The Real Joker

I have been very blessed.

The Big Guy has been very sweet to me. The weather has been absolutely kind to me.

And I think I am going to like Beijing more than the Shang.


In the meantime, I am very, very, very looking forward to Poker Night next week!

I <3 鱼旦

It turned out yet another unexpectedly amazing weekend.

Thanks to a birthday party that I couldn't have missed, yet I almost did because I was just too moodless.

For one, I ate birthday cake so orgasmically wonderful, I think I exclaimed rather aloud in public that "who needs sex when you have chocolate cake this mind-blowing?"

Everyone else mmm'd in agreement with fudge in their mouths - but all claimed later to have lied. Basket.







Oh yeah, we had our usual crapshit, our usual hysterical laughs, our usual amount of drinks... except this time, I had to absenthe the birthday chick. Twice. Heh heh heh.

But the real fun came when we decided to find some food to appease the post-chocolate cake hunger and the birthday chick, in her drunken stupor, decided to buy us gifts instead: oh, that famous Tsui Wah tee-shirt that I've been coveting for months (I swear to God I have been).

Wildly excited, I directed the kids to put on the tee-shirts and I asked the next passer-by to take a picture of us dorks.

But the next passer-by turned out to be Mr Tsui Wah himself.

The next thing we knew, we were being ushered back into the restaurant, and given a whirlwind tour of the entire kitchen and some amazing food-testing of what we seemed to be endorsing.

Yes, of course we got the stares alright.

I don't think it's the pseudo-celebrity atmosphere we created. I think it was those damned tee-shirts.

I wished the ground would swallow me whole, but then the ground was also too greasy, so thank God.





I know, but don't envy me. How many of us get to have a first-hand glimpse of Tsui Wah's kitchen?

All I can say is, it does help to speak crappy Cantonese, bring a Japanese dude around, and have the only local in the group speak in British-accented English.

...

The news came to me in the most sudden of manner.

For days, I still don't know what to do, and all I can think about is death.


A good friend, though not a close one; I feel emotions, yet I know not what to do. What best to say. Should I even say anything?

What kind of words matter now? What is lame, what isn't? What is comforting, what is soothing? And if words do not matter, what else would convey my innermost concern right now?

I know just what I'll do - for now.

I'll just pray .


And then, those familiar sometime-recurring thoughts. About death. About what it means to me, and to the people around me.

Things that people don't usually think about, but I do. And I still think I should, but just don't expect anyone else to really understand.

And that very night, I called Mom.

Even if just on the pretext of asking her how I should boil my congee.


I might have been a lousy friend of late. I might have been too caught up in my own woes, but that's an even lousier excuse.

To everyone that I love, who really matters, I still love you.

Be A Man

We were (finally) walking out of the office when...

"Oh, you just came to work like that?! Sometimes I'm really amazed how you men can come to work with nothing but just your wallet in your back pocket."

"Oh yeah. Of course. Why not?"

"I don't know. I suppose. I haven't thought about that... Yeah, why can't I do that?"

"Yeah, you girls always carry a bag. What do you really need to carry in your bag?"


And so the deal was made.

Yes, tomorrow I will go to work WITHOUT a bag.

Maybe just a coat with deep pockets.


"Yes, and you know, you can always walk in when you're late, and pretend you just came back from the toilet."

HMMMMM...

Dodo-day

Muak muak muak muak muak muak,
Hug hug hug hug hug hug,
Punch punch punch punch punch puuunch punch,
Happy birthday to you (dodo)!

You know I wouldn't have bothered if I didn't love ya.

Have a good one, dodo!

Real Worry

Should I? Should I? Should I?

Should I really get myself that rice cooker?


Then, I can boil my congee with ease. I can make myself endless onigiri too. And I can think of so much other experiments I can possibly carry out during the weekends.

I just think I'm getting so obsessed with being a homemaker.


Should I? Should I? Should I?

I shall wait for an omen.

MEthinks

I don't know what's gotten into me these days. But I've been thinking about life pretty much - again.

My life. Life in the macro world. My pathetic micro life. My pathetic, senseless micro life.

My pathetic, senseless, meaningless micro life.


I might be unhappy, really, deep inside.

Or, i could be just plain bored, like how someone pointed out about himself today.

Or, I could really be just feeling absolutely empty - which could mean any negative emotion just becomes possible.


I don't exactly think about death, but I think about living.

To be precisely, why I am living. How I am living. What I am living for.

Am I really even living?


I can't see a clear future. I can only imagine.

But only I can reassure myself of a better future.


No questions, please.

I am perfectly fine.

I'm just being, matter-of-factly, ME.

Zhok

It's self-declared kiam cai month again.

For one, I've not been entirely successful at keeping the card at bay. Somehow, I just keep "seeing things". Like the "Spirited Away" dvd that I've been searching almost all across Asia for for the past few months, that I actually finally found in the record store just minutes before the show last night. And they say preggers bring good luck.

