All Frill and Fluff....with a dallop of Frivolous

Humble Abode

2008-01-09T02:00:00.000+08:00

For the past year or so, I’ve been caught up trying to turn (what’s essentially) a pile of bricks into a home.

I started with practically living at Borders - thumbing through countless magazines for *cough* ideas (read: plagiarism). Thinking up designs for the loo – u want to pee in a pretty place, no? Trying to prettify walls – one wall WILL be purple (much to the hubby’s chagrin methinks). Trawling through shops for furniture and furnishing knick- knacks – and finding myself uttering “I neeeeed this” more often than breathing. Planning furniture placements – and dreaming up scenarios of entertaining friends over tea and cupcakes (served on cute crockery of course, and oh...oh…with guests and host wearing dresses and pearls). Never mind the fact that I can’t bake for f***. Or don't even like tea very much….

So that about sums up what I’ve been doing for the most part of 2007. And I’ve discovered a whole new world of retail while at it. I thrill over plates and pans. I shiver with pleasure at laundry racks and towels. Garbage disposal systems delight me. Lamps and the like…oooooh…bring it, baby. I am THAT exciting now.

All that planning and buying will soon concretise into what I hope will be my home for the next 10 years at least. Becaaaause dahleeengs, packing sucks…..and unpacking sucks tenfold.

But truth be told, I only have a vague inkling of how my house will turn out fully furnished. I went by the operandi of “I like, I want!” more than practicality and convention. Form over function was the guiding principle. Case in point, my bathroom has faux croc tiles AND a disco-esque ball light feature. Crystal, no less. I guess if people ask, I’ll have to say “oh, it’s themed OTT with a touch of lian chic”. Or “My designer is blind. Poor thing”.

Coupled with my lack of artistic ability whatsoever, it has mostly been a guessing game (or to borrow a popular colloquial phrase…just whack only la). Hopefully, there will be no horrible aesthetic mishaps (as in guests running away screaming in terror). Note to guests: If my home decor turns out to be Buddhist temple meets gay bar meets Ah Hong's Coffeeshop, you should just gush and feign enthusiasm. I’m not opposed to lying. I’ll even give you the script. :P

PS. People, if the décor seems a tad confused, it’s deliberate. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Pffffft. :P

Form Versus Function

2007-11-03T03:34:00.000+08:00

Things I mulled over today.

One. Never underestimate the power of suggestion.

Two. Avoid talking to friend for whom the philosophy of Form over Function is a life tenet.

Three. If you insist on talking to said friend, be prepared to step into the Vortex Of the Unaffordable.

Four. Form kicks Function's butt in said Vortex.

Five. Lusting over a totally useless (not to mention, teeny) piece of furniture that costs almost the same amount of money you would pay to buy yourself a body part enhancement is not going to get you anywhere, if your bank account is on the verge of self-destruction.

Six. Get-rich-quick ideas are hard to come by. And harder to execute.

Seven. Selling a kidney might not fetch as much as you think.

Eight. Ergo, don’t bother trying to sell a kidney to help your self-destructing bank account.

Nine. Robbing a bank (to save your self-destructing bank account so that you can buy useless, expensive furniture) may also not be a good idea if you’re not the type who enjoys being someone’s bitch in prison.

Ten. Stick to Ikea.

Yakkety Yak

2007-08-26T23:50:00.000+08:00

I love when my friends and I talk. I really do. It's better than therapy (cheaper, at least). Especially with my best galpal in the whole wide world *cue awwws and hugs*, who’s a gorgeous gem but has trouble seeing herself that way (yes, that’s you Ata). We have countless brain stimulating conversations that mainly reassure our insecure selves and stroke our fragile egos. On a regular basis. And with many encores (read: same questions asked 3 billion times and with 10-year-series type model answers).

Her and me, we can yak till the cows come home, are milked, said milk turned to cheese, said cheese packaged and sold to restaurants and grated over pasta….you get the idea. Hot topics are to do with weight, age and men – we have enough goss and fodder to host a talk show.

To the outside ears, when we talk it mostly sounds like yakyakyakyakblahblahblayakyakblahblahguffaws. But listen carefully and you’ll hear there are actually words being exchanged.

Here’s a sample conversation decoded, just as we were about to leave after a two hour lunch, during which we’ve covered topics ranging from how work sucks, to how work really sucks:

Her:

Oh, oh! Actually I forgot to ask you the all-important question(s) just now:

(a) Am I fat(ter) than the last time you saw me)?

(b) Am I balding?  

(c) Am I fat(ter) and balding??  

Me:

Oh those are easy ones, sweetheart.

(a) You would look it - but only if you're standing beside one of the Olsen twins. Or Gollum.

(b) It might appear so - if your intention is to channel Diana Ross and one of the band members from Metallica. Simultaneously.

(c) So the answer is a resounding - no, nope, na-ah, nada, tak, nohhhhhhh, you crazy?!, what are you, blind??!!

Like I said, way better than therapy.

Poetry in Motion

2007-08-21T16:27:00.000+08:00

A friend of mine recently showed me a couple of poems that he wrote. SO beautiful they made me swoon. And he wrote them in like 5 seconds. I know, *peels jaw off floor*. Such talent never fails to amaze me. He, Da Man.

So anyways, enough about him. Let's talk about me now (it's MY blog. So there. :P). I've never dabbled in poetry writing before. No flair whatsoever in that area. Unless you count the ones of the "Birds Fly High" and "Roses are Red" variety that I copiously and shamelessly repeated in 40 of my classmates' autograph books at the end of the primary school era. Other than that, zilch.

Anyhoo...being in the presence of a poet kinda inspires. So I thought, what the hell. I'll give it a shot. And when better than during a coma-inducing meeting, right?

So here goes....my first, and probably last (as in, people will pay me to never try again), attempt at poetry. Churned out during said boring "kill-me-now" meeting, as I attempted to appear intelligent, all the while thinking "which shoes to buy eh...the taupe or the cherry red....or the fuschia maybe....?". :P

The Meeting

I sit, I stare, amidst the chatter,
Trying to make sense of all the natter,
What lies behind the discourse made,
I wondered as I scratched my head.

Oh I give up, a bore this is,
An hour of my life, flown by, amiss,
I tried, to understand, to grasp, to get,
But all it did was to perplex.

Alas, Mr Speaker, I have to confess,
I don’t quite get what you profess,
Through my mind runneth this attitude,
WTF*** thou-est speakest of, dude?!

Peace Out. Boo-yah.

:P

PS. That whirring sound you hear is most likely Shakespeare rolling in his grave.

PPS. Dear Poet Friend, Amacam? Pass? :P

True Love

2007-05-27T02:18:00.000+08:00

Why do you play this game of seduction?
Why am I not immune to your charms?
I tried. I really tried to resist you.
Do not succumb, I repeatedly say to myself.
I will not let you hurt me. No more.

But you were relentless in your pursuit.
I cannot help being drawn to you.
I simply cannot will myself to stay away.
Why would you not let me fight this?

DAMN you, Ben & Jerry. Damn YOU.

You had me at “Chunky Monkey”.
Marry me and be my very own “Chubby Hubby”.
Promise me we’ll spoon all night.
We don't even need any whipped cream.
You, complete me.

Battle of the Bulge

2007-05-08T00:09:00.000+08:00

My ex-boyfriend (aka Dearest Husband) said this morning that he lost 2kg. I responded with a " You did'nt lose them...I know where they are." Yessirree bob, I know where the buggers are alright. They've settled themselves on MY hips and tum.

I've noticed that with age, the battle with the bulgemonsters is getting more strenuous. Try as I might (I stopped inhaling the sweet. sultry aroma of Famous Amos cookies for two whole weeks already, damnit), I can't seem to win that game of tug of war with the little cretins.

I could, of course, also stop stuffing my face with chocolates and cheesesnacks*. But then where would I get the meaning of life from?!

Life's too short to wage a war with waffles.....

Cupcake diem, I say....

* I am addicted to cheese-flavoured ANYTHING. Slap 'em on old tires and I'll probably try to munch my way through them.

Fashion Crimes

2007-05-06T00:56:00.000+08:00

Shah:
Eh, this morning I witnessed a poor soul who was a walking fashion disaster. The woman had no clue, man…..

Me:
What? Was she wearing jeans so high they said “hellohhhhh stranger” to her boobs?

Shah:
Worse. She was wearing a navy blue pinafore dress – you know, the kind that looks like a skirt with suspenders but all made from the same material…...and a shocking pink top under that.

Me:
The feck was she thinking?! Navy and pinafore…..only passable if you’re 6 and under.....and the pink top had better not be lycra….

(both shudders form mental image of shiny lycra top under pinafore dress on grown woman walking in broad daylight)

Shah:
The disaster was further compounded by a neon green bag and white pumps. Kesian eh. I just don’t understand why her husband or whoever did not do her a favor and stop her from walking out of the door looking like that….

Me:
Maybe she got dressed in the dark?.....

Shah:
If ever you see me dressed like that, promise you’ll stop me from being seen in public. Cuff me to the door if need be. And throw away the key….

Me:
You don't need to ask twice, woman! I’ll yank the fugly things off you myself, even if you kick and scream and try to take my eye out. I solemnly swear on my gorgeous pair of red Jimmy Choos*

Shah:
I knew I could count on you.
(cue violins in background to envelop what was truly an emo moment)

* Them Choos are'nt technicaly mine, obviously....last I checked, they were still at the store window. But at the rate I've been ogling and caressing it each time I pass by the store, we're practically engaged....

High on Harpo

2007-05-03T00:12:00.000+08:00

I was facing an extended weekend on my own, hubby having made plans to swing a 9 iron with his buddies (no surprises there....). There were so many delicious possibilities of keeping myself entertained. I could go on a shopping trip with my galpals and do my bit for the world economy. I could do a spa weekend and pamper my tired, aching self and appease my creaking bones. I could even stay home and organise my wardrobe, colour code my clothes perhaps, so I’d save 8 minutes in my daily dash to the outside world.

