Shenanigans

Sentenced

2011-07-07T11:47:00.000+08:00

Neither of the Beasties particularly likes a trip to the vet's. It may even be true to say that they actively, vocally and vehemently dislike it. And they have no qualms in making their feelings known. Suffice to say that every such trip, mum needs a stiff shot of vodka.

And for once, I am experiencing a strange sense of empathy with them. It may have something to do with the fact that I've now been a full-time worker bee for A. Whole. Month. Or, that my next getaway is more than Three. Whole. Months. Away.

The bottle of vodka in the cupboard should be very, very afraid.

Mistaken identity

2011-07-06T11:01:00.000+08:00

Have I mentioned how I may not exactly be a morning person? Mornings and I get along only by a strict policy of avoidance. We don't look each in the other eye and one of us always leaves the room when the other walks in.

So this morning following my standard operating procedure of running late, I took a cab to work instead of the save-the-environment-while-saving-money-for-happy-hour option of public transport.

Inject tangent here but a relevant tangent I promise! The place I work at happens to be located not in the usual office area within the Central Business District but at the heart of the clubbing district of the city, smack among the bars and nightspots. Go figure. So anyway, end of tangent and back to the story at hand.

The cabbie drops me off at the taxi stand and says, "Wah! You start work so early ah!" (To be said in a Singlish accent). I was a little taken aback because this coming from my boss could rightly be construed as sarcasm, but from a cabbie? Giving him the benefit of doubt, I said, "No, actually I'm really late. Office starts at 9:30am." He blinks and goes, "Oh, you work in an office, ah!"

...

Because it's a Monday

2011-07-04T18:21:00.000+08:00

Most people who visit Venice take a day trip to the nearby island of Murano, famous for its hand-blown glass. A lot more interesting is the adjacent island of Burano. Walk down any of its narrow streets and you'll encounter a dizzying kaleidoscope where there are no cookie cutter houses, no carefully orchestrated colour coordinated buildings. Where a lime green house exists peacefully with its fuchsia neighbour, and a silver haired granny cheerfully flaunts a psychedelic dress.

I don't know about you but my Mondays can always use a dash of colour.

Looming

2011-07-02T14:40:00.001+08:00

It took a surprising amount of effort, grief and time to maneuver Fatty (Beastie #1) into just the right position at the foot of my bed so as to get her to cast the perfect shadow, and for me to keep from NOT casting one on the wall opposite.

If that doesn't deserve a good night's sleep, I don't know what does.

Homecoming

2011-07-01T14:39:00.002+08:00

It's been one year and two days. It started out as laziness, as a reluctance to put into words all that was not happening in my life, an apathy about sharing what was, and it snowballed into a complete and total absence.

But I've missed being here. I've missed you guys. And I've missed the strange bonds you form with faceless, nameless strangers across cyber space.

It's hard to sum up a year in a post.

But since my last post on June 28, 2010, here's what I've been up to, not necessarily in this order:

Realised a long-held dream of travelling to Italy...And having the guts to do so alone! It was a lot less scarier than I expected, a lot more liberating and a whole lot more fun. I went to Rome, Florence, Venice and Cinque Terra over 20 days. And came back with memories, pictures and the conviction that travelling alone is seriously under-rated.
Realised I had serious feelings for a friend, found the balls to tell him that, and dealt with the knowledge that he wasn't willing to go down that road. AND succeeded in not just staying friends but becoming better mates.
Realised that I needed more stability in my life then a freelance career offered, and finally, after seven long years of flitting from one gig to another, signed on the dotted line for a full-time job.
Turned 40.
Dressed as a hooker for a Halloween party, fishnet stockings and all. AND shared the pictures with my mother!
Moved house. And survived.
Made peace with my brother and laid to rest an estrangement that had never really been verbalised but one that had existed for years. We may never be best mates, but we are more accepting of our differences and way, way more appreciative of our similarities. Most importantly, we've become a family in a way we haven't been for far longer than I'd like to admit.

For those who've been here before, the beasties are fine, healthy, as neurotic as ever and send their regards. As does their mum.

It's good to be back.

Tis the season of goodwill

2010-06-28T14:21:00.003+08:00

So on Friday evening I was meeting a few mates after work for a drink. Brimming with goodwill and cheer, I offered to buy them profiteroles from this oh-my-god sinful Italian deli at the mall next door. I was making my way down on the escalator thinking fairly happy thoughts about cream filled profiteroles and lemon garnished gin and tonics when...WHOA!

I slipped and fell. Down the escalator. And landed on my right knee.

The shock and the pain had me paralysed until the escalator touched bottom, when I gingerly and slowly braced myself up. The leggings were torn, the knee was bleeding. And there were people walking past, over and around me.

NOT. A. SINGLE. ONE. OF. THE. MOTHERFUCKERS. STOPPED. TO. HELP.

Or, pinch my handbag.

Singapore, you so disappoint me.

The profiteroles, on the other hand, didn't.

For all cat-lovers, cat-haters, as well as those indifferent to cats but partial to things funny

2010-06-25T10:14:00.001+08:00

It's a design thing. The cat is lost in the negative space.

Clueless in Singapore

2010-06-24T14:59:00.004+08:00

A conversation overheard at work today:

A female co-worker trying to sweet talk a male co-worker into doing something (hopefully) work related:

Her: My pussycat!

Him: I'm not a pussycat.

Her: No! I'm a pussy! You're a cat.

Me: *Speechless*

Mother & child

2010-06-09T11:50:00.001+08:00

A statue at Botanical Gardens, Singapore. Somehow I get the feeling this isn't a mum who's ever had to worry about postpartum depression. Cracked nipples. Or, cellulite.

(P.s. If you look really, really hard, you may just spot a glimpse of the white swan through the green shrubs.)

Back-lit

2010-06-07T11:00:00.000+08:00

It's really, really hard to get a good picture of Beastie 1. She is in fact, probably, the world's worst model. Maybe she's embarrassed by her squint. Maybe she thinks taking her picture will eat into her nine lives. Or, maybe she just regards me with a camera as a giant pain in the ass.

Comfort

2010-06-06T11:28:00.003+08:00

Something makes me want to go over to that tree and give it a hug. And tell it, hang in there. Someday, everything will be all right.

Alternatives

2010-06-03T15:08:00.005+08:00

Hello, you strangers. And where have you lot been? I've been right here, writing post after post, driving myself to the bone, burning the midnight oil, to keep those clever, witty, incisive posts coming one after the other, and what do I get? What do I get, I ask you? Silence. Not just cold, black hearted silence, but ABSENCE. Sigh. The world, it is a harsh place.

Ummm, did you buy any of that? No? Ok, then I can proceed with the actual post. (Note the absence of an apology for this bout of absence. There is no fighting the inevitable. Going against the grain. Bucking your lazy ass DNA. That's right. It all comes down to blaming your parents and your cushioned, spoiled childhood.)

So, right. Where were we? Ah, the point of this post.

Don't you just love this? It helps to serve as a gentle reminder that when it comes to certain things, I'd rather do this than them. Things like:

Watch Sex n the City III
Watch Prince of Persia II
Explain to my mum why there exists a picture of me kissing another woman on the mouth (She and I both know I'm straight. Dateless, single, but still resolutely straight.)
Spend another week sharing the bedroom (NOT the bed!) with BOTH MY PARENTS. Did I mention I'm 39?
Go on another tepid, mind-numbing blind date
Post another pro-Israel article on their boarding of the blockade defying ship on Facebook without remembering I have some nutty Jordanians on my friends' list
Give my number to a seemingly cute black footballer without ascertaining that he does not indeed have body parts in his freezer.

So what have you been up to that you'd rather not have?

Does my bum look big in this?

2010-05-06T13:13:00.003+08:00

Of course not, honey.

And of course, I don't care if you shave your legs.

And sure, your mother is more than welcome to come stay with us as long as she likes.

The art of understatement

2010-05-05T23:40:00.002+08:00

Nope, that's not a bar in Singapore.

And nope, I can't tell you if the product lived up to the advertising. (I prefer my blackouts gin and tonic laced.)

Faker

2010-05-04T13:26:00.003+08:00

Someone thinks acting all high and mighty and noble and distinguished will help divert attention from the pool of puke she left in her dad's living room after devouring his prized leather loafer.

Nice try, kid.

