Fatkid Misses Fatmama

ME Inc. says: got miss me not?
HS says: like a fat kid misses cake

I love being missed. : )

Ikea

HS says: oi
HS says: hows the phat farm?
HS says: looks like section 13b in the IKEA catalog
ME Inc. says: i look like i stay in the showroom huh
HS says: yar
HS says: either that or you LIVE in a IKEA to save money
HS says: which is also cool
HS says: Person: 'Hey Hwee Cheng, hows the crib?'
HS says: ME: 'Oh! About 120,000 square feet, I am on the 3rd floor though'
ME Inc. says: and you know the best thing?
ME Inc. says: i get easy daily access to the awesome one dollar hotdog ... downstair only.
HS says: oh yeah, summore if you get bored of the concept, you can take ten steps and voila! new living room
ME Inc. says: hmm.
ME Inc. says: i don't want to sleep on where everyone places their butt.
HS says: but u make me sleep on your couch leh
HS says: summore u place your butt there everyday!
ME Inc. says: yeah... but that's just only MY butt... not every other tom dick or harry's!

Yeah, it'd really be quite cool if I live in an Ikea catalog.

Smell

Hiro-san: Ah! I know the perfume you're wearing.
Me: No way. No one would know.
Hiro-san: I know. It's 'Lolita Lempicka'.

My eyes almost popped out.

No one ever knows my smell.


I love it when someone knows my smell. : )

Things I Love

A simple yet earnest suggestion from a friend while we were chilling al fresco in the twilight, sipping non-alcoholic Starbucks and sparkling lemonade, looking out at the pier, prompted me to work on this.


I love…

Dancing like no one else is watching, at home and especially in the middle of the dance floor of Zouk/Velvet. Snuggling under a down duvet in a very cold room. The touch of cotton against my bare skin. Smelling good. When someone sneaks up, gives me an unexpected whiff around the neck/hair, then tells me, "You smell really good". A man who smells good. Baby baths, only J&J’s and only the original and the milk bath ones. Good hair days. Dean, my hairstylist, or any other good-ass hairstylist though I haven’t found him yet. Flushed cheeks and rosy lips. Lip balms, plain and tinted ones. Diamonds and pearls. A good watch. Walking in high heels, and even more so, dancing in them. The smell of leather. Finally finding a bag or a pair of shoes that scream ME. Finding a dress that actually fits. Black. White. Brown. Green. Blue. Grey. Stripes. Polkadots. Colors and patterns. Running, and knowing I beat my last timing. The look of surprises on the dudes’ faces when I outscore them on the courts. How my cheeks flush with color and warmth after a hard run/game. The tiny mice in my arms. Toned muscles. Slim, almost hairless legs – not necessarily mine. Men who wear jeans right. Laughing out really loud. People who make me laugh all the time. Crappy corny jokes. Witty one-liners and smart-ass wisecracks. Pai kias, and how they talk/swear… LOVE. Role-playing. Pretending I am a writer. All things Macintosh. Muji, and all things Japanese. Pretending I can speak Korean. All things alcoholic. Beef – medium-rare ribeye, grilled on a stone plate, fresh in Pho Bo, stir-fried with ginger, beef sukiyaki, beef carpaccio, anything. Salmon and fish fat that melts in your mouth. Dark chocolates. Granola. Honey. Soy anything – soy milk, soy lattes, tofu. Fresh chillies. Eating sprees. Driving manual cars. Jay Chou. Fatboy Slim. Pixar films – my favorite is Monsters Inc.. The sea. Travelling. Sitting at cafes. Discovering free wi-fi. Chatting with the folks who serve me my food/drink. Being cuddled to sleep. Chatting on the phone while in bed. Long conversations that I find hard to end. Surprises, of any sort. Feeling loved. Being missed. Babies. Dogs. Piper, to bits. My nephew, and how he loves me. My chicks. And someone else.

Happy

I am also beaming from something else.

The ajussi from the little Japanese joint remembers me from the Typhoon 8 night. And that was donkey weeks ago.


One beef, one fish, one squid, one tofu, one okra later...
Ajussi: Mmmm. Well done!
Me: I really really ate a lot tonight huh.
Ajussi: Because you're happy tonight. That's why.

I can't help it.

I really can't help it.

Jubilant

I can't believe it.

I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT.

That I have actually found my VB right here in the Honks. And it's exactly where I've been hanging out senselessly for the past many weeks that I've been here.

Hello from the Honky VB.


So I took the afternoon off and made a trip to the Immigration Office today.