After much thought and deliberation (and the fact that my bank account was in no state to get acquainted, much less be intimate with, any retail outlets), I chose to get the much needed rest and invite some people over to my home for entertainment. On the guest list was several celebrities, a few authors, some inspirational people and even some criminals. The guest I was most looking forward to welcome was someone I had over at least a couple of times week. Someone who for me embodied charm, grace and intelligence, and who although regarded as a woman of strength, was not afraid to show her emotions (and lack of vanity) and cry in front of millions of people when she felt moved. I am of course, referring to THE Talk Show extrodanaire, Oprah Winfrey.

Of course, the closest I got to the guests were from my viewpoint on the couch, sitting two metres away from the TV. But it was a good way as any I thought, to get some relaxing me-time, with my two best friends Ben & Jerry as company. I ended up spending almost the entire weekend practically glued to the sofa, devouring all six DVDs from Oprah’s 20th Anniversary collection. The aftermath of which was a massive headache and eyebags the size of a small island. Because throughout the shows, there was so much emotion coursing through every fibre of my being that I thought I might spontaneously combust (from the intensity of feelings). I laughed and cried. I cried as I laughed. I laughed as I cried. And I alternated between heaving huge sobs as if the world had run out of chocolate or sitting with a huge grin on my face like I had just won a lifetime supply of Manolo Blahniks.

Oprah was THAT enjoyable.

In bringing to the world inspirational heroes, she herself was a hero who inspired.

Rock, on, O.

Thinking Aloud

2007-03-16T00:08:00.000+08:00

Busy day for the brain today. Whoever theorised that watching TV minimises brain stimulation was clearly wrong (hah!). Damn was I stimulated. Some thoughts that ran through my head while watching back to back movies featuring Keanu (His Royal Hotness) Reeves (detractors, say what you want....the man's hot okaaaay):

1 Emote, damnit, Emote! But you're hot.
2 Gawd, you can't act for f***. But dang, you're hot.
3 Oh who cares that you have a grand total of 3 and 1/2 expressions that you use in all your movies combined. Hot is Hot.
4 Lose the butt-covering trenchcoats in Matrix. Then you'll be reeeeally hot.
5 Talk less, honey. Monotonous droning: not so hot. (But YOU...hot).
6 Better still, don't even say a word. Just be hot.
7 As loyal loverboy who patiently waits 2 years to end up with soulmate (in Lake House). SO hot.

Am I right, or am I right? Swoon.....

Riding High

2007-03-14T17:25:00.000+08:00

Dear Bus Driver Person,

I get it. You're tired. It's been a long day. You've been circling the same road route for donkey years. Your body is on auto-mode as there's just so much stimulation and innovation one can get from turning a steering wheel and legging brakes for 8 hours straight. Your mind is running thoughts of "if I see that road junction in Toa Payoh one more time, *insert threat / irrational action / hokkien profanity here*". I empathise.

And yes, I realise us commuters can be a miserable bunch. We're often cranky, because you know, at the end of a work day, the last thing you'd want to do after facing crap, meaningless, volumes of stuff trying to pass off as Things That Matter, is to be stuck in a small, tin container with 50 other tired folks (some of whom apparently have not heard of the invention of deodorant and who missed the memo that said you can shower more than once a day). So it's unlikely that we're all going break out in a simultaneous chorus of "What a wonderful world". At that point in time, We. Hate. Everyone. So of course we're not going to be all obliging and giving out high-fives to all and sundry.

But really. Is all that shouting to "Move in ah! Move in ah! Haiyaaaaah!! Move in ahhhhhh!!!!!" in tones loud enough to reach Siberia really necessary? We're drained, not deaf. And that mafia-face you put on when we try to get a simple answer out of you to prevent us from ending up in Bedok while intending to go to Woodlands? Not cool. And please. Try not to kill us? Pretty please with a cherry on top?

We're not trying to nit-pick, but when you swerve and negotiate the bends at the very last minute we can't help but feel all vulnerable, you know? We do feel a tad bit hurt that when you do that impersonation of a crazed speed maniac whose last three meals was pure caffeine, you're not thinking of how we could get flung out or topple over each other as the velocity forces our little grips to slip from the bus poles (oh bless whoever invented this life-saving device, all one inch-wide of it). Yes. We may be an obnoxious bunch but we have feelings too.

You don't have to give us hugs or anything. It'll be nice to be able to remain at the same spot as you attempt to get from Point A to Point B. And oh, while we're being all lovey-dovey, could we point out too that sudden emergency stops every 3 seconds and jerky driving may not be the best way to give us that warm fuzzy feelin'? Which jerky driving you ask? The one of the drive two cm, jerk to a stop. Repeat process 10 times. Vary with occasional sudden stops every 100 m to provide that element of spontaneity and surprise.

What we really want to say is....WTF??!?!! WAS WHOEVER THAT PASSED YOUR DRIVING TEST HIGH ON EXPIRED DOPE???!!!

Alrighty then. Glad we got that out. Many thanks for listening...and muahs all round!!

PS. Mad speed-maniacs notwithstanding, I have come across some really nice bus drivers. Most are perfectly capable of smiling and being polite and some have even kindly stopped to pick up passengers who rush running up to the bus at the last minute. It's a thankless job so a big thank you to the many captains of roads who put up with us ungrateful passengers.

City Chick

2007-02-12T16:13:00.000+08:00

Each time I go on holiday, I have recurrent epiphanies. Which essentially goes by the theme of - despite being a married vacationer with family in tow, I channel so much more of city chick Carrie than model homebody Bree Van de Camp during trips.

In gist : give me a place known for its tranquil and natural beauty...and I will be bored bordering on comatose. Once, we stayed in a cottage-esque unit complete with a swing, a rose garden, fruit trees and a beach nearby. Any normal person would call it charming, pretty even, and perfect for unleashing the Domestic Goddess in you. Had the domestic genes not skipped a generation, I'm certain I would be the one skipping gaily with basket in hand, singing with the birds, picking fruits and donning an apron to turn said fruits into some form of dessert.

Of course, the only dessert that materialised under my watch was a pack of almond- covered M&Ms (which, by the by, I purchased all the way across the globe from a 7-11 outlet in Sengkang, so don't let it be said I did not put in any effort).

So when travel brochures use terms such as "serene", "peaceful" and "relaxing", I'll decipher them as codes for embodied quietude (read: ulu). Often, when I'm put in a place far from urban life and a lack of cityscape (and no internet services!), I will long for the bright lights and city sounds by the 6th hour. By the third day, I would be ready to sell my sibling’s first born for a little taste of town. Put me there for longer than two weeks, I will probably chew on my own arm just to break the monotony.

Bottomline: Heck yeah I'm game for a quiet and restful holiday. Provided it comes with a spa, massage, room service and appliances that work, in particular the remote control. And oh....retail outlets within a 5km radius.

Lazy Ass Returns

2007-01-26T02:12:00.000+08:00

Been on a bit of a self-imposed blog hiatus. No particular reason. Just being a lazy ass. Plain and simple. Have managed to haul said sluggish butt back to the blog screen. Which essentially means - sorry folks, you'll have to suffer more of my ramblings about things that don't really matter. Stay tuned only if you're really bored and have on your To Do list "Pick Nose" and "Blink" as priority items of the day. Consider yourself warned....:P

Mother Knows Best

2005-08-14T22:23:00.000+08:00

MOTHER KNOWS BEST

All mothers want the best for their daughters. We want the precious beings we carried in our wombs for nine months to grow up into well-balanced and happy adults. We need for the mind-numbingly painful labour we went through to result in outcomes of success and triumph. We hope for the little cooing babies who could once fit into the crook of our arms to stand tall and be somebody, someday.

So us moms try our very best to nurture and raise our tykes the best way we can and know how to. In trying to develop our little prides and joys, we time and again provide useful and sound advice to guide their lives. Eat your greens (so you'll grow up healthy and having good skin never hurts). Do not abuse animals (except perhaps nasty insects that bite. For these, squash away). Don't pick your nose in public (very gross lah no exceptions to this rule). Wear black on days you think you look fat (and yes, you can never have enough black in your wardrobe). And so the list goes. Mothers do what Mothers are supposed to do. We guide, we lead and we steer. But if we had our way, I suspect what we would most want to teach our daughter would be along the lines of : never mind getting a sensible, wise or whatever life partner. As long as he's rich, honey. And a good butt is a definite bonus.

To appease the Good Mommies who are no doubt going to come after me wielding harsh insults in retaliation to what I've just said, let me just say, come on...you have got to agree a firm behind is a plus, no?

I think of all the things my own mom relayed to me, all out of pure love to ensure I turned out to be the decent person with values that I am today (most of the time anyway). And I love her for that, really I do. But I keep thinking: now if only she had hinted more that money could indeed buy happiness (Prada makes one very, very happy. Ecstatic, even), and that a rich husband would have been handy to have around, I could have been a tai-tai by now. I could be off at some spa getting a Chavuttic Yogic massage at 3pm in the afternoon, instead of working my way steadily towards premature ageing (from work stress). And if she had somehow mentioned that in the grand scheme of things, wearing your uniform skirt four inches above your knees would not have as much repercussions in your adult life as you were led to believe, I could have been asked out on dates lots more (by the really shallow but hot boys).

So at the risk of incurring the wrath of moralistic women who will for sure label me as A Poor Excuse of a Mom, I am about to offer some nuggets of anti-wisdom. What our mothers meant to teach us and how to read between the lines of their advice. And I'd hazard a guess that the feminists are going to so disagree with what I have to say but let's face it, some things just have to be said. You're thinking it already and what's stopping the actual verbalisation is basically the fear of backlash, some of which are based on the what-ifs anyway.

So here it is, my take on what our Mothers should have told us instead of always saying, "Girl, you already clean your room or not? Your room so messy wait people think I never teach you properly." Case in point, this was repeated throughout my teenage years and STILL, my room resembled ground zero back then. Fast forward 20 years later and I am now an anal-retentively neat freak (by my own accord, mind you), so Mom needn't have bothered with the nagging. Or the classic "You must eat properly ah, don't diet-diet all. Wait you disappear and anyway so skinny like stick you think so nice is it?" Mom should have saved her breath because here I am, a 34 year old whose favourite food is, well, food.

