Work Fun

I pick up a colleagues call while she's on another line and MSN her about it after.


Me: (11:54:01 AM)
fong teng from ****** has just return your call

Me: (11:54:10 AM)
she wants you to return it back

Me: (11:54:15 AM)
to her, obviously

Me: (11:54:24 AM)
what kind of a game are you guys playing?

:p

Her: LOL, phone tag apparently!!


This you can do to highly stressed people when they are fielding calls all day and you are 15 minutes to a half day off before a long weekend holiday break at a boutique resort on a beautiful island with a catamaran to sail around the islands and cooking onboard while dolphins trail the boat with your kid sister on her first holiday with you since your mum passed away and ever *DEEP BREATH*


Gotta go!

Month Two

Two months ago, I arrived in Penang for my best friend's baby shower.
A week(or two?) later, I sat in the airport to leave, still coming to terms with
all that had happened, finding my mother dead after the baby shower,
making arrangements with my aunt in the funeral house, the mortuary
the wake, the funeral, the crematorium, cleaning out her effects,
her entire life..just gone..
so unexpectedly. I tried to write this then.

~~~~~~~~

No matter what you envision when you think about the people closest to you dying,
nothing ever prepares you for the fact.

Your imagination cannot begin to conjure it.

It’s been a week since we found mother, tried to get into the locked front grill,
then once we were in, battering down the room door.

A week since I looked at Cheryl and told her I did not want her there,
I could not have her there.

I thought that mum had finally gone and done it,
the suicide that she’d threatened off and on.

And I could not bear Cheryl’s last memory of our mother being this.

There was a flicker of optimism, maybe that she’d just needed a break,
gone on a holiday, away somewhere.

That thought filled me with anger, for making us worry,
Cheryl at 14.

But deep down inside of me, I already knew she wasn’t there.
I couldn’t feel her presence.

I took Cheryl downstairs, called her dad, called my aunt.

I had awoken early that morning, gripped with a slow panic.
And I told Sean at lunch, I said ‘I think my mum is dead.’

Cheryl and I had been trying to reach her all of the day before (Friday)
I called John, he said he’d tried Thursday.

So after I left John battering the door and I took Cheryl downstairs,
he phoned me to tell me that ‘Mummy is gone, Ja, she’s gone’
and I said ‘What do you mean gone?’ turning away so Cheryl couldn’t hear me.

‘Gone’.

I told Cheryl.

My aunt says we were crying when she arrived, but everything for me,
from then is a blur. I remember bits and pieces, others my friends and aunts fill in.

I remember Vig, Kok Meng, Chee Tuck and Ian arriving.
Me telling them point-blank. Asking Vig to go and check.

Aunt Nat says that I was crying on the phone, I kept telling her to
"Just come home, just come home!"


I never thought that I’d find myself in the mortuary 9.30pm,
Saturday, September 26, signing the papers to release my mother's
body. Or there again to identify her, pick her up and take her to the
funeral parlour.

I never thought at 26, that there would be no mum.

I never thought that I would have to collect her death certificate, anyone's death cert
at this point in my life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And then I couldn't write anymore, I boarded my flight and I came back to KL.
Joe called me out for a drink, I said I'd just have one, I was pooped.
He said "You'll have as many as I deem fit."

And now, sometimes I forget, I look at my phone, I think
"Oh, I'll call mum" then realisation hits.

Sometimes I dream about her, wake up crying, and I can't say I regret

but I feel the loss of all the things that I had planned to do with her
how I had planned to try and mend our relationship
move away from last year and what we had been in my teenage years

I wanted to stop being the mother, be more of her friend,
then have her be more of my mother.

And now, when I watch a movie with the slightest familial
or even romantic emotion in it, I'm waterworks
because I miss her for all the times in my future that I will need her
my next heartbreak, my marriage, my children.

For Cheryl, finishing highschool, going away to college
for Cheryl growing up.

So, two months on, I really hope she's in a better place.
