. Dejected face. I couldn't resist a bear hug and passionate smooch. And when I put KC's on, I flashed my killer sweet smile (works every time, my acting cute) and opted for the safest line, "Darling, I promise you... this ring is my first."

cuddling with sistahs

What was initially planned as a close-knit, warm little cosy gathering with 2 of my SB Sistahs, E/E and Ange, turned into a dreary affair of meeting half my old highschool classmates (we extended a lunch invitation to HJ, and he asked someone else, and someone else asked another someone else). Translated into layman terms, the "lunch meet-up" simply meant waiting for this person to appear, waiting for that to finish eating, waiting for another to finish trying on clothes etc.
I'm not saying this full-fledged highschool reunion wasn't fun, but as I exchanged emails with the Sistahs, we all lamented that we didn't spend enough time talking and cuddling. The sole participant of this weekend getaway that thoroughly enjoyed it all was KC. What KC got out of our first holiday away together:

(1) Deep meaningful conversations with me in the car interrupted by my occasional bursting into song when something groovy came on the radio. (Actually I don't quite understand why KC treasured our car-chat so much. I normally can't stop myself from yakking at 120mph and end up with a smelly-stockinged foot in my mouth, so why is the car-chat any different? Hmmmph.)

(2) Free 18-hour amusement and giggles watching us Sistahs outdoing each other in wit and sarcasm AND dirty dancing at Madam Wong's. (Who in their right mind would give a discotheque some kopitiam's name?!)

(3) Chance to fall asleep holding hands together in a king-sized bed with air-conditioning and wake up to the smell of bacon frying and Sistahs screaming obscenities at each other to add more butter/get the fruit juice from the fridge/stop laughing at the size of the chicken wieners.

(4) Ogle at Ange. (It's okay. I want a piece of Ange too. She's hotter than chilli.)

holidaying

I'm going to Singapore for the weekend. Unwind, relax... and to meet my beloved SB Sistahs who've been bugging me forever to visit. Can't wait to see Angela's new apartment and her permanent piece of furniture called Tyler. Can't wait to drool over Eryn's ever-pubertising boobies. I'm sure the girls have a fun weekend ahead planned.

Yay, plenty of materials to blog about! *rub palms in glee*

wring wring wring

Work is picking up pace at the office, which is good. I pissed off Boss for the 185th time in a week, which is not good. I feel stupid. And the fact that we're seriously not busy AT ALL around the office for the past month and still I manage to make such idiotic mistakes makes me feel like snapping off my left wrist with a pair of blunt scissors. Or quit my job and work full-time at Starbucks as a barista. But then, memorizing the exact amount of each ingredient for 30 different beverages might prove too taxing for my dwindling brains. Am I actively murdering my brains from all the cigarettes? Let me go smoke one and think about it.

blank

I'm completely out of ideas for blogging material. Well, not out of ideas literally but I'm just down with a mild case of disgustingus lazyassus, where my mind would just go on screensaver mode once I click on Blogger's dashboard. My days have been moving past me so quickly that it's hard enough to keep my mind focused on what I'm supposed to be doing, let alone trying to come up with something entertaining to blog about. Unless, of course, I write about the few days of depression when I chain-smoked 7 cigarettes in an hour and moaned and whined about my bottleneck situation at work. Brain simply went on strike and refused to churn up even a belch of a headline for my bank client, but you can't really blame Brain because after 2 years of unceasing, merciless bitchslapping in the accounting/finance industry, writing something positive and cheery about a financial institution is as likely as Brain's master (yup, that's me) enjoying a leisurely stroll along the beach with CSI Greg Sanders watching dolphins doing water acrobatics.

Or, I could bore everyone to death (nope, no eyebrow-raising stuff) with my detailed, blow-by-blow account of time spent with KC and stuff we do together. Not sure if it's a good idea though, because my coherent and witty self would dissipate into a blubbering, babytalking doe-eyed high school girl whenever I think of those pretty eyelashes and KC's cologne.

I just got news that the whole country would be having electricity shortage soon. So I shall shut up and fantasize about how to make use of the extra time should Boss let us off earlier today.

holding on

"What is there left to hold on to, when this glorious thing called life itself is so ephemeral? When everything we seem to have really fade, change or disappear completely with time? Our emotions, convictions, relationships are never constant; happiness and love are found and lost in turns; we live and then at a certain moment we don't anymore... where is the sense in this all?

Yet, holding on can be something beautiful. Even when we know that it will be all in vain at the end, even though it will bring us the most difficult times ahead, it is the only thing that we as humans can try to do in the face of sorrow, loss, bewilderment or incomprehension. We are going to try holding on anyway, because there are so many things that are worth the while -- feelings and memories that remind us just what warmth, bliss, pride, comfort, or pure happiness really is about. Holding on will make it harder for us, but why should life be easy anyway?"