Of course, these are meant to be strictly tongue-in-cheek so please take them with the requisite dose of humour. If you don't find them the least bit amusing, let me apologise in advance. Do feel free to stop reading and go sign up for a Mother-Daughter pottery class instead.

*Make the right friends...join happening activities in school which will make you cool and admired. Like cheerleading or hip-hop dancing. Short skirts and not looking like a chicken on prozac when you dance will always make you popular. If you have to join the Chess Club do it behind my back.

*Don't have a serious relationship too early...play the field a bit (but minus the sex because you might as well delay the realisation that sex is overrated). Very wasted if you miss out dating the cute college hunk just because you thought he was not good husband material.

*Have fun in your youth and don't worry so much that people will label you havoc or whatever...can always repent later in life. When you become a sensible old geezer no one will care that you used to smoke a bit and flirt with the entire rugby team.

*You can never have too many bags, shoes and clothes...and more is never enough. And remember to accessorise, accessorise, accessorise. Just don't pile them on until you look like a Christmas tree.

*Always keep abreast of fashion trends...bad clothes from your past have a way of haunting you in your future. Which reminds me, if you find any pictures of me in harem pants from the 80s, burn them.

*Don't wear skimpy clothes especially those that expose the boobs...if all open-open no mystery already. Better to wait until you are married before you show a guy your body. So he cannot change his mind when he discovers you are actually a 32A.

*Work in any profession that you think will make you happy and successful...but must be doctor. Or at least marry one. Better still if he is a plastic surgeon. If cannot find, lawyer or pilot also can. Just make sure he is not already married or is paying a huge divorce settlement. No point if like that.

*Find someone nice and kind who can take care of you well...but no need to be very good looking or hunky dory. So long as you don't involuntarily shudder when you look at him good enough. If he can afford to buy you condo in District 10 and Mercedes car means very ok already. And must be able to change diapers and wash the dishes.

*If you still insist that truckloads of money is not important (don't say I never tell you), best to choose someone with fighting spirit and if got passion, lagi best. Not in the sexual sense, that one not important. Passion for life so he will also put 100% in what he does. You can arrow him to be in charge of night feeds for the baby.

*Eat properly, rest well and get enough sleep...eye bag removal very expensive, you know. So if you can, make friends with generous people who own beauty salons. Or who can get good discounts.

*Get plenty of exercise...so your buttocks won't grow the size of a tent. Difficult to find nice clothes like that. MNG and Zara only have until size 12 at most. And don't forget to wear good support bra when doing cardiovascular workouts that require bouncing.

*Always respect your elders...must remember to take care of your papa and I when we are elderly and that one is never too old to appreciate the good things in life. Like diamonds (for me). And golf (for your papa).

*Have children to continue your legacy...but if you need a babysitter more than twice a week, I can recommend a nanny. Don't call us, we'll call you.

*Carry yourself well and always behave in a ladylike manner...at home when no need to impress anyone then you can laugh like seow cahboh or scratch your armpits if you want.

*Cultivate good spending habits and save money for a rainy day...wait for December period ; Gucci all got 20% discount.

*Study hard and do well in your education...but no need to go until PHD. Wait too educated not easy to find man. If you end up a spinster I lagi susah.

*Yes it is important to be a good person, be morally sound blah blah blah. But most important you must know how to groom yourself and look good. People say you superficial never mind. You can have the last laugh when you look 30 at 45.

*Always wear gorgeous underwear...it will make you feel good about yourself although no one can see the $75 bra you have on. Remember, you may not have the goods but at least you'll have the merchandise.

*Be va-va-voom when you go out...so no one can say you let yourself go and look like your husband's grandmother, and give your husband pitying looks that say "aiyoh so poor thing : how come the jude girl he married 10 years ago now look so aunty?"

*Prettify yourself at home...your husband got reason to look in your direction often. You keep wearing that tattered tee shirt for what? Want to keep as family heirloom is it?

*A good wife knows how to please her husband through great cooking. A great wife knows how to please her husband through...aiyah...you know lah. Don't every time say got headache.

*Size matters. Trust your mother on this one.

I know...I know...these are hardly motherhood slogans. But ethics-depravity notwithstanding, there is some truth to what I've just penned down. Sure, I will be banned from any Mother of the Year awards but is it so bad that the ultimate goal is for your daughter to end up with a comfortable life and a healthy sense of self? Let me draw this comparison to elaborate my point: just like trying to convince Michael Jackson that he will not become Diana Ross no matter how many times he goes under the knife (i.e. he won't listen), there may not be much value in always dispensing politically correct advice and subscribing to overly sensible parenting. I'm going out on a limb to venture that there may not be much purpose in giving advice that don't really work just so you can do you due diligence as A Responsible Adult. You run the risk of alienating your kids because look around: today's youth are a far cry from the ones in the Brady Bunch brood. And we remember what it was like to be told to not do something: we did it anyway and just "forgot" to mention it our parents. It is a scary albeit real concern that there is no guarantee your child will not do a Britney Spears on you despite your best efforts in telling her to stay away from dating bad boys.

Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be. We should just pray for the best and in the meantime, make sure you tell her the life-altering stuff like the appeal of tai-taihood (versus the perils of being underpaid and overworked), and that money can indeed, nudge you towards love and happiness. After all, Mother knows best. :P

Random Thoughts

2005-07-09T01:17:00.000+08:00

Random thoughts that popped up in my head this week.....
(Lesson learnt: boredom is a sure-fire way to up the fluff factor in your brains.)

I could live on pasta and pizza. My hips are paying for it right now.

Bread topped with condensed milk AND topped with milo powder. If we could get the big O through food, this would do it. Hands down, easy.

If you don't have the body of a model or a yoga/fitness instructor, NEVER, ever, ever, ever wear a white tube top with white pants. Never.

Same goes for purple and neon yellow colour combi. Not even if you were in a coma.

Why do men behave like class A a***holes when the soccer team they are rooting for is losing?

Speaking with an accent but with koyak grammar. What's up with THAT?!

If we could taste the sky, I wonder if it would taste like chilled cupcakes with blueberry frosting....

I like pink. I really, really, really, like pink. If it were a guy, I'd marry it.

Damn, Jude Law is hot. SO hot he could melt ice, live on the sun, need his own temperature scale, have a mirage...u get the idea.

Back in the 80s, I once wore a purple multi-layered skirt, with a matching top. Said outfit had gold trimmings. And sequins. Yes I wore them without having a gun pointed to my head. Well, it WAS the era that taste forgot.....

Ice cream….bless whoever invented it. And bless tenfold over to whoever thought of putting flavours and other yummy bits to it.

I LOVE my family and friends. If I didn't have people around me to have fun with, I would probably combust into flames.

Chocolate is my Achilles heel. If I were in the business of espionage, shove a piece of chocolate in my face and I would break and tell the enemy everything. Including give them my first born. And one of my toes even.

Laughter is way underrated. One of its benefits is that it actually keeps me from turning to stone (from sheer boredom and stress).

Cereals make great snacks. I could eat them all day. There have in fact, been several occasions of me stuffing them down my throat on auto-pilot mode and stopping only when I feel physically ill.

So yes, gluttony is one of my many vices. Second only to excessive spending and impulsive buying.

Shoes and bags you can really never have too many of. Plus they don't announce to the world that you are a Size L.

Peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with slices of banana. Lightly toasted. Arrruuuuuubaaah.

If you could bottle adrenaline and endorphins I would buy them by the truckloads.

Teaching is such a noble (albeit difficult) job. I wouldn't last 10 minutes before I start strangling someone. And that someone would probably be me.

The only thing (to me) scarier than snakes, crime and ghosts is.....having a unibrow (shudderrrrrrrrr).

Jude Law is hot.

Jude Law is HOT.

Keanu Reeves is also hubba-hubba HOT.

And so is Brendan Fraser. And Jon Jonsson. And Jude Law.

Hubba-hubba-hubba-hubba......

Oooh....cheesecake and brownies.....some of the other best inventions since sliced bread.

Whipped cream goes so well with practically every dessert existing on this planet, it's practically a dessert on its own. And sometimes you don't even need to have it in a cafe to REALLY enjoy its benefits, knowwhadaimean .

You could cuss and swear in French and it'll all still sound so sexy. I bet my knees will still go weak if a cute French man uttered in his foreign tongue, "Your face looks like a doughtnut and your hair is like Chewbacca's left ball".

******************************************************************************************************************************
See what junk can come unsolicited to your mind? And at the oddest times too. Case in point, the bread/milo one popped into my head while I was listening to a powerpoint presentation on a financial report. Go figure.

Little wonder I have no space in my brain for serious stuff like politics and such.

Ah well......

Drive Me Crazy

2005-07-09T01:00:00.000+08:00

My elder boy sibling occasionally offers to drive me places. And I usually accept these offers graciously because it's really a nice gesture on his part and it sure as hell beats taking the bus. Except that he adheres to the driving style of a race track driver who's had one too many candy bars.

Mind you, he's a good driver. Despite the "Drive Like a Maniac" philosophy, he is very competent and he handles cars well. But still.

So a typical conversation during one of these joyrides would go something like this:

At traffic light junction.

Me : Ah...I didn't realise your highway code education differs from what I learnt. Which page was it again that said you have to be at a distance of 2.55 inches from the car in front of you?

Bro : It's in page two, 3rd para.

Me : I see...I see...I must have missed that page. Could have sworn I learnt you have to be at least 3 car-lengths away. Buy hey....what do I know rite? I've lived by the tenet "Why Drive when you can be Driven" for 10 years.....

Bro : Yup. Take this opportunity to Learn from The Master. So if I were you, I'd just sit back, relak...and shut up and soak in the wisdom I am imparting to you.

After a couple of abrupt brakes on account of pre-stop speeding.

Me : Ooooh....you know what would be really nice and make my day? Ben and Jerry's ice cream. And oh...getting out of this car alive and well enough to eat it. What say you?

Bro : Sure....sure. And make sure you get the chocolate / nuts flavoured one.

