会不会是你 要响几声才能接
心跳的声音 蹦蹦重低音
怕铃声会停 赶快按下通话键
拉长耳朵提高醒觉 神经细胞全面戒备
你的电话决不漏接 ring-a-ring-a-ring 爱的合旋铃 耶
管他网外或是网内 月底再考虑通话费
体温已燃烧到沸点 我不怕熬夜 管他黑眼圈 耶
来电 again
Chicks night.
Happy songs.
Someone.
Memories.
:)
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Ring Ring Ring
会不会是你 要响几声才能接
心跳的声音 蹦蹦重低音
怕铃声会停 赶快按下通话键
拉长耳朵提高醒觉 神经细胞全面戒备
你的电话决不漏接 ring-a-ring-a-ring 爱的合旋铃 耶
管他网外或是网内 月底再考虑通话费
体温已燃烧到沸点 我不怕熬夜 管他黑眼圈 耶
来电 again
Chicks night.
Happy songs.
Someone.
Memories.
:)
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
I Miss Corporate Life... I Really Do
*gasp*
Could it be?
It might be.
A lousy, boring Tuesday.
Over a phone text...
Chick #4: How come nobody is online? So bored...
*sniggers*
Could it be?
It might be.
A lousy, boring Tuesday.
Over a phone text...
Chick #4: How come nobody is online? So bored...
*sniggers*
Oh Dear...
I don't know.
Sometimes, life just has to deal you with situations you've always hoped you never land in. And even then, you've always thought you'd surely stick to your guns and stand by your own convictions.
And then, as surely as life would screw you up, you suddenly find yourself stuck between reality and ideals.
Between livelihood and stubborn beliefs.
Between rationality and the real you.
But, even before that, if there's one thing I have to learn for myself, it's that I should never ever say "never" no more.
"Never" sucks. "Never" always happens. To me.
Sometimes, life just has to deal you with situations you've always hoped you never land in. And even then, you've always thought you'd surely stick to your guns and stand by your own convictions.
And then, as surely as life would screw you up, you suddenly find yourself stuck between reality and ideals.
Between livelihood and stubborn beliefs.
Between rationality and the real you.
But, even before that, if there's one thing I have to learn for myself, it's that I should never ever say "never" no more.
"Never" sucks. "Never" always happens. To me.
Life Sucks
Just when you need to check your mailbox pretty urgently...
Server Error
We're sorry, but Gmail is temporarily unavailable. We're currently working to fix the problem -- please try logging in to your account in a few minutes.
Well, if the world doesn't suck, we'd all be falling off from the center of it, wouldn't we?
Server Error
We're sorry, but Gmail is temporarily unavailable. We're currently working to fix the problem -- please try logging in to your account in a few minutes.
Well, if the world doesn't suck, we'd all be falling off from the center of it, wouldn't we?
Monday, January 29, 2007
My Boy Says...
"Hey princess, dun forget to smile a big smile and say a big 'fuck you' to those who deserve it."
:) Big enough?
:) Big enough?
"It's Just... You Are You"
While I'm still on this grim mood, please just indulge me for the rest of the night. At least for just one last silly question.
Say, for instance, should the need arise as unexpectedly as tomorrow or the day after, what might you, my friends, have to say about me in my eulogy?
What would you engrave on my tombstone?
"...no lah, not silly... it's just... you are you... your prerogative."
The chat that made me smile, yet made me ponder as well.
It's like... I am just me. Simply indescribable in words.
Say, for instance, should the need arise as unexpectedly as tomorrow or the day after, what might you, my friends, have to say about me in my eulogy?
What would you engrave on my tombstone?
"...no lah, not silly... it's just... you are you... your prerogative."
The chat that made me smile, yet made me ponder as well.
It's like... I am just me. Simply indescribable in words.
I Love Mondays!
It is a lousy, boring, hungover-Monday, apparently.
Everyone else I know seems to be either bored, or hungover, or feeling out of sorts. I would know, 'cos all the chats started coming in over msn.
14:01:48 ME Inc.: hi hunny
14:02:55 M: hello baby!
14:04:02 M: a bit steam steam now
14:50:04 D: shit I am so sleepy after wolfing down a 3 piece meal from KFC
14:50:48 D: my brain is still somewhere between friday's shopping and dragonfly
14:51:41 D: aint much motion going on
14:51:42 D: i miss a real hot day at the beach
14:58:40 D: eh, come have cofi w me leh
14:58:40 D: haha
14:58:40 D: see bay sleepy
15:01:13 D: "Your enemy", replied the Dalai Lama to all listening, "becomes an object for you to practise compassion. It is easy to practise compassion on those you love, but the enemy becomes an object for you to further your practice".
15:01:19 D: i so bored i read dalai lama
15:03:16 ME Inc.: just ping me when u bored.
15:03:22 karks: i m bored
15:03:23 karks: now
15:03:25 karks: whole day
Yes, yes, all the hunnies and babes in the world. Come to Mama anytime you're bored at your desk.
Not for me, though.
15:21:17 karks: so why r u having a lousy monday?
15:24:27 ME Inc.: no i am not really
15:24:50 ME Inc.: i had lunch, got a free pair of diamond earrings... so yeah, i am not feeling lousy.
Yes, I am easy. Sue me.
Everyone else I know seems to be either bored, or hungover, or feeling out of sorts. I would know, 'cos all the chats started coming in over msn.
14:01:48 ME Inc.: hi hunny
14:02:55 M: hello baby!
14:04:02 M: a bit steam steam now
14:50:04 D: shit I am so sleepy after wolfing down a 3 piece meal from KFC
14:50:48 D: my brain is still somewhere between friday's shopping and dragonfly
14:51:41 D: aint much motion going on
14:51:42 D: i miss a real hot day at the beach
14:58:40 D: eh, come have cofi w me leh
14:58:40 D: haha
14:58:40 D: see bay sleepy
15:01:13 D: "Your enemy", replied the Dalai Lama to all listening, "becomes an object for you to practise compassion. It is easy to practise compassion on those you love, but the enemy becomes an object for you to further your practice".
15:01:19 D: i so bored i read dalai lama
15:03:16 ME Inc.: just ping me when u bored.
15:03:22 karks: i m bored
15:03:23 karks: now
15:03:25 karks: whole day
Yes, yes, all the hunnies and babes in the world. Come to Mama anytime you're bored at your desk.
Not for me, though.
15:21:17 karks: so why r u having a lousy monday?
15:24:27 ME Inc.: no i am not really
15:24:50 ME Inc.: i had lunch, got a free pair of diamond earrings... so yeah, i am not feeling lousy.
Yes, I am easy. Sue me.
Stranger
"... but he meant something to me... for a long long time..."
Someone I didn't know is gone. How, or why, or who he was, I probably wouldn't get to know.
But I do know this someone was someone who mattered a lot to my girl. Whoever he was to her.
Strangely, I felt something bittersweet brewing in my heart. Maybe it was because I could feel my girl crying at the other end of the chat. Maybe it was because I could feel the amount of love that was suddenly overflowing from every human pore around me - yearning yet lost. Or, maybe it was because I remembered how this human world works, how you and I love but never embrace it with fervor, how you and I love but never get to telling the blessed ones that they are loved - and how we never realize it until it is always too late.
I try my utmost all the time not to harbor morbid thoughts, but I know best never to have regrets.
If I were ever to be snatched from the face of this earth with no warning in advance, I would like to know, at the last few breathing moments of my life before my eyes shut forever, that I had nothing else left inside of me that I'd wanted to tell someone but been too proud or fearful to say.
So, I said my I-love-you's every day and night.
I said my I-love-you's every time before I boarded the plane.
Now, I hug and kiss my little man everytime he would allow me.
I hug my chicks and babes tightly and tell them I love them.
I forget the hurt and I love all too easily.
I remind myself everyday not to be so mean to my mom.
I write posts once in a while to sing about the appreciation I have for the friends and blessings around me.
And so, with lots of love in my heart, I smiled and hit the "send" button on my phone this afternoon.
Come what may, let's just appreciate what we have today, and live like there's no tomorrow.
Someone I didn't know is gone. How, or why, or who he was, I probably wouldn't get to know.
But I do know this someone was someone who mattered a lot to my girl. Whoever he was to her.
Strangely, I felt something bittersweet brewing in my heart. Maybe it was because I could feel my girl crying at the other end of the chat. Maybe it was because I could feel the amount of love that was suddenly overflowing from every human pore around me - yearning yet lost. Or, maybe it was because I remembered how this human world works, how you and I love but never embrace it with fervor, how you and I love but never get to telling the blessed ones that they are loved - and how we never realize it until it is always too late.
I try my utmost all the time not to harbor morbid thoughts, but I know best never to have regrets.
If I were ever to be snatched from the face of this earth with no warning in advance, I would like to know, at the last few breathing moments of my life before my eyes shut forever, that I had nothing else left inside of me that I'd wanted to tell someone but been too proud or fearful to say.
So, I said my I-love-you's every day and night.
I said my I-love-you's every time before I boarded the plane.
Now, I hug and kiss my little man everytime he would allow me.
I hug my chicks and babes tightly and tell them I love them.
I forget the hurt and I love all too easily.
I remind myself everyday not to be so mean to my mom.
I write posts once in a while to sing about the appreciation I have for the friends and blessings around me.
And so, with lots of love in my heart, I smiled and hit the "send" button on my phone this afternoon.
Come what may, let's just appreciate what we have today, and live like there's no tomorrow.
Dictionary 101
So I ran today.
And then, I also met up with the chicks.
Runner's High
Definition: A state of euphoria where a runner finds him- or herself doing things he or she didn't originally plan for.
Example 1: You clock 39 minutes when you had originally planned to run for only 30 minutes.
Example 2: You clock 55 minutes on the second run when you had originally planned for a 45-minute one.
Alcoholic's High
Definition: A state of euphoria where an alcoholic finds him- or herself doing things he or she didn't originally plan for.
Example 1: You imbibe five whites when you had originally planned for only two.
Example 2: You drink and make merry and supper till two in the morning when you had originally planned for an early night.
Runner's Block
Definition: A state of nuahism where a runner finds him- or herself cooking up all sorts of poor excuses to skip a session.
Example 1: You blame the lousy drizzly weather.
Example 2: You imagine a slight pain in your knee.
Example 3: You suspect there might be some construction workers around your neighborhood.
Example 4: You check yourself out in the mirror over and over, and convince yourself you are not fat.
Example 5: You complain not being able to find any of your twenty sports bras nor any of your thirty pairs of socks lying in your drawers.
Alcoholic's Block
Definition: A state of nuahism where an alcoholic finds him- or herself cooking up all sorts of poor excuses to skip a session.
Example 1: ...
Example 2: ...
Example 3: ...
Example 4: ...
Example 5: ...
*Editor's note: Section to be completed.
So, it seems I still have a long way to go to rid myself of the runner's block, and an even longer way to go to complete the latter section.
I know. I know one day I'll find the same joy in running.
And then, I also met up with the chicks.
Runner's High
Definition: A state of euphoria where a runner finds him- or herself doing things he or she didn't originally plan for.
Example 1: You clock 39 minutes when you had originally planned to run for only 30 minutes.
Example 2: You clock 55 minutes on the second run when you had originally planned for a 45-minute one.
Alcoholic's High
Definition: A state of euphoria where an alcoholic finds him- or herself doing things he or she didn't originally plan for.
Example 1: You imbibe five whites when you had originally planned for only two.
Example 2: You drink and make merry and supper till two in the morning when you had originally planned for an early night.
Runner's Block
Definition: A state of nuahism where a runner finds him- or herself cooking up all sorts of poor excuses to skip a session.
Example 1: You blame the lousy drizzly weather.