I haven't actually gotten the card yet, but I have a number to my name now. And so rather immediately, like an itchy butt dying to be soothed, I jumped onto the train and popped into the nearest store to get a broadband connection for the Phatpad.

The pleasure at the end of signing the deal was perhaps greater than any big O I've ever gotten.

No doubt, I've found my VB like six hours later. Still, I think it'll be more intoxicating - literally - to build my own VB.


Life is bittersweet.

Like the two packs of dark chocolate I bought just today. All 99.9% cacao of it.

Sometimes the bitter moments hit. Yet sometimes you get the sweetest of moments at the most unexpected moments.

I have no grouch about that.

Not at all.

Licensed

At long last.

Ugly Fatbabymama

Right. I've always known I had been an ugly baby.

There's no denial. No running away. The evidence is clearly there.



But not this ugly, right?!

Boogie-box

The first thing I did the moment I dropped my bags at home was to unpack the remaining boxes.

Then out came the boogie-box.

The one that has been idling and collecting dust on the top of my cupboard for years, but that actually made the trip to Honks with me. I figured I needed to create a dance floor at home, to soothe the itching butt.

So I fixed up the wires, hooked the iPod to the boogie-box, and damn! I am so good at 'manly' stuff.

Not sure if it was that good an idea after all, because by the time I had to head out to meet the boys, I was already high on the boogie and the whites.





I couldn't wait to get home because the Phatpad is looking more complete by the day. The Phatpad is looking more and more like a real Phathome.




I am getting used to living in an air-con world now too.

No more sniffles. No more goose-bumps.

I just can't imagine how the electricity bill is going to look like.

Fatmama Tour

So Fatmama has been on her China tour and back. Guangzhou to Shanghai to Shenzhen, to be precise.


There's nothing really much memorable about Guangz, except I really kinda disliked it. Thanks, in part, to the stories of pickpockets and snatch thieves who cut off little fingers while going for the cell phones. I left my little sparklies in my wallet all the time as a result, and I practically walked around with my left wrist stuck inside the bag all the time. Damn bo ji.

But the one biggest peeve that really got to me was the toilet.

They all looked exactly like this. Bloody must squat all the way down. And, no toilet paper.


So let's just move on to Shang. Which I actually love.

Maybe because of the toilets. No need to squat all the way down, hallelujah to the Fatknees! And... there's actually toilet paper. In every cubicle.

I last came to Shang three years ago. And I remember I loved it even then, despite the lack of proper toilet facilities.

I loved the quirkiness of the city, how the old mixed with the new.

I knew there must have been great changes to the city since then, but I was hoping the quirkiness remains.

Indeed, it does.

I finally had a pool to swim in. I had some four hours' worth of lymphatic drainage massage, the authenticity of which was in question, but it was still damn shiok nonetheless. And I had an awesome room in the Regent, though I couldn't figure out what I would do with a bathroom like that.

Still, for the first time in my life, I actually missed home while on the road. My own Phadhome, that is. : )


I was pretty well-fed too, the Chinese way.

And that's chai po neng for you.


I am not sure now. Tokyo, or Shanghai, next.

Banned

The following conversation with my very smart and very good friend should explain my absence from blogosphere the past one week.

SLM: oh, u in china ah. china cannot access blogspot one. but u can post. hahaha
ME Inc.: huh?!?
ME Inc.: how come?!?!
SLM: u can post via email. or post via microsoft word. but u cannot access blogspot. it's blocked.
SLM: welcome to china.

KNN.


My very smart and very good friend also happens to be a well-known brand in her favorite country.

Resting

The yuckiest hei mee I have ever tasted in my life.

Can you even spot the hei?

Pui!




I have never left a single drop of hei mee soup behind. But I just committed the crime today.

What to do? I do feel like going back for the mee siam. =/


I spent four hours in the morning ironing just ten tee shirts and one skirt.

I might have done way better if I wasn't watching four episodes of my Korean drama at the same time.

I think I would make a really bad mom/housewife.


So the chick has gone home.

I am missing her, but I need the rest as well.

The boys are still around, the sis-in-law has come to town too. But I am going to chill. Got no choice, I won't be around anyway. Come to think of it, I do hope I get any rest at all.

The reasons why I need a rest badly.



That's the chick. That's the crazy family. That's the gorgeous one, and my drunk neighbor at the back.


So how do I get along with my brother?

Very fine, thank you. I really do love him tons.

Typical (read: daily) things I'd say to him:

1. My dad's got better looks than yours.
2. My dad's a better drinker than yours.
3. Our mom's got nice arms.


I'm done.