Me : But of course: chocolate / nuts are pre-requisites to good ice cream. And I don't think it's too much to ask that we have all body parts intact at the end of this ride. You know, generally you need hands in working condition to feed yourself ice cream. And taste buds that work...a must. No?

Bro : Yeah. I read that somewhere too...

Me : Good to know we have the same agenda today then. If you plan on, say, breaking the speed limit by 90 km/hr, give me a heads up, will you? I have this sudden urge to take the bus.

Anyway, bro...if you happen to read this: drive like a hell-rider all you want but be safe k? :)

Meeting of Mr X

2005-06-18T18:54:00.000+08:00

I always thought at this stage in my life, you know, being a full-pledged adult and all, I am SO over acting all silly and duh when I run into an old flame. But NOHHHHH. Apparently, I am never too old for my brain to stage a mutiny on me and render me capable of conversing with the capacity of a 2-year old. And all this just because I ran into THE X-man (well, granted he was one of my faves.....)

Long story short, I remember my lips moving like it had a life of its own and sprouting unintelligible words that were so cringeworthy I would have made the cast of Days of Our Lives give me a standing ovation. All the while I was desperately trying to clam my lips shut. But hot damn...that mouth of mine has a stubborn will. And I just know The Ex was thinking "This weird chick must be high on something...."

Here's a quick recap of what went on when my brain detached itself from my oral skills, and a quick lesson on Things One Shouldn't Say should one not want to be remembered as a moron:

Mouth : Hi...err...err... (forget's X-man's name)

Brain : Sure, insult the man by forgetting his name. A really great way to make a good impression. Really.

X-man : It's *** (smiles)

Mouth : How are you?! (slightly shrill) It's been like AGES! Are
you married? Any kids? Where are you working now? Still living at ***?

Brain : Right. Grill the man 2 seconds after meeting him. You might as well ask for his vital statistics, blood type and organ
donor status.

X-man : I'm doing ok. Am married, no kids (proceeds to update on work situation which is a heckuva lot more interesting than mine). And yourself?

Mouth : Oh WOW! That is SO fascinating! *giggles* Am married too. One child. Why no kids for you? Still planning huh? *giggles*

Brain : Not everyone lives for the sole purpose of procreating. Drop the kids subject already...talk about the weather or...
I don't know...the apocalypse...anything...

X-Man : Nah. Not really planning to have any children (smiles indulgently as one would when speaking to a young child)

Mouth : Really?! (even more shrilly) But why?! (pitch rising in intensity) Kids are SO adorable!! I'm planning for a second one myself. And hey, we sure as heck aren't getting any younger...wouldn't want to still be sending your kid to kindergarten when you're sixty! *giggles* But then again there is always the option of adoption (nods vigorously)

Brain : Oh good. Be the judgemental B****, why don't you. And better still that you topped it with the Smug Parent card.
Brilliant.

X-Man : Well...kids are really not a priority for my wife and I (smiles patiently again)

Mouth : To each his own I guess!! *giggles* So, other than not planning to have little bundles of joy in your life, how are
things?

Brain : Try to shut up soon. Please.

X-Man : Pretty ok. Been travelling quite a bit (relates really exciting life story while my face turns various shades of green [seriously, I think I was turquoise at one point] with envy)

Mouth : I am SO jealous!! *giggles*

Brain : Don't say anything else, I'm begging you.

X-Man : (Laughs politely. And steals a surreptitious glance at watch)

Mouth : I mean, like WOW, someone's been living it up! No wonder you look like you haven't aged AT ALL! (said at the most shrill tone a human voice can make) *giggles* It doesn't seem fair that you look like you're still 20 while the rest of us have to try not to look like we're 50! *giggles*

Brain : For crying out loud, woman...

X-Man : (blushes) No lah...

Mouth : Really. Gosh am so amazed at how well you've turned out after all these years! Thought you would be balding with a beer belly by now. HATE you!! *giggles*

Brain : I give up...if I had eyes I would poke them out. Anything to numb the shame and horror...

X-Man : (looks slightly perturbed). Oh well (laughs nervously)

After a few more minutes of small talk, punctuated by manic giggles (by me) at nothing funny in particular:

Mouth : Ok then. Got to run...

Brain : Say no more. Leave on a good note, leave on a good note...

Mouth : You know how it is with us Working Parents. Busy, busy, busy!! Oh right...you probably don't! *giggles*

Brain : Someone kill me. Now.

So there you have it. I created my own cheesy sitcom. Damn. Damn. Damn. I thought I could wow him a wee bit with some semblance of wit and humour that I think I somehow managed to pick up along the way after we parted ways 15 years ago. Turns out, my probably one and only opportunity to make a good impression turned out to be one where I blew all chances of deleting his memory of me as the shy girl who was too goody two shoes for her own good.

Scratch that. I think I did erase his past impressions of me quite well. Am now forever etched in his head as The Moron I Used to Date (thank goodness only for a little while). I'd take Goody-Goody-Selenge over Bungling Idiot anytime.

Sigh.

30-something Journey

2005-05-23T18:48:00.000+08:00

I turned 34 recently (now forget I ever said that and forever think of me as 18. Ok..Ok...tht's stretching it a tad. Howsabout 25. Can?)

Now, 34 is a big number: it's like 3 seconds away from mid-thirties and practically hours into the big Four 0. It also marks the height of the epic battle between your body and the forcces of nature (no prizes there for guessing who'll win).

Thing is, it's quite a big deal, adding one more number in the third decade of your life. It causes you to pause and take a reflective look at how you've lived your life thus far. I did just that and it was really an insightful journey that dug up observations that I believe could touch many hearts, change lives even. So in the spirit of giving back to the community, I've decided to share these potentially life-altering nuggets.

Here you go: use them well....

(a) Gravity is a force to be reckoned with. It is NOT your body's best friend. So always, always be on your guard. Sure, it is handy to have around because you know, if we did'nt have that to centre us to the ground there would be billions of people with perpetual bad-hair days. Life is dificult enough as it is.

(b) Cellulite is akin to mould growing between your bathroom tiles. Everyone knows it will happen sooner or later so there are countless products in the market designed for the sole purpose of eliminating them. But no matter how hard you try to physically remove them, they stubbornly take their time to go bye-bye. So the only logical modus operandi would be to never let anyone see you nekkid (or switch off the lights, whatever works for you, sweetie).

(c) Sagging as a bodily phenomenon is public enemy numero uno. It slowly creeps up on you without much fanfare and you wake up one day thinking "did this use to be way over there??!". It is best buds with other enemies such as water retention and wrinkles and boy, can they gang up on you. Resistance is quite futile so I'd suggest doing your research on cosmetic enhancements pronto.

(d) Flab is like that unwanted guest that arrives unannounced and refuses to leave. And you inadvertantly end up doing things to make them prolong their stay even though you wish they'd get the hell out of your life. Like feeding them well (they THRIVE on chocolates and ice cream). You basically have to resign to the fact that they will forever be part of your life.

(e) You can hide a multitude of sins with black clothes. Live by the motto "If you can't beat 'em, hide 'em".

(f) Shopping is a good thing. No one should ever question this fact. No. One. Kepish?

(g) As an adult who has matured with the years, you have earned the right to cuss at times. It is completely acceptable to holler things like " Are you blind, B****? Git the F*** out of my way!!!" when someone knocks you over during a race to grab the last piece of gorgeous (insert piece of clothing item you have had your eye on for aeons) at 70% off. No one will expect you to be all polite and diplomatic when something of such value and desire is at stake.

(h) Leave The Wuss at home during sale times. It's a jungle out there, sistah. So wear comfortable shoes, bring a friend for added ammo, and carry a motha bag to stuff all the newly bought barangs.

(i) Be nice to your children and spend as much quality time as you can with them. Soon they will think of you as a boring old fart and would be embarassed to be seen with you.

(j) Clothes, bags and shoes, we like. Jewelery, we LOVE.

Wise words, no? :)

Little Big Brother

2005-02-13T10:55:00.000+08:00

Dearest Adi,

I look at you and remember a small boy I used to know, 10 years younger than me.

I think of how a whole decade of headstart should mean I am wiser, more knowledgeable and am the role model you are supposed to learn from. I am supposed to be the one you turn to for advice and help. I am the elder who should guide and mentor.

So how is it that I have come to depend on you? How is it that you gave so many lessons I observed and learnt? How is it that I am taking the cue from you on how to treat people better and cherish our loved ones more? Where is my littlest brother whom I used to never really notice when we were younger?

In your place is this young man. Still 10 years younger. But now my equal.

We will always be praying for your safety, well-being and success as you continue your learning journey. Glean all you can from your time abroad. Work hard, play enough and live well.

Take care, Adi. Everyone is going to miss you so much but there is always your safe return to look forward to. InsyaAllah.

Meantime, enjoy yourself, you hear?!

Love ya,
Kak Lin

Baby look at you now.......

2005-02-11T21:49:00.000+08:00

I was lying on the couch the other day, watching TV and basically not doing anything more strenuous than breathing and blinking (and occasional chewing, of course. What's TV without food rite??!!), with bubba sleeping on the crook of my arm. As the feelings of bliss swept over me, I thought about how there are really few things better than relaxing with a loved one in your arms. And in that state of serene calm (a rare occurance these hectic days) as I was watching her sleep, I was struck by a sense of deja vu: of a time almost 4 years back, when we were on that very same couch, me watching TV (and yes, chewing too as well) and she a mere 3kg baby sleeping on my tummy. Same girl, but oh so different now.
She's really grown hasn't she?

THEN.......

AND NOW......

She rocks my world, she does....I'm feeling all maternal and loving that little bubba so much my heart aches. Time for another bubba methinks??!!

Budget in London

2005-01-07T23:56:00.000+08:00

A close galpal of mine has just launched a website on how to stretch your dollar while in London, based on her and her hubba's experiences there. After months of hair-tearing, cussing, and threatening to throw the computer outta the window, it's finally up and running. Why the drama you ask? Cos she worked on the website from scratch (she and I : we're both tech-bodohs and that's putting it mildly) and with no experience (as in zilch-nada-duh- what's-html-again??!!) in web designing. (*** if you're reading this, KUDOS cahboh! you done good!)