And it was peaceful, I'm glad it was peaceful, because my biggest nightmare
is that it wasn't.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cheryl and I go on our first holiday together in 2 weeks
Two sisters, different fathers, 400km and 12 years apart

We will be on a boat sailing the Andaman sea towards Thailand
I dreamt of it, of dolphins trailing behind us, her face lighting up
and I can see us, our feet dipping in the salty water
wishing our mum was with us somehow.

Communication

I suddenly remember that I am supposed to remind C about dinner..

A:Please notes that yous and Is ares supposed to having dinners tomorrows

C: And Is ares?Dinners noted.Qui tiam ar?

A: Dunno. You wanting to coming to town or I meets yous somewheres?

C:Vat dju vaan tu eet?

A:Maybe we theenks abouts it tomorrows. You have thoughts?

C:Haf huf tots ov za pasta. Yummmmmmmmm

A:Oowh..za pasta there's many good!here. Za Neros, za baritalia, za chiarascuro, za ciccio, za sumfink sumfink..many!many!

C:Okay!Zapasta eet ees!I za hungwy nao.

A:I jez eet za beeg salat. Why you no eet?

C:I eet. Juz zapasta toto zoundz good.

A:Ohkey! Tomorrow we eet zapasta!We try za new gutt!

C:Hokay! Eesa dade.

A:Wooooh!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


A:We are such lamers. Taking an evening walk on my own and *CRACKING* up! :p

C:HAHAha. Penang beeble are spechul.


Indeed.

Silence

It is an unsaid, intangible "Are we okay?"

but, yes, yes we are.

Rub My Temple

If this is not whipped into place
I could start my own forest reserve.

Time/Games

The push and pull
the ebb and flow
the struggle, the ease
the tease

Why do we play these games, unwittingly
whether or not we want to

Working so hard to make all things fall into place
and some will tell you, 'it isn't so hard'
that if it is then its probably not right, not worth it

Yet others will say that pain, suffering, work
are part and parcel of life

So what now?

Patience is apparently what I lack.
and so I am half-half

I want to ask, I want to say
So you don't waste your time or mine
'what do you want of me?'
but then what does that start/end
and am I ready for it?

I dipped my feet in
You let them languish
I will dip no further
And the pool, if you do not feed it
will evaporate
uncovering my feet
leaving them free to walk on

A Dream

I dreamt of mother last night
probably not for the first time, but it is the first time
that it is recalled with clarity.

We had found her again, and she was cold as stone
So we wrapped her up, in the kind of linen nappies that
you wrap babies in
It seemed she had been gone for two weeks
And as we were wrapping, she woke

And I remember thinking about all the arrangements
made, the money spent and how come she could be
gone two weeks and suddenly wake?

The next scene and it is a beautiful day
and for some reason we are rushing to the airport
through immigration
I've forgotten my passport

Then mother is at the top of a high building
I can't see the top it's so high and concealed by mist and clouds
and mother jumps
and as she plunges to the bottom
I remember thingking 'There is no way someone can survive this'
and she lands in a ripple-less dive in the pool at the bottom
and then she resurfaces, grinning.

What does it mean? What does it mean?

Sticking

Some of my close male friends I've insisted on calling by other names.
names that to me, seem to suit them better.

Like how R is Pete and A is Joe.

So couple of months ago, Joe, who has relentlessly fought being called
Joe for about 10 years, introduces me to his friend Joe.

"Nah Ja, this guy is also another Joe.."

My eyes meet his in mirth as realisation of his subliminal acceptance
is registered.

:D

MMJ

Office space sharer : Why have you looked so sad recently?
Me: My mother just died a month ago.

I say it bluntly, to wound rather than invite sympathy
for I've never taken to her and her pink crocs
and then I feel bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking to work today shuffling through Augie March, Art of Fighting and Kings of Leon
I thought 'Oh I must listen to My Morning Jacket'
so I did, and I must have momentarily gotten distracted
because I was surprised to be struck by how much I like,
no, love My Morning Jacket.