Example 2: You imagine a slight pain in your knee.
Example 3: You suspect there might be some construction workers around your neighborhood.
Example 4: You check yourself out in the mirror over and over, and convince yourself you are not fat.
Example 5: You complain not being able to find any of your twenty sports bras nor any of your thirty pairs of socks lying in your drawers.
Alcoholic's Block
Definition: A state of nuahism where an alcoholic finds him- or herself cooking up all sorts of poor excuses to skip a session.
Example 1: ...
Example 2: ...
Example 3: ...
Example 4: ...
Example 5: ...
*Editor's note: Section to be completed.
So, it seems I still have a long way to go to rid myself of the runner's block, and an even longer way to go to complete the latter section.
I know. I know one day I'll find the same joy in running.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Brunchie With The Cutie
I did cuss and swear when I had to drag my arse out of bed at ten-half this morning. Not because I was up and still awake at five earlier in the morning. Not because I didn't fancy a tai-tai-esque brunchie with my favorite mama at a cafe by the sea.
But because of all my dramatic episodes in the nights, this last one had to be The One Where Jay Finally Teased Me.
*Huumppphh*
But then. But then. But then...
It was all worth it. :)
It was such killer charm that drugged me and kept me awake half the day. Though I really do hate to admit that, at times, the little boy did remind me of his monstrous daddy.
I have this thing with little boys these days, so it seems.
He was droolingon over me. He was eating on me. He was tugging at my boobs. He was laughing so hard at with me he actually pooed in my arms. In my arms, where he stayed a long time.
Yes, I do think he loves me. :)
Ahhh... like his own momma would exclaim... I is cannot take it!
But because of all my dramatic episodes in the nights, this last one had to be The One Where Jay Finally Teased Me.
*Huumppphh*
But then. But then. But then...
It was all worth it. :)
It was such killer charm that drugged me and kept me awake half the day. Though I really do hate to admit that, at times, the little boy did remind me of his monstrous daddy.
I have this thing with little boys these days, so it seems.
He was drooling
Yes, I do think he loves me. :)
Ahhh... like his own momma would exclaim... I is cannot take it!
Saturday, January 27, 2007
:)
No matter how the day turns out in the end, some things just manage to make me s:)mile.
:)
Don't you think too that the word 'smile' seems always to smile at you? Or, is it just me? :)
:)
Don't you think too that the word 'smile' seems always to smile at you? Or, is it just me? :)
Friday, January 26, 2007
Drought
I suppose, yes, I'm recently back into the intensive psychoanalysing mode.
And I suppose also it is not doing me much good, much as I want to hope it is. For one, it seems to be negating all the positivity I am supposed to 'exude'. Two, I still can't find the answers... while the questions keep mounting. Three, I just learnt that a braindead mind tends to get better-quality rest at night.
Damn! This has gotta stop. Please, please someone. Make me stop.
I don't wish I were a man.
I sometimes do wish I were a dog.
But most of all, I wish I were different.
So I could be just like everyone else.
I need more jokes. =/
And I suppose also it is not doing me much good, much as I want to hope it is. For one, it seems to be negating all the positivity I am supposed to 'exude'. Two, I still can't find the answers... while the questions keep mounting. Three, I just learnt that a braindead mind tends to get better-quality rest at night.
Damn! This has gotta stop. Please, please someone. Make me stop.
I don't wish I were a man.
I sometimes do wish I were a dog.
But most of all, I wish I were different.
So I could be just like everyone else.
I need more jokes. =/
Smiling
Yes, I smiled.
I smiled when the usual phonecall came at the usual time in the morning.
I smiled when I woke up, knowing I did an extraordinarily early one last night, though I still think I could've done with yet better quality sleep... or at least, some more interesting dreams.
I smiled when the little bratty prince kissed me on the lips before I left the house.
I smiled when I had my first bite of my sesame-bagel-with-cream-cheese.
I am smiling because I feel a lighter heart inside after I realized some stuff and made some decision: that I would go back to the point I was originally at and then start all over again.
And I am smiling because someone asked me to.
=)
I smiled when the usual phonecall came at the usual time in the morning.
I smiled when I woke up, knowing I did an extraordinarily early one last night, though I still think I could've done with yet better quality sleep... or at least, some more interesting dreams.
I smiled when the little bratty prince kissed me on the lips before I left the house.
I smiled when I had my first bite of my sesame-bagel-with-cream-cheese.
I am smiling because I feel a lighter heart inside after I realized some stuff and made some decision: that I would go back to the point I was originally at and then start all over again.
And I am smiling because someone asked me to.
=)
Thursday, January 25, 2007
An Honest Post
There are some who claim that the world of ordinary experience is an illusion, and that the doors to the real world are opened by sacred drugs or practices of medication. People who claim to have seen the truth this way are usually dismissed as dope-heads or wackos; but they think it is we who are the fools, trapped as we are within the limited world of sense experience.
Why is it that when I first read this passage, I could almost immediately feel an inexplicable affinity toward 'them', the supposed wackos as defined?
Why is it that I almost always readily proclaim myself to be the crazy nut and that everyone else around me is the 'normal one'?
Why is it that I sometimes feel I really don't belong anywhere in this world?
I spoke once of 'homesickness'.
And it didn't happen because I was physically far away from the one and only apartment I've known my entire life.
It happened because I was physically and mostly emotionally far away from the one I used to love like he was the one. The one whom I actually thought I felt a real belonging to.
Homesickness is such a bittersweet sensation, you actually feel it churning right in your stomach. One that once warmed my heart, but now I don't wish to suffer no more.
I shouldn't belong to anywhere in this world. Most of all, I shouldn't feel like I belong to anyone.
But it is tough, I confess. It is tough having to be on your own all the time, it is tough not having anyone to belong to.
It is tough not having someone to love you, like you actually really feel entirely loved. Entirety to your core being.
I look at people around me all the time, and I wonder how some make it. I wonder how some of them could love themselves so much they don't seem to need anyone else. I suppose it is indeed possible - but only if you're built that way.
I don't think I am.
It seems a very rational answer I've thought of to my constant struggles with life.
So then. Because of the wacky nut I am, coupled with my seeming need for a constant companion who would love me in my entirety, I think I have it all figured out.
Perhaps that is why I seem to hurt some people around me. Why I seem to create 'unnecessary' trouble for the ones around me I actually love.
I suppose my passion for life in my own way is simply too intense, too imaginery, no one could comprehend, no one could cope with it.
To these ones I love, I am sorry, I really didn't mean any hurt.
I really think I ought to live on my own, in my own world. Just to save anyone else any unnecessary trouble.
I am not sorry about my existence nor about the way I think of life, I just think I need to learn to deal with it. And as much as I can try to, be as normal as everyone else. Especially when I am around everyone else.
Folks who in only all good intentions try to love and take care of me might give up. They might even regret ever having me in their lives. I will only be sorry that they had even wanted to try.
You and I, we really shouldn't even attempt to judge anyone, especially the ones we really love. Nor to form any expectations of what they should think, how they should feel, who they really should be.
Because not only would it bring you disappointment, it destroys the relationship.
Rationality is relative. The only difference between a conventionally sane person and an insane one, is the basis of their individual rationality.
You might think a human being who has done wrong deserves to die, while I believe that human being, like all others, really deserves a second chance.
You might believe a monster is not to be loved, simply because a monster is harmful.
I believe I will love a monster, simply because that monster deserves to be loved.
There is a new movie I would very much love to get my hands on.
It tells of a young girl who lives in a mental hospital because she believes she is a cyborg. She meets a young dude, also in the same mental hospital, who believes he is capable of stealing other people's souls.
It's an extraordinarily simple story about how two crazy nuts shut out by the rest of the world love each other passionately.
Because all they know is to love the person for who they really are.
Absolutely amazing, isn't it?
If you never try to see the world from another's point of view, let alone walk a mile in their bare feet, you are refusing to look beyond the walls of the small, comfortable world you have constructed for yourself.
Why is it that when I first read this passage, I could almost immediately feel an inexplicable affinity toward 'them', the supposed wackos as defined?
Why is it that I almost always readily proclaim myself to be the crazy nut and that everyone else around me is the 'normal one'?
Why is it that I sometimes feel I really don't belong anywhere in this world?
I spoke once of 'homesickness'.
And it didn't happen because I was physically far away from the one and only apartment I've known my entire life.
It happened because I was physically and mostly emotionally far away from the one I used to love like he was the one. The one whom I actually thought I felt a real belonging to.
Homesickness is such a bittersweet sensation, you actually feel it churning right in your stomach. One that once warmed my heart, but now I don't wish to suffer no more.
I shouldn't belong to anywhere in this world. Most of all, I shouldn't feel like I belong to anyone.
But it is tough, I confess. It is tough having to be on your own all the time, it is tough not having anyone to belong to.
It is tough not having someone to love you, like you actually really feel entirely loved. Entirety to your core being.
I look at people around me all the time, and I wonder how some make it. I wonder how some of them could love themselves so much they don't seem to need anyone else. I suppose it is indeed possible - but only if you're built that way.
I don't think I am.
It seems a very rational answer I've thought of to my constant struggles with life.
So then. Because of the wacky nut I am, coupled with my seeming need for a constant companion who would love me in my entirety, I think I have it all figured out.
Perhaps that is why I seem to hurt some people around me. Why I seem to create 'unnecessary' trouble for the ones around me I actually love.
I suppose my passion for life in my own way is simply too intense, too imaginery, no one could comprehend, no one could cope with it.
To these ones I love, I am sorry, I really didn't mean any hurt.
I really think I ought to live on my own, in my own world. Just to save anyone else any unnecessary trouble.
I am not sorry about my existence nor about the way I think of life, I just think I need to learn to deal with it. And as much as I can try to, be as normal as everyone else. Especially when I am around everyone else.
Folks who in only all good intentions try to love and take care of me might give up. They might even regret ever having me in their lives. I will only be sorry that they had even wanted to try.
You and I, we really shouldn't even attempt to judge anyone, especially the ones we really love. Nor to form any expectations of what they should think, how they should feel, who they really should be.
Because not only would it bring you disappointment, it destroys the relationship.
Rationality is relative. The only difference between a conventionally sane person and an insane one, is the basis of their individual rationality.
You might think a human being who has done wrong deserves to die, while I believe that human being, like all others, really deserves a second chance.
You might believe a monster is not to be loved, simply because a monster is harmful.
I believe I will love a monster, simply because that monster deserves to be loved.
There is a new movie I would very much love to get my hands on.
It tells of a young girl who lives in a mental hospital because she believes she is a cyborg. She meets a young dude, also in the same mental hospital, who believes he is capable of stealing other people's souls.
It's an extraordinarily simple story about how two crazy nuts shut out by the rest of the world love each other passionately.
Because all they know is to love the person for who they really are.
Absolutely amazing, isn't it?
If you never try to see the world from another's point of view, let alone walk a mile in their bare feet, you are refusing to look beyond the walls of the small, comfortable world you have constructed for yourself.
Women's Lies
Something, which I think was originally meant to be another silly joke, just came in over email.
Yes, yes - another manifestation of my "very bad sense of humor".
*****
One day, when a seamstress was sewing while sitting close to a river, her thimble fell into the river. When she cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, "My dear child, why are you crying?"
The seamstress replied that her thimble had fallen into the water and that she needed it to help her husband in making a living for their family.
The Lord dipped His hand into the water and pulled up a golden thimble set with pearls.
"Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked.
The seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord again dipped into the river. He held out a silver thimble ringed with sapphires.
"Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked.
Again, the seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord reached down again and came up with a leather thimble.
"Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked.
The seamstress replied, "Yes."
The Lord was pleased with the woman's honesty and gave her all three thimbles to keep, and the seamstress went home happy.