Also, I think I have been too well-fed over the past don't-know-how-many weeks. I can't even recall now if it all began way before or during the festivity, though I tend to suspect the former. Too much of a good food (Japanese, Korean, Thai, Indian, Singaporean, home-cooked, hotpots, burgers, lots and lots of dim sum... arrrgh!) is making me a little sick. But most of all, I think I'm feeling sick because I haven't moved my ass for weeks. No running, no ball, it's so sickening I actually perspired while boxing on the Wii.

And so, today I bought two bottles of pickled lettuce/cucumber from the supermarket.


I have also developed a strange obsession with congee these days. The mushy, mushy kinds you get here in the Honks.

And since congee goes very well with pickled lettuce/cucumber, I decided to try my hand at boiling my own congee today.

I still haven't figured out what didn't really go quite right, but I must say, short-grained Japanese rice seems to make really awesome congee. After an hour's of boiling, I gave up trying to get to the desired point of mushiness.

What turned out wasn't that bad at all, not especially with one fresh raw egg dumped right in the middle, a few dashes of dark soy sauce, a spoonful of pickled cucumber, and a generous heap of nori seaweed strips.

I am so in love with my own concoction.


Mom once remarked, I could eat so simply I could easily live through wartime.

Girlfriend

Despite the continued nagging ("Aiyo, why must shower again in the morning? How many times do you shower in a day? You're just like Z-Fong. Do you know showering too much is bad for your skin?..."), I arose groggily and smiled in peace, stoned on the couch.

See, I knew it. Staying away from Mom would make me more tolerant of nagging. Anyone's nagging.

In fact, I think I miss it.


For once, I was efficient on a Saturday morning. No chance to stone, no time to space out. In fact, for once, I was awake this early on a Saturday morning. Just forty-five minutes later (yes, including my morning shower time, which I was almost about to forego), we zipped out of the freezing apartment and tripped our way to brunch.




"I come to Hong Kong, of course must eat at least one local meal, right?"

Which kinda thwarted my secret plans for other better stuff. Anyway, she had already given her stamp of approval for my favorite Vietnamese place just the night before. So, I decided I would let her do just what locals do on a weekend morning: yum cha.

I also thought I would be smarty-pants and bring her to "a famous traditional yum cha restaurant that I've never been to but heard rave reviews about". We probably didn't take the 'traditional' bit too seriously; we were stumped by the menu. Reading the characters wasn't as much of a problem as understanding the names.

"Huh?? That is all?... Where's the feng zhao??... What the hell does this mean?... Don't have fan cheong???"

We took fifteen minutes to finally place an order of four dishes (we knew only 叉烧包，烧卖，虾饺 and we took a chance with another 饺), which actually took us an hour to finish since our order must have been so small it got lost somewhere in the tiny kitchen.

Very, very dissatisfied with the only local brunch I could think of, my tummy rumbled and I grumbled, "You still hungry? Let's walk up the next street and continue with Brunch Part Two." Thank God I got a happy "Okay!".


"Er... they say also this zhok here is damn good, one of the best around here. But I also haven't tried before."

Ah... my saving grace. And I have one more favorite to add to my list now.


After two hours of distraction at the awe-inspiring H&M, where I tried to play devil's advocate but ended up myself with two dresses and two tees for the kids back at Singers, we finally made our way to the train. And thus embarked on our journey in search of the "reebins".



"Don't leave me alone! Please don't leave me alone! I will lose control!"

If not for the "reebin" mission, I might never have come to this part of town. This dirty, smelly, busy part of town. Where the local colors and flavors somehow enlivened me a little.

We were amazed by the mass of shops selling all unimaginable sorts of handicraft materials, from buttons to crystals to beads to, of course, "reebins". We were even more amazed by how almost everything goes for two Honks dollar per meter in the "reebin" shop we finally found. And that would be forty amazing cents in Singers.

I wasn't looking for "reebins" - but it didn't mean I had nothing to buy.

I now have some seventeen meters of hair bands in my drawer. I don't think I'd ever need to step into Sham Shui Po again for quite a long while.







"Should I buy? Should I buy? I'm so horrible! ... Okay, can I have this please... YOU are horrible!"

We giggled like little girls in the shops. We flirted blatantly with the shop uncle in faint hope of getting some discount (she got some free "reebins" and pens instead). We ate cherries on the street. We dashed across roads and played games of dodge with the awful cab drivers. We squabbled over stuff I can't even recall now. We hopped on and off trains to maximize the use of her one-day tourist pass. We spoke Cantonese so lousy I think we embarrass even other Singaporeans but ourselves. We walked and walked, got a bit lost and then walked more. We ate sandwich and steamed egg dessert at the Australian Milk Co. (yes, I am not kidding, that's the name of the crazy-busy char can teng) at Jordan. We ogled at pastries. We visited an amazing number of public toilets. I made her buy a pair of shoes and had to carry her shopping as a result.

And finally, we sat down at McD's and ate more cherries.

When it was time to leave, we weren't quite hungry yet (we really shouldn't be then). We would have headed straight home but I looked at my watched, did a little calculation, and exclaimed, "Eh, we still got time to make the 8.20. It's on the way home. You want???"




"I think your tummy too small, no one can see. The next time we get on the train, I think you should unbutton your coat."