Contrasts

2010-05-03T11:56:00.003+08:00

I love the juxtaposition of the colours in this photo. And of the fact that while I took this picture in a small, grungy Mexican restaurant located in the Indonesian neighbourhood of Ubud, it still feels Mediterranean.

Sucker

2010-05-02T13:38:00.002+08:00

This is my brother's dog. A half lab, half unknown pedigree female who he in a burst of originality named Kali.

She and I spent many a tender moment bonding during my trip to Bali and suffice to say there are pictures of the two of us which the beasties back home would consider an utter and complete betrayal.

I think I can resist that face just as much as I can a tub of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Therapy. Or a tall, lanky, scruffy, musician-like English boy.

Back

2010-05-01T15:23:00.002+08:00

So the holiday was good. Really, really good. For the first time in decades, my brother and I spent a week together without a single falling out. No rows, no arguments, no slammed doors, no raised voices. I know you cannot possibly appreciate this without an adequate history of our relationship, but since that would take up all this post and more, I'll spare you the details. Suffice to say that until this time, I had thought of him like a tequila shot. Only good in very, very small doses.

I came back with a tan (and yes, while I may be brown skinned being Indian but there's brown and then there's browner, and I'll thank you for appreciating the difference!) and without a mobile phone. I had it nicked at a cyber cafe in Gilli and almost gave in to the urge to bawl my eyes out in front of complete strangers but luckily got distracted by a charming Irish man and a gin and tonic.

The good news is that in order to replace it, I decided to succumb to the evil little voice in my head and joined the legions of iPhone fans. YES! I now have my own iPhone! And there's never been a kid happier with her new toy.

So while I have plenty of things to cross off my to-do list like upload holiday pictures, do post holiday laundry, placate pissed off beasties, learn how to use my iPhone, find work, it's good to be back.

Gone fishin

2010-04-08T10:56:00.005+08:00

Hello, my lovelies.

Obviously you can trust me to post daily or even regularly as much as you can the person who cheats on her/his partner, saying "It happened just this once! It didn't mean anything! I was thinking of you the entire time, I promise!"

No excuses. I'm just shit. And you love me anyway. :-)

I'm off for a much deserved holiday tomorrow. To Ubud in Bali and then to Gilli island. Wish me luck, good weather, lots of cocktails on the beach, decadent massages and maybe even a cute man or two.

And this time, unlike my usual anal, meticulous, hyper-planner self, I haven't even booked me a hotel before!! I know, shocking, ain't it. The next thing you know I'll be going all wild and grocery shopping without a list.

I may post while I'm away. Or, I may not. In either case, I'll still love you.

Defying the laws of nature

2010-03-30T15:35:00.004+08:00

So obviously I am not a woman of my word and if I can't be trusted to keep my promise of a daily picture post, how can you trust me not to kick small kids and give up my seat for decrepit old men? You can't. Now that we've cleared that up, here's a funny story which totally needs a picture except that I don't have one. Suck it up.

A couple of days back I'd gone to the local Toys R Us to get a b'day gift for a friend's kid. I didn't get what the two year old had specifically ASKED for (Now do you see what I mean about wanting to kick small children? The only thing I was capable of asking for specifically when I was 2 was the potty), but I did pick up a small stuffed bunny that came with a clockwork like wind up mechanism.

Being me and clueless, I pointed at the bunny and asked the hapless sales staff if it was battery operated. He looked heavenward, resisted all temptation to roll his eyes and said with a long suffering air, "No, mam. It comes with a key (pointing to the key helpfully sticking out of the bunny's bum). You wind it up (while demonstrating) and it moves (bunny cooperating)".

Can you guess what was the first thought that went through my head? An evil one of course, picturing the reaction of the Beasties.

So I came home, set the innocent looking bunny down on the floor, and let the two cats come up to investigate. They thought it was a prey as usual, because it looked just like their dozen other stuffed toys. They sniffed, batted it about, and then went into crouch mode which is the usual precursor to their stalk and kill mode. Except for one, small, difference.

This time the bunny, fully wound up, hopped. RIGHT AT the crouching, stalking Beasties!!

To get the full effect, picture a scene from the National Geographic or the Animal Planet channel. The lion stalks a gazelle through the long grass. Instead of fleeing for its life, the gazelle turns and leaps towards the lion. Can't you just see the lion now with his jaw dropping down to the grass, and his expression a one big WTF!

It was exactly like that. And a full five minutes before I could get up off the floor where I lay writhing with laughter.

Shine a light on me

2010-03-27T09:45:00.000+08:00

I saw this pendant in a flea market on The Rocks, a charming neighbourhood in Sydney made of cobbled stone streets and really, really old world buildings.

The pendant is made of a ceramic tile, etched with an image of an old fashioned street light, that makes me think of Victorian London, foggy nights and...Jack the Ripper. Why? Because that's how my mind works.

I was going to get it anyway. But what clinched the deal beyond doubt was when the cute young stall guy saw me pick it up, and pointed to an identical looking lamp post on the street just beyond his stall. "You see that?", he asked. "It's the very one. My grand dad took the picture."

I bought it.

Worth being the second post of the day

2010-03-26T16:00:00.001+08:00

"I haven't seen camel toe that raging since I watched Lawrence of Arabia and they were on the feet of ACTUAL camels. Tori had better be careful Peter O'Toole doesn't sneak up and try to ride her through the desert. It could get ugly."

Writing doesn't get much funnier, people.

Perception, reality.

2010-03-26T10:57:00.004+08:00

You see floral bedsheets, a soft downy quilt, a welcomingly rumpled looking unmade bed.

I see a crime scene.

Cordoned off by imaginary yellow tape. Surrounded by the CSI team of forensic detectives. As they shake their heads at this unprecedented level of brutality and bloodshed. And try and solve the mystery of who murdered my sleep.

Ulterior motives

2010-03-25T10:50:00.000+08:00

A woman who sits right behind me at work received a bouquet of roses today. A big ass, mother of all redder than red roses. Needless to say, it attracted the attention (and envy) of every woman within a five mile radius who congregated at her desk like moths to a flame.

"Is it your birthday?"

"Nope."

"Your anniversary?"

"Nope."

"Did you guys have a fight?", asked one hopeful female.

"Nope."

"Newly weds?"

"Nope, been nearly six years now."

"Then WHY?" asked one frustrated woman, a question that was on all our lips.

"Just like that, I guess..."

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Talking about getting lucky, guess who else will getting some tonight?

You clever, clever man.

An apple a day

2010-03-24T10:09:00.004+08:00

Enough is enough.

The blog has suffered long enough from my chronic case of apathy and listlessness and let's just call it what it is, laziness, for long enough. Symptoms that show all signs of becoming terminal.

So here's what I've resolved to do.

I hereby promise to blog at least one post daily. And because, as a professional writer, I know only too well how those pesky words have a habit of drying up and withering away just when you need them the most, the nasty lil' buggers, I am going to do the intelligent thing. And post a picture. Every day. As long as I can. Because what's a promise without a qualifier or too.

There may be days when you've been good and not kicked your fellow annoying commuters in the shins as they rightly deserve when you may even get two posts! But you can count on getting at the very least, one.

A picture post taken by my trusted phone camera except for the days when I can be arsed to lug the mammoth sized professional quality Canon around.

And as with all resolutions, here goes the first one, full of joy and verve and creativity. I may soon be reduced to photographing toilets so I suggest we all enjoy it while it lasts.

This is a picture of a post by my favourite blogger, something that helps to kick start each of my days, juxtaposed with great artistry against the apple I eat to kick start my bowels daily. Aren't you happy I shared that now.

A conversation and an update

2010-03-23T15:18:00.003+08:00

Recently, I had a conversation with someone about my being on the anti depressants, which is where I left y'all last.

Me: So I've decided to go off the anti depressants.

Him: Why?

Me: Well (without wanting to go into the excruciating details because he was a man with the typical male attention span of a fruit fly especially when it came to female whinging)...lots of reasons but mainly because I wasn't feeling too happy being on them.

Him: Wait a minute! Did you just say, you weren't feeling happy being on anti-depressants???

Me: Whatever!

Jokes and sniggers aside, I wasn't. While they did help me sleep at night on most nights, they made me feel groggy, listless, apathetic and morose all day. Every day. Getting out of bed felt difficult, taking a shower felt impossible and actually having to decide what clothes to throw on felt like...someone kill me now, naked, please.

Apart from the general gloom and doom, the bloody things came with other pleasant side effects like bloating, breast tenderness, breast lumpiness, fever, body aches, the list goes on and on.

And to think, they actually give these to DEPRESSED PEOPLE! It's enough to make you want to take health care professionals and subject them to some good ol' uplifting, cheering torture.

So, NO. MORE. PILLS.

And no, I haven't given up on life. And sleep. I'm seeking alternative forms of help like homeopathic medicines. And I'm hoping they work. Until then, I'll take my non-tender, non- painful, non-lumpy breasts, thank you very much.

It's official

2010-02-24T10:42:00.006+08:00

If you have been reading this blog for a while, you may remember my dalliance with depression last year. It was like falling into a dark pit without not quite knowing how to climb out of it. I felt helpless and trapped and very, very frustrated.

Because by nature, I'm a happy beast. I like feeling positive and upbeat and almost stupidly cheerful. I like being able to laugh about stuff, and will even confess to a largely juvenile sense of humour.

Some time over the course of the year, without entirely realising it, I found I'd made my way out. While the occasional blue days still persisted, by and large, life felt worth living and laughing about.

Except. For. The. Insomnia.

I may have mentioned that here once or twice or ten times. But it's been a persistent problem like an annoying cough or an itch or a stalker that refuses to go away. And nothing seemed to help. Homeopathic medicines. Sleeping pills. Chamomile tea. Chinese herbs. Prayers. NOTHING WORKED. In fact, it had become so bad that as soon as my head hit the pillow, I'd start getting worried about the sleepless night that lay ahead. I'd try reading, meditation or deep breathing but all I'd get for my efforts was a shortness of breath, a pounding heart and a near panic attack.

Yesterday I finally gave up the struggle of trying to stay alive in the face of death by sleep deprivation. And sought help.

I went to my doctor who suggested I may be suffering from depression. I blinked, and said, uh, no, not any more, thank you for asking. She replied saying while I may not be depressed (and somehow I get the feeling she was humouring me here), I would definitely benefit from anti depressant medication. Which I'd need to take for the next SIX MONTHS. Apparently, it has something to do with boosting low serotonin levels. And then she gently informed me how much it would cost. Each month. It almost made me wonder if she was trying to convert her diagnosis of my depression into a reality.

In any case, depressed or not, I am now officially on anti depressant medicine. All I need is a shrink and I'll be that much closer to being a Hollywood star.

But seriously? I hope it helps with the insomnia. I hope it helps me sleep 8 hours straight. And I hope it helps me wake up feeling less like roadkill. And more like myself.

Reason #587 why I love Beastie 1

2010-02-23T10:24:00.005+08:00

Because she is nuts enough to declare war on the dangling drawstring of my pyjamas.

WHILE I AM STILL WEARING THEM.

Tripping

2010-02-23T10:05:00.002+08:00

Have any of you guys seen The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus? I watched it last night. And all I have to say is this, whatever it is those dudes were smoking, it cannot possibly be legal in Singapore.

No holds barred Internet

2010-02-22T13:50:00.002+08:00

"It’s the Wild West: a stupid, profound, thrilling, disgusting, totally lawless boom."

The mark of Satan

2010-02-19T09:55:00.007+08:00

I'd thought of getting a second tattoo almost two years back. The first one had been gotten nearly five years before that, and was a small Celtic cross on my left ankle.

It was thought that needed careful deliberation, because as we all know by now, I'm all about careful deliberation. A chance to sleep with Daniel Craig? I'd be deliberating if I should and how quickly I could schedule that bikini wax. The chance to go on a holiday? Oh, don't even get me started. There would be so much deliberation on that one it would fill a Lonely Planet. So the prospect of getting a tattoo that would stay forever and ever and ever on my body? I think I must have used up all the deliberating there was in the world for that one. If you caught yourself doing something wildly out of character and madly impulsive two years back, you can blame it on me. Because it was me that used up all the careful thinking and planning and anticipating and worrying and agonising for that alone.

It took me a while to decide on a design, even longer to decide where on my body I wanted it, some more time to change my mind, and then about two years to finally go and get it.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the SECOND TATTOO! *Insert drum roll, please* (And it wasn't that much different from the Second Coming.)

This was the inspiration behind the design.

This was the design sketched by the extremely talented tattoo artist.

And this, this was the final result!

In case you were wondering about the pain, of course there was pain! But it was nowhere as bad as my fevered imagination had made it out to be. If I had to describe it, it was like being stung by ants, ants that had been fed a steady diet of steroids and then plugged into an electrical socket. But even for a self-confessed wuss like me with a non-existent pain threshold, it was bearable. Maybe it was where I'd chosen to get it -- my wrist, maybe it was the steady drone of David Gray, maybe it was the presence of two of my mates who generously sacrificed their afternoon (Thanks, TP!) to rub my back and hold my hand, but I made it through the other side. With a beautiful tattoo to show for it. And my dignity and bladder, intact.

A comeback

2010-02-17T14:05:00.003+08:00

It has been a while, hasn't it. And this time I can't even claim laziness as an excuse. Believe me, I would if I could. I'd claim a yeast infection as an excuse if I could. Because when it comes to a good excuse, you don't get to be picky.

But the truth is, it's not you, it's not the cats, or the work, or the planetary alignments, or even laziness, it's, (gasp!) me!!

I just haven't felt like it. And I know if we were sleeping together, I'd never get away with something as lame ass as that. Why not tonight, honey? Oh, I don't know, I DON'T FEEL LIKE IT. I didn't think so.

But luckily for you and me, and especially if you're a blogger too, I think you'll get it. I haven't had much to say and what I have had has just sounded too self absorbed (even for a self absorbed blog!), too lame, too pathetic, just too...blah.

But I promise you, what I have to share will make up for it. Well not for all the lack of nookie in your life, but the lack of content here, yes!

In the meanwhile, here's Beastie 2 putting herself in the corner.

Wondering

2010-02-05T16:40:00.003+08:00

Why does Beastie 2 have the painfully early hour of 5 30am set in the alarm clock in her little head? Is it because she is an early riser? Is it because she wakes up and misses her mum? Is it because she craves the air conditioned comfort of my bedroom? Is she tired of the company of Beastie 1 all night and wants someone new to play with? Or is it because SHE IS JUST A DOUCHEBAG?

I wonder.

Exception

2010-02-04T14:03:00.004+08:00

I know I said I'm too tired to post or to do anything that needs words. But for the thief who nicked my sunglasses OFF MY DESK AT WORK, I'd be happy to make an exception.

For that motherfucker, I have plenty of words. And none of them the printable kind.

Empty

2010-02-04T10:03:00.002+08:00

I know it's been a while since this blog and you saw regular posts. Part of it has been the planets being all out of whack, part of it has been the new found addiction to True Blood, but the biggest part of it has been laziness. What can I say. Whatever it is will no doubt take way too much effort.

But this week? This week I have a cast iron excuse. I started freelancing at a new agency. And my work load, every day, all through the day, consists of churning out articles. Many, many articles, with many many words. And I am talking over 500 words PER ARTICLE, in case you thought I was exaggerating. I don't know about you but I can't even count that high. And the content in those articles? Unlike most other agencies, which provide the writer the information in what is called a brief, this agency generously lets the writer research all that content for herself. All this makes for so many words and so much writing that by the time I am done at work, I am all out of words. And writing. And speaking.

So I've been communicating with the flatmate in gestures, through sign language. And this morning when Beastie 2 conducted her usual morning orchestra outside my door, I was so tired that I just couldn't summon enough energy to shout at her. Instead, I scrunched my face into an expression of murderous wrath and wagged a threatening finger at her. But trust me, Don Corleone himself could not have made that finger wagging any more threatening.

And right now? I'm blowing you a farewell kiss until the next time I can find the words.

Wondering if sleep deprivation qualifies as legally admissible defense

2010-01-27T10:44:00.007+08:00

I haven't has more than four or five hours of sleep for nearly a week and a half now. And my body is slowly but steadily disintegrating. My usually cheerful and amiable disposition, ok, ok, the grumpy and cranky nature is giving way to latent homicidal tendencies. I would ordinarily point an accusing finger at my insomnia but this time it's sought reinforcements from the spawn of Satan, Beastie 2.

I think if a certain cat does not quit her whinging at 5 45am EVERY MORNING with an admittedly impressive clockwork like regularity, it may be time to introduce her to my Korean neighbours and their unique dietary preferences.

A little bit of good

2010-01-26T16:25:00.003+08:00

If you are looking at sending some help to those in Haiti, check this out. It is supposed to be totally legit and the real thing.

The next DIY project

2010-01-26T11:45:00.001+08:00

(Picture courtesy Dooce.com)

I wonder if the cats have any idea how lucky they are.

A very rare, glass half full moment

2010-01-26T11:05:00.002+08:00

My period is late. But am I worried? Nope. BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE TO BE.

Never thought I'd actually be grateful for the lack of nookie.

A trip down memory lane

2010-01-26T10:16:00.004+08:00

There are kids who are adorable and cute and you just want to pick them up and stuff their fat little cheeks in your mouth. Preferably with some barbecue sauce. And then there are the others, the kind you want to abandon on the sidewalk with a sigh that says "Free or best offer". Guess which one was I?

P.s. Clearly, I also perfected that disdainful-I-have-better-things-to-do-that-submit-to-your-dumb-camera face long before the teenage years.

P.p.s. The Tummy? It's still there.

Ouch

2010-01-22T10:33:00.000+08:00

Saw a movie last night. The full title was "It's Complicated But A Post-Menopausal Meryl Streep Is Somehow Having More Sex Than You Are".

Lost in translation

2010-01-22T10:07:00.002+08:00

Me: I am looking forward to The Killers' gig this Sunday!

Her: God, you really are into the whole vampires crap, aren't you!

Me: Blink.

Blink. Blink.

The soundtrack in my head

2010-01-21T15:08:00.004+08:00

"I want to do bad things with you."

A love-hate relationship

2010-01-14T17:49:00.004+08:00

For the past few days this week, I've been at work. AT WORK. As opposed to in my pyjamas, at home, ass on couch, remote in hand. And I'm realising that I have, kind of, a little bit, missed it. Don't get me wrong. I am still pathologically opposed to anything that requires waking up at the crack of dawn and hauling a warm and sleepy body out from under the quilt.

But I have missed the banter and the camaraderie, the bad coffee, the flirting (hmmm...!), the MSN chats with other mates also at work (somehow a BUSY status just doesn't have the same impact when everyone knows all you've been doing is laundry).

This gig ends today. So while I'll be spending some quality time with the couch once again tomorrow, here's to hoping it doesn't become a permanent relationship. And I get a chance soon enough to miss it again.

Seriously?

2010-01-11T15:51:00.003+08:00

Censor and edit out "Cinderfuckingrella", the classic, immortal line from Pretty Woman. Seriously, Singapore Film Censors? Seriously?

Regression

2010-01-04T10:55:00.003+08:00

Call it the wisdom of the years or the sign of maturity but after hitting 39 this last October, I've realised one thing. You can take the girl out of the teenager but you can never take the teenager out of the girl. Evidence: I am still more than capable of obsessing over text messages and checking my phone oh once every few minutes to see if he has replied. Nope, you never do grow up.

The very first post of the year

2010-01-02T10:26:00.004+08:00

As you may or may not have noticed, depending on the level of alcohol still in your bloodstream after the New Year's eve celebrations, the masthead has been changed from the Christmas-themed one.

The actual Christmas decorations will have to wait a little longer.

New Year's eve for me was fairly...something. It checked all the boxes you'd need for a hell of a night out. Insane amounts of alcohol consumption? Tick. A very good time? Tick. Being kissed by friends and strangers at the big moment? Tick. Suffering more than one blackout during the night when I have ABSOLUTELY NO RECOLLECTION of what happened or didn't? Tick. Drunk tears? Tick. Mandatory drunken call to ex? Tick. Waking up naked in my own bed with my purse, mobile phone, earrings and camera arranged prettily around me? Tick. Finding evidence the next morning of having thrown up in the kitchen sink the night before? Tick. Not suffering a hangover the next day? TICK!

Here's to the year ahead. May it bring work, work and more work, all of it with money, money, and more money. And of course, the rest of the goodies like lust, love and happiness. For you and me both, people.

Of Christmas wishes and New Year resolutions

2009-12-23T20:43:00.010+08:00

It's been a funny sort of year. Of making new friends, and losing old ones. Of having steady paying gigs, and weeks of nail biting unemployment. Of being single and lonely. And of meeting someone. Then realising that loneliness is a better alternative to being with the wrong guy. And of course, of making resolutions. Then breaking them.

It's taught me to be more accepting. And less controlling. Of myself and others. It's helped me take the unforeseen in my stride. And look at the bigger picture when the smaller one goes all pear shaped.

It's made me appreciate what I have. And far less resentful of what I don't.

So somehow I managed to get through the last couple of months of joblessness without a breakdown, through all the manic and stressful Christmas shopping without giving into the urge to kick small children and shove old women who insisted on walking this s-l-o-w-l-y in front of me when I was doing my human best to get from point A to point B in record speed, and when I didn't find that perfect dress for the Christmas Eve or New Year's Eve bash, OR the perfect shoes to go with the dresses currently languishing in my wardrobe, to say no thank you to the meltdown hovering helpfully at my shoulder, take deep breaths and say what every grown up adult should: Fuck it. Sweet Baby Jesus, I must be growing up!

So here's wishing you all a very merry Christmas. And a truly, truly happy New Year.

I'll see you guys next year...unless the urge to post something absolutely trivial overwhelms me before. And it goes without saying, one of the resolutions I'll be making is to post much more regularly!

Two of the sweetest words you'll ever hear as an unemployed freelancer

2009-12-11T13:20:00.000+08:00

Free. Champagne.

A life lived dangerously

2009-12-11T13:16:00.001+08:00

Have you ever bathed a cat? A cat with teeth? And claws? Sharp claws? A cat that clearly did not want to be bathed? Or, one that believed being bathed was good for her? Now multiply that experience by two.

Welcome to my day.

Blood thirsty

2009-12-08T10:36:00.009+08:00

I was whinging to Australis about the 'dude' being away. After hearing me out, she nodded sagely and said, I'm like the vampire that has tasted blood. Now I want some all the time.

(On an aside, have you seen New Moon? Are you in Camp Edward or Jacob? Or, is yours the ThisMovieSuckedMoreThanTheVampires camp?)

A weekend unworthy of an update

2009-12-07T10:40:00.006+08:00

First of all, I have to apologise for not posting regularly. Or, at least as regularly as I used to. Or, would like to. But it's hard for me to live in the turbulent centre of a non love life and still blog about it. What can I say, my multi-tasking is clearly not what it used to be. Now I have to actually put down the phone before I can pull the flush.

But yes, for those misguided few readers interested in the non love life, it is proceeding fine. For. Now. (Read, eternal pessimist at work.) The dude is away for the holidays and I am taking a much needed break to examine the non relationship from all its non existent angles and agonise over things completely unworthy of agonising. But then, that's the fun part.

I did go on a new date last night. And it was THE. WORST. DATE. OF. MY. LIFE. I seriously gave some very serious thought to calling up the dating agency after that one and leaving a very, very unprintable, unrepeatable message. But better sense prevailed. Damn. I knew I should have that second glass of wine.

De-Clooneyfied

2009-12-04T10:48:00.003+08:00

An incisive and brilliant analysis of George Clooney's smirks and smiles on Go Fug Yourself. "But the gentle upturn of his lip mostly lets you know that when, not if, you let him and his two jars of hair gel buy you a drink, he will undo another button."

It doesn't come any better, does it.

Wearing a party hat, slightly askew

2009-12-03T09:46:00.003+08:00

Ok, people. You know that certain anniversary I had spoken, read whinged about? The one that would commemorate a horrifying number of months (clue: more than all the digits on your body) of a lack of a certain something in my life?

Well, I'm sorry but you'll have to strike that party from your calender now. Because last night I had my very own private celebration. And as all successful parties go, this morning I am very, very tired. But smiling.

Resistant

2009-12-01T14:00:00.004+08:00

That is what my tomb stone is going to say, when I die. Resistant to change. Resistant to being taken for granted. Resistant to being fucked with. But mainly, resistant to change.

Have I whinged to you about how much I loathe this current advertising agency I am freelancing at? NO? Dear God, I must be slipping. Well, in the interest of keeping the whingaholic nature of the blog alive, I HATE IT. I do like the money they pay me, but that' s about it. That, and the small fact that I am currently seated in a nice, private, cozy room where no one can see my screen without pulling a muscle in his or her back or alerting me to his or her's unwanted presence. But that little piece of comfort is soon about to change. Because I have been "requested" to move to the open office set up where the rest of the staff sit. An area lit up like a Gestapo interrogation chamber, inhabited by soulless zombies, where there is no earthly way to conceal the dedicated hours I put on Facebook and my favourite blogs.This request has now been made around four times, and each time I've managed to postpone the inevitable by a)ignoring it b)pleading an urgent deadline c)ignoring it. But I have an ominous feeling that like the guy strapped to the railway tracks, my time is fast running out.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgggggh.

Bewarned

2009-11-30T12:24:00.005+08:00

If you ever find yourself in Cold Storage, my neighbourhood supermarket, innocently walking down the aisle that stocks baby diapers, it might be a good idea to hold on to your cart with both hands. Because just as you think you are safely out of reach of those dangerous diapers, suddenly you might be accosted by a very, very creepy baby chuckle. It sounds remarkably like Chucky risen from the grave, holding up his diaper with one hand and a dagger with the other. As advertising goes, I wish they'd realise scaring me spitless doesn't do anything to make me want to part with my hard earned money.

Monday does it again

2009-11-30T10:44:00.000+08:00

And as Mondays go, this is shaping up to be a real booger.

Generosity

2009-11-26T14:49:00.003+08:00

I just saw a video of National Geographic photographer Paul Nicklen's amazing encounter with a leopard seal in Antarctica. And I have to say, it was an encounter that made me think the naturally predatory leopard seal may be a far better creature than me. Because when it comes to my Ben & Jerry ice cream, I'd be more inclined to use my teeth, and not for sharing.

The ring of the day

2009-11-25T16:17:00.003+08:00

This moonstone ring was a birthday gift from the flatmate. She had caught me drooling over it a few weeks before my birthday. At the time, I'd winced at the price tag and said something like I'll wait for the big day to justify the splurge. Just before the birthday, I went back to the store only to be devastated on learning that it had been sold already. I think by now you can guess how this little story ends.

So then I said "I do" to doing the washing up for a whole year. And we lived happily ever after.

What every vampire wants for Christmas

2009-11-25T15:21:00.007+08:00

Or, what broke freelance writers with non-disposable incomes are splurging on these days. And before you ask, no, I don't have yellow, stained canines. Nor am I in the business of smiling for a living, praise the Lord. But I had inhaled my lunch in just under ten minutes and there were fifty whole minutes before I had to drag my reluctant ass back to the desk, and there was this toiletries store, luring me in with snazzy tampons and flashy toothbrushes, what's a girl to do.

P.s. Remember the 'Friends' episode when Ross uses too much teeth whitening gel and goes out on a date where he is afraid to smile for fear of scaring the girl silly and then the lights go out and he ends up with his whiter than white pearlies gleaming in the dark? Can't wait to try that out! *Insert evil cackle*

Small mercies

2009-11-25T11:00:00.004+08:00

*Apologies for being sexist but this one is meant exclusively for the women.*

I just got my period. Fifteen. Whole. Days. After. The. Due. Date. When normally my period is more regular and more reliable than the cats are about whinging for treats the nano-second after I get home.

This is probably the only time when I've reason to be actually grateful for the lack of a certain something in my life, and the accompanying lack of worry caused by a late period.

Talk about a glass-half-full moment, ladies.

Writer's block

2009-11-24T16:19:00.003+08:00

Is what is currently ruining my otherwise gentle and kind disposition.

And it has nothing whatsoever to do with writing.

Yin and Yang ring

2009-11-23T17:32:00.006+08:00

I've always been fascinated by women who manage to change diapers, wash a mountain of dishes, give hand jobs, type up power point presentations and cook up a storm, all the while having their fingers adorned by a multitude of rings. I used to have to take off my rings while I was trying to think up copy, leave alone actually type any. But as I'm getting older, I'm getting better at that.

Voila! My Yin and Yang ring, bought with my last few remaining Thai bhat while in Koh Samui last month. So while the laundry may be undone, the sex life may still have cobwebs on it, and the rest of my existence may be all out of whack, the ring? It is balance, personified.

This is where I'd think I was hired for my bra size if I wasn't a mere 34B

2009-11-23T17:06:00.004+08:00

Today is my first day at work at this agency. And this morning after I'd sat my hitherto unemployed ass down on the office chair and switched on the computer and logged on to Facebook and signed on to MSN Messenger and done all those vitally important things one must do before one starts the stuff one actually gets paid for, I made a startling discovery.

My computer does not have Microsoft Office, or in other words, Microsoft Word.

Have I mentioned I'm a writer?

Camaraderie

2009-11-23T11:39:00.010+08:00

It was a rare moment of solidarity worthy of being immortalised. Usually it is all mayhem, madness, with a fair amount of sibling rivalry thrown in.

A couple of noteworthy updates. This unemployed freelance writer is now back at work. And let's just say, leaving home at the crack of a dawn on a rainy Monday was work enough.

On other news, the kiss, it has yet to happen. And judging by his and my schedules, I wouldn't be holding my breath, if I were you.

But the tickets for The Killers, they've been booked. And I am so holding my breath for that one!

Why I am still sitting in my pyjamas at noon, still unemployed, smiling

2009-11-19T12:13:00.010+08:00

I have been dating this guy for a few weeks now. I've liked him from day one. Maybe not in the Oooh, he is my soul mate kind of way, and I'm not sure that actually happens, EVER, except if you are a character in Twilight and you fall for a vampire, but in a, hmmm...I LIKE this guy, kind of a way.

I wasn't sure if that liking was also the physical kind, but it was enough to go out on a second date. And a third. By which time, I was beginning to think it was...maybe...perhaps...also physical. Then came the fourth date. And then the fifth. They were all great dates, spanning many hours, with a lot of chatting and drinking and eating and laughing.

What was notably absent without exception, from all of them, was anything actually physical. I'm talking no hand holding, no kissing, no nothing. And while I am not advocating you go out and do the dirty on the very first date, I AM a huge fan of kissing. And I was beginning to think, WHY? Was it me? Was it him? Was it the alignment of the planets? WHAT?

So this morning I woke up after another great date that once again ended with a peck on the lips, and no, it could NOT have been MORE chaste, thinking, WHY?

And being me and being unemployed and bored and restless, I did something I would not recommend you do. Ever. Unless of course, you want to run the risk of mortifying yourself beyond belief and then having to move to another country for the risk of bumping into him again.

I sent him a text asking him why.

OH. MY. GOD.

And yes, you never quite out grow the fourteen year old in you. Never.

So please read the following with a barf bag handy. And without rolling your eyebrows.

I first sent him one saying I had this potentially mortifying question to ask him, to which he replied saying, nope, I'm not gay. Ha ha. Funny. Then he sent me another one saying, go on then, I can't wait.

I inhaled, once, deeply, and then sent him this: Ok, here goes. Why, have you not, kissed me YET? Is it because you think we are hanging out as mates...? Is it because I have spinach in my teeth...? Or...?

After that I quickly panic dialled a girlfriend and proceeded to have a melt down until the ongoing brain hemorrhage was interrupted by the incoming beep of a text.

From. Him.

His reply: Good question. The answer - I don't really know. Perhaps I was thinking you saw me as a mate! And then I was thinking you've gone completely off me for my ...(insert stupid argument on gay adoption rights here) I think you should complain to (insert name of dating agency through which we met), or better still, grab me and kiss me the next time! P.s. I like spinach xxx.

Say it with me, people, awww!

Isn't it fun being a teenager again? :-)

The reason I am too intimidated to Twitter

2009-11-15T19:47:00.003+08:00

"Does it count as a slumber party if it's just you, your dog and a chronological list of every bad decision you ever made?"

The upside

2009-11-15T19:20:00.006+08:00

The apartment? It is sorted, with the evil landlord agreeing to another year's lease at only a marginal increase of rent.

The girlfriends I fell out with? We kissed and made up (figuratively, guys, so you can get your imaginations out of the twist). And let me tell you, while falling out with a boyfriend is hard, having a row with my best (girl) friends is a much, much harder cross to bear.

The dating? It is going well, even though we have yet to cover ze first base.

To add to the general joy and cheer, Saturday night was a very, very good one. Dinner at a very, very posh restaurant was the perfect entrée, made even more scrumptious by the fact that people other than unemployed moi picked up the tab. That was followed by a night out with the girls at our favourite club, featuring dancing till the wee hours, after which came the requisite end-of-the-night kebab. And that was followed very untypically, by the complete and total absence of a hangover.

So while I know this will be the third week of joblessness and the nth month of nookielessness, life, it feels good right now.

Hope your weekend was as good, my lovelies.

Worries - an update

2009-11-10T11:25:00.005+08:00

That hippo? He is back. And I think he has brought along his mates. They are all chilling on my chest, swilling down beers and watching the game on the TV. And the breathing? Not so good.

Right after I took the momentous decision to NOT move apartments and stay on where we were, and communicated that decision to the landlord, who until now was perfectly amenable to extending our lease at the same rent, I learnt that the blood-sucker has had a change of heart. Surprise, surprise. Now the rent is higher, and his conditions even more unreasonable. One of them involving the departure of current flatmate.

Something makes me think the hippos have brought sleeping bags and tents this time.

Natural Born Worrier

2009-11-09T10:00:00.004+08:00

I have never worked harder than last week. And I didn't even have any actual work, at least none of the kind that pays me actual money that buys me actual tubs of Ben & Jerry's. Except for the fact that the detoxed version of me doesn't allow myself a steady diet of those two gentlemen any more.

But I did get the iMac up and running, I contacted a swarm of property agents, I viewed one crappy apartment after another, I went on a date and I managed to fall out with two friends. Now tell me about yours.

After seeing so many apartments that they all blurred together into one big turd, I decided the best solution was to stay where I was. Why had I even subjected myself to the torture (and house-hunting is a torture, don't let any of the scum-of-the-earth property agents tell you otherwise) when the answer was right under my nose? Because, then dear people, I'd run out of ways to satisfy my inner masochist, that's why.

The minute I took the decision of staying on at the current place, I said goodbye to the hippo that had been sitting on my chest all week, and took my first deep gulp of air. By God, it was sweet.

And now that is done and taken care of, all I have to worry about is finding work. Again. And making the zit on my face vanish like the hippo, before the next date.

Anonymity

2009-11-04T13:34:00.005+08:00

This was one of the birthday cards I received last week and also one of my favourites. Thanks, flatmate!

And yeah, no one on the Internet knows what a tough time I've had with hairballs, the incessant urge to groom myself, the constant nap times and with the human's incomprehensible need to bathe me.

Not to mention, the worry of being jobless, the stress of house hunting, and of having to DATE at the advanced age of 39 (do the Math for age in cat years)!

This life, it is hard, people, she says as she heads for another nap.

Houston, we have contact!

2009-11-03T20:52:00.004+08:00

After almost a month without a computer at home, don't ask, I finally have the iMac up and running. And you may picture me typing this with every appendage, limb and digit in my body crossed while I am simultaneously trying to knock on wood.

I don't know about you, but I missed you, Internet.

All in a day's work

2009-10-30T16:55:00.005+08:00

Skype (text) conversation with a mate while at work (yes, this is why they pay me the big bucks!):

Him: Deft fecker...

Me: You tool! You plonker!

Him: Git. Weapon.

Me: Not heard weapon before...

Him: Imbecilian. Good word that.

Me: Cretinous! Cretinous trumps imbecilian!

Him: Imbecilian - a person from the Isle of Imbecile. Imbeciliance - stupidity beyond comprehension by a person from the Isle of Imbecile.

Me: Cretinous waves a white flag from the Isle of Imbecile.

An ending

2009-10-30T14:14:00.002+08:00

Today is the last day at this freelance gig. I'd been with this advertising agency for the last three months and one week, which was three months longer than what I'd been booked for at the very beginning. And that's pretty much how most freelance gigs pan out. With all the predictability and certainty of a blind date turning into the love of your life.

While not entirely unexpected, the ending is still leaving me with a not entirely welcome feeling of vacuum. Which I in all my earnestness, plan to fill promptly enough with a daunting to-do list.

Among the numerous items will be: look for a new apartment that meets with the joint approval of the flatmate, the cats and me; buy a Kevlar vest and bathe the Beasties; get the dead iMac resuscitated, or replaced with a new one; etc. etc. etc. But you get the gist.

But until item #3 gets ticked off the list, the write-a-new-blog-post item will have to remain unchecked. In the meanwhile, feel free to think kind thoughts about me, and oh yeah, miss me? Because I will certainly miss you.

The day after

2009-10-28T11:27:00.002+08:00

Caution: Contents may cause nausea and dry heaving.

Consider yourselves warned. Because herein lies a road paved by mush. With a fair amount of corny droppings. And sentimental pitfalls.

Ok, I'll spare you any more of the mixed metaphors. But last night was really, really, really nice. It helped that the dress, courtesy Australis (thank you, sweetheart!) was a knockout (pictures due for posting), the hair, it was on its best behaviour, and the friends, they were all there. The gin and tonic had never tasted better, the pizza never more scrumptious. The lovely flatmate got me TWO gifts, one from herself (a beautiful rose quartz ring she had caught me admiring in a store window) and the second from the Beasties (a sleep box with lavender, chamomile and neroli crystals, as an apology for all those sleepless nights!), and a card from the three of them. Have you heard of anything sweeter! The rest of the spoils were equally thoughtful, ranging from packed-with-sin chocolate cake, a book on mosaic, a yummy smelling shower gel (thanks, TP!), jewellery, jewellery and more jewellery, some more books and a perfume.

Seriously, all this love combined with all the sweet comments here, made turning 39 a breeze. And those are words I never thought I'd catch myself saying.

So all you lovely people, thank you. I love you, too.

Today is my birthday

2009-10-27T15:15:00.001+08:00

And I'm turning 39. Thirty nine. THIRTY NINE. Thirty nine. Sorry, I'm just trying to get used to it.

And I'm doing it dateless, boyfriend-less, husband-less, childless.

Now for the plus-es.

Non-existent crow's feet, negligible cellulite, the same weight that I was 10 years back (thank you detox course!), the same approximate geographical location of the bum and the boobs as years before, an incredible bunch of friends, an amazingly supportive and loving family, two cats who think the sun shines outta my ass, the freedom to travel wherever and whenever, to date whoever, and to shave my head bald if I so wish.

I might suck at numbers but even I can do the Math.

Go have some cake for me, people.

Confidence

2009-10-21T15:17:00.002+08:00

On the MRT this morning, I see this middle aged guy carrying a bag. On the bag is a picture of a sultry looking woman looking provocatively over her shoulder. The words read: Lactacyd. Feminine Hygiene. Are you confident?

I don't know about you, sister, but that dude sure the hell is.

Things to do

2009-10-20T15:22:00.003+08:00

Things that are threatening to annex my to-do list as well as my sanity:

# Replace dead laptop with new laptop/computer.

# Replace broken mobile phone with new phone.

# Organise a birthday do (I turn 39 next week. If anyone wants to give me a b'day gift, read above.)

# Start house hunting. (This is written in blood with little skulls as doodles accompanying it.)

# Bathe the beasties.

# Worry myself insane about the above.

Any guesses on which I'm tackling first?

The finish line

2009-10-19T10:35:00.004+08:00

The chequered flags, they are waving. And the bugles, they are sounding. And all the birds are twittering, which of course, is true.

BECAUSE I JUST COMPLETED 7 DAYS OF NO FOOD, AND WHAT'S BETTER STILL, JUST BROKE MY FAST!

I would have never thought it was actually possible. That a cupcake and muffin junkie like me could go 7 days without eating. It feels good, people.

We are told to adhere to a fairly strict set of rules for the next 10 days which include no alcohol, no sugar, no coffee, no meats etc etc etc. But we can eat fruits, vegetables, and a whole list of other things it makes me dizzy to even think about.

The first two days are supposed to be primarily fruits and that too, just one a time. Because the stomach, it hasn't seen too much food in the last week, if you'll recall. So it needs some gentle handling and tender loving care.

I started the TLC with a few pieces of pineapple which I went to the local market and bought this morning. And there has never been, in the history of mankind and pineapples, A. MORE. DELICIOUS. PINEAPPLE. There are no words to describe the experience but it was the closest to God that I've ever been. That and the time I took some 'e' in a concert. But every bite was a taste of heaven and believe me, I know how much of a cliche that sounds. But I closed my eyes, lingered over every little bite and every little chew. And now, now, I've just had my first orgasm in a long, long time.

Hope your day started as good as mine.

Detox diary, day 7

2009-10-18T21:25:00.001+08:00

Hello, my name is Shenanigans and I am a bead-braiding, tie-die wearing, flaky, new agey hippie.

I'm just beating you to the punch. Because once I tell you about today, that's exactly what you'll call me.

I spent the last day of the fast doing a re-attunement, or refresher course in Reiki One and Two. I had done both levels a million years ago in Bombay. But on meeting one of the detox guides here, I decided there was no better person and no better time to do this with. She is in a word, beautiful. And I don't just mean that physically. Though she is that, too. And the Universe is an unfair bitch and all the rest of that. But she is such a GOOD person, and don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes, but honestly, there are no other words to describe it. She is 28, feels light years older than me in a non boring, non preachy way, Canadian and I have NEVER met anyone like her.

After doing the Reiki re-attunement on the beach by the sea breeze and the waves, I went with a bunch of others to a Tibetan bowl sound healing concert.

Why? Because I wanted to add some beads to those hippie braids of mine.

Day 6 - part II - A lesson in intimacy

2009-10-18T11:50:00.007+08:00

So a bunch of us caught a ride into Chaweng, a biggish town about an hour's drive away. The plan was to browse around the shops, get a few trinkets, and let retail therapy sublimate the other desires that were for obvious reasons, beyond reach.

But along with the gifts and souvenirs, I took back an unforgettable, priceless experience. My first assisted colonic irrigation. I've done it in Singapore but in no way did that completely clinical and detached experience prepare me for what happened.

I'm going to switch to present tense because that just makes the experience so much easier to share. You basically lie on this bed with a pillow under your head, because the Thai are so concerned about your comfort even when they are shoving a dildo up your bum. Ok, I exaggerate. But that woke you up, didn't it.

The dildo in question is a very soft one and very, very, very well lubricated. It's connected to a big, motherfucking chamber which is enough to instill the fear of God or George Bush in the hardest terrorist. They should have just used that in Guantanamo. It releases water into your lower and upper intestines to help loosen whatever unmentionable is sticking to the walls of your stomach and helps it emerge into the world, thankfully, without the trauma or pain of labour and the cry of the newborn. Because THAT, that would be freaky.

Wait, I'm not done yet. Now comes the best part. Believe me, THIS IS THE BEST PART. THE PART THAT WILL MAKE IT ALL WORTH IT. All through this process, while the water is flowing in and the aforesaid unmentionables are making their way out, there is a dude in the room. IN THE SAME ROOM. And he is massaging your stomach, rubbing your sides, kneading your colon. Talk about up close and personal.

So the next time you have a problem with intimacy, I suggest you remember this. AND SUCK IT.

Detox diary, day 6

2009-10-17T11:17:00.003+08:00

Detox day 6, (ONE MORE TO GO!) and a bunch of fasters, including moi, are heading to Chaweng, the centre of bars and restaurants in Koh Samui.

Sweet, sweet irony. Or, just plain ol masochism, I can't decide.

Detox diary, day 5 - odd, unrelated observations...

2009-10-16T16:41:00.009+08:00

# Why does my tumble rumble ominously (and it's NOT because of hunger, does that give you a clue?), the minute I am less than a dignified sprint from my bungalow?

# One of today's classes was on creative cleansing and among other things, included lots of crafty stuff and making a card for ourselves which the detox centre would post to each of us the following month, as a reminder of the reasons why we were here, incase we fell off the wagon. And no, mine did not say, STEP AWAY FROM THAT CUPCAKE, WOMAN!

# This being Thailand, if we can't hit the restaurants, you'd think they'd have the decency to be located next to cool shops.

# I wish the stray cats constantly whinging around me for food would finally get the irony.

Detox diary, day 4 - of pom poms and knee high boots

2009-10-15T21:10:00.004+08:00

A perfectly normal and ordinary conversation in the course of the day:

Me: Sorry to break up the party, guys, but I'm off for a poop...

Girl 1: Way to go!

Guy 1: You go, girl!

Girl 2: All the best!

Guy 2: Break a leg!

It's the first time I've had my own personal cheer leading poop squad before.

Detox diary, day 3

2009-10-14T16:05:00.003+08:00

Highlights of a day which did not feature any chocolate, cupcakes or muffins (Hi, I'm a masochist, what about you?)...

Asking a grown man about his morning poop and getting a serious, sensible, non-smart-assy reply.

The second was the session of kundalini yoga on the beach, which comprised a lot of breathing, contorting your body into strange positions and chanting. I don't know how much it benefited my kundalini but I think it certainly provided the morning entertainment for the other sun bathers.

We were told at the start of the fast that day 3 is generally the hardest with most fasters experiencing a host of negative symptoms. Well, my obedient body decided to follow the instructions closely. As a result, I am feeling low in energy, washed out, weak and shaky. Any responses to that along the lines of what do you expect when you haven't eaten in THREE days will be treated to a detailed description of the bowels, so be warned. And no, it's not because of the food deprivation. It is because the body, my little grasshoppers, is reaching higher levels of detoxification which manifests itself in the above symptoms. We were also warned that some of us may become tearful, homicidal or plain cranky. I've yet to spot any odd decapitated heads on the beach.

To add to the fun, we were given special, yummy gall-bladder and liver cleansing concoctions which surprisingly did not taste as foul as I suspected. However, the minute they met my intestines, they were all like, so how you doing! Wanna party! Let's rock and roll! Which though very sweet, makes it slightly necessary for me to be within running distance from my beach bungalow.

Uh, oh...

Detox diary, day 2

2009-10-13T18:47:00.003+08:00

Second day of no food, and I am still not hungry. Hmm...Well, not actively, gnawingly hungry though I do miss food in a more emotional way. Things like...scrambled eggs with toast NOPE NOT GOING THERE.

A few of us caught a ride into town today. I sublimated the psychological hunger pangs through a bit of retail therapy. The result: two quirky ceramic mugs featuring hungry (damn, there's that word again!) looking fish with big gaping mouths. Freudian? You bet your ass!

As I am typing this in the internet shack, I have a cute as anything kitten sprawled at my feet and a massive bug crawling across the screen, periodically obscuring the letters.

Or, maybe, it's just the HUNGER making me lightheaded and see things.

Detox diary, day 1

2009-10-12T15:40:00.005+08:00

I am writing this post in a little shack with no walls while a thunderstorm rages around me. Welcome to the Internet access zone at the detox centre. So far the causalities have been two fledgling coconut trees. Ouch.

It's 3:30 in the afternoon and I've yet to be stricken by hunger pangs. We do get to drink a herbal concoction, a second with bentonite clay and then coconut juice a few times in the day. And oh yes, all these yummy drinks are in between the two colon cleansing sessions.

I just had my complementary Iridology session in which the woman conducting the detox course reads the eyes to diagnose physical and emotional problems. She looks like a 100 years old, though an insanely fit and energetic one.

Her diagnosis for me was despite having my very good energy (and that's so going up in my resume), I have a blocked colon which in turn is causing a whole spate of problems the details of which I'll spare you. Basically, I am full of shit, and yes, may the jokes commence.

And now it's time for my daily massage. I think of it as the silver lining.

Marrying Murphy

2009-10-11T18:19:00.007+08:00

I've decided. When you can't fight 'em, join em. Or rather, him. Since Murphy insists being such an integral part of my life, I might as well be done with it and marry the bugger.

Some of you may remember how first my iBook and then iMac succumbed to the grim reaper. Then it was the turn of my mobile phone. Some time this week, it lost its head, and I mean that literally. The top part of the phone above the screen fell off, leaving its brains gaping open. Not a pretty sight. So now I can't make OR receive phone calls. The silver lining is that I can still text and receive texts.

Then to add to the joy, I had a silly argument with one of my best friends which escalated as silly arguments do, into a even sillier fight.

Now I am typing this at the airport before I board the flight for Koh Samui and 7 days of no-food-detox, wondering what else can go wrong. And no, I meant that rhetorically! You DO NOT NEED to answer that, Murphy.

The best reason to quit smoking

2009-10-09T15:17:00.003+08:00

Last night at a friend's mehendi* ceremony, I got chatting with this girl who was visiting from Tokyo. She was smoking, I was passively inhaling the second-hand smoke and we were talking about the ultra vile, utterly gross images on cigarette packets in Singapore. She said cigarette packs in Tokyo have no images, just a line of text cautioning against the dangers of smoking and if that wasn't polite and innocuous enough, the text is in Japanese. So the smokers can smoke in peace without any offending pictures or harsh messages disrupting their inhale, exhale, cough and die routine.

But in an attempt to be public spirited, there are posters cautioning you against the habit. My personal favourite, as described by her, was the one that apparently has a cute, cartoony rat in a gutter leaping back in alarm from a bit of cigarette ash. The message supposedly warns people from throwing their cigarette ash in the gutter for fear of scaring the rats beneath.

So the reason to quit smoking was not because you may die of lung cancer but because you may traumatise the gutter rats. How typically Japanese. How typically bizarre.

I can't wait to visit.

*For the non Indians readers, mehendi is a pre-wedding north Indian ritual where the bride and the rest of the womenfolk get their hands (and feet) decorated with henna.

Waiting

2009-10-09T10:20:00.000+08:00

For someone to tell me I am full of shit.

So then I can turn around and tell them, that no, actually I'm not, because I just got back from my colon hydrotherapy session!

Yes, I'm quite mature that way.

Boobage

2009-10-08T15:15:00.000+08:00

*This was a post I wrote a few weeks back and then forgot about it. Since the only thing noteworthy that happened today was a fascinated bus ride with this man who endlessly rolled his boogers between thumb and forefinger before flinging it like a missile somewhere! anywhere! on the hapless bus, I decided to post this instead.*

I could have titled it, "Cleavage". But that would not have given you an adequate enough idea of how boobacious I am feeling. Also, how acutely uncomfortable.

See, I'm a modestly endowed woman. But since I am built along petite lines, that works fine for me. It also helps to keep me from having to worry about the possibility of my boobs resting weightily on my knees as I grow older.

But this morning, in a mad rush to get to work at least somewhat on time, I grabbed a top I have worn at least a few times before without any untoward incident. So it was only when I'd visited the loo at work that I realised that I might just be showing a lot of myself at work than I'd ordinarily like. The top had probably expanded in the washing and was now gaping open way below my modest cleavage. It also made me look like I was trying for a raise.

So I spent the day, alternating between squirming uncomfortably and yanking the material to my neck, and wishing and hoping I had a stole or a sweater to hide under.

And then I looked down at the twins, had a magical moment of epiphany of you are me and I am you and so we shall live happily ever after, damn the staring eyes and choked sentences.

If only.

Instead, after a suitably uncomfortable day, me and the boobs went to a neighbourhood bar to meet the girls and several glasses of gin and tonic, all of which contributed in taking them off my mind, if not off my chest. The end.

Reunited

2009-10-07T17:08:00.005+08:00

All I could think of all day at work yesterday was the CD that was burning a hole in my bag. I could not wait to get home, kick off the shoes, throw off the bag and sink into the couch and the arms of my long lost lover - Grey's Anatomy, Season 6, Episodes 1 AND 2. Not just one but TWO WHOLE EPISODES. It's like after giving you an earth shattering orgasm, your lover looks at you and goes, "And we're only getting started!" Are your toes curling yet? And I warn you, tell me you don't like Grey's Anatomy and you are dead to me, forever.

But then I got home and there were all these chores to be done and furry necks to be scratched and plants to be watered and dead plants to be consigned to the garbage chute grave. What can I say, I am becoming my mother and please don't hold it against me.

But after all that, when my butt finally made contact with the couch and my hand hit play, oh, there are no words, people. It was like being reunited with your old and dear friends. Friends you love even though they include the one who farts in public, the one who can always be counted on to shove her feet in her mouth and the one who is embarrassingly needy. You love them despite their flaws, maybe even because of them.

And the fact that I have the whole season ahead of me? It's like being back at school and on the first day of the summer vacation, knowing you have the rest of it stretching out before you. It's like when you're at the chocolate buffet and you've just made your way past the first station and there's still a whole array yet to be discovered, tasted, sampled and savoured.

Who says you can't feast on a detox.

Faith, restored

2009-10-06T17:09:00.003+08:00

So I was sitting there feeling all hmphy and cranky with my knickers in a twist at the abrupt cancellation of the date when one of the guys I work with came up to me and held out a CD.

"What?" I snarled, thinking if it was some stupid power point he needed me to see, I would be following the muffin with a human head.

"It's the first and second episodes of Season Six of Grey's Anatomy. You wanted to see it, remember?"

DID I WANT TO SEE THE BRAND NEW EPISODES OF THE BRAND NEW SEASON OF GREY'S ANATOMY?

DUH.

I've promised him my first born and, or, the Beasties.

And what was that about a date again? I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about.

Psst

2009-10-06T17:06:00.001+08:00

The sound you just heard was me falling off the detox wagon after having inhaled a chocolate chip muffin. I know I should be feeling guilty and flagellating my evil self but...YUM!

Courtesy

2009-10-06T16:46:00.003+08:00

Is NOT cancelling a date 3 hours before actual event.

Is NOT cancelling a date when I have cancelled a much loved yoga class for said date.

Is NOT cancelling a date especially after I have gone and submitted myself to the torture of choosing heels in honour of said date over oh so comfortable flats or oh so even more comfortable canvas trainers.

Humph.

All in a day's work

2009-10-02T11:57:00.002+08:00

Today, I've given 6 bowls of food to rescued animals, 1.1 cups of food to the hungry of the human variety, helped a woman in need get a mammogram, helped a sick child get healthcare, and contributed to protecting 11.4 square feet of the rain forest.

God, I deserve that drink.

Fantasies at work

2009-10-01T10:38:00.002+08:00

As an advertising copywriter, I have been asked to do many strange things. But none stranger than the brief that landed on my desk this morning. Below is a recap of my conversation with the fuckwit who was briefing me on the job.

Me: What IS this?

Suit: We have to create a brand book for the client.

Me: But...but...this asks for me to describe what the print advertising is like. And the TV commercials! And the radio spots!

Suit: (Beaming at me like a proud parent of a slightly dull witted child for having grasped the brief so quickly) Yes, that's right!

Me: But...but...we HAVEN'T DONE ANY OF THOSE THINGS YET!

Suit: Well, yes...

Me: So how do I describe something that DOESN'T EXIST JUST YET?

Suit: ...

Me: Would they also like to hear of the time I had a threesome with Brad Pitt and Clooney? Because sure, that hasn't happened yet either but who knows!

DETOX

2009-09-28T17:01:00.002+08:00

Those of you who have been with me for a while may remember one or more posts in the dim and distant past about the time when I had chosen to torture myself with a detox diet. I'm not sure if that had achieved anything other than to make me hungrier and crankier and grumpier than before. Which as those who know me in person will agree, is quite a feat in itself.

So because that little experiment with detox hadn't been deprivational and torturous enough, I decided to go all out and do it on a bigger and grander scale. A scale wherein I actually pay someone lots of money to starve me, feed me unpalatable fluids and shove tubes up my nether regions for a twice daily colon cleansing. Why, you may ask. Because, dear people, my life, it is not fun enough already. Also I haven't gotten that gold plated name plate of MASOCHIST, yet.

But seriously, seriously it is because I know I can't do this on my own. Which is why I am removing myself from the path of sin and temptation and taking myself off to a detox ashram in Koh Samui from the 11 to 19 of October for 7 days of no food, select (read weird) fluids and the enemas. In the middle of all this decadence and debauchery, I will be attending 30 hours of classes on nutrition, reflexology and iridology (if you don't know what that is, go google it. I did.)

I am doing it because I am tired of suffering from allergies, from popping anti-histamines like M&Ms, from putting up with the constant annoyance of chronic dry eyes, the life-long battle with constipation and oh yes, how could I forget, the terminal insomnia.

Will this be a magic cure for all that ails me? I don't think so. The noisy neighbours and their yapping dog may need stronger measures such as a shotgun. But I do know it'll be a stepping stone to living healthier, eating better, pooping regularly and who knows, even sleeping through the night.

So here's to good intentions. And if the detox ashram has Internet, you could even look forward to regular updates from Koh Samui, in between enemas.

A rare moment of solidarity

2009-09-28T10:25:00.001+08:00

After wreaking havoc and unleashing a trail of destruction and demolition, here sit the Beasties, united in their crime.

Blaming it on her DNA

2009-09-26T10:40:00.000+08:00

Hmm...wonder who she gets this obsession for shoes from?