Some years later, the seamstress was walking with her husband along the riverbank, and her husband fell into the river and disappeared under the water.
When she cried out, the Lord again appeared and asked her, "Why are you crying?"
"Oh Lord, my husband has fallen into the river!"
The Lord went down into the water and came up with George Clooney.
"Is this your husband?" the Lord asked.
"Yes!" cried the seamstress.
The Lord was furious. "You lied! That is an untruth!"
The seamstress replied, "Oh, forgive me, my Lord. It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said 'no' to George Clooney, you would have come up with Brad Pitt. Then if I said 'no' to him, you would have come up with my husband. Had I then said 'yes,' you would have given me all three. Lord, I'm not in the best of health and would not be able to take care of all three husbands, so that's why I said 'yes' to George Clooney."
And so the Lord let her keep him.
The moral of this story is: Whenever a woman lies, it's for a good and honorable reason, and in the best interest of others.
Yes, yes - another manifestation of my "very bad sense of humor".
*****
One day, when a seamstress was sewing while sitting close to a river, her thimble fell into the river. When she cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, "My dear child, why are you crying?"
The seamstress replied that her thimble had fallen into the water and that she needed it to help her husband in making a living for their family.
The Lord dipped His hand into the water and pulled up a golden thimble set with pearls.
"Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked.
The seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord again dipped into the river. He held out a silver thimble ringed with sapphires.
"Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked.
Again, the seamstress replied, "No."
The Lord reached down again and came up with a leather thimble.
"Is this your thimble?" the Lord asked.
The seamstress replied, "Yes."
The Lord was pleased with the woman's honesty and gave her all three thimbles to keep, and the seamstress went home happy.
Some years later, the seamstress was walking with her husband along the riverbank, and her husband fell into the river and disappeared under the water.
When she cried out, the Lord again appeared and asked her, "Why are you crying?"
"Oh Lord, my husband has fallen into the river!"
The Lord went down into the water and came up with George Clooney.
"Is this your husband?" the Lord asked.
"Yes!" cried the seamstress.
The Lord was furious. "You lied! That is an untruth!"
The seamstress replied, "Oh, forgive me, my Lord. It is a misunderstanding. You see, if I had said 'no' to George Clooney, you would have come up with Brad Pitt. Then if I said 'no' to him, you would have come up with my husband. Had I then said 'yes,' you would have given me all three. Lord, I'm not in the best of health and would not be able to take care of all three husbands, so that's why I said 'yes' to George Clooney."
And so the Lord let her keep him.
The moral of this story is: Whenever a woman lies, it's for a good and honorable reason, and in the best interest of others.
Unglamorised
Me: Houston, there's a problem...
M: Clementi, there's a siao char bor...
Nobody would think it, or any other message, would be that ticklish. Except maybe me.
Either I really just have a very bad sense of humor, or there's something really wrong with me.
Really wrong.
M: Clementi, there's a siao char bor...
Nobody would think it, or any other message, would be that ticklish. Except maybe me.
Either I really just have a very bad sense of humor, or there's something really wrong with me.
Really wrong.
Cheat
We all get tired every now and then, don't we?
About work, about shit, about life. It's not just you, nor me; I suppose the mother who sits across from me cooing to her newborn son would get tired sometimes, or the security-uncle who sits stoned but still looking all-important at the same counter everyday, or my friends who are busy but seemingly pleased with their jobs and round up their otherwise normal daily lives by having couple of happy drinks with chums before heading home for a good night's rest.
Sometimes, it's just a worn-out body who tires out the mind, and we all regain that bit of energy to take on the world again after a good ten-hour snooze. That would be simply good fortune to know.
Then there are those sneaky times when we just feel tired inside out, we want to stop thinking, we want to stop breathing. We're so tired, our stomachs feel sick. We cuss and swear at the ills and wish they would all just disappear. Times like this, we just want to give up. Even if it is something you had really wanted. Times like this, you begin to doubt yourself and you forget what you were fighting for in the first place.
Is it just a burnt-out mind, or is it a seriously-wounded soul? Either case, I have no foolproof cure for it. Some say sleep would do some help. Some say booze, others say travel. I don't know.
I just know I am so fucking tired. If a deep, endless slumber is only but wishful thinking, then I just hope tomorrow, somehow somewhere I can find that energy to fight again.
Life is like those Choose Your Own Adventure storybooks I snuck from my brother when I was small and sick of playing with Barbie.
Only problem is, I cheated.
Every time I disliked my badly-chosen scenarios, I would cheat quietly and flip back a few chapters, just so I could choose my adventures all over again. Of course, trying very hard at the same time to remember the bad routes I had chosen before - and never to go up the same ones again.
If only I could cheat in life as well.
P.S.: Yes, I did use to own Barbies.
About work, about shit, about life. It's not just you, nor me; I suppose the mother who sits across from me cooing to her newborn son would get tired sometimes, or the security-uncle who sits stoned but still looking all-important at the same counter everyday, or my friends who are busy but seemingly pleased with their jobs and round up their otherwise normal daily lives by having couple of happy drinks with chums before heading home for a good night's rest.
Sometimes, it's just a worn-out body who tires out the mind, and we all regain that bit of energy to take on the world again after a good ten-hour snooze. That would be simply good fortune to know.
Then there are those sneaky times when we just feel tired inside out, we want to stop thinking, we want to stop breathing. We're so tired, our stomachs feel sick. We cuss and swear at the ills and wish they would all just disappear. Times like this, we just want to give up. Even if it is something you had really wanted. Times like this, you begin to doubt yourself and you forget what you were fighting for in the first place.
Is it just a burnt-out mind, or is it a seriously-wounded soul? Either case, I have no foolproof cure for it. Some say sleep would do some help. Some say booze, others say travel. I don't know.
I just know I am so fucking tired. If a deep, endless slumber is only but wishful thinking, then I just hope tomorrow, somehow somewhere I can find that energy to fight again.
Life is like those Choose Your Own Adventure storybooks I snuck from my brother when I was small and sick of playing with Barbie.
Only problem is, I cheated.
Every time I disliked my badly-chosen scenarios, I would cheat quietly and flip back a few chapters, just so I could choose my adventures all over again. Of course, trying very hard at the same time to remember the bad routes I had chosen before - and never to go up the same ones again.
If only I could cheat in life as well.
P.S.: Yes, I did use to own Barbies.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Boot That Thought!
The morning I left Hong Kong, my heart was at unease.
I knew I had forgotten about something, I knew I had left something behind.
What it was, I never really did manage to figure out... until today.
I forgot to buy my all-important Boots supplies!!! Aaarrgghhh!!! How could I?!?!
Remembering about Boots today also brought something else unfortunate to my mind.
Boots inevitably reminds me of Bangkok.
Before HK, there was Bangkok. I have always loved Bangkok for her tom yum goong, green curry, cheap bras and most of all - Boots. There is nary a fulfilling Bangkok trip without a loadful of Boots squeezed amongst my dirty clothes.
But today, the sudden thought of Bangkok reminds me of how life loves playing pranks on us.
Of how some things almost were, but probably were never meant to be.
And thinking of Bangkok also makes me hungry now.
Very, very hungry. =/
I knew I had forgotten about something, I knew I had left something behind.
What it was, I never really did manage to figure out... until today.
I forgot to buy my all-important Boots supplies!!! Aaarrgghhh!!! How could I?!?!
Remembering about Boots today also brought something else unfortunate to my mind.
Boots inevitably reminds me of Bangkok.
Before HK, there was Bangkok. I have always loved Bangkok for her tom yum goong, green curry, cheap bras and most of all - Boots. There is nary a fulfilling Bangkok trip without a loadful of Boots squeezed amongst my dirty clothes.
But today, the sudden thought of Bangkok reminds me of how life loves playing pranks on us.
Of how some things almost were, but probably were never meant to be.
And thinking of Bangkok also makes me hungry now.
Very, very hungry. =/
Other Loves
Much as I try to be resolute and stick to my top three should-loves, I know there are other people/things that will always tear me away from my numero uno.
Like, chicks for whom I'm willing to give up my time, even though I had already made plans, albeit for myself, to be a good girl for the night. This is my bane: if I'm not there for my chicks, I just can't trust anyone else who would be.
And then, there's ...
"Huh? What's this? You'd love money more than me?"
Haha... You'd know my answer, hunny.
You jolly well should.
Like, chicks for whom I'm willing to give up my time, even though I had already made plans, albeit for myself, to be a good girl for the night. This is my bane: if I'm not there for my chicks, I just can't trust anyone else who would be.
And then, there's ...
"Huh? What's this? You'd love money more than me?"
Haha... You'd know my answer, hunny.
You jolly well should.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Lessons
Couple (or maybe more) of lessons I have learnt this week.
One: Never say "never". The things that you always say 'never' to, will always end up in your court. Somehow. TRUST ME.
Two: (Regardless of the 'never' lesson) A "no" is always a "no". I hope some people get that message right. Subtlety doesn't work.
Three: Close my heart, and shut the fuck up. Less expectations will be formed of you.
Yes. Shut my trap.
Whenever necessary. In fact... perhaps, all the time.
That way, life might probably be much, much easier.
One: Never say "never". The things that you always say 'never' to, will always end up in your court. Somehow. TRUST ME.
Two: (Regardless of the 'never' lesson) A "no" is always a "no". I hope some people get that message right. Subtlety doesn't work.
Three: Close my heart, and shut the fuck up. Less expectations will be formed of you.
Yes. Shut my trap.
Whenever necessary. In fact... perhaps, all the time.
That way, life might probably be much, much easier.
Another Nice One
#&*^%@(*@&$!!
I have no words for this. Absolutely zilch.
For the one year that I finally missed Portland, it snowed. It fuckin' snowed. Big-time!
I love ya, Big One.
I so swear I'll make me my own white Christmas this year.
Money money money money money...
I have no words for this. Absolutely zilch.
For the one year that I finally missed Portland, it snowed. It fuckin' snowed. Big-time!
I love ya, Big One.
I so swear I'll make me my own white Christmas this year.
Money money money money money...
Monday, January 22, 2007
Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue...
Halfway through our crap one night over the weekend, one of us chicks started to chant: "Roses are red, violets are blue... then what huh? What huh?!"
All the chicks scratched their heads, pored over the very 'cheem' question but none could come up with the right answer.
Baffled, and refusing to be deemed dumb chicks who didn't know their love poems well, we resorted to the know-all master Google. And then we found out: there is no right answer! Hurrah!
Instead, we got more than what we sought. Plus some more.
The So-called Original Version
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet,
And so are you.
The Hum-Sup Version
Roses are blue,
Violets are red,
I'm crap with colors,
But wicked in bed.
The Hum-Sup Version Part II
Roses are blue,
Violets are red,
I am not a gynaecologist,
But I'll look for you.
The Primary-Three-Kid Version
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Someone like you,
Belongs in a zoo,
Don't be mad don't be blue,
Frankenstein was ugly too.
The Wednesday-Addams Version
Roses are wilting,
Violets are dead,
Sugar is lumpy,
And so is your head.
The Smart-Aleck-Lil'-Sister Version
Violets are blue,
Roses are pink,
Did you just fart,
Or is that your feet that really stink.
The Deliriously-Happy Version
Roses are orange,
Violets are green,
This is the best weed,
I have ever seen.
The Only-Men-Can-Think-Of Version
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I made this poem up,
While sitting on the loo.
The Ah-Lian Version
Lohses are led,
Wylets are bloo,
You gip me laimonds,
And I mally you.
The Ah-Beng Version
Char Bor le si led,
Ta Bor wa si bloo,
You be my stead,
And I make lup to you.