I stole this from the late Grace Chow's blog, because it stole my breath and a few heartbeats. And yes, albeit being rather un-Christianlike, her entry is honest and beautiful. I stole her strength to hold on.

It's my first-month-anniversary with KC tomorrow. I feel warm and nice.

new year

There are 3 kinds of people in this world: those that want things to happen, those that make things happen, and those who just wonder what the hell happened. And it's amazing how I can be all those at the same point of time. My mind is still on vacation. Happy 2005, all.

men and rings

Finally, I got to watch the extended DVD of Return of the King. On Christmas day itself. Whee. Plenty of additional scenes with yummylicious Faramir and his Hush Puppies eyes. Whee. Strangely enough, after trying to share my joy with my colleagues and some college friends... I discovered that none of them seem to be as smitten as I am (and the whole bunch of my church folks) with this fascinating trilogy about a group of men and a ring. How can it be? How can someone not catch the LOTR fever?

Men and rings. I have freaky experiences with the combination. Ex had this simple gold ring around his finger for as long as I could remember. His dad gave it to him as a reminder of what his priorities in life should be, of what he can or cannot do until the day the ring is replaced with a wedding ring. Very sweet and amusing, yes. And he did keep his side of the pact. I was proud but at the same time, jealous like hell. The ring, his precious, would be something I could never conquer. Sometimes, our of sheer boredom, I would take it out of his finger and toy around with the ring. He'd quickly demand it back. He felt naked without the ring. I felt crestfallen to be playing second fiddle to Gollum's precious. When I had to let him go, the ring haunted me for a long time. The ghost of the thought of never being the one to replace his ring with something of our own scalded like a branding iron. One that brought forth tears and fears for months.

Current has a ring too. A simple gold one. Deja vu. I have thousands and millions of questions but I dare not ask. Most probably it was from a previous relationship. I don't like it at all. The look of it, the feel of it when we hold hands. Bad memories, doubts and insecurity seep right through between the tightly clasped flesh. I see it as a sign of unreadiness, of unwillingness to totally let go of the past. And I don't think I can survive being with someone with the upper torso stuck in a time machine heading towards 1997 and lower body heading towards 2005.

Maybe I'm just being paranoid. But I know I have enough of my share of men and simple, unengraved gold rings. You can't blame me for being oversensitive. Blame it on the LOTR trilogy.

aftermath

First of all, let me express my immense disappointment in my readers' level of intelligence. That or you guys are total lazy asses. Not even a person replied to my yule-tide puzzle contest. Isn't Japanese food enticing? Isn't any free food enticing? Sigh. Only KC got it right. But then, the entry was disqualified based on grounds such as (1) I didn't get an email, just a text message; (2) KC usually pays for food; (3) KC knows me and my cheekiness/wittiness side too well.

Anyway, this Christmas weekend had been all about FOOD. Lamb and turkey. More lamb and turkey. Then lamb all the way (I discovered I don't really like turkey. How come no one serves smoked salmon for Christmas meals?). And I've been constipated ever since. I feel toxic (no, not Britney-Spears-Toxic but nuclear-reactor-toxic) and bloated. That and I'm expecting my vagina to gush blood anytime now.

But had great fun with friends and church members and the band. The band rocked the socks off our guests! Booyakasha! Merry Christmas all, and Happy New Year. I have a feeling 2005 is gonna be a good one.

Relief

What can I say. It's been a whole weekend of singing. Well, being with KC naturally lifts my spirit into song... but too much of instructions and sequences make breaking into song feel more like a chore.

Went out for our year-end company dinner on Friday. Colleagues were surprised (pleasantly) when I rounded them up. Apparently such outings were unheard of (aghast) throughout the company's history. Hmmph. I'd like to think that I, this adorable superior being, am bringing some positive changes to the company. Or maybe I have terrific skills in licking Boss's... ass and rubbing Boss's... shoes. Anyways the dinner was at a karaoke and I managed to show off my phenomenal and awe-inspiring crooning skills and all fellow colleagues and invited guest fell down and worshipped my feet and kissed the ground I stomped on in an euphonious trance. And I promptly received my confirmation and increment. Whee...

But Friday wasn't D-Day. Saturday was. So let's skip the details of my porridge-y supper with KC after the warbling session and what followed.