The best.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cooked cous cous and lamb and roast potatoes in duck fat for
three people last night, starting at 8.30pm, these latin people sure eat late
last arrival at 9pm (with a bottle of choya for moi!)
and they help me, stir, chop, peel, as I season

"Soy sauce?really?" they say when I marinate the lamb with
We duck and stretch, all four of us in the tiny kitchen
they pass a joint, I sip from my wine-glass
we sit down at 9.30

grilled lamb, cous cous, vegetable and chickpea stew
golden roast potatoes, pan con tomate, grilled pumpkin and eggplant
mint and redcurrant jelly, just us four and the table is laden

First we are famished, then too soon, we are unable to eat, move, speak
"Can I offer you anything?" my hosts say while I try to figure out
how to move
"If you're going to offer me anything, offer me a bed".

One Month

Today marks a month since we found my mother,
but I'd say a month plus a day or two since her death.

I went back to Penang this past weekend,
to see family, to see my best friend and her new baby
and came back late last night, exhausted to the core.

And today someone asked me "Was it difficult?"

"Was it difficult, or were you iron-strong as usual?"
I said to her that while it wasn't that difficult, it was just tiring.

Being strong and calm and collected is just tiring
but I don't know how to be anything but.

I wonder if I'll ever learn
Sometimes I feel like I am made of stone
so conditioned am I to dealing with the tough
that fragility is lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My sister and I, hand-in-hand lying in bed
talking about her dreams about our mum,
hand-in-hand, at the market, picking out flowers
to put at her grave,
we decided on a red and white colour theme
she picks the whites, I pick the reds

At the grave, we sit on the marble, rub the dust off (There's dust already?!?)
of the picture of mum smiling
and then we busy ourselves arranging flowers
over mummy and nanna, stripping off leaves, thorns
five minutes, ten, twelve past
I stand up, look over at the kid
"Ready?"

We stand hand-in-hand at the foot of mother's grave
and I say "May her soul rest in peace"
my sister says "Amen" the same time I start to continue with
"and let the perpetual light shine upon her o lord"

"You got it wrong che-che!" she says
"Oh whatever!" I say as we make our way through the headstones and weeds.

And then its done.

Chat

I am chatting with my three aunts

who are together in Singapore

One from Penang, on from Japan, one from Singapore

They have been sad they say, thinking of my mother

feeling guilt for not being there enough,

solitary, weepy

so they've come together for support (and shopping)

and things are slightly better.

I remember the last time I was in SG, the same three aunts

plus one

And we were playing cards, eating Chinese devil curry

and aunt Nat said " I wish Mina were here"

and then everyone snapped at her for, thinking but not doing

but I guess in our own ways, we all did what we could

They tell me that they have to go, they got

"Noodles and then shopping"

They tell me they love me

"Have fun!" I say

"Don't die".

Tooth & Nail

I sometimes feel like I am struggling, hanging on

by the skin of my teeth

to something where the end is inevitable

And yet though I know it, know rationally how this story will play out

for this goes against common sense

I have stopped trying to fathom

how it has such a hold on me

It is a cycle that I must go through, masochistic and self-damaging as it is

that I must wholly give in to it, before am wholly cleansed of it

I feel like I am treading in a river, the current somehow holding me aloft

I am trying to make my way towards the left bank,

despite seeing that it is crumbling into the water

and on the right bank, someone has tossed me a life line

but I cannot yet reach for it

not till I am ready, not till I am sure

even if you split my face into the widest of grins

It will take me being clean out of this mess before

I can even begin to clearly and fairly

assess the options that I am lucky enough

to be presented with.

But I've done this before, and though it doesn't get easier

it will pass, and life goes on, as it does.

Bruised

I took my heart out from its protective cover
placed it in my palm
held it out
and it got bruised.

But then, I knew it would.