My itch has been soothed.

Two more hours to pack. And watch one more episode.

Pleased

I'd say I was a very happy girl yesterday.


For one, I finally have the other half of my life here in the Honks.




Then, I dragged my arse out for some lousy yu dan mai fun lunch and was cussing myself for settling for crappy food when just about a couple hundred steps away from my apartment, I stumbled upon this rusty little store manned by two grumpy old folks which I would've usually ignored, if not for something that caught my eye.

I finally found my clothes rack, all for only a hundred Honks dollars. : )

For all the search around the island, it was there right outside my doorstep! It didn't come exactly like this, it was way taller. I made the grumpy old man saw it into half.




And most of all, the real reason why I was really happy yesterday.




Finally. I feel whole again.

Well, almost.


So my new friend from the work place, let's just call him T-Rex, offered to bring me along to his pick-up games. And trainings. I was exhilarated about the former, but not too sure about the latter.

But there was initially a small problem.

Me: Er... but I have to confess something first.
T-Rex: What?
Me: I couldn't find any basketball shoes in Boston, so now I only have my er... LeBrons.
T-Rex: (whispering) It's ok. I have something to confess too... I wear them as well.

We turned up at the courts yesterday, looking like nothing representative of the brand that feeds us. 'Cept maybe for the socks.

Oh, and it came back to me. That I do have a thing for guys with slim, almost hairless legs.


So, housewives have their own toys too, okay.

Which I really wouldn't have known if I hadn't been a self-made one.




I am thinking of those soups my mom always cooked for me. Mmmmm.

And I am also thinking, how come everyone likes to give shower gels/creams/scrubs and candles as Christmas gifts?

I think I might have enough to last me till the next one.

Last

Two nights in a row, I am the one shutting off all the lights in the office.

What is this?

And I am supposed to be the pollutant who should be resting at home.


I think I need to catch up on some ironing before I meet Pi.

Am so tired. Part-time yuppie. Part-time housewife. Not say very young some more.

Irony

The soap dispensed from the pump bottle in my office bathroom looks so disgusting, it's just like a huge glob of spit on my palm.

Yucks.

The Original Phatmama

HS says: your fatpad is so phat
HS says: you are now the phatmama
HS says: ms. tow fu phaaaa

I dig the first part, but not the last.

Does that mean I have to change my web address?

Sniffles

Fatmama: is piper still sad?
Sis-in-law: Yup.. piper always sad after u left.
Fatmama: aiya... i think of her, i get so sad
Sis-in-law: Her face only light up when there's food. other than that, she'll lie on ur dad's chair.. moody whole day lor..
Fatmama: really ah
Sis-in-law: night time will sleep on sofa, wait for u till ur dad sleeps in the early morning, then she'll go inside ur room.. disappointed i guess
Fatmama: still like that ah???
Fatmama: aiya...

I can't tell if that's a sore throat or a lump in my throat. I can't tell if that's sniffles from the cold or something else.

I am such a bad mom.


I heard the pet hotels here have rooms huger than the one I stayed in Yau Ma Tei last year.

I should really consider.

Bored Busy

I am writing emails, updating my facebook (finally some) and of course, blogging while being stuck in the middle of a conference call with the folks who are enjoying their Starbucks on their Thursday mornings.

And Auntie here is chewing on her nails, hungry like fark, and thirsty like hell!


I had nothing better to do other than writing more emails before the call at eight.

So I went to count some more calories.

Bittersweet

My life is indeed like a box of bittersweet chocolates - coincidentally, my favorite kind of chocolates.

Most people dislike it because they taste only the bitter bits. I love it for how it tastes bitter yet sweet at the same time.

Maybe I choose to taste the sweetness out of the bitterness.

Something you can't really argue with me about, because they are my chocolates.


Thank you, friend.

Thank you for the chocolates.

I hope they will last me for my lifetime.

Break

The one that gave me the sweetest surprise in weeks, maybe months.

I'd gladly sacrifice every other plan to spend every single night with her. Except tonight. 'Cos we got too excited on Night One and Two, we decided we need a rest for better nights to come. We are old chicks, after all.

All of a sudden, it feels like home again. : )




And then, the officially unemployed brother-who-loves-me-lots decided to join.

He had no reason not to.




I am a very good mom. I listen to my daughter a lot. I went on the elliptical today.

And I felt like a complete idiot.

Thirty minutes, and only one kilometre and 150 calories burned?

Absolutely ridiculous. I have to do better.

And that's why I can only have a pathetic salad tonight.

Spilt

The return of the Old Habit.

The Klutz strikes back.

Whatever. You get the idea.

"Tonight!!"

The unexpected text on a sleepy Monday afternoon that is going to change it all.

"You ain't in HK yah?"

So much for wanting to take it easy and couch in this week. Bye bye, couch.


I am going to be a very happy chick this week!

: )))))

The Fatpad

The tiny fatpad that's just big enough for the Fatmama. : )

Just about ninety percent there.

I desperately need a clothes rack, I don't know where to find bamboo ladders in the Honks. =/



See that big brown couch there? Very comfy-looking, right? It is.

Yeah, that's where you're sleeping, whoever's thinking of bunking in. Hiak.


I have this very bad habit of falling in love with every other cool dude I see on telly or the big screen. And only when they are acting out someone else.

I saw Mr Wu, but I didn't fall in love with him at first sight, not even with his cute ass. But then, if he were jumping off moving trains, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, crashing through window panes, fist-fighting baddies with guns, strangling baddies with a towel, just about doing every possible cool thing in the world, I might have.

Today, I fell in love with Bourne. Jason Bourne.

So fucking cool.

Still Ill, But Still...

Despite the lingering flu, I decided I wasn't going to stay in bed today.

Okay, actually I did intend to. But the phone call came in at ten in the morning.

"Eh, want to watch Barcelona game?"

Before I could clear the bak sai, the mind was already stumbling around. Barcelona? Er... on TV tonight? What?

"2.30. At the stadium."

Oh. Of course, then.


It actually turned out an awesome game.

Four goals to nothing. Two of my loves, the monkey and the botak, they wowed me.




Me: Eh, I think tonight they might probably be out prowling some clubs.
Bro: How you know?
Me: Because the Liverpool guys did.
Bro: Why? You want to bed Ronaldhino ah? He's a player, you know.
Me: Of course, I know he's a player. DUH!!!

So witty.


And despite the lingering flu, I decided I was still going for a run. An easy one, that wasn't quite.

6k. 35:58m. 421kcal.

Of course, it was all rendered useless by this thousand-calorie-monster.



Yumms anyways.

*****

Me to Bro: I have never felt vertigo until I sat in this stadium today.

From Chill To Ill

I thought I was really lucky. I actually still am gloating over it.

Some people waited for ten months. Some, a year.

I am only one-month-old here, and I've already had my first Typhoon Holiday.

No big fuck, really. Not especially when you are already at work, and you have to squeeze and shove your way home.

The one I'm really waiting for is the one where you don't even have to crawl out of bed in the morning.


So I got home at four. Took a shower. Dressed in my PJs. Popped in Episode 3 of my new Kamsahamida series. Fluffed the pillow. Tucked myself nicely under the fleece. And decided that was where I was going to stay put the entire night.

Except by seven, I suddenly starting sniffing and coughing really hard. The throat became scratchy. The face started heating up. And by eight, the flu bug had successfully stripped me of my voice.

I decided that lying down watching DVDs was the crime. So I got up, did laundry, ironed some clothes, took a con-call. Of course, running was out of question.

By ten, I couldn't take it anymore. That was also when I realized, if this Typhoon Holiday was to take place for three consecutive days, I might have ended up dead and alone in my apartment. How to survive with only apples and pears and soya milk?

I put on my clothes again, took a walk on the streets looking for munch, and found myself back at somewhere more like home. No, worse than home. I think Clementi Central looks more busy with life-form at this hour.

The cafe was closed, so were most other muncheries. I didn't see any yellow-skinned life-form on the street, only the white-skinned ones. I thought this might be a prelude to the Lunar New Year holidays. I ended up lugging the lappie for nothing.

Two rounds of walking later, I decided to rest my ass at a tiny Japanese restaurant.

It was Friday night, after all. I really do miss the Friday beef carpacios and sakes with the chick.



And of course, I got take medicine lah.

Lucky Number 8

The office is abuzz.

The skies are dark.

The rain has started.

Everyone's heading home.


This is so exciting.

But can I still run?

Systems

I used to hate CLP.

Now I hate RMS.


I can feel the muscles itching to go at it again.

Deskview

New toy.

Excitement.

New project.


The bad girl has quite a cool view from her desk. Like she is the first one to spot the looming dark clouds and hear the pitter-patter of the first raindrops.

She hasn't spotted any nude being in the opposite blocks though.

Maid

ME Inc. says: very messy
max & marcel says: well it's always messy in the beginning...
ME Inc. says: it IS messy before i came
ME Inc. says: come here clean shit
ME Inc. says: foreign maid

Hahahaha.