She did just that, and stuck out her tummy too. Good girl.

I think I irritated her with my incessant love proclamations, my hysterical giggles at nothing, and my constant whispers of "Fucking cool lor" and "Damn 帅". But I don't care. Because I was a really, really happy woman.

I was walking out of the theater in a distracted, semi-dreamy mood when a strangely familiar dude in shades passed by. The next thing I heard, like literally seconds later: "Eh! I finally meet a star in Hong Kong!" Mortified, embarrassed, I almost dragged her a few steps ahead, out of ear's distance.

That's the one rule of hanging out with me in the Honks: you can ogle at pastries all you want, but you never ogle at stars, at least not in front of them!

Anyway, Mr. So ain't so much of a star. Not, to me.



"Wah lau, this is damn good... Wah lau, this is damn good... Wah lau, this is damn good... Wah lau, this is damn good..."

Of all the things I've introduced her to, I think the last one pleased her the most.

I figured it out from the rate at which she spewed the phrase "Wah lau, this is damn good" - which was about once per bite. And I think she forgave me for not bringing her to more local food instead.

But seriously, this is damn fucking good.

I think it will change my dietary plans from now on.


"You are damn violent leh!"

Despite a tiring night before, I woke early to send my sweetie off. We hopped into a cab; I crushed her foot with her own luggage. I got the last nag. We did our last meal together - breakie again. We hugged. I watched her walk into the train and sit down. We waved. She shooed me away. I hand-signalled for her to send a text once she landed. We waved again.

And then, that was goodbye.


It has been only a day trip really, but I think yesterday was also one of my happiest days in the Honks.

I don't know when we will ever get to do this again (we did talk about "Tokyo someday"), or if we will ever get to do this alone, without her kids, at all. But it doesn't matter.

Like most other things in my life, I am just happy there ever once was, we ever once did.

Peace

In spite of all the nagging ("Wah lan eh! How many shoes are there here?!"... "Wah lao eh! Only six months and you got so many shampoos?!"...), I am very gladly giving up my bed tonight, and very willingly curling up on the couch.


Some things, perhaps to my relief, seem to have remain unchanged.

With that as well, and of course my hot bottle bottle, I think I will go to couch tonight warm and happy.

Yes, I am back.

India

It has been a rather consuming trip. Just a short few days but it always feels shit when the traveling drains you out more than the trip itself.

It is of no secret to the entire world (apparently) that it was my virgin trip to the Delhi. Or, for that matter, to India.

So, rather expectedly, the Question of the Trip had been (and I tend to think it's a very Indian thing 'cos no other nationality has ever bombarded me with the same question ever): "So, what's your first thought about India?"

Which is actually fine by me. A rather doable question. 'Cos I do have quite varied thoughts aplenty about the land where "whatever is true, the reverse is true as well".


If I could actually allow my thoughts to run and ramble, India is a wonderful land where...

The streets have no lanes...


The people obviously give no damn about road signs...


The nice folks stuff you up with roll after roll of the awesomest chicken kebabs, only to tell you an hour later they are just starters...


My favorite eggs are peddled off carts along the dusty roads...


It has successfully reigned as the only place ever that could make me sneeze nonstop for three consecutive days, even while lying on my bed in the freakin' 460-US-bucks-a-night hotel room...


'Manual labor' literally means 'manual'...


There is probably the most wide-ranging forms of vehicles on the roads...


"Lean" equals "mean" so cars have no second side mirrors...


It manages to tickle some of my fondest memories of Bangkok...


Kids (are still allowed to) have fun with window displays...


"Bhangras" rule...


Sleeping cows still lie...


Poverty still persists...


The one that feeds me my eggs is actually, really the king...


Good buddies gather nonetheless...



Oh, and there are those ubiquitous blackouts, for which it would've been rather dumb to put up a black box.


Dusty as it may be, noisy as it may be, crazy-chaotic as it may be, I think I wanna go back to India.

Just because I have been so fuckin' deprived of all the food.

Still Croakin'

This is probably not the best time to visit the land of curries and dals.

Not with a painful throat and a nagging cough.


For a couple of reasons, I can't wait to get back home.

"Quality Hot Water Bottle"

I no longer fear the cold and emptiness.

I can finally crawl back into bed.

I have something finally to hug and keep me warm.

Pimpess

Me: Wei. You know. When I was back home, my friends were asking about the cute guys that appear in my Facebook picture. Do you want me to start untagging you?
Gorgeous: Hmm. What kind of friends?
Me: Girl-friends lah.
Gorgeous: Can you smuggle any one of them here?


Hmm... evading my question.

Remember what I instructed you, girls.

不倒翁

Big, fat, juicy oysters.


Fatty beef. Fish head soup. More fatty beef. Fat shrimp dumplings. Even fattier beef.


And my crazy H.A. buddies.



This was so totally unexpected. Especially when I was already lying half-dead on the bed since I got home.

A prelude to Round Three. A pre-Delhi warm-up. Or, just another excuse to pig out.

But to me, a heartwarming welcome-home reunion dinner in the cold place I now call home.