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. :)

Ironies

It's been a long, long, somewhat traumatizing, yet blossoming week.


Yous cuddles mys zzzs monsters tonights.

Ands Is wills zzzs earlys toos. :)

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. :)

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. :)

"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?

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.

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.

Private Number

"... it's yours now, you decide..."

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...*

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. :)

Green Carded

occasionally she dreams of italy.
she dreams of cheese shops, persnickety fiats,
and very fine leather goods.


I love Kate Spade.

I love my Kate Spade. :)

"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.

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.

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.

"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...

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 my chicks 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 my chicks 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. =)

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.

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. =/

Zzzless

My favorite zzz monster has eluded me of late.

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.