Saturday morning. Awakened rudely by my cell. Gasp. Suddenly very awake.
Dad: Where did you sleep last night?
Ogress: Errr...
Dad: Your mum wants to talk to you.
(muffled shuffling)
Mum: Where did you sleep last night?
Ogress: Errr...
Mum: Are you coming back to your place later? I want to go shopping!
Ogress: No I can't...
Mum: Okay then. We'll just go home.

Sigh. Suddenly consumed by guilt. Parents drove 4 hours to visit and I didn't manage to meet up. But it was on such short notice. And I really wanted to have dinner and sing with my colleagues, as well as perform with the band. So I had to make a choice. I guess more importantly I wanted to spend time with KC. Gaaaah! This is so irrational, so selfish, so... in love. Parents weren't as pissed as I thought they'd be, so that was one problem solved. Whee...

Saturday and Sunday's performance was crappy. Crowd turnout was bad. I mean, bad-ass BAD. Could see that all performances were lukewarm and half-hearted. Crowd is a very important factor in quality of performance. (NO, I refuse to admit I forgot the lyrics and sang off-tune just because I'm a nervous wreck at public performances) However, bad crowd turnout chain-reactioned into something positive. Tonnes of free food! Whee...

I'm about to write more, but after one joyful teleconversation followed by a series of maddening emails... my brains are too pooped. Laters, my ardent readers! Grovel at my feet for now, for I am the singing queen of the era! So much so that I'm invited to sing at a wedding dinner at some hotel! Yikes!!!

D-Day

Saturday, 18 December 2004 = D-Day

It's almost a certainty. And not just because it's the performance date for our not-so-ready newbie band. It will be the pivotal moment of my life. I just know it.

the beginning

5 days of blinding bliss. Totally.

Friday
KC called for a meet-up after work. I was going for carolling practice for Christmas at David's. KC said to pick me up after everything. Persistent. I freaked out a little. Is KC trying too hard to flirt? But curiousity and sheer boyfriendless-boredom-induced shot of boldness got the better of me. Countdown timer to 12.

Saturday
Went to the sleaziest, noisiest pub in town with Jabba-lookalike GROs. Spent hours talking, flirting, getting to know each other. Also found out that KC was grossly misunderstood by many and superbly unattached. Whee. Then KC held my hand and said, "Today's my birthday, you know." Wow. I was flattered to be the chosen one. Nice warm feeling.

When it was time to go, KC walked me to my side of the car and opened the door. Gosh the feeling was just so fine. This gentlemanly act is hardly to be found in society nowadays. So what if this was just a shortlived-lust-induced burst of sensitivity and manners, it's still a virtue long forgotten and taken for granted. (points added: 10)

We both slept fitfully (in our respective homes, of course) for a few hours, then it was time for me to meet up college buddies for lunch. I was so happy about newfound Boyfriend I told everyone everything. At night, went out for a movie and chatted some more.

Sunday
Was a bad bad girl. Missed church to catch up on sleep I deprived myself of. After practising another round of Christmas carols, went off for some quality Boyfriend Girlfriend Time again. What can I say. Blissful. Had band practice at night. Decided we still haven't got enough of each other so I went over to KC's for the night.

Monday
Spent a little time getting to know KC's cousins who were staying together. Ended up talking the whole night and not sleeping. Both KC and I, having lost sleep missing each other the past 2 or 3 nights, was totally zombified when we both left for work. Damn. There has never been a longer and more excruciating workday. Made mental resolution to discipline ourselves and stop acting like lovestruck high school kids.

Tuesday
Another surge of irrational hormonal charge. Went out of office at lunch, claiming to meet up a client (which I did eventually) but instead went lunch with Boyfriend. Brilliant Boyfriend lamented that there's not much to be done at work, and upon finding out I was relatively free as well, suggested we skip work. And so we did. Totally sinful, totally unprofessional, but totally lovestruck-ala-high-school and totally fun. All the time I crossed my fingers that no one from office would call.

The beginning stage of a relationship. Always so full of fun and passion and drive. Damn.

happy apey

I'm happy. A lot of people around me said I haven't looked this cheerful since the beginning of the year (and the end of a horrible one-way relationship). All the constants in my life remain the same, so I guess this happiness-bug must be due to the addition of the latest variable.

Everything is happening so fast, spiralling out of the orbit. And I'm riding on this plateau of zen in drunken abandonment. No time to think. I'll just have to slap my brains into functioning again later. I'm too happy and stoned to care right now.

Happy birthday KC!

confused

I am having problems with my sexuality.
The first time I felt confused was when I was 13, then another time at 16...
Gaaaaaaah!

ally iskandar

I had much more fun posing with Ally, our emcee for the day. He did his job extremely well. Maybe because he's already a popular TV presenter. For a quite-famous person, he was amiable enough. Friendly, witty, laidback... the likes. Initially I asked him to autograph on my bra, but he choked and his eyes bugged as he uttered a feeble "what?"... so I had to settle with this instead.