The Little-Prince-of-a-Nephew Version
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
My Thomas trains are smashing,
And so is my 姑姑.
Heeheeheeheehee...
All the chicks scratched their heads, pored over the very 'cheem' question but none could come up with the right answer.
Baffled, and refusing to be deemed dumb chicks who didn't know their love poems well, we resorted to the know-all master Google. And then we found out: there is no right answer! Hurrah!
Instead, we got more than what we sought. Plus some more.
The So-called Original Version
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet,
And so are you.
The Hum-Sup Version
Roses are blue,
Violets are red,
I'm crap with colors,
But wicked in bed.
The Hum-Sup Version Part II
Roses are blue,
Violets are red,
I am not a gynaecologist,
But I'll look for you.
The Primary-Three-Kid Version
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Someone like you,
Belongs in a zoo,
Don't be mad don't be blue,
Frankenstein was ugly too.
The Wednesday-Addams Version
Roses are wilting,
Violets are dead,
Sugar is lumpy,
And so is your head.
The Smart-Aleck-Lil'-Sister Version
Violets are blue,
Roses are pink,
Did you just fart,
Or is that your feet that really stink.
The Deliriously-Happy Version
Roses are orange,
Violets are green,
This is the best weed,
I have ever seen.
The Only-Men-Can-Think-Of Version
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I made this poem up,
While sitting on the loo.
The Ah-Lian Version
Lohses are led,
Wylets are bloo,
You gip me laimonds,
And I mally you.
The Ah-Beng Version
Char Bor le si led,
Ta Bor wa si bloo,
You be my stead,
And I make lup to you.
The Little-Prince-of-a-Nephew Version
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
My Thomas trains are smashing,
And so is my 姑姑.
Heeheeheeheehee...
New Loves
Ok, after much deliberation, I think I had been a bit too dumb. I had gotten my priorities all wrong; I had been too easy in my loving.
And I thought I was big. Sheesh.
For one, it's pretty dumb to think you actually love a brand. Worse still, to think you love a brand who would never be capable of loving any single one human being.
So this is my new 'love' motto:
One: Love ME ME ME more than anything/anyone else.
Two: Love my girls. (Only simply because I am their all-loving God.)
Three: Love money money money.
Yes. I have (finally) decided to love money money money more than you, my friends.
Darn, I should've been more gian lui from the the beginning...
And I thought I was big. Sheesh.
For one, it's pretty dumb to think you actually love a brand. Worse still, to think you love a brand who would never be capable of loving any single one human being.
So this is my new 'love' motto:
One: Love ME ME ME more than anything/anyone else.
Two: Love my girls. (Only simply because I am their all-loving God.)
Three: Love money money money.
Yes. I have (finally) decided to love money money money more than you, my friends.
Darn, I should've been more gian lui from the the beginning...
WWF-Slammed
There I was, for a moment, floating... floating... floating... higher and higher... until the stupid bubble burst.
This time, the bubble's a little soapier and almost that close to heaven. So the bump on the ass feels a bit more painful. Like I had been WWF-slammed.
Most of the rescue work revolves around smacking myself on the head every now and then.
Wake up. You already knew deep inside you something was bound to happen. You're never that happy little kid who gets to enjoy free happy meals, complete with the toys of the week.
It is precisely at this point, I would like to stand in front of the blue sea and scream out at the top of my lungs that I hate erm... stuff.
But then, the lousy weather doesn't quite permit that. Which is just as well, since I know my friends would all smack me on the head one by one too if they knew what I had been up to.
I don't need any more of that now. I think my head is already not functioning as well as it should.
I think what I really badly need now, other than writing tons of awwsome letters, is some self-administered dosages of laughter. HUGE dosages.
No need. I don't need nobody to make me laugh. I am a big girl, and I already have a good reputation around this area of being able to laugh at a computer.
I have my email jokes, my stupid videos, my list of silly blogs, and my favorite you-tube.
Or, some wise quips from my witty friends. Like this:
"No decent director would dump you over the phone."
I like witty people. Really.
This time, the bubble's a little soapier and almost that close to heaven. So the bump on the ass feels a bit more painful. Like I had been WWF-slammed.
Most of the rescue work revolves around smacking myself on the head every now and then.
Wake up. You already knew deep inside you something was bound to happen. You're never that happy little kid who gets to enjoy free happy meals, complete with the toys of the week.
It is precisely at this point, I would like to stand in front of the blue sea and scream out at the top of my lungs that I hate erm... stuff.
But then, the lousy weather doesn't quite permit that. Which is just as well, since I know my friends would all smack me on the head one by one too if they knew what I had been up to.
I don't need any more of that now. I think my head is already not functioning as well as it should.
I think what I really badly need now, other than writing tons of awwsome letters, is some self-administered dosages of laughter. HUGE dosages.
No need. I don't need nobody to make me laugh. I am a big girl, and I already have a good reputation around this area of being able to laugh at a computer.
I have my email jokes, my stupid videos, my list of silly blogs, and my favorite you-tube.
Or, some wise quips from my witty friends. Like this:
"No decent director would dump you over the phone."
I like witty people. Really.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Cliffhanger
I crossed over to the 'other' side.
The other side where I thought might have greener pastures, but I didn't really search because all I really wanted was just to get over there and bask in the greenery to mend my wretched soul.
"Come back over," they had cooed as they sent me off. "Come back when you're healed."
I smiled, shook hands, turned my back, and crossed the bridge over to the other side.
Five good months of lying on the grass, staring up at the blue skies, daydreaming about life and possibilities later, I got up, stretched myself, and decided I needed something more. Something more real in this world. It was time for me to go in search of that something.
More importantly, maybe as pompous as it may sound, I am needed somewhere in this world. I have to find out, I told myself.
"Hey!"
Just as I had gotten up and fluffed the bits of grass off my pretty brown skirt, someone yelled after me.
I turned around, and saw someone waving at me. Someone from that side across the bridge where I had come from five months ago.
I smiled and waved back.
"Hey! You're up, finally! Come back. We want you back here!"
Should I? Shouldn't I?
I would love to. I missed that place across the bridge. Not much greenery, but there were indeed human beings over there I loved anyway. Human beings whom I had seen cross the bridge to and fro in all of my six years there, but also remained in my heart wherever they might be.
But then, I hadn't really done what I had set out to do. I turned my head away from the bridge, and looked ahead.
What might life really look like out there...
"Come! Come back. We have a lot of good things for you back here. We miss you, and we need you!"
And then it hit me like a bullet train. The love I had for that place hit me in the head and rushed through all my blood veins.
Groggily, I turned and started my way toward the bridge.
One... two... three... then a little pause... then I continued making my careful steps up the long shaky bridge. In no time, my steps quickened with confidence, and there I was, halfway across the bridge.
"Wait a minute! Stop right there! Someone set the bridge on fire! Hang on right there, I'll get you!"
Hang on right there?
Oopsy. Did someone actually notice the fire has broken the bridge into two, and that my life is now hanging on one dangling end?
Someone send a 'copter. Hurry.
So you see.
Stop telling me to "be careful about burning any bridge". They offered me to use the bridge first, then fuckin' burnt it.
There is no more bridge.
If you still want me, send a bloody 'copter.
The wait is killing me.
The other side where I thought might have greener pastures, but I didn't really search because all I really wanted was just to get over there and bask in the greenery to mend my wretched soul.
"Come back over," they had cooed as they sent me off. "Come back when you're healed."
I smiled, shook hands, turned my back, and crossed the bridge over to the other side.
Five good months of lying on the grass, staring up at the blue skies, daydreaming about life and possibilities later, I got up, stretched myself, and decided I needed something more. Something more real in this world. It was time for me to go in search of that something.
More importantly, maybe as pompous as it may sound, I am needed somewhere in this world. I have to find out, I told myself.
"Hey!"
Just as I had gotten up and fluffed the bits of grass off my pretty brown skirt, someone yelled after me.
I turned around, and saw someone waving at me. Someone from that side across the bridge where I had come from five months ago.
I smiled and waved back.
"Hey! You're up, finally! Come back. We want you back here!"
Should I? Shouldn't I?
I would love to. I missed that place across the bridge. Not much greenery, but there were indeed human beings over there I loved anyway. Human beings whom I had seen cross the bridge to and fro in all of my six years there, but also remained in my heart wherever they might be.
But then, I hadn't really done what I had set out to do. I turned my head away from the bridge, and looked ahead.
What might life really look like out there...
"Come! Come back. We have a lot of good things for you back here. We miss you, and we need you!"
And then it hit me like a bullet train. The love I had for that place hit me in the head and rushed through all my blood veins.
Groggily, I turned and started my way toward the bridge.
One... two... three... then a little pause... then I continued making my careful steps up the long shaky bridge. In no time, my steps quickened with confidence, and there I was, halfway across the bridge.
"Wait a minute! Stop right there! Someone set the bridge on fire! Hang on right there, I'll get you!"
Hang on right there?
Oopsy. Did someone actually notice the fire has broken the bridge into two, and that my life is now hanging on one dangling end?
Someone send a 'copter. Hurry.
So you see.
Stop telling me to "be careful about burning any bridge". They offered me to use the bridge first, then fuckin' burnt it.
There is no more bridge.
If you still want me, send a bloody 'copter.
The wait is killing me.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
(Crappy)
In times exactly like this, you thank the Big Guy for creating the wondrous technology known as 'email', and for (crappy) friends who bother to cheer you up with (crappy) email jokes.
So anytime you start feeling blue, instead of reaching for the valium, you just log on to your email and pull the (crappy) jokes - like this one - out again for a good laugh.
Funny stuff to avoid for your kids...
Mandarin
Paul Chan - Bankrupt
Anne Chang - Dirty
Faye Chen - Dusty
Anne Chin - Keep quiet
Henry Mah - Hate your mum
Jane Tan - Frying eggs
Nelson Tan - Bird laying eggs
Leslie Tong - Rubbish bin
Hokkien
Carl Cheng - Buttock
Monica Cheng - Touching your buttocks
Lucy Leow - You are dead
Suzie Leow - Lost till death
Lim Yew Lin - Drink urine
Lim Teh Peng - Drink iced tea
Danny See - Squeeze you to death
Corrine Tai - Poor fellow
Rosie Teng - Screws and nails
Carmen Tng - Leg hair long
Pete Tsai - Nose droppings
Cantonese
Connie Mah - Call your mother
Macy Koh - Never die before
Micheal Tan - Sell eggs
Michael Loong - Sell chicken cage
Funny, just laugh out loud. Wherever you are right now.
Just like me.
So anytime you start feeling blue, instead of reaching for the valium, you just log on to your email and pull the (crappy) jokes - like this one - out again for a good laugh.
Funny stuff to avoid for your kids...
Mandarin
Paul Chan - Bankrupt
Anne Chang - Dirty
Faye Chen - Dusty
Anne Chin - Keep quiet
Henry Mah - Hate your mum
Jane Tan - Frying eggs
Nelson Tan - Bird laying eggs
Leslie Tong - Rubbish bin
Hokkien
Carl Cheng - Buttock
Monica Cheng - Touching your buttocks
Lucy Leow - You are dead
Suzie Leow - Lost till death
Lim Yew Lin - Drink urine
Lim Teh Peng - Drink iced tea
Danny See - Squeeze you to death
Corrine Tai - Poor fellow
Rosie Teng - Screws and nails
Carmen Tng - Leg hair long
Pete Tsai - Nose droppings
Cantonese
Connie Mah - Call your mother
Macy Koh - Never die before
Micheal Tan - Sell eggs
Michael Loong - Sell chicken cage
Funny, just laugh out loud. Wherever you are right now.
Just like me.
A Little Scare
So, shit happens time to time. Perhaps even all the time. Sometimes big-time, too.