Good thing I still have it.

My intense wit.

Ed

So I spent my mid-week night with my other Ed who had come to town for work. My good ol' beer buddy who got me all hung over this morning with six pints.

And it struck me last night how my fate entwines with the two "Ed Tan"s in my life.

If I meet a third, maybe I should just marry him.


What better way to negate the negative effects from the night before than a good hard run?

A really good, hard run. I really needed that.

7 klicks of intervals, 39 minutes, 465 calories.

And then a huge-ass plate of salad with balsamic vinaigrette, grilled chicken and the most runny poached egg I've ever eaten.

This place just hasn't failed me. Yet.



Yes, yes. I cheated.

Seeing

Seeing is believing, so they say.


Just like how I saw Mr Wu, right before me, within touch (though I didn't, but I should have).

Mr Daniel "Goddamn Gorgeous With A Tiny Tight Ass To Boot" Wu, who looked me right in the eye, then brushed past me.

For a moment, I thought the dude looked familiar. Then I realized.

Of course, I turned around and stared after his ass back.

Then it struck me, that no doubt the gorgeousness, Mr Wu never really quite stood out amongst the crazy packed Honks crowd. Dressed my kinda way in a grey tee over rugged jeans (that accentuated his ass) and Swooshes, he caught my eye with his NS-crew cut. And those brown eyes. And that manly nose. And those chiselled cheeks. Poor dude was on a crutch on his right though, I don't know what the hell he did to himself.

No airs, no flair, it could've been just any cute dude (with the cutest ass) on the streets.

And they say, the biggest movie stars are but human beings like you and me. Okay, except maybe they've got better asses than you and me.

Seeing is believing.


Seeing is believing.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Checkpoint #1

I really can't say much whenever someone asks, "So how's work? How's your new life?".

Simply because I really don't know what to say. And I've learned when you don't know what to say, it's best to not say anything at all.

Just smile, and give the most casual shrug and the honestly most irritating "OK lor, like that lor", in a weak bid to shrug off the questions altogether.


I can't complain. I really can't. And I really shouldn't.

I took on a chance to escape from a pit. A less-than-perfect chance. But who am I to choose?

The strong-willed ones take a less-than-perfect opportunity to make it work, don't they?

Then again, am I strong-willed enough? Is it a strength that lies beneath, or it it weakness I really am?


As days go by here, as I try to fill my mind by filling up the fatpad, I wonder more and more if I made the right move.

Did I just jump from one pit to another?

Then again, this is the only move for me. Take it, or leave it. I couldn't find a reason to leave it, I found vague ones to take it.

And I scream hard in my own face everyday, this has to work.

This will work.

My life has to work.


Am I lonely?

No, not really. 'Cos I already had been.

This, the fact that I threw myself into a new scenario altogether, only makes it more bittersweet. But let me emphasize on the 'sweet'.

I've gotten a hold on the urge to call someone in times when I used to have a need to. I've gotten numb to eating alone at places. I no longer need to switch on a light when I sleep at night. I no longer find a need to tell someone of my exciting dreams.

Life is really like a box of chocolates. Bittersweet ones.


Do I miss anyone?

Yes. And no.

Yes, because I really do. But no, because I now know all these will pass. Like most people who walk me by. And because I know however much I miss anyone, no one will miss me that much.

It's just a self-defence mechanism I've learnt the hard way. Much more effective than karate or whatever martial art shit.


Am I sad?

No. Just pensive.

Like I always am.


I just looked at the calendar, and it's really been a little more than a month since I landed upon my new destination.

How time zips by.

One day. One fine day. I can't wait for my next destination.

Now that's one goal for me to work towards.

But before that, let's see what else I need to fill up my fatcosypad.

Bye

6 days. 11 kopi-o's. 17 good ol' faces. 1 skirt. 1 noisy kiddo. 2 naggy parents.

And 1 faithful old bitch who stuck to me like Snowy to Tintin.

And then, I am back to surreality.


The first night was admittedly tough, so tough I almost fell sick the next day. Especially when the noisy kiddo had just held on tightly to my hand and bade farewell to his mommy and daddy, trying to walk past the immigration gate with me.

Not to mention the sad eyes that gazed up at me from the bedroom doorway as I walked out the front door.


You know what?

I can still smell Piper.

Some things from home, you'll never forget.

The Real Last Yummers

Now, this is what I call real yummy yummers.

Tenfold cheaper. Hundred-fold yummiers.