Before he left, he patted me on the back and said, "Be good."
Hmmmmm...
And, at first I wanted to do a victory peace sign, but he flipped his fingers over and I followed suit. I wonder if he knew that a flipped peace sign actually meant something quite vile (hence my stunned, forced smile).

vince chong

Don't envy me. I was at very close proximity to Vince Chong, the winner of the 1st Akademi Fantasia, for about 2 hours. I don't know what's the hype about. He looked normal enough. His voice is good though, I must admit. I saw swarms of people taking pictures with him and asked him for autographs, so I thought "what the heck"... and got myself a picture too. Sigh. Kiasu-ness is infectious! Can someone please say the appropriate "ooh" and "aah" so as not to make me feel like an utterly silly starstruck high school gal?

under the sea

Lookie them cute talented young lasses! I was assigned the task of getting a 30-minute dance performance for the event about a month ago, and I thought my shortlived career as a copywriter/translator/client service exec/event organiser would be coming to an abrupt, tragic end when the dance academy headmistress called and cancelled 2 weeks away from D-Day. She said she's having horrible gut-wrenching morning sickness. After leaving me with a few other contact numbers, she hung up and refused to pick up my calls ever since. So the Yes Girls (oh, the corniness) was what I was left with. No academy or company wanted to take the risk fighting against time. So I gritted my teeth, went to someone's grandmother's (gasp) house to check out the girls (and in the process got lost several times, my sandals were partially eaten by their dog, and realised that the girls weren't professionals, just a bunch of kids putting up retarded dance moves at dinner shows where people are actually more interested in the food), watched the kids scream at each other (and their mothers screaming at each other), painstakingly survived a few more sessions (Boss forced me to agree to not bitchslap anybody under any circumstances because we had no more choices), snarled some threats (to not pay a cent)... And then it was D-Day.

Their performance sucked (with the exception of Erica, the Ariel in yellow - if it's not for her uber-bitchy grandmother I'm definitely bagging her as a talent). I'm glad the food at the carnival sucked harder than the dance. My client wouldn't stop complaining about the size of the fried chicked wings served. Yay.

s2 carnival

(on knees: tanned Boss & tanned me; 3 chic chicks: invited manicurists + client + good friends)

Phew. The busiest week of my entire career as a copywriter (cum everything else) is finally over. I think. First there's a Grand Opening of my client's flagship store at the busiest shopping complex in town (where I bumped into someone I never thought I would meet under such circumstances in a gazillion years - full story to be told in another post, soon). And then there's this carnival we ran for another client during the weekend (where many interesting, wonderfully magical things took place as well - excerpts from the long story and more pictures coming up). I'm totally bushed. I need my beauty sleep (not that there's much beauty to replenish, but still...)!

Christmas round the corner

Aaaaah, the smell of Christmas is in the air. 22 more days of shopping left! Where and when the heck are all the year-end festive sales? I want to begin buying before the last-minute stampede starts. And it's always wiser to spend at the beginning of the month, or else by 23 Dec I'll be splitting my last 50 bucks over 10 remaining presents. Better yet, Christmas presents should be bought all year round whenever something nice catches your attention, but I guess nobody does that out of habit.

Other benefits of my blowing all my dough at the beginning of the month:
(1) The receiving end of my presents would be getting nicer and carefully chosen stuff, all nicely wrapped with thoughtful little messages.
(2) Since the moolah is gonna run dry by the middle of the month, I can mow grass around the office with my teeth. Greens are good for health. And if the grass run out I'll eat weed around the office plants.
(3) I'm definitely gonna achieve the killer-bod dominatrix supermodel beauty queen figure by New Year surviving on water and greens (provided I don't commit suicide out of depression triggered by deprivation of juicy meat).

My Christmas wish list for this year is conveniently laid out here for your kind perusal. Buy me something else and I'll chew your head off. As you would know by now, I'm an avid collector of fragrances. Oh, you don't? Then you don't know me that well now do you. Please take note that I don't smell like a rotting carcass in a swamp. I just happen to have this little hobby, okay. And I'd like to add Anna Sui's Dolly Girl, Lancome's Miracle and Ralph Lauren's Romance to my collection. Okay, fine. You don't really encourage such fancy hobbies. I'd really, really like a Nokia 7610 as well. No? Sigh. Get me this. (both the elements in the picture, dummy!) I'll be eternally grateful. Or you guys can lump up all the presents and forget about them and just give me KC. (My KC is different from Furby's KC)