And the thing is, everytime it happens, we just wipe our asses before we go on with life. Unless, well, you're a blissfully nonchalant two-year-old.
So shit happened.
So bad, it almost ripped my guts out.
But I think I'm doing a pretty good job, cleaning up myself - so quickly. And so surprisingly.
I said, only for tonight.
I remember I said that.
I am back, as promised.
With still a little bit of anger, but surely, hopefully more smartness too. A cooler, but also heavier, head - damn.
I will show all my hunnys and babes out there, that those who do me wrong will not do me in.
To the ones who gave me a good tight slap (each) across the back of my silly head last night, big thanks.
I needed that.
And I needed you.
*****
And so this was how it ended up: I didn't do no face-mask, hair-mask, whatever-mask, I didn't come home early, and I didn't even have my zzz monster for company.
And then now, I got to deal with the poofed-up eyes.
Big Guy, whatever happened last night, I'll talk to you about it sometime later, maybe in the day.
For now, if you can really perform miracles, please make my eyes pretty pretty again. By 1 o'clock.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE OK.
And the thing is, everytime it happens, we just wipe our asses before we go on with life. Unless, well, you're a blissfully nonchalant two-year-old.
So shit happened.
So bad, it almost ripped my guts out.
But I think I'm doing a pretty good job, cleaning up myself - so quickly. And so surprisingly.
I said, only for tonight.
I remember I said that.
I am back, as promised.
With still a little bit of anger, but surely, hopefully more smartness too. A cooler, but also heavier, head - damn.
I will show all my hunnys and babes out there, that those who do me wrong will not do me in.
To the ones who gave me a good tight slap (each) across the back of my silly head last night, big thanks.
I needed that.
And I needed you.
*****
And so this was how it ended up: I didn't do no face-mask, hair-mask, whatever-mask, I didn't come home early, and I didn't even have my zzz monster for company.
And then now, I got to deal with the poofed-up eyes.
Big Guy, whatever happened last night, I'll talk to you about it sometime later, maybe in the day.
For now, if you can really perform miracles, please make my eyes pretty pretty again. By 1 o'clock.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE OK.
Monday, January 15, 2007
i-Maskmaskmask
Oh dear, it is happening faster than I had wanted it to.
Tonight, I must go home early, slap on face mask, hair mask, body mud mask, any mask.
And I think I might need to "borrow" some zzzg pills from Karks. Otherwise, 6 whites might do the same trick.
I'd love to think my fifteen-pathetic-second shot at fame did the job. But, I don't think so leh.
This is so fuckin' hilarious. :)
Tonight, I must go home early, slap on face mask, hair mask, body mud mask, any mask.
And I think I might need to "borrow" some zzzg pills from Karks. Otherwise, 6 whites might do the same trick.
I'd love to think my fifteen-pathetic-second shot at fame did the job. But, I don't think so leh.
This is so fuckin' hilarious. :)
Ironies
It's been a long, long, somewhat traumatizing, yet blossoming week.
Yous cuddles mys zzzs monsters tonights.
Ands Is wills zzzs earlys toos. :)
Yous cuddles mys zzzs monsters tonights.
Ands Is wills zzzs earlys toos. :)
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Old Skool and the New
"Cheng dropped 2 Roald Dahl bombs on me. Straight old school and new school editions. Now that's playing hardball. I need a sleeping pill cause this is starting to get ludicrous." - excerpt from the 'Handsome Young' one.
Yes, so I was back to my book-sharing mood during the recent Christmas.
And it got me excited all over again, fantasizing about my own dream bookcase. I figure my books shall be the best Original-Fatmama heirloom I could ever hand down to my kids, and their kids, and their kids, and their kids...
That said, I think I do have a long way to go though.
While I am darned proud of my almost-complete Tintin collection, I am missing my Enid Blytons and my Nancy Drews. If I can't find them in the 30-year-old vault meticulously maintained by the Queen Mother, I have this nagging feeling I would so embark on an anal worldwide huntdown.
Somewhere amongst the kids' section, I am also going to pull out all the Calvin & Hobbes, the Dr. Seuss's, and the Shel Silversteins. I can't help but think I would make such a darned awesome mom or grandmom. Tsk tsk.
I don't really care much for the Harry Potters - maybe 'cos I already own most of them. But Roald Dahls would be the next must-haves after the Blytons (the Golliwogs, the Magic Faraway Trees, the Amelia Janes, the Famous Fives and all). I know I have most of them in my still-pathetic bookcase. :)
I will not dare proclaim any challenge toward Shakespeare, but I have always dreamt of conquering all the great classics. The day I actually complete Tolstroy's War and Peace, I would think I am damn awesome.
On the shelves of my dream bookcase, some philosophical titles and an autobiogaphy on Audrey Hepburn would ideally stand. There would probably be, as I can imagine now, a good mix of fiction and non-fiction. Books about dogs, animals, interesting human beings, travel, food, and especially the how-to-get-rich manuals.
The treasury would finally be completed with a few random titles that I have had the blessing to, and will hopefully continue to, stumble upon. Books that I didn't search for, but found their way to me instead. Books that told me a story which touched my own in an inexplicable yet immense way.
I love books.
I pray only that I will have amassed enough fortune in this lifetime of mine to indulge in them. And that I have the super power to actually read faster than I would like to buy.
And if I could just be allowed to be a little shameless here, I would be a very happy chick if all birthday or Christmas pressies came in the form of Borders giftcards. :)
Yes, so I was back to my book-sharing mood during the recent Christmas.
And it got me excited all over again, fantasizing about my own dream bookcase. I figure my books shall be the best Original-Fatmama heirloom I could ever hand down to my kids, and their kids, and their kids, and their kids...
That said, I think I do have a long way to go though.
While I am darned proud of my almost-complete Tintin collection, I am missing my Enid Blytons and my Nancy Drews. If I can't find them in the 30-year-old vault meticulously maintained by the Queen Mother, I have this nagging feeling I would so embark on an anal worldwide huntdown.
Somewhere amongst the kids' section, I am also going to pull out all the Calvin & Hobbes, the Dr. Seuss's, and the Shel Silversteins. I can't help but think I would make such a darned awesome mom or grandmom. Tsk tsk.
I don't really care much for the Harry Potters - maybe 'cos I already own most of them. But Roald Dahls would be the next must-haves after the Blytons (the Golliwogs, the Magic Faraway Trees, the Amelia Janes, the Famous Fives and all). I know I have most of them in my still-pathetic bookcase. :)
I will not dare proclaim any challenge toward Shakespeare, but I have always dreamt of conquering all the great classics. The day I actually complete Tolstroy's War and Peace, I would think I am damn awesome.
On the shelves of my dream bookcase, some philosophical titles and an autobiogaphy on Audrey Hepburn would ideally stand. There would probably be, as I can imagine now, a good mix of fiction and non-fiction. Books about dogs, animals, interesting human beings, travel, food, and especially the how-to-get-rich manuals.
The treasury would finally be completed with a few random titles that I have had the blessing to, and will hopefully continue to, stumble upon. Books that I didn't search for, but found their way to me instead. Books that told me a story which touched my own in an inexplicable yet immense way.
I love books.
I pray only that I will have amassed enough fortune in this lifetime of mine to indulge in them. And that I have the super power to actually read faster than I would like to buy.
And if I could just be allowed to be a little shameless here, I would be a very happy chick if all birthday or Christmas pressies came in the form of Borders giftcards. :)
Friday, January 12, 2007
Fear and Hope
Barely twenty-four hours after the initial jubilation, the fear has set in. Silly cow me... I really should've seen it coming, but still I didn't.
The fear of the unknown. The self-doubts. The what-ifs. The do-you-actually-know-what-the-fuck-you're-doing questions. I am getting afraid of me - again.
It's déjà vu. I know it best.
I feel exactly the same as I did, five months ago when I left the place I used to call my second home.
For all I know, I might feel lost. I might feel clueless... helpless even. I might even get so lonely I'd die (most likely from imbibing more alcohol than I ought to). The fact that I would be in an unfamiliar city infamous for her rude spit-ful people would definitely not be of much help.
Then again, I would never know, would I?
Five long months ago, the very minute I put the letter on ex-boss's desk, I started feeling lost. I did feel clueless, though not entirely helpless. I had already been lonely for a while.
But I got through all that.
And I got to where I am standing right now.
I love me for what I decided for myself five months ago. I love me for making the fateful decision to visit my brother Ed in Hong Kong. Without everything that happened in the past five months, especially that perpetually drunken yet ironically sobering HK trip, I would probably still be lost, clueless... and lonely.
I have a seemingly bright future, a brain-cell-killing challenge, a new exciting life, some awe-inspiring jaw-dropping event awaiting some thousands of miles away.
Thanks to some folks, and I think, most of all, to myself.
I would be a fucking big shame if I let anyone down. Most of all, Fatmama.
There are perhaps plenty things I need to settle before I go.
There's the room to pack up. Stuff to bring, stuff to dump, and stuff to return to its rightful owner.
There's the car I need to put into safe hands. I love it too much to see it go to wasteland.
There're my girls I have to entrust in 奶奶's hands, very probably second in line after the prince of a nephew. I need to show 'em where my doctor works, where their hairdresser operates.
There're my chicks I have to drink to death with every night before I go. I cannot tell them how much I am so gonna fuckin' miss them, I hope my drinking makes up for it.
There's the nephew I have to hug and kiss and hug and kiss every night and day, because I don't want him to miss me, and I don't fuckin' want him to ever forget about 姑姑. I think I might have to cook up some lame excuse, like 姑姑's going to some faraway place to buy Oliver.
There are new stuff I need/would like to get for myself. A (more) handy camera to capture my new life. An i-Sight (I got screwed for thinking about a brand new MacBook) through which the little prince and his two furry cousins can catch a good glimpse of me every now and then. All those books in Borders I've been dying to own in my bookcase. A tattoo on my lower back I've promised myself since... .
And then, there're the feelings I need to recollect for myself.
I hope I keep myself busy enough.
I am so glad to be going back to work.
Because I know many people out there would be too.
Thanks everyone, all of you. For keeping me company, for obliging my invitations to drink whenever dusk falls, for singing whenever I have an itch to, for continuing chatting with me on MSN at three fucking p.m. when you should be answering more important emails.
I love you guys. All of you. And for real.
Please go back to work. Go back to your normal life before I came in to disrupt it. Go back to what you're meant to do.
And to you, I hope you get your executive directorship. Really soon. :)
Life's hopefully not gonna be that bad.
I will bring 臭臭 along with me. I will have my books and DVDs. I always will have Jay with me all along the way from the airport to wherever I end up.
And most of all, I will have someone's love. :)
The fear of the unknown. The self-doubts. The what-ifs. The do-you-actually-know-what-the-fuck-you're-doing questions. I am getting afraid of me - again.
It's déjà vu. I know it best.
I feel exactly the same as I did, five months ago when I left the place I used to call my second home.
For all I know, I might feel lost. I might feel clueless... helpless even. I might even get so lonely I'd die (most likely from imbibing more alcohol than I ought to). The fact that I would be in an unfamiliar city infamous for her rude spit-ful people would definitely not be of much help.
Then again, I would never know, would I?
Five long months ago, the very minute I put the letter on ex-boss's desk, I started feeling lost. I did feel clueless, though not entirely helpless. I had already been lonely for a while.
But I got through all that.
And I got to where I am standing right now.
I love me for what I decided for myself five months ago. I love me for making the fateful decision to visit my brother Ed in Hong Kong. Without everything that happened in the past five months, especially that perpetually drunken yet ironically sobering HK trip, I would probably still be lost, clueless... and lonely.
I have a seemingly bright future, a brain-cell-killing challenge, a new exciting life, some awe-inspiring jaw-dropping event awaiting some thousands of miles away.