And I am learning
that seeing other people only serves as temporary cover
adds confusion
and clarity where I don't want it.

Unless I can be so selfish as to tell someone
'don't fall in love with me'.

Unless I can draw lines across the blueprints of a 'relationship'
say 'this is what we are, what we can be'
'what I can give, but no more than this'
Is that fair?

Anew

In the past 24 hours, I have pondered the ease, speed and intensity of which
relationships are built online, and just as equally, their demise.

Since returning from Sydney, I have made two random friends online
and marveled at how little it takes for one to reveal oneself on the internet.

"A quick check online reveals that you have started two blogs and abandoned them," he said
"start a blog, write.."

And I though, "Why? what could I possibly say that is of any interest, significance, to anyone else?" (the precise reason I stopped blogging)

Then when I think about it, I always blogged for me, to sort of clear my mind,
say what I need to say
regardless of whether anyone reads or comments and etc

There was the question of whether I should start a new blog,
or just reopen my previous blog and start posting from there
because I always go back to it anyway, to touch base
to see how I have changed, progressed, matured in my insights
and I thought, "This is me, who I was, who I became, who I am becoming."

I worried about how people would just read me, and judge me from there,
never get to know the real me,
just assume they know from what they read

And here we are :)

Very often people say to me "You've done so much, experienced so much,
for someone your age."

And I think to myself these days,
"Really? How have I contributed positively to anyone but myself?
How am I any different?What difference am I making?"

But maybe that thought is what keeps me going.

Solitary Lunch

Today, my eyes are tired.

Lunch today, myself, a steaming, basil-laden bowl of pho
and The Diving Bell & The Butterfly.

Later I sat under the trees, just finished, contemplating the book
If anything, the sheer feat of producing this book makes
one review their own life, are they appreciating it enough
doing enough, living enough

And while I sat, three men sat down next to me
They asked me whether I work in the building
showed interest in the book, asked me about it

And for a split second, I was about to write them off
leave, go about with my own business
when I remembered how Mr PP and I we're having
a discussion about being so quick to write people off
and how I had resolved that I would now give people
a chance.

So I sat and summarised the book, how incredible
and thought provoking it is

As I shared the story, they shared with me other such stories
they told me of their work
then did a sales demo that astounded me
because I cannot speak to strangers like that,
let alone sell.

They asked me about me,
said there was boredom and sadness in my eyes
my background, my work, my daily life

And in the end, of course, asked to exchange numbers.

A card yes, numbers no. Email me.

In the end, it turned out to be enlightening,
to make such a connection however slight.

:)

High Enough From All The Waiting

Lalalalalalala such a nice day in the valley.

I was up high in the building, doing a quasi photoshoot when I peeked out
of the window,
the sky was clear, and you could see the mountains
surrounding us at the edges of the city.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

and I received a sweet gift today :)

I'm not an unhappy person, I realised as I was bopping down the
street home listening to Frou Frou. I caught myself dancing at the
traffic lights and had to stop for fear of being labeled freak.

Really, the slightest things make me happy.

But then the opposite works too.
Like I feel horrid when I decline to take a flyer
handed out by a person slicked in perspiration from standing in
the noon scorch.

I also have this inherent inability to sit still and watch life pass
me by, thus I try and embrace every second
that's why I don't get the people who just sit and wait
wait wait wait wait for what?
Life to pass you by?
You know some people are stuck, you know they have no choice?
You do.
Scared.

There's so much to take in, so much to be grateful for and gracious about,

even a connection is hard to make these days
but I guess there are some things that even the best of us
must let pass us by.

Trust me to come back from Ho Chi Minh City and crave
Vietnamese food everyday.
Yesterday for lunch, then dinner.

And today maybe dinner :)

I should stop sweating.

I should reply to that sms. 4 days late!

And oh yes, I've decide to give people more of a chance.
Because of karma and all you know, and because
I want to be a nice person (not that I am'nt already)

Exhausted!