So do your random act of kindness today and take a peek at her website at http://www.budgetinlondon.com

If you have comments / criticisms / kudos to share, just holler so that she can keep improving the website. For those who have been to London, it would be really nice if your could contribute of articles or any tips on surviving London, great places to see, where the best looking men can be found etc..etc :P

Spread the word around peeps...muchos gracias!

That's My Girl......

2005-01-03T15:19:00.000+08:00

My bubba, Iman, turns four in 2005. That's a whole 48 months since I first held the little 2.9 kg bundle of love in my arms. That tiny, cooing baby who would become this feisty girl, who continues to charm me every single day.

When I was lugging around my 21 kg pregnancy weight (yup...that's how much I gained in my pregger days...and with the actual baby only weighing 2 kg plus...well...you do the maths. :P) I often wondered what face the little kicking baby in my tum-tum would take. You can never accurately know the features your child would have, the only certainty being that you would love him or her in whatever shape or size it comes.

One of the loveliest moments of Mommyhood (the least lovely being, of course, nappy changing) is seeing your child develop. You literally have your child changing right before your eyes, although the daily changes are so subtle you almost do not notice them. Until one day you look at the before and after pictures and it hits you how much your child has grown since.

Looking at Iman now, it is with absolute certainty that one can affirm she is indeed my hubba's and my bubba. Carbon-copy of her Papa ('s face) and mirror-image of her Mama ('s ways), there's no need for any DNA testing watsoever.

Children are such miracles....MasyaAllah...:)

Simply Charmed

2005-01-03T13:18:00.000+08:00

Pros : Simplicity is good. Simplicity excudes elegance. Simplicty is timeless.
Cons : Simplicity can be a bit "blah". Simplicty screams "baaawreeeng". Simplicity lacks that certain vava-voom.

So what's a gal to do when she wants to dress up that little black bag? Put a nice little bag charm on it of course. And if you can't find any to your liking, improvise, improvise, improvise.

Follow these simple instructions:

(1) Go to a shop that sells little trinklets and fashion accessories. Preferably, go to one with many other shops within the vicinity. If you don't find what you need you'll at least get a shopping expedition out of it, which you can never have too many of *nods sagely*.

(2) Pick out least gawdy trinklet (for eg. HP tag, brooch, earrings, necklace etc) that has potential to act like a bag charm. Tip : the possibilities are endless.

(3) While you're out, (a) go window shopping in a calm and dignified manner of (b) shop like your life depended on it (delete where applicable).

(4) Before calling it a day, stop over a beverage shop (a lil' F&B break should always top a shopping day. My mother say.)

(5) Upon reaching home (make sure you have made at least 3 rounds at the shopping mall), hang trinklet bought on simple black bag. Don't forget to hide massive load of shopping bags from mum / hubby if you chose option (3b).

(6) Voila. Simple black bag with a touch of glam.

Tidal Tragedy

2005-01-03T13:03:00.000+08:00

Such a tragedy to befall its victims. A catastrophe of extreme proportions, with devastating effects felt far and wide.

As the world looks on and puts compassion into action, it is heartening to witness that accompanying the sadness and sorrow are acts of human kindness and selflessness. We can breathe a collective sigh of relief to know that the world, facing many acts of human terror of late, has not lost its humanity and can still rally together in times of crisis to show solidarity with outpouring generosity, transcending race, language and religion.

My thoughts and prayers to victims of the tsunami disaster and their families.

May Allah bless the souls of the perished and may the living find new hope.
Amin.

My Bad

2004-12-21T10:26:00.000+08:00

I am so, so bad at keeping a diary. It never worked when I was younger and it sure as hell ain't gonna work now. Whatever made me think that I could diligently keep up an online version of regular updates, when I could never keep up any traditional pen and paper Dear Diary moments, which face it, were heckuva lot easier to grab and put entries in (look Ma, no batteries!).

I used to have an average of 5 half-filled diaries a year, and all I remember about them is that they were all pretty cute. Think I am more in like with the idea of keeping a diary, than actually keeping one. And of course, diary-keeping was yet another excuse to go hoppity-hop to the friendly neighbourhood store (my shopaholism is inbuilt in my DNA so shopfests have always been my thang) to get what would suffer the same fate as the rest of the other half-filled paper journals.

But did I learn? Nohhhhh.... apparently. Cos here I am, years and years later, attempting the very same thing, albeit via a much more sophisticated, 21st Century model (batteries not included).

Lesson Learnt : I am a Diary Commitment Phobe and I have flirtatious flings, never love affairs, with them. :P

So I've been thinking : should I stop with my half-assed attempts at penning (or in this case keying in ) habitual "Today I..." inputs? And let's face it : I suck at tagging messages too (my apologies for always being MIA). It's a sure sign of (old) age I think. I much prefer face-to-face interaction and hearing actual voices in instances of verbal intercourse (git your minds out of the gutter people, I'm talking about chit-chatting here.:P). How terribly old-fashioned.

But the thought of letting go of the Bloggers community (meaning, you gals) is actually quite painful. I may be about a decade older than almost all of the bloggeritas I know, but it seems fun and camaraderie knows no age limit. And you gals are a wild bunch to be with! *cue theme song from popular chick-flick sitcom (any one will do)*. And I know it's silly but I feel guilty when I'm not able to update my blog often and play tag with ya'll. That dang consience again.

I had earlier intended to use my blog as a way to express my thoughts and views on stuff that move me. And then I got caught up with capturing the It's My Life snapshots, which I've realised is not really my forte'. You gals are so great at it, tho...and I do enjoy reading what you've been up to, your life stories et al.

So I've decided to meet me halfway. I'd like this to be a platform for the voices in my head to be heard (if I don't let them roam free occasionally they threaten to mess with my head. Pests.) But I also hope to be able to intermittently share some of the funny or significant moments in my life. Although I foresee there won't be many entries on a regular basis cos I can barely keep up with the real-time activities, let alone write about them. I blame old age (again. Hey..it's convenient whaaat).

I hope all you wonderful bloggers will still pop over to me blog and keep me company once in a while, despite its lack of news. And I'll try my very darndest to keep in touch (pinky pwomise). Meantime, do holler if you're in the mood to paint the town red or whatever hues you fancy. I'm easy. So long as your fabulous selves (and food won't hurt either) come with the programme. Ya dig? :P

Love ya peeps!

7 Year Non-Itch

2004-12-20T18:14:00.000+08:00

20th December 1997
This day I will marry my best friend,
the one I
Laugh With
Live For and
Love.

Well, well, whadayaknow...20th Dec came round...and what this basically means is that exactly 7 years ago, I became someone's Mrs and forever relinquished my singleton title. It also marked the day we succumbed to corny Hallmark moments by exchanging rings with the words "Rudy's Ever After and Lin's Ever After" on our respective wedding bands.

It does'nt even feel like 7 years. I am still prone to giggling like a love-struck teen when Hubba flashes me his pearly whites. And the fact that he still looks very much like the boy who was my first love at 15, makes my heart go all a-flutter on many occasions.

Sure, we bitch (me more than him) and bicker (and when we do, do we ever!) and sulk (I've perfected various pouts to depict varying degrees of merajuk-ness). But push comes to shove, we'll go through thick and thin, for better or worse, cos he's the love of my life, my wind beneath my wings, my now and forever, and my one and only. Phew...seven cliches' in one sentence, one for each year of having gone thru the trials and tribulations of marriage. Alhamdullilah and MasyaAllah...

Not bad for two people who were thrown together by mutual friends just cos we were, in short, short. Yes, as in vertically-challenged, petite, katek. And so to this day, I am rather glad I'm not quite of amazonian proportions : cos our lack in height was funnily enough, one of the factors that brought me and Hubba together (although he outgrew the short thing and I well, did'nt). f'course, after that initial set-up, it was Like at First Sight, and the rest, as they say is hers/history. Gawd what a sappy story eh?! :P

That's a grand total of 18 years that we've been in each other's life...and counting. From teen crush to puppy love, from kaki-nangs to confidante, from pseudo couplehood to being a full pledged item. It was a long journey, but one that I would make again (and with him and only him lah) in a heartbeat.

1434, Rudy. Here's to err...Infinity and Beyond! :P

I knead u now....

2004-12-03T11:56:00.000+08:00

Now I know what a lump of dough probably feels like when it undergoes the baking process. My sis-in-law and I went for a three-hour ritual of chillin' and unwindin' to loosen up our poor ole' joints and tense muscles. Hence, kneading, squeezing and even some pounding was the order of the day. A body scrubbing and jacuzzi session topped the experience. If we were in a sitcom, the running theme song would be "Scrub a dub-dub, a polished lass in the tub".

Post-massage, we ended up with an overall sense of well-being and wound up with...errr...unwound muscles, on account of loosening those knotted veins : in particular mine. Sounds reminiscent of keropok frying were apparently heard when the masseuse was working her magic on my stubborn urat-urats. Long story short, massages are a good concept both in theory and practice. I enjoyed being made to feel like play dough but I don't think massages will be an regular occurance for me. Low threshold for pain and ticklish feet do not a good massage customer make. Let's just say it was a miracle that I did not knock over the massage oil or kick the masseuse each time a particularly entwined vein was attempted to be put out of its tangle state. Suffice it to say, I was a lawsuit waiting to happen...:P

The relak-sing session culminated to an all-time high the same evening, when the whole family dived into the Singapore Idol Showdown frenzy. We sms-ed, we called and we cheered ourselves hoarse. Even my usually staid Dad threw in 20 votes! We had to check if blue pigs were flying outside...:P

I wish I had the opportunity to let Taufik (Batisah) know how much of a fan this 33 yr old momma of one is. I screamed at the top of my lungs when he was declared the winner and if I could do cartwheels, I would have done so to Woodlands and back. Twice. I thought I was so over the teenybopper-googly-eyed stage. Apparently, I'm very much the fifteen year old when it comes to Mrs Jones' boy-boy.