Thanks to some folks, and I think, most of all, to myself.
I would be a fucking big shame if I let anyone down. Most of all, Fatmama.
There are perhaps plenty things I need to settle before I go.
There's the room to pack up. Stuff to bring, stuff to dump, and stuff to return to its rightful owner.
There's the car I need to put into safe hands. I love it too much to see it go to wasteland.
There're my girls I have to entrust in 奶奶's hands, very probably second in line after the prince of a nephew. I need to show 'em where my doctor works, where their hairdresser operates.
There're my chicks I have to drink to death with every night before I go. I cannot tell them how much I am so gonna fuckin' miss them, I hope my drinking makes up for it.
There's the nephew I have to hug and kiss and hug and kiss every night and day, because I don't want him to miss me, and I don't fuckin' want him to ever forget about 姑姑. I think I might have to cook up some lame excuse, like 姑姑's going to some faraway place to buy Oliver.
There are new stuff I need/would like to get for myself. A (more) handy camera to capture my new life. An i-Sight (I got screwed for thinking about a brand new MacBook) through which the little prince and his two furry cousins can catch a good glimpse of me every now and then. All those books in Borders I've been dying to own in my bookcase. A tattoo on my lower back I've promised myself since... .
And then, there're the feelings I need to recollect for myself.
I hope I keep myself busy enough.
I am so glad to be going back to work.
Because I know many people out there would be too.
Thanks everyone, all of you. For keeping me company, for obliging my invitations to drink whenever dusk falls, for singing whenever I have an itch to, for continuing chatting with me on MSN at three fucking p.m. when you should be answering more important emails.
I love you guys. All of you. And for real.
Please go back to work. Go back to your normal life before I came in to disrupt it. Go back to what you're meant to do.
And to you, I hope you get your executive directorship. Really soon. :)
Life's hopefully not gonna be that bad.
I will bring 臭臭 along with me. I will have my books and DVDs. I always will have Jay with me all along the way from the airport to wherever I end up.
And most of all, I will have someone's love. :)
"Hello Auntie..."
I so swear, this story I'm gonna tell, is gonna go way down in (my) history.
*****
"Hello auntie! You need umbrella?"
So, it had been raining dogs and more dogs since the fateful phonecall came. But the story now is not about that fateful phonecall.
Anyway, because of the downpour that didn't stop since, Auntie Fatmama found herself lugging (very reluctantly) an umbrella with her as she left her house in the morning. Yes, very unglam an umbrella is, but when you gotta bring it, you gotta bring it.
As fate would decree, the wretched umbrella eventually broke down, resisting the heavy pounding from the (stupid) heavy raindrops. So into the rubbish bin it went, and Auntie Fatmama found herself trudging toward the massage parlor in the cold.
Umbrella-less.
"Hello auntie! You need umbrella?"
Stunned, Auntie Fatmama turned to her left, where the tiny voice emerged.
There he stood, a tiny boy in old crooked glasses, no more than seven or eight years of age, looking at Auntie Fatmama with tiny but earnest eyes, offering his small umbrella in his left hand.
"What the fuck... ?" thought Auntie Fatmama.
But all she could voice in return was: "Er... sorry? What did you want?"
"Oh, it's raining, and I know you don't have an umbrella. You can share with me." And then he flashed the sweetest, most innocent smile ever.
Melting already, despite the unkind weather, Auntie Fatmama beamed, "Oh no need! Thank you very much but no need. I am just walking down to the shop further down... You are very very sweet... How old are you?... What's your name?... Where do you stay?... You are very sweet..."
In no less than one minute, the pair found themselves walking past an "ang ku kueh" shop, apparently a very famous one.
The boy immediately stopped in his tracks, and stopped entertaining Auntie Fatmama's intrusive questions. "Oh Auntie! You must buy the kuehs from this shop. They are very, very nice."
"Huh?!... Oh, I'll go to my shop first, then come back and buy later."
"No!!! You must buy now!"
Auntie Fatmama looked at the boy for a little longer than a moment, figured out the trap she had fallen into, then said with a slightly screwed-up face, "Oh. You want, is it?"
"No lah. No need."
Rolling her eyes very discreetly, Auntie Fatmama pulled the boy into the shop, and emerged quickly after paying for just two ang ku kuehs - both in the boy's hands.
Realizing the shit she had gotten herself into (yet again), she quickened her steps toward the massage parlor. Boy followed in hot pursuit, "Auntie! You need umbrella!"
"No! No need! And I think you should go home now. The rain is not so heavy now."
But alas! The boy in the old crooked glasses wouldn't relent. He followed right behind Auntie Fatmama's heels to the front door of the massage parlor.
Getting a little flustered, yet trying her best to retain the sweet tone, Auntie Fatmama instructed, "Ok, I am here at my shop. Go home now, before your mom starts wondering where you are."
"No. I don't want to go home yet, it's still raining. Can I come in with you, sit there and wait?"
Auntie Fatmama huffed in mild exasperation, and gave up.
The boy went in and created a nuisance of himself in the shop, messing with all the stuff he could possibly lay his hands on.
Before she went in to the room, Auntie Fatmama apologized profusely to the counter-girl for his behavior, adding a last disclaimer: "I don't know him one. Just send him home when I go in. Please."
Fresh from her hour-long massage session, Auntie Fatmama realized. She had just, barely an hour ago, been picked up by a freakin' eleven-year-old in old crooked glasses, conned by his umbrella offer, and parted with her moolah for a couple of ang ku kuehs.
Sigh.
Boy ah boy... you fuckin' had me at "hello...".
*****
See... boys will be boys.
No matter what age they may be, boys will always be boys and give you trouble no less.
When will I ever fuckin' learn?
*****
"Hello auntie! You need umbrella?"
So, it had been raining dogs and more dogs since the fateful phonecall came. But the story now is not about that fateful phonecall.
Anyway, because of the downpour that didn't stop since, Auntie Fatmama found herself lugging (very reluctantly) an umbrella with her as she left her house in the morning. Yes, very unglam an umbrella is, but when you gotta bring it, you gotta bring it.
As fate would decree, the wretched umbrella eventually broke down, resisting the heavy pounding from the (stupid) heavy raindrops. So into the rubbish bin it went, and Auntie Fatmama found herself trudging toward the massage parlor in the cold.
Umbrella-less.
"Hello auntie! You need umbrella?"
Stunned, Auntie Fatmama turned to her left, where the tiny voice emerged.
There he stood, a tiny boy in old crooked glasses, no more than seven or eight years of age, looking at Auntie Fatmama with tiny but earnest eyes, offering his small umbrella in his left hand.
"What the fuck... ?" thought Auntie Fatmama.
But all she could voice in return was: "Er... sorry? What did you want?"
"Oh, it's raining, and I know you don't have an umbrella. You can share with me." And then he flashed the sweetest, most innocent smile ever.
Melting already, despite the unkind weather, Auntie Fatmama beamed, "Oh no need! Thank you very much but no need. I am just walking down to the shop further down... You are very very sweet... How old are you?... What's your name?... Where do you stay?... You are very sweet..."
In no less than one minute, the pair found themselves walking past an "ang ku kueh" shop, apparently a very famous one.
The boy immediately stopped in his tracks, and stopped entertaining Auntie Fatmama's intrusive questions. "Oh Auntie! You must buy the kuehs from this shop. They are very, very nice."
"Huh?!... Oh, I'll go to my shop first, then come back and buy later."
"No!!! You must buy now!"
Auntie Fatmama looked at the boy for a little longer than a moment, figured out the trap she had fallen into, then said with a slightly screwed-up face, "Oh. You want, is it?"
"No lah. No need."
Rolling her eyes very discreetly, Auntie Fatmama pulled the boy into the shop, and emerged quickly after paying for just two ang ku kuehs - both in the boy's hands.
Realizing the shit she had gotten herself into (yet again), she quickened her steps toward the massage parlor. Boy followed in hot pursuit, "Auntie! You need umbrella!"
"No! No need! And I think you should go home now. The rain is not so heavy now."
But alas! The boy in the old crooked glasses wouldn't relent. He followed right behind Auntie Fatmama's heels to the front door of the massage parlor.
Getting a little flustered, yet trying her best to retain the sweet tone, Auntie Fatmama instructed, "Ok, I am here at my shop. Go home now, before your mom starts wondering where you are."
"No. I don't want to go home yet, it's still raining. Can I come in with you, sit there and wait?"
Auntie Fatmama huffed in mild exasperation, and gave up.
The boy went in and created a nuisance of himself in the shop, messing with all the stuff he could possibly lay his hands on.
Before she went in to the room, Auntie Fatmama apologized profusely to the counter-girl for his behavior, adding a last disclaimer: "I don't know him one. Just send him home when I go in. Please."
Fresh from her hour-long massage session, Auntie Fatmama realized. She had just, barely an hour ago, been picked up by a freakin' eleven-year-old in old crooked glasses, conned by his umbrella offer, and parted with her moolah for a couple of ang ku kuehs.
Sigh.
Boy ah boy... you fuckin' had me at "hello...".
*****
See... boys will be boys.
No matter what age they may be, boys will always be boys and give you trouble no less.
When will I ever fuckin' learn?
I Need A Massage Bed... NOW
I had really meant to put them all down in words. But this empty 'create-new-post' page has been staring blankly at me for the past two hours, waiting for me to say something. And I am beginning to feel a tad queasy. What an embarrassment.
There... I hope this make-do rubbish pleases you abit.
So I think I need to think through my thoughts first. Plus, my neck is so fuckin' killing me, I think I need a massage more now.
When my neck can hold my head up again, maybe then I'll think better.
There... I hope this make-do rubbish pleases you abit.
So I think I need to think through my thoughts first. Plus, my neck is so fuckin' killing me, I think I need a massage more now.
When my neck can hold my head up again, maybe then I'll think better.
Shanghai Baby
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
I got it. I got it. I got it!
I love my Big Guy. The phonecall came barely minutes after I last hit the 'publish' button earlier in the day.
From then, I knew I must have done something right, somewhere.
And I know, this can't go wrong.
Something baffled me, though.
The sudden outpour of sympathy from the sky that ensued for hours and hours into the night, after days of quiet rains marring the sun's effort to resurface.
As if the heavens know that we are parting again.
I got it. I got it. I got it!
I love my Big Guy. The phonecall came barely minutes after I last hit the 'publish' button earlier in the day.
From then, I knew I must have done something right, somewhere.
And I know, this can't go wrong.
Something baffled me, though.
The sudden outpour of sympathy from the sky that ensued for hours and hours into the night, after days of quiet rains marring the sun's effort to resurface.
As if the heavens know that we are parting again.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Private Number
"... it's yours now, you decide..."
Sweet.
I know what I would decide. I am a big girl now. :)
Sweet.
I know what I would decide. I am a big girl now. :)
Brilliant Idiot
(The quoted comments were made in reference to my msn nicks.)
17:29:26 WTF: how come u suddenly brillant?
17:29:26 WTF: i tot u were just idiotic last week?
Yes, babe. Thanks for pointing it out to me.
I think I'm a brilliant idiot. And it is possible.
Last week, I was also a kan-cheong spider.
This week, I am still a fuckin' kan-cheong spider.
Last week, I was cracking up my brains, thinking what rubbish to write about.
This week, I am cracking my brain from writing too much rubbish.
Please lah, Big Guy. Please spare me from your tricks.
It's already Thursday.
Please just give it to me. You know I want it real bad.
*paws crossed... paws crossed... paws crossed... paws crossed... paws crossed...*
17:29:26 WTF: how come u suddenly brillant?
17:29:26 WTF: i tot u were just idiotic last week?
Yes, babe. Thanks for pointing it out to me.
I think I'm a brilliant idiot. And it is possible.
Last week, I was also a kan-cheong spider.
This week, I am still a fuckin' kan-cheong spider.
Last week, I was cracking up my brains, thinking what rubbish to write about.
This week, I am cracking my brain from writing too much rubbish.
Please lah, Big Guy. Please spare me from your tricks.
It's already Thursday.
Please just give it to me. You know I want it real bad.
*paws crossed... paws crossed... paws crossed... paws crossed... paws crossed...*
Six Months Later
We used to talk about our kids together. Between us, we had five.
"How's Piper?"
"How's Mac Mac?"
"Let's go to the beach this Sunday with the kids."
"Shall we do brunch at Botanics? We can bring the kids then."
Nowsadays...
"Ok, I am going to bring your Sam for his swim this Sunday. It's ok if you cannot make it, ok?"
"How's my mommy doing?"
Between the two of us, my best babe is the one to really grow up into real adulthood. Me? I'm still stuck somewhere in my Peter-Pan world, I suppose. I'd be glad if someone thinks at least I behave like a twenty-one year-old.
Not that I mind. Whether I am your real-adult friend, or you are my Tinkerbell, or not... I know you will always be my bestest babe.
"But Marcus really quite cute hor....I have my yahoo profile pic on my desktop, his smile so big, I melt each time I see.....haha....mummy complimenting her own baby! Xiao."
Yes, yes, sweety.
Auntie Fatmama also thinks also that your Marcus is super-duper cute. :)
"How's Piper?"
"How's Mac Mac?"
"Let's go to the beach this Sunday with the kids."
"Shall we do brunch at Botanics? We can bring the kids then."
Nowsadays...
"Ok, I am going to bring your Sam for his swim this Sunday. It's ok if you cannot make it, ok?"
"How's my mommy doing?"
Between the two of us, my best babe is the one to really grow up into real adulthood. Me? I'm still stuck somewhere in my Peter-Pan world, I suppose. I'd be glad if someone thinks at least I behave like a twenty-one year-old.
Not that I mind. Whether I am your real-adult friend, or you are my Tinkerbell, or not... I know you will always be my bestest babe.
"But Marcus really quite cute hor....I have my yahoo profile pic on my desktop, his smile so big, I melt each time I see.....haha....mummy complimenting her own baby! Xiao."
Yes, yes, sweety.
Auntie Fatmama also thinks also that your Marcus is super-duper cute. :)
Green Carded
I love Kate Spade.
I love my Kate Spade. :)
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
"Mine"
Early in the morning, eight-forty-four...
Hann-y: I left my wallet at home. Can help me collect on the way here? I buy lunch :-(
Me: Okie. Who's home?
Hann-y: Mine.
Doh!
It has been a while, quite a long while, since you've left me with some originalfatmama-worthy wisecracks. Not that you had some, urm... wit to impress me this morning, but duh-ness works for me as well.
My boy, I think I figured why I could tell you were simply out of sorts for the past many many weeks, without even us having any form of contact. Somehow, strangely, just over the virtual space where you and I see each other everyday but never speak - I know you're not you.
Because you don't give me the shit I like anymore. =/
Dude, you'll always know where I am. Where I might end up. I promise.
Just promise me you'll go back to you again - soon.
Hann-y: I left my wallet at home. Can help me collect on the way here? I buy lunch :-(
Me: Okie. Who's home?
Hann-y: Mine.
Doh!
It has been a while, quite a long while, since you've left me with some originalfatmama-worthy wisecracks. Not that you had some, urm... wit to impress me this morning, but duh-ness works for me as well.
My boy, I think I figured why I could tell you were simply out of sorts for the past many many weeks, without even us having any form of contact. Somehow, strangely, just over the virtual space where you and I see each other everyday but never speak - I know you're not you.
Because you don't give me the shit I like anymore. =/
Dude, you'll always know where I am. Where I might end up. I promise.
Just promise me you'll go back to you again - soon.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Superheroine
15:14:54 Monster*: Strangely, I dreamt of you last night.
15:15:08 Monster: Strange strange dream.
15:15:20 Monster: You were dressed up as Wonder Woman.
Oh? So now I am Wonder Woman.
I prefer being Superwoman. Don't like Linda Carter... too old.
*Name has been amended to protect the identity of the supposed innocent.
15:15:08 Monster: Strange strange dream.
15:15:20 Monster: You were dressed up as Wonder Woman.
Oh? So now I am Wonder Woman.
I prefer being Superwoman. Don't like Linda Carter... too old.
*Name has been amended to protect the identity of the supposed innocent.
Things That Make Me (The Cheapskate) Go Hmm...
Hmm... number one:
Free wireless broadband access for StarHub customers!
Thank you for subscribing to StarHub Wireless Broadband service.
As our valued customer, you can enjoy free wireless broadband service at all StarHub hotspots in Singapore! With effect from your January 2007 bill, the monthly subscription of $10.50 (w/GST) for your Wireless Broadband service will be waived completely and you can surf wirelessly for free at all StarHub hotspots using your existing Hub ID accounts.
No action is required on your part. All you need to do is to sit back and enjoy your wireless online world with us.
Thank you for your support and happy surfing!
And it is high time, too.
I thank you.
Hmm... number two:
The hawk spied one chick as she tottered in, stealthily removed himself from his original position to a more strategic spot, and stayed there the entire night, eyeing the two chicks at the other side of the bar.
Of course, the first chick had noticed. Not because the hawk was a hunky-dory one, but because she smelt danger lurking.
Nonetheless, to prevent feathers from being unnecessarily ruffled, the first chick swiftly engaged the second chick in a deep, girly conversation (mostly about some other cocks - pun intended).
The jokes and laughter brought about much merry-making, the wild chirps and giggles of the chicks resonating the quiet bar. The chicks made no delay in ordering plate after plate of food (some absolutely sinful chicken wings, no less), glass after glass of whites.
When the clock struck half-past-eight, the second chick excused herself from the merry-making to partake in a phonecall. The first chick, still sensing menace five feet away, brought forth her always-steady-always-ready laptop, and began writing some "important" emails and then chatting with her virtual friends.
"Anything. Anything to keep me busy. Even if there's nothing, I'll just pretend to laugh at the computer - I'm good at that," thought the poor first chick.
At half-past-nine, the hawk finally struck.
Expressing mock horror on their faces, the two chicks eyed the freshly-served whites for a few seconds, before putting on their most innocently quizzical looks: "Erm, we didn't order two more leh."
As if on cue, the two chicks turned slowly toward the hawk. The hawk smiled, gave a sly nod, and waved a couple of his fat fingers.
"Urgh. Gross," thought the first chick.
Picking up the new white, she did a little toast-in-the-air to the hawk and put on her fakest smile ever as a gesture of unwilling thanks. But not before giving the white a suspicious whiff. "I'll kill him if it's not Wolf Blass."
Immediately after, she threw herself back into her imaginery laughter with her imaginery friends inside the laptop.
Not less than fifteen long minutes later, the hawk moved again.
"Damn," the first chick groaned. But from the corner of her eyes, she noticed the hawk was giving up on his prey; he was getting up and ready to leave. Her brilliant tactic had worked!
But what the awesome first chick hadn't realized was that her brilliance transcends way beyond her own imagination.
The hawk had picked up their tab before departing, preyless, despite weak protests from the first chick.
"No lah! Please! No need!" And then, silence.
Poor dude, the first chick thought the next day while she was checking out her poop.
Of all the chicks in the house, the silly hawk had to pick the two that ate and drank the most.
Sigh, what a cock.
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And it is high time, too.
I thank you.
Hmm... number two:
The hawk spied one chick as she tottered in, stealthily removed himself from his original position to a more strategic spot, and stayed there the entire night, eyeing the two chicks at the other side of the bar.
Of course, the first chick had noticed. Not because the hawk was a hunky-dory one, but because she smelt danger lurking.
Nonetheless, to prevent feathers from being unnecessarily ruffled, the first chick swiftly engaged the second chick in a deep, girly conversation (mostly about some other cocks - pun intended).
The jokes and laughter brought about much merry-making, the wild chirps and giggles of the chicks resonating the quiet bar. The chicks made no delay in ordering plate after plate of food (some absolutely sinful chicken wings, no less), glass after glass of whites.
When the clock struck half-past-eight, the second chick excused herself from the merry-making to partake in a phonecall. The first chick, still sensing menace five feet away, brought forth her always-steady-always-ready laptop, and began writing some "important" emails and then chatting with her virtual friends.
"Anything. Anything to keep me busy. Even if there's nothing, I'll just pretend to laugh at the computer - I'm good at that," thought the poor first chick.
At half-past-nine, the hawk finally struck.
Expressing mock horror on their faces, the two chicks eyed the freshly-served whites for a few seconds, before putting on their most innocently quizzical looks: "Erm, we didn't order two more leh."
As if on cue, the two chicks turned slowly toward the hawk. The hawk smiled, gave a sly nod, and waved a couple of his fat fingers.
"Urgh. Gross," thought the first chick.
Picking up the new white, she did a little toast-in-the-air to the hawk and put on her fakest smile ever as a gesture of unwilling thanks. But not before giving the white a suspicious whiff. "I'll kill him if it's not Wolf Blass."
Immediately after, she threw herself back into her imaginery laughter with her imaginery friends inside the laptop.
Not less than fifteen long minutes later, the hawk moved again.
"Damn," the first chick groaned. But from the corner of her eyes, she noticed the hawk was giving up on his prey; he was getting up and ready to leave. Her brilliant tactic had worked!
But what the awesome first chick hadn't realized was that her brilliance transcends way beyond her own imagination.
The hawk had picked up their tab before departing, preyless, despite weak protests from the first chick.
"No lah! Please! No need!" And then, silence.
Poor dude, the first chick thought the next day while she was checking out her poop.
Of all the chicks in the house, the silly hawk had to pick the two that ate and drank the most.
Sigh, what a cock.
"Klutz"
Okay, so I have two hugantic gimongous humongously gigantic bruises on my legs, both freshly acquired. One like the size of a big chicken-egg on my right knee, the other the size of a small chicken-egg on the top of my left foot (and I'm really not kidding). How the heck they got nestled there, you don't really have to know.
But what I'd like to assure you is that they do hurt like crazy-mad.
I can't even walk. Heck, I'm limping, for goodness' sake. I don't even think I can sleep in peace tonight. Owww...
I wonder if physical injuries like these justify a declaration of "day off" from my sweet family doctor...
But what I'd like to assure you is that they do hurt like crazy-mad.
I can't even walk. Heck, I'm limping, for goodness' sake. I don't even think I can sleep in peace tonight. Owww...
I wonder if physical injuries like these justify a declaration of "day off" from my sweet family doctor...
Monday, January 08, 2007
ME Inc. Rebuilt
The weather still hasn't turned anywhere near 'nice' ever since...
It starts off being awesome in the morning, then goes awry just when it's the usual time I jump into the water. It's just awful.
(And I need to digress abit. I seem to be loving anything "aw".)
My Sasy-chick laments today (over a very nicely articulated email). And we all rightfully should, after weeks of merry-making (which involves, at the very basic level, booze and food of various sorts) that I hope have culminated with some whiskey+Tequila and lots of mushrooms-and-beef-in-a-hotpot over the sinful weekend that had just ended.
"Transcending beyond the financial impact from the craze are damages far greater than the monetary losses. I have aged tens of years and suffered bloating typical of pregnancy only. And till now, my cravings for liquor and food have not diminished."
I swear to God, I absolutely empathize. The bloating part. And especially the last sentence. =/
This is officially the second week of the new and still-hopeful year. So, I hope all mychicks friends go back to work, and stay right there.
You all complacent fellas have no idea how much I am d-y-y-y-i-n-g to get started on work again.
*****
I was inspired sometime one week ago by someone who claimed my blog was "very inspiring".
"... i guess if i didn't know you and i happen to stumble across your blog, i would really think you were some kind of superwoman... you seem to have all the energy in this world... the travelling, your me time, your passion to work, your girls, and many more... and best part, you still have time to write abt them..."
Me? A superwoman? "Super" like the dude who flies around in his underwear saving innocent lives from harm and evil when he's not busy pretending to be a reporter? Or, "super" like the woman who puts breakfast at your table early in the morning and makes sure that your coffee has its sugar and cream?
Got meh?
Yeah, maybe if we're looking at how I 'manage' my 24-hours everyday and squeeze in tons of activities like there's no tomorrow for me, then yeah, maybe I'm super-duper at that.
In any other case, erm... I really don't think so, 'cause I can already hear mychicks friends laughing like idiots in front of their computer screens.
Nonetheless, the conversation ensued into the night, and when it finally ended, I was still very inspired. To try and see the 'me' that my newfound friend thought he saw.
And so, I decided I had to revisit my entire blog - right from Day One.
It became a timely task anyway, since I have been for a while toying with the idea of starting a new blog. And it surely didn't turn out to be that bad an idea, because I suddenly remembered 'me', and because it unexpectedly brought me much laughter and tears (much more of the former than the latter, thank goodness).
And I needed that.
I remember, now, how I used to write, how I used to be long ago in 2005. And then I remember as well, how I was frantically searching for the same passion in 2006. I remember now how desperate I was just to write, anything just to keep my sanity.
I was 'me', then I unknowingly became someone else, some figment of who I ought to be.
Looking back, I laugh a little. I was being so silly I thought at some point, I was actually quite cute. I cringe when I read some, and then I stop wanting to read the rest. Then there were those I read, and re-read again, amazed at how I could have conjured up all that 'intense wit' then. It was a fun trip.
But the best part of it all? When I look at the past and the present, and all the unappetizing bits in between, I am so darn proud of myself. The winding roads I took, the endless pits I threw myself into and then crawled out of, the pathetic attempts at self-jibing and then self-prodding. I took a long time, yes, but that probably wasn't the point.
Point is, I have learned through my own ways that I am lucky to have me.
That was probably how I got here today. In one whole piece - maybe band-aided a little here and there, but still one fuckin' whole piece.
Nobody's pat on your own back feels better than the one you're finally able to give yourself.
Surely, there are still some issues to sort out.
There's the drinking. The what-if-I-don't-get-that-darned-job worries. The drinking. The what-the-fuck-am-I-thinking/doing distractions. The drinking. And the future I have to recreate from scratch.
But I am trying to worry less.
I've learned it is actually fun to just focus on being 'ME', the good old one plus some good new bits. Smack myself in the head once in a while, laugh hard at my stupidness, open my mind and take in all the good stuff in the world and sieve out the bad ones, then work on being good to myself.
I promise, I will be happy and I will laugh everyday in 2007. And beyond.
I remember saying this sometime long ago. Or, maybe not that long ago.
I am going to be 'me'. Take it, or leave it. =)
It starts off being awesome in the morning, then goes awry just when it's the usual time I jump into the water. It's just awful.
(And I need to digress abit. I seem to be loving anything "aw".)
My Sasy-chick laments today (over a very nicely articulated email). And we all rightfully should, after weeks of merry-making (which involves, at the very basic level, booze and food of various sorts) that I hope have culminated with some whiskey+Tequila and lots of mushrooms-and-beef-in-a-hotpot over the sinful weekend that had just ended.
"Transcending beyond the financial impact from the craze are damages far greater than the monetary losses. I have aged tens of years and suffered bloating typical of pregnancy only. And till now, my cravings for liquor and food have not diminished."
I swear to God, I absolutely empathize. The bloating part. And especially the last sentence. =/
This is officially the second week of the new and still-hopeful year. So, I hope all my
You all complacent fellas have no idea how much I am d-y-y-y-i-n-g to get started on work again.
*****
I was inspired sometime one week ago by someone who claimed my blog was "very inspiring".
"... i guess if i didn't know you and i happen to stumble across your blog, i would really think you were some kind of superwoman... you seem to have all the energy in this world... the travelling, your me time, your passion to work, your girls, and many more... and best part, you still have time to write abt them..."
Me? A superwoman? "Super" like the dude who flies around in his underwear saving innocent lives from harm and evil when he's not busy pretending to be a reporter? Or, "super" like the woman who puts breakfast at your table early in the morning and makes sure that your coffee has its sugar and cream?
Got meh?
Yeah, maybe if we're looking at how I 'manage' my 24-hours everyday and squeeze in tons of activities like there's no tomorrow for me, then yeah, maybe I'm super-duper at that.
In any other case, erm... I really don't think so, 'cause I can already hear my
Nonetheless, the conversation ensued into the night, and when it finally ended, I was still very inspired. To try and see the 'me' that my newfound friend thought he saw.
And so, I decided I had to revisit my entire blog - right from Day One.
It became a timely task anyway, since I have been for a while toying with the idea of starting a new blog. And it surely didn't turn out to be that bad an idea, because I suddenly remembered 'me', and because it unexpectedly brought me much laughter and tears (much more of the former than the latter, thank goodness).
And I needed that.
I remember, now, how I used to write, how I used to be long ago in 2005. And then I remember as well, how I was frantically searching for the same passion in 2006. I remember now how desperate I was just to write, anything just to keep my sanity.
I was 'me', then I unknowingly became someone else, some figment of who I ought to be.
Looking back, I laugh a little. I was being so silly I thought at some point, I was actually quite cute. I cringe when I read some, and then I stop wanting to read the rest. Then there were those I read, and re-read again, amazed at how I could have conjured up all that 'intense wit' then. It was a fun trip.
But the best part of it all? When I look at the past and the present, and all the unappetizing bits in between, I am so darn proud of myself. The winding roads I took, the endless pits I threw myself into and then crawled out of, the pathetic attempts at self-jibing and then self-prodding. I took a long time, yes, but that probably wasn't the point.
Point is, I have learned through my own ways that I am lucky to have me.
That was probably how I got here today. In one whole piece - maybe band-aided a little here and there, but still one fuckin' whole piece.
Nobody's pat on your own back feels better than the one you're finally able to give yourself.
Surely, there are still some issues to sort out.
There's the drinking. The what-if-I-don't-get-that-darned-job worries. The drinking. The what-the-fuck-am-I-thinking/doing distractions. The drinking. And the future I have to recreate from scratch.
But I am trying to worry less.
I've learned it is actually fun to just focus on being 'ME', the good old one plus some good new bits. Smack myself in the head once in a while, laugh hard at my stupidness, open my mind and take in all the good stuff in the world and sieve out the bad ones, then work on being good to myself.
I promise, I will be happy and I will laugh everyday in 2007. And beyond.
I remember saying this sometime long ago. Or, maybe not that long ago.
I am going to be 'me'. Take it, or leave it. =)
Friday, January 05, 2007
Wardrobe Malfunctions
Have I ever told you how much I love safety-pins? Yeah, those big-headed ugly things.
I can't figure it out too. I don't have boobs that could, under any circumstance, qualify for anything bigger than "Small". And surely I do not have fat, swollen ankles. I can't explain why buttons and buckles keep popping out then.
So. I love safety-pins.
The ugly things that hold up my life.
I can't figure it out too. I don't have boobs that could, under any circumstance, qualify for anything bigger than "Small". And surely I do not have fat, swollen ankles. I can't explain why buttons and buckles keep popping out then.
So. I love safety-pins.
The ugly things that hold up my life.
Insomniac
I can't fuckin' believe this.
I've been zzzless for the past three hours or so ever since I woke up with a startle half-past-three.
If I remember correctly, I think I belong with the third category of insomniacs. Then again, depending on which different stage of my adult-life we're talking about, I have fallen into the first two categories as well.
I suppose that makes me simply an insomniac.
If there was a trend, or "pattern", behind my frequent zzzlessness, it has definitely to do with the alcohol imbibing. Or more appropriately, the lack thereof.
My smart-ass theory has been, unfortunately, proven accurate over and over again. The "pattern" resurfaced just this week.
Tell me: between some chloroform, a sledgehammer and a bottle of sake, which would you have chosen yourself?
Some 'other monster' proffered some words of wisdom - sans the intense wits, thank god.
"A warm glass of milk... with a boring book will put you to sleep right away... if not, go to the doc and get some valium or xanax."
Too bad, I don't do milk. And warm soya-bean milk just... just tastes all wrong.
Too bad as well, I don't happen to own any boring book, and I can't switch on the reading lamp anyway. But I do have this two-year-old blog, which I've been trying to re-read right from the beginning for the past few days. Yes, it is that boring.
Actually, all I really want now is a nice hot plate of "zhay bee hoon". Mmm mmm...
*****
Maybe, it's really the lack of intoxication the night before.
Maybe, it's all the intensifying thoughts about life-adventures and selling coconut juice flying through my unrested mind.
Maybe, it's just the gan-cheongness about the impending phonecall in the afternoon.
Or maybe... it's just my growling stomach. =/
I've been zzzless for the past three hours or so ever since I woke up with a startle half-past-three.
If I remember correctly, I think I belong with the third category of insomniacs. Then again, depending on which different stage of my adult-life we're talking about, I have fallen into the first two categories as well.
I suppose that makes me simply an insomniac.
If there was a trend, or "pattern", behind my frequent zzzlessness, it has definitely to do with the alcohol imbibing. Or more appropriately, the lack thereof.
My smart-ass theory has been, unfortunately, proven accurate over and over again. The "pattern" resurfaced just this week.
Tell me: between some chloroform, a sledgehammer and a bottle of sake, which would you have chosen yourself?
Some 'other monster' proffered some words of wisdom - sans the intense wits, thank god.
"A warm glass of milk... with a boring book will put you to sleep right away... if not, go to the doc and get some valium or xanax."
Too bad, I don't do milk. And warm soya-bean milk just... just tastes all wrong.
Too bad as well, I don't happen to own any boring book, and I can't switch on the reading lamp anyway. But I do have this two-year-old blog, which I've been trying to re-read right from the beginning for the past few days. Yes, it is that boring.
Actually, all I really want now is a nice hot plate of "zhay bee hoon". Mmm mmm...
*****
Maybe, it's really the lack of intoxication the night before.
Maybe, it's all the intensifying thoughts about life-adventures and selling coconut juice flying through my unrested mind.
Maybe, it's just the gan-cheongness about the impending phonecall in the afternoon.
Or maybe... it's just my growling stomach. =/
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Zzzless
My favorite zzz monster has eluded me of late.
Please, monster, please come back to me.
Please.
Please, monster, please come back to me.
Please.
That Darned "Bling" Party
Finally... scenes from that one crazy night, amidst plenty others, in Hong Kong.
Just a couple, though.
'Cause I have been specifically instructed to put up on public display "only these few".
Not that I minded. I rubbed shoulders with Jamiroquai, okay!
And yes, that was me in a pathetic attempt to do a "J-fuckin'-Lo". And I promise I would never torture you folks back home the same way.
I so love my newly-acquired bling jacket, though. Hail, lian-hood!
=/
I miss the Kong, still.
Just a couple, though.
'Cause I have been specifically instructed to put up on public display "only these few".
Not that I minded. I rubbed shoulders with Jamiroquai, okay!
And yes, that was me in a pathetic attempt to do a "J-fuckin'-Lo". And I promise I would never torture you folks back home the same way.
I so love my newly-acquired bling jacket, though. Hail, lian-hood!
=/
I miss the Kong, still.
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