It is one thirty in the morning in Saigon and dew has begun to settle
I am on the back of a motorbike barrelling down the tree-lined avenue
towards Ben Thanh Market

Save for my driver, I am alone in the wee hours of the morning
and I feel safe, like Copenhagen felt.

We stop at the market, my driver procures a bag of thumbnail sized longans
and hands them to me, we can barely communicate

He takes me around, to sights he thinks might interest me
He patiently takes photo after photo as I starfish :)

Later, wending our way down a street he says
"Madam, I very like you."

I say thank you.

He asks for my number.

I ask to go home.

And that's how my last night in Saigon ended.

Photos on FB and http://picasaweb.google.com/aja.belle/Saigon#.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am so grateful for the friends that I am blessed with :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Its uncanny, whenever they sense that you no longer think of them,
they always pop up.

But there is no goal to work to
Neither is there...I don't know I don't even know what it was
There's nothing for me to work with or
towards there
There was no communication and everything was
just at surface level
And more passive-ness than passion.

It's like taking up with a brick
when all around you...uh...flowers
are beckoning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I said but two days ago
"I'm leaving in three months."
He said "We'll talk about it when we get home."

Lol.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking Up With The Birds

Waking up with the birds....
Just really makes you want to shoot them though doesn't it?

_________

These days, I ponder the fate of relationships in the big smoke.
The survival rate is so low because people are always on the look out for something
better, afraid of being hurt, unwilling to commit, willingly throwing themselves
into the face of temptation, forgetting that it is human nature to err.

There is such a lack of respect in relationships that its scary really,
thus, one's first instinct when things get slightly out of hand, is to run.

I'll admit I am guilty of that myself.

So we leave fate to take the burden, and I wonder, how right is that,
really, isn't it just cowardice on our parts?
Wasn't love about taking risks, chances?
Should we not be grabbing the bull by its horns, going after what we want?

Nay.

We say, if its meant to be, its meant to be. Well, it may never be then.

As society gets more liberal, it also gets more restrictive.
Proper communication is so lacking that people don't stand a chance anymore.
Everyone has their facade, barricades up.

So much so that we can't seem to get out of our own way when it
comes to making things happen for us.

Cannonballs

Mother
is in town, to stay in my shoebox sized room for awhile
Last night (or rather morning at 0100 hours)
I curled on my side on the mattress by the wall trying to block
out the sound of her speaking on the phone to her ex-boyfriend
I strained to stay calm as I mentally counted down the hours
before I had to wake up for work: 7 hours

In her 40s, and I am astounded that some things don't change
I wonder how my life will pan out, whether it will always be this way
whether I can avoid the worst incarnation of myself
we're all afraid of turning into our mothers someday

So I fight kicking and screaming, to not become
but my direction...well..I don't really know which way to go
just not that way

but then, where would that leave me?

I think of the extreme alternative, of drabness and monotony
and I hope that I'll find balance

0230 hours
Mother is snoring, I feel as though the room walls are shuddering
tenting inward over me
wake up for work in: 5 1/2 hours

I go outside and try and sleep on the couch
the thought of it being somewhat 'public' area bugs me
I toss, I turn

0630 hours
I am up, I don't know if at all I've slept
wake up for work in: 1 1/2 hours
I don't bother to sleep, I make coffee, I dwell

Mother does my head in.
Whether she says nothing to me, whether she tells a story
that does not concern me, the approach, the perspective, the reactions
mother does my head in.

indirectly(or not)
she fucks with my mind, she makes me question my existence,
my relationships
she unrattles my perceived stability
she makes me retract from anything that could potentially hurt me
because when I look at her, I don't want to build these
fragile human connections that crumble in an instant

Milestones

Milestones.
Can sometimes be a lot less tangible than the word would make them seem.

A milestone can be reached though nothing is said, and nothing really done
through other gestures that seemingly do not relate to a subject at all
through a thousand subliminal non-reactions.

Put before me today, two paths. I chose the one of hope.

On a less serious note on a Wed, no, sorry, Thursday morning when one
has been partying madly the night before til 4 am with one's 'girls'
eating talking crying drinking drinking dancing dancing dancing dancing
"Lower, lower, lower!"
and one is now at work, existing on four hours of sleep,
trying to finish the first chapter that was due last Friday
was supposed to be done last week..yet one is surreptitiously blogging
in a mini min window..

Well yes, on that less serious note:

People who walk diagonally across crowded zebra crossing really should
get their knees knocked in.

Wankers.

Happy Thursday. Not.

Wait.. and still, with lack of sleep, knees, thighs, calves sore from all
the "low, low, low", still I immensely enjoyed my walk and IPOD time this
morning and found myself grinning into the trees, bopping on the
sidewalk to Lil Wayne's Mrs Officer.

So yeah, happy, happy!

Tired

Today I'm tired of being caught in the middle
I hate that I have to battle my own, my partner's, my friend's feelings
that there is no pleasing all at the same time
that no matter what it will be awkward
that one or the other might resent

I wish that it could be simpler, that people cared less, or more
that we could go with the flow; accept, forgive, forget
either or.

This is me today, caught.

I Do Not Like It

I do not like it when my flesh touches the skin of Cornelius the II because the slit
on my dress allows it to.

I do not like it when outside the weather is brilliant and I am in.

And now I have to go for a meeting.

Bai.

Being Me

Today I sat down and tried to write for work.

And I realised that in the past one or so years,
I have forgotten that before anything else,
I used to write.

I sat under the harsh fluorescent lights
boxed in by office walls
completely uninspired.

I used to think writing was something that came naturally,
not something you had to train yourself to do
but now not writing has become a habit
and it seems to take so much more to do it.

I still write in my mind, fleeting paragraphs
that never make it to paper

this is the kind of realisation that saddens.

And so I left, took the walk I seem to take less
and less these days.

It occurred in phases, first to take the back way
so as to not bump into colleagues returning to the office
after a meeting

then crossing the road...beep..beep..beep of the green light
at the pedestrian crossing
I fall into step with the bristling army marching
on the five foot way
together we brace the traffic, cantankerous on the pitted
tar, shimmering oily steam

and slowly, as I walk, its as though the thousand and one
thoughts swimming in my head, its as though.. they swirl and
float, converge at one point, and slowly, they separate
become clearer

I think of J.K. Rowling inventing the Pensieve
how I want one.

To be able to separate each thought, scrutinise each in turn
to be able to make them, clear, clean, defined.

Now I am at Jalan Alor, bustling, a lady sits on her own
at the plywood table, huge durian in front of her
pile of seeds at her side, she is lost in her own world.

I want to be her.

Steam billows from stoves and giant pots, there the vendor and his
plump bananas, his mangosteens, I always think they look
like asian breasts
here, the woman with her cucur udang
glistening red tiger prawn skins, shucked onto the table
while this couple cleanse their palates with green papaya salad
the roar that delivers 'wok hei' and chatter of people selling
ordering, recommending fills the air.

This, I think is how one is inspired to write..
If I could stop here, sit here, think here, right here

here, I could write you that stunning piece on Peranakan
cuisine, here I can think, I can put those thoughts on paper,
I can be inspired.

The four walls draw nothing but blanks.
Uninspiring work borne out of the uninspired.

My march has slowed to an amble
as my mind runs away with me,
I think of how this walk, used to be my wind down,
my wake up
and
how the smallest break from what is now the norm can inspire

I think of Frank Herbert's quote,
"Without new experiences, something inside us sleeps.
The sleeper must awaken."

How true how true how true

My boss asked me the other day, "What are your plans this year?"
"My plan, is to remain in KL, in Malaysia.."
was what I said. Not "to make manager etc etc."

And anyone who knows me, knows what a feat that will be.
I've been here a year.

When I told D, he said "That's right, baby steps."
so true.