CONGRATS again to Taufik Batisah...now that's one Mat who done good.....:P

PS: I had my first argument over The Boys issue with Iman. She wanted me to say Sylvester (pronounced in her 3-yr old way as "Klysester") was "Hensem". Course, I would'nt and was rewarded with a full blown melt-down (read : ada ke nangis-nangis sema). Dang, she's starting young that girl...sighhhhhh. And now I must put aside Good Mom role and attempt to brainwash her to switch alliances. :P

Satu Pagi di Hari Raya...

2004-11-20T17:25:00.000+08:00

Fatigue (and bursting of seams at kuih tart overdose) aside, it's been a fab raya celebrations so far. Nothing quite beats the family bonding and lets-never-ever-fight promises made during this festive month. And the kuih makmur et al sure didn't hurt either...:P

In keeping with her sweets addiction, Iman went for the candylicious theme this year.

Me bro relieved his wife off some of her fashion apparel. Hmmm...he looks like he's enjoying donning the scarf and bag a taaad too much...:P

Salaam Lebaran

2004-11-13T14:52:00.000+08:00

Assalamu'alaikum semua,

Selamat menyambut Hari Raya Aidilfitri dan Maaf Zahir dan Batin.....:)

All Dolled Up

2004-11-05T15:08:00.000+08:00

I know...I know...I am way over the age limit to be liking dolls, let alone to be playing with 'em. But I recently, at the ripe old age of 32, went through a phase of loving the Blythe doll so much that I almost become an overgrown fanatic. Looking back, it was probably a quarter-life crisis. :P

'neway, reality soon hit that I simply do not have enough time to play with dollies (that real-life bubba-doll at home is already such a handful) so am giving up on the hobby (for now, at least) that had the shortest life span of all my leisure pursuits.

Here's a peek at my short stint as a Blythe-erita aka Blythe fashion stylist. I should'nt quit my day job huh? :)

So, toodles lil' Blythe...'twas fun while it lasted....

Lost and Found

2004-10-26T22:36:00.000+08:00

I did the unthinkable...I totally forgot where I put the LeSportsac tote I bought while on vacation (my one luxury buy there *pats own head for being good*). And today, I found it tucked away in one of the hidden suitcase compartments. Age is really creeping up on me, man...
'neway...I am just so flippin' estatic cos its got the cute shopping-chick motif on it. I am such a sucker when it comes to anything cute-sy. :P

Home Sweet Home

2004-10-18T15:16:00.000+08:00

30 hours blue-skies surfing, 7 hours scenic-island ogling, 15 mouthfuls sea-salt gulping and 200 alohas-mahalos a-exchanging later, we are back safe, smilin' and satisfied. (Alhamdullilah). More sun-burnt than sun-kissed, we left the island of rainbows (we saw rainbows and fireworks twice!) and beaches flat-out tired but with lifted spirits. In all, it was darn tootin' good. :)

The must-see Waikiki beach...with the oh-so-delicious waves.
Ala Moana Beach Park....where the cliche lazing-in-sun-with-wind-in-hair rings true.
Hanauma Bay...snorkeler's paradise with crystal clear water and softest of sand. Hubby saw a turtle and about 20 species of fish and underwater creatures. Me? I made my melanin work overtime baking in the sun...on a float....in the sea.
Bubba learnt the hula dance too...and looked like a caterpillar on opium dancing it.

She sells seashells by the...errr...roadside...

There was seafood and seefood ahplenty. ie. juicy steaks tantalised our tastebuds but it was strictly see-no-touch. Hawaii is fab and all but the serious lack of Halal (meaty) food is such a downer. We interpersed our meals of instant noodles and canned food with seafood meals and vegetarian pizza. Delish tho' these treasures of the sea were, I missed my tulang and char kway teow like heck! I'm an Asian gal thru and thru....gimme my chilli padi over tobasco sauce anytime....

One eatery highlight was the Bubba Gump Shrimp Cafe : of the Forest Gump Fame. It offered shrimp EVERYTHING and came with cute Forest Gump paraphenilia. These angmohs think of everything....

You flip to the "Stop" sign if you need the attention of any of the service staff (and OMG. The guys are Very. Cute.)

You leave it at "Run" while you're enjoying your meal. Ain't it clever?!

Shopping-wise was droolworthy *starry eyes*...the only problem being my conscience hitched a ride (it must have slipped into the suitcase when I was not looking) and refused to budge when I pleaded to to spend recklessly (I'm on holiday dammit!!). So window-shopping was the preferred holiday theme, and I managed only a small (by a shopaholic's standards, mind) shopping loot. It even got to the point of me entering a fabulolusly gleaming huge shopping mall...and emerging US$30 richer, from the refund of a returned an item. Note to self : remember to sedate conscience with valium or the like right before next vacation trip.

Oh Land of the Leis (flower garlands)...sure am gonna miss it...:P

Am glad to be back though...nothing quite like family, friends....and fabulous bloggeritas to make you feel home is really where the heart is.....(everybody say awwwww wi' me..:P)

Seeking Sun and Sea

2004-10-01T13:26:00.000+08:00

My poor, old aching bones and tired self will be going away for a little R&R from
2 Oct to 16 Oct.

So I'll be taking a lil' blog break.

Rejuvenated (at least I hope so!) moi will be back in blog werld after the 16 Oct.
Hopefully I'll come back happily sun-kissed and all geared up for more back-breaking work...cos you know how it is bringing a kid on holiday...O.M.G...the logistics are enuf to make me want to have a break to recover from the break! :P

Till then, adieu my luply bloggeritas. Be good, now...:P

Love Hurts

2004-09-30T13:23:00.000+08:00

This here is based a true story, as told by my dearest friend. It tugged at my heartstrings so I thot I'd share it. (A** I borrow your story skejap eh? Besok kasi balik...:P)

There is this very happy family - Tall, dark and hensem Dad. Fair, beyoootiful and charming Mom. And cute-as-a-button and bubbly lil' Daughter. This was one smart family too (good genes in 'em, I say) and a year ago Dad, with the blessings of Mom and Daughter, decided to pursue his studies (PHD, u noe) abroad. They knew Dad was going there to learn new things. What they did'nt expect was that they all embarked on a learning journey as well.

What they learnt was that no matter where you were, if family is around you, you're home. They also learnt that while absence does make the heart grow fonder, it sure as heck did not make the pain (of missing ur loved one) any lesser. They found new meaning in each others' company and learnt that they could not live without one another. And they learnt that no matter how sad you were that one of you was going to be thousands of miles away, life had to go on and one must be strong.

So they've been at this learning journey for exactly a year now. And they're coping well with the long distance love affair...despite the fact that they are three people who are heartbroken at having to be apart for three whole years.

When the Dad came home for two whole months recently, all were delirious with joy. Mom glowed, Daughter shined and Dad beamed. So when it came the time to say the (temporary) goodbye yesterday, the air hung heavy with the thick cloud of sadness. But Dad and Mom put on a brave front : both trying to focus on the fact that they will have another sweet reunion in a few months time (insyaAllah). But the bravest front came from the 6-year old among them.

She played and laughed all the way to and at the airport. She was gleeful personified. She said her bye-byes with the strength of a 50 year old. And when Dad was safely sent off, she played and laughed some more. You could say she was never bubblier.

Then came the journey home for Mom and Daughter. When they were alone in the cab, Daughter turned to Mom and said , "Mom, can I cry now?", and proceeded to sob hot tears when Mom gave her the go-ahead to let go her sadness. She cried all the way home. Cried at the door. And cried some more.

Later as Mom was helping her get ready for bed, she cried a little more and said, "Mom, I feel like there's a stone in my heart." Needless to say, there was a lump in Mom's throat as well (and mine, too when I heard this story).

And so after yet another tearful separation, the three continued on their learning journey. Side by side, in spite of the physical distance, and heart to heart.

Let's all wish them the very best of happiness to come, shall we...:)

I Get So Emotional, Baby...

2004-09-30T13:20:00.000+08:00

Bad habit 1 : I watch way too much TV.
Bad Habit 2 : Too much TV = I get emotionally attached to TV characters.
Bad Habit 3 : Emotionally attached = I think TV characters are my friends.

So it's official. I'm nuts. But really, I'm sure there are many who can relate to this phenomenon of emotional attachment to the google box and the people it features. What more with reality TV, we are introduced to lay people with whom we can relate to; normal (i.e. not Tinseltown stars) people like you and me and our next door neighbour. So it's only natural that when we watch shows with competitive elements, we tend to root for our favourites to win, not at all dissimilar to rooting for friends and family. And consequently, dissing the non-faves.

I remember whooping with pure joy when Ruben Studdard was declared the American Idol last year. I remember jumping up and down like there were ants in my pants when Rupert was declared the surprise All Stars Fave Survivor winner. I remember being absolutely devastated when my fave teams last season did not win the Amazing Race...just as I remember feeling like there were rainbows in my room when my fave team (Chip and Kim) won the AR this year. And with all the luvin', came the bitchin'. I remember hating (let's just say I wanted to gouge their eyes out) their closest competitors and those I took a dislike to...like I would my worst enemy. I remember hearts pounding and me gripping the edge of my seat when awaiting results. I remember that sick feeling in the tummy when favourites lost and the "villains" won.

Even with fictional shows, I get totally immersed in every story. I cry ( read : sob my heart out) at terribly sad endings (death issues especially are occasions for full-blown drama queen bawling). I laugh (read: grin like an idiot like I'd won a free extreme makeover) at wonderfully happy endings. And when my favourite shows end their season, I feel like my best friends are going to leave for another country (read : when Felicity, Friends and Sex and the City ended their runs, I wanted to cry for a week.)