Everyday D and I battle traffic, we do our routine, and as immensely
comfortable as it is, I wander how much 'routine' I can take, how long
I wonder if my quashing this need to soar, see more of the world
live out of my comfort zone, if its healthy?

I wonder about us, he tells me me he worries that I may become
bored, I tell him my worries are the same.

But they aren't really. They are different shades, categories, area codes
of Boredom.

He worries his routine will bore me
I worry, that myself as a woman will bore him
because when 20 people tell you something, it seems quite
foolish to ignore.

But I go into it knowingly, because maybe it's worth it,
and maybe people deserve the benefit of doubt.

And my becoming bored of routine?
As a simple walk has demonstrated, just doing
something that veers ever so slightly from the norm
opens up your mind, inspires things, exposes you to
something that makes you question, makes you smile
maybe even, makes you write.

I just need to shake it up a bit, just a bit.
So my mind doesn't dwell, doesn't stagnate
doesn't rot, wilt, go stale.

Now I reach the stairs.
The old man who makes his bed here, is not here
His bed, thin cardboard box, opened up,
is.

I am glad, last time I walked by he exposed his nuts.

I bound up, then its mossy drain coverings, squirrels
darting in the trees above.
Moss! Don't you love moss? I do.

For that fairytale quality that it lends everything
for softening, prettying the edges of my world
for filling my little world right up, right up, rigggggggggggght uuuuuppppp

Another bout of stairs, four flights, I am home.

Now, I shall swim.

Ramble over.

Space.

Let this be a reminder that I was very happy on Friday night.
Chilled out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So D and I are watching TV, world's most shocking videos or something
and the narrator is talking about a 'rabid fox' that
scares a whole bar full of people

"But baby, how can a rabbit scare a bar full of people?"

-_-

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have nothing to tell you.
Except Friday officially marked the stonest day in my life
ever.ever.ever.

Thanks to cake.

I sat next to May Foong and told her that I wanted a giant, juicy peach.
:D

Saturday I dragged the uncle to the zoo.

Saturday night was a superb night at No Black Tie
featuring Dasha Logan and Adil Johan
who did a superb rendition of Will.I.Am's 'Heartbreaker'

I also hung out at the bar with Caring eating
deep-fried oysters and drinking dirty martinis
while she regaled me with the calorie counts for EVERYTHING
like, exact number of calories in champagne... :0

Then we went to Zouk, which I am well and truly sick off
I mean I like it when its me and my girlfriends and we're
dancing and not being disturbed or chatted up
but of late...

not doing it for me.

Dowan to talk already. Beh shiok.

Ms Pudgy, Thats What He Calls Me

Yeah huh, this is me, trying to resuscitate the blog.

Got a new man friend, domesticated could be a word
used when describing us.

Yeah, huh.

Two anal peas in a pod. Oooh that sounded gross.

We were walking into the lift lobby today, bogged down
by groceries, bags and laundry
and just ahead a 'ethnic' family of three
bolt towards the lift
my eyes widen, D, turns around, widens his eyes
whispers, "Hold your breath baby!"
as we round the corner to meet them.

I step into the lift, surreptitiously hold my breath
the lady looks at our laundry and murmurs
"Oh! we forgot to go to the laundry!"

I give her a bright smile, say "Hey, it's okay, we forgot yesterday.."

We get home, D says
"They forgot to go to the laundry?, Don't they do their laundry in the lake, baby?"
:0
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She cooks! I do, I do. More often now.
Like, 5 days a week, because I am a coolie.
Yeah, huh. C-O-O-L-I-E.

Yesterday I made lamb with vegetable stew and cous cous
possibly one of my favourite dishes in the world
also one of the dishes that photographs worst in the world
especially when said photographer just WANTS TO EAT!

I don't know if Mr. Chinaman enjoyed it as much as I
(yes! a chinaman, can you believe it?
*rolls eyes* don't keel over and die, please...
enough people have done that)

So in fairness today was fly lice day.

Yay!No, really, YAY.

And thus I leave you, first post of the year. Maybe more to come.