See? I told you....I'm nuts. :P
*mutters to self : TV characters are not your friends...TV characters are not your friends...TV characters are not your friends.....*

The Tale of the Tiaras

2004-09-25T16:02:00.000+08:00

I absolutely love tiaras...and anything that glitters for that matter. I bring new meaning to the phrase "Shiny, Happy People". What can I say...I LURVE my blings-blings...heck they dun even need to be real. If I had my way, I'd wear a tiara everyday....but since that would make me look like I've lost about a bagful of marbles, I settled on faux ones instead for playing dress-up. And I've even got two willing models to play along with my tiara games. Behold my two princess models (they didn't need much persuading lemme tell ya)...Iman and Ati (my SIL). Ain't they both sweet :P

Henna-ed at Hana's

2004-09-24T22:43:00.000+08:00

Mader and Bubba are now officially henna converts. Thanks to that gem of a henna artist~jewel~, we are both sporting booteeful body art *pauses here to hug Jewel*. Bubba got henna-ed at Hana's (during Project H(~hana~)'s Housewarming), where we both had a blast : good food, great company and gorgeous hostess : it don't git no beta den dat, biyatch...:P). And my henna hour spiced up an otherwise boring workweek. We lurve, lurve, LURVE our henna-ed selves...Jewel has got customers for life methinks...:)
Here's lil' bubba, trying ever so hard to avoid ruining the henna job : she actually slept with her hands outstretched *shakes head in disbelief*. Maaaan....I passed on them vain, girly genes real good...

Iman's sweet lil' henna heart...

Momma's butterfly (no surprises here...:P) body art...we like, no? Hana...look pameleer not? hee hee...henna sistahs r us...

Butterfly Bubba

2004-09-17T10:54:00.000+08:00

I have this thing about butterflies...there's something about the pretty little insect that makes me go "awwwww sho shwweeetttt"...and it helps that depictions and artistic impressions of butterflies usually go hand in hand with pretty colours and feminine loveliness, and brings to mind sweet floral scents and wind in one's hair. Basically I'm as guniang as they come lah...
So it's hardly surprising that butterfly motifs adorn many of my choices of clothes, accesories and other paraphenilia. And of course, little Iman was not spared her Mama's butterfly boohyaah. And she gamely goes along with it...she has to anyway cos Big Bubba won't let me decorate him with any butterfly images *hmmphh*.

All togther now...awwwww....:P

Girly Girl

2004-09-11T03:30:00.001+08:00

Fave Movies
Legally Blonde
Clueless
Bring it On
Anything that guarantees fluff-OD and happy, sappy endings

Reads that Restore
Sophie Kinsella Shopaholic series
Whatever has fashion, shopping and glamour in it

Lurves
Colourful Buttons
Rainbows
Kistch fashion items
Fashion motif designs
Glitter
Candy coloured anything

Smile-inducing Brands
Jordi Labanda
Happy House

Recent Retail Therapy Session

Nothing wrong with this picture.....except its owner here is a 33 year old certified Old Fogey. I've years ago depleted any remnants of youthful DNA so I really shouldn't be liking things a 15-year old goes goo-goo gaga over. The mind says "hep!" but the heart says "awwww...". And it's not at all about trying to act young.....something is just really messed up with my fashion tastebuds. Anyone care to give me a Maturity Makeover? :P

Big Bubba's B'day

2004-09-11T03:04:00.000+08:00

Hubba-hubba hubby turned 33 this year. El cheapo wife (broke mah...) got him brownies in lieu of cake and let him revisit his teenhood pleasures (no...not THAT one...get ur minds outta the gutter girls...:P) via Tin-tin comics. Fat-laden brownies and fatter-laden wife....someone pass us the whipped cream please....

Pet Peeves

2004-09-02T17:49:00.000+08:00

There I was waiting my turn at the ATM machine. Silently minding my own beeswax, reading a book to while the time away. I hear sounds of impatient feet-tapping behind me. Chill, lady, I say in my head. And then as if she's read my mind, said lady taps me on the shoulder and says (not very politely I might add), "I go first ah...because I have to hurry...I got so many things to do!".

Well, excuse me. Really, I so agree that I do need to let her go first because you know, as opposed to Ms Busy-bee, I, on the other hand, do not have anything better to do than wait in line for a good 20 minutes. Why, it's practically a hobby.

The nerve of some people. Now I'm no B%$^t so if she had given me a valid reason and not spit out the request, I would probably have let her cut the queue. But since she didn't play nice, I wanted to smile my sweetest smile and retort, "I'll only take two minutes. I have to go save the world in about half an hour so '’m kind of in a hurry as well. You don't mind, do you?!".

But I figure the sarcasm will probably be lost on her. So instead, I avoided her eyes and mumbled "No speik Engriesh."

That shut her up. (But not the feet-tapping, though…)

Which brings to mind some other stuff that irks, grates and generally makes you want to stick a sharp object to your being to numb your senses. Here's a list off the top of my head (the first of which, I must confess I'm also guilty of at times!) :P

Lift Me Up....

Honey, pounding the lift buttons like you're the Mafia ain't gonna make it come up / down faster. Same goes for those huge traffic light knobs : u're not going to stop traffic just cos you're pressing it continously continously continously continously continously continously....and cussing aloud only makes it seem like you belong in a straightjacket, sweetheart.

Pole Dance

It's sardine city with the office crowd clamouring to go home on the MRT. It's hot. It's not fragrant. So you're certainly not helping by leaning your whole body against the pole meant to fit 10 pairs of hands. And stop giving me dirty looks and tsk-tsk-ing when my fingers accidentally touch your back as I grab the pole to prevent from killing myself as the MRT jerks. Jerk.

Bagging It

I am downright impressed that you paid double the fare so that you could dump your shopping bags on the seat next to you. Oh, what was that? You didn't pay for two? Then it's pretty funny that my butt paid full fare and it's got to stand in the crammed busload while your retail loot hitches a free ride. Hilarious.

In the Hot Seat

Just what is this logic behind patting seats hard before you sit? And with the same conviction and zeal as that usually reserved for caning convicts at that. One of life's unsolved mysteries. Someone call the Discovery Channel.

Can I helpch you?

Don't think I'm not grateful for the personalised and undivided attention you are giving me. I value you wanting to make sure you're on hand to help should I need any. But must you stand barely 20cm away and cast beady eyes in my direction and match me step for step as I try to inspect my potential buys? I already have a shadow and even she takes the occasional day off. And no, I do not think orange is a good colour on me, thank you very much. For the 10th time.

Skin Deep
Yes, those are pores. Yes, they are big. No, I do not need the $400 worth of facial products to make them disappear. Neither do I need the $350 priced cosmetics to hide them. Why? I like them. They're my best friends. We go shopping and everywhere together mah....

Digging for Gold

Oh for heaven's sake. Those are nostrils, not a potential escape route from Shawshank Redemption. And puhhlleeaaseee...Do. Not. Flick. Awwww maaaaan...if you really have to could you please at least be subtle about it?! Tissues were invented for a reason you know...

Pee Poo Boo Boo

Dearest Cleaner, I would like to say a huge Thank You for your tireless efforts in keeping our public toilets clean. Your efforts are truly not recognised enough and I hereby apologise on behalf of my fellow users who take you for granted. And yes, you have every right to rant when someone leaves a used personal item just laying there, "nak buat bunga kah??!!" as you put it.

Dearest Toilet Users, Two words : Focus and Aim. It's hardly rocket science, people...

heehee......any other inputs my fellow bloggers??!! :P

Rolling Credits

2004-09-01T00:50:00.000+08:00

Thank you one and all for the lovely compliments about my brader's wedding. The best thing about it is that...it's OVER!!! (wipes sweat off brow)...wedding preps are so darn stressful...and it's not even me getting hitched!
Joke aside, Alhamdullilah, it all went well and the beautiful couple can now start their adventures as hubby and wife (and there will be many, as us The Wedded would know). :)

And since some of you asked, here's the rolling credits for the event, the theme being DIY (as my own wedding was). Good, hor, to have rellies (and talented ones at that) as handy helping hands....:P
Decor (including dais) courtesy of the genius of my uncle, Mohammad.
Clothes and make-up a joint effort by my uncle and his business partner : or Image Consultant (as he wishes to be called) Anuar.
Cake, wedding entourage et al by my lovely aunts (also IC to what seemed to be a million misc duties. Professional socai lah tu...).
Menu and food decor supervising undertaken by my darling mom (and oh man she's such a perfectionist she totallly scared us).
PR and speeches done by my dashing dad (he's practically a pro by now). Photography by yet another uncle (he's damn good with the camera : can airbrush flaws oso, u noe.).
So there you have it : a truly family affair and the result of much love and TLC. Practically free sumore....hehheh :)

Happy Ever After

2004-08-31T03:35:00.000+08:00

Here's to a Happy Ever After to the happy couple...May the Magic Last Forever....(awwwww my baby bro is all grown up....):)

Seeking Some Sun

2004-08-27T20:19:00.000+08:00

Was sunblock lotion not invented for a reason? And it's totally idiot-proof too. Just slap and smear, and sun safety is in your hands. Put some sunscreen before you start the sun-seeking pleasures, they said. Just a dallop at least, they reminded. But did I listen? Nooohhh. So there you have it : I am now Rudolph (oh you know...him of the red-nosed fame). Add red and brown striped arms (why, WHY??!! did I not have the cow-sense to wear full long sleeves) and I'm Bozo (the clown) without even having to put on stage make-up. Geez.
My sunburnt self notwithstanding, it was a fun ride well worth the shiny shnoz. We sailed ( I pretended the boat was a million-dollar yatch : hey a girl can dream...), we climbed (and flew over trees, some screaming like banshees. And those were just the ones ENJOYING the ride.), and we played games like overgrown children (throw us in a pool and the seven year olds in us emerged.)
Good to know this old fogey still hasn't lost all her sense of adventure (but gimme a couple of years more and then, I'll totally be a softie methinks)....... :P

I'm Not Losing a Brother....

2004-08-22T01:27:00.000+08:00

Dearest Sis-in-law-to-be,

(HUGE grin) I am so terribly excited that you will become part of the family officially. I think it will be such fun. (giggle-giggle). You will be the sister I never had and I look forward to doing all those girly stuff together (like bitch abt Zul, my brader). We can gal chat, share stuff, go shopping and oh...oh...exchange make-up tips!!

Seriously, though, I am very happy that Zul has chosen you to be The One he plans to share his life with. He could not have picked a better person and when he chose you, he without a doubt picked someone gorgeous, smart, witty and warm and whom he so obviously cherishes.

I'd like to also thank you for welcoming Zul's family into your heart. I know there might be challenges along the way, as is bound to happen when one joins a new family circle but I also know we will be able to help each other through any difficult times. InsyaAllah. One thing for sure, we like you lots (and that's an understatement) and have welcomed you into our family with open arms.

Thank you, Ati, for making Zul, my little brother, one happy man. Here's to a blissful marriage with much laughter, love and delight.

PS Hope you like the Wedding Gift Part Uno. I did put quite a bit of thought into it, you noe. Really. Here's a list of some of the items I considered and the reasons why they were struck of the list:

a) Matching tee-shirts : cute but signals a tad tourist-meets-William-Hung-fanclub look doncha think??!!

b) Crystal anything : I refuse to fall into that middle-aged crystal-appreciating crowd yet. I believe I have at least 10 years to go before I start cooing over a crystal punchbowl.

c) His and Hers bathrobes : puhlease - these'll be stuck at the back of your cupboard only to be discovered in 5 years and by then, they'll be passe (no, wait, they already ARE passe......)

d) Diamond-encrusted his and hers Rolex watches : yeah....riiigghhtttttt....

e) Feel-good self-help books : yaawwnnnn....

f) Matching towels : bigger yawwwnnnnn....

g) Kinky underwear : let's not even go there.....

h) A truckload of money : I couldn't rent a truck in time.

So there you have it. I did put in a considerable amount of effort in finding a suitable gift for my favourite newly-weds before I decided on the FCUK caps. I figured they would make a reasonable enough gift cos:

a) It's something somewhat matching that you can both wear at the same time without people rolling their eyes and snickering behind your backs. You know...they'll go awww instead of eewwwww.....

b) The relatively trendy brand will show you for the young and hip couple that you are (Zul needs a lot of help in that area).

c) Caps are always good to hide bad hair days (it will thus be Godsend for Zul).

d) Caps are small and won't take up too much space compared to say, an ice kacang maker, and you can easily stuff it at the back of drawers if you don't like it.

e) Should you hate the caps, it's easy to accidentally-on-purpose lose it. I'll even give you some possible reasons eg: "The ferocious wind at Bedok jetty blew it away / a Bangla nicked it while we were not looking / The sun burnt children of the I'mlyingthrumyteeth hill tribe snatched them off our heads when we were holidaying in (insert name of honeymoon place)...." etc...

See? Not a bad gift idea after all, wouldn't you agree? It could be a lot worse. You could have been the proud owners of Mickey Mouse placemats….:P

So here's to a wonderful wedding and a marvelous marriage. Take care of my little brother k? :)

Lup,
Your Big Sis-in-law-to-be

Rapunzel Bride and Her Prince

2004-08-16T15:52:00.000+08:00

Iman was so smitten by the Princess Bride (whom she has called Rapunzel), as was her Mama. Our only regret....WE DIDN'T TAKE OUR OWN PHOTOS OF THE PRINCESS BRIDE! (bawl!!)
Nonetheless, we were both overwhelmed by the presence of so many sweet, pretty, nubile young things. It was really, really nice to meet all of you!
Iman says a big "Hi evrybody!" (Iman waves shyly to all her new-found Kakaks) and says "Tank Kew!" for all the compliments about her.
The wedding was wonderful, the decor gorgeous and the bride ab-so-f%$^ing-lutely radiant. Really straight out of a fairy tale....only better.
And so with all lovely, sappy endings....here's wishing Rapunzel Bride and Her Prince a Happy Ever After.
The beginning...:)

Old Pals Makan Fest

2004-08-15T00:49:00.000+08:00

There are few things in life more satisfying than a gathering of old friends, a tableload of food and jolly, pally banter. And the best part is, when kids get together, they babysit themselves. If that isn't a winning combination, I don't know what is....:P

This is a really week of gatherings : both at work and at play. But hey, if food comes with the deal, I ain't complaining...:P

Her Mama's Girl

2004-08-13T22:52:00.000+08:00

It's lovely having kids. You get a small package of you, someone to love, someone to adore, someone to care for, someone who needs and loves you unconditionally, someone to rely on (hopefully), and someone to take care of you when you are bent double and missing 20 teeth. But best of all...u get someone to dress up. :P So I'm shallow, so sue me.
Thot I'd share some funny bubba moments with y'all. Her school's been celebating the National Day fever like their lives depended on it. Meaning they lived and breathed singing nationalistic songs. And so the proud moment came when bubba wanted to share with me her first renditions of national pride. She started singing what appeared to be our National Anthem. The tune was there (almost anyway)...but the words...man, oh man...it went like this " Mari kita yakyat Singgapoora, mamamama memoomooo...bayahaga...". Of course I applauded her efforts : cos she sang with all her heart and with so much gusto I did not have heart to tell her she was actually singing what sounded awfully like the Timbaktoo-an anthem. Or a chipmunk with a nose job gone wrong. Spurred by my enthusiasm, out came the "Count on Me, Singapore!" song next. Her version : "Han Tam Me, Singaggporeee!". Ouch. She better have brains cos there goes any hopes of a singing career....:P

Attack of the Three Stooges

2004-08-07T13:18:00.000+08:00

Attack of the Three Stooges
Fave food (I could live on pasta), fave cuzs (muah-muah you two babes you) and fave pastime (thou shall shoppeth till thou droppeth). What a fab start to the long weekend (doing a little jig of joy).

Enjoy the break, y'all! :P

Operation Bug-Out

2004-08-05T10:46:00.000+08:00

Operation Bug-Out

A man's home is his castle. Or so the saying goes. However, when some unwanted guests in the form of creepy crawlies invade your home, things can get pretty upsetting, not to mention crowded. A case of two is company and fifty is definitely a crowd. This here's a tale of twists and turns...literally. A story that may not have a fancy plot, complicated gizmos or faint-inducing drama but which was unforgettable nonetheless.

It all began when my mom recently rekindled her interest in gardening. By "rekindled" I mean within three months, the back of our house had resembled the Botanic Gardens, only with more wildlife. There was more than once where my mom literally disappeared into the mass of leaves while picking some cili padi for dinner. The upside was we did save a total of eighty cents over two weeks from not having to buy market-sold cili padi. The downside was we kept expecting people from the National Parks to come and declare our home a tourist attraction as part of the Night Safari tour.

Granted, the initial plan was simple enough. My mom wanted to plant a few vegetables and flowers to brighten up our garden: a sort of cosy vegetable garden cum herbarium. It was an idea inspired from reading one too many Martha Stewart guidebooks. A garden with only grass seemed cold and bare so in went a couple of bittergourd plants here, a sprinkling of curry leaves there and some other household plants in between. All was initially fine and well and it was nice to see my mom and dad working away in the garden and picking the occasional pandan leaves for cooking. Even I, who do not give two hoots about whether the plants were getting enough water / fertiliser, enjoyed seeing the flowers in the sunlight.

Although always good with gardening, my mom turned out to have greener fingers than expected. What we did not foresee was one of the plants growing at breakneck speed and spreading to a height taller than the tallest member in our family was. It grew to a massive lump of green, slithering upwards and sideways until it resembled something from a B-grade horror flick. We decided something had to be done when the leaves started creeping into our neighbour’s yard and was threatening to engulf anyone who walked within two feet away. Also, visitors were starting to make insinuations of The Twilight Zone when referring to the monster growth.

So, we took the most immediate action we could think of. We chopped it off. Turns out, it was a bad idea. In the excitement of creating a garden usually associated with country cottages straight from a postcard, the idea of garden pest control had somehow been neglected. Thus, with each swing of the knife and each fall of the leaves, we had unwittingly taken away what was home to many, many caterpillars. Naturally, this was seen as an invitation for the caterpillars to find alternative abodes, the closest of which was of course, our house. Whilst I'm all for the idea of being a good host, I did not quite relish the thought of bugs joining the family circle. You can imagine that I did what any sane person would do: I went into a panic frenzy and urged for us to move out, pronto. Of course, that idea did not go down well seeing as we had just moved in barely three years before and had not even recuperated from packing and unpacking 10 years' accumulated household paraphernalia.

We thus had to experience some frightful weeks of unwanted excitement. The garden is right beside the kitchen so it was not unusual to suddenly find a caterpillar on the fridge, in the sink, or worse, on the clean clothes hanging out to dry. It got to a point where the little bugs were brazenly crawling along the kitchen floor while we tiptoed about in trepidation. I tried not to think of the possibility that a couple might have crawled into my room and were snuggling in the armhole of one of my blouses, waiting to shock me out of my wits. Guests who used the toilet were sometimes accosted by a voyeur in the form of the furry creature so we had to do much explaining and apologising lest they thought we had an unusual taste for household pets. I developed an obsessive habit of bending double, peering closely at the floor and in nooks and corners for fear of running into the caterpillars. And woe betide anyone who did not shake and upturn their shoes before putting them on. The caterpillars were simply lurking everywhere. The last straw came when one was found sitting pretty on the dining table where dinner was already laid out. We knew we had to take drastic action then (we did not need that kind of protein source).

The family hence partook with all the enthusiasm of Rambo on steroids in The Operation Bug-Out. The modus operandi was pretty simple. It went along the likes of Stamp to Kill and we took no prisoners. The earnestness with which we went about the job would have done any army proud. Refusing my mom's pleas to spare the furry creatures based on the premise that "the caterpillars will turn to butterflies", we went on the bug-annihilation exercise with so much passion I wondered if pest control was another career path for me. I guess I didn't particularly want to risk having a caterpillar mistake my leg for a branch (or a tree trunk, depending on whether I'm retaining water) while trying to do something as simple as getting a drink of water.

It was a tough fight as the little mites crawled at a relatively amazing speed given their size and there were so many of them to detect. Plus there was still the problem of how to kill the little creatures once we spotted them without leaving messy squashed remains behind. The braver of us adopted the scoop-on-sight approach while the more squeamish (namely me) decided on the scream-the-house-down-while-spraying-liberal doses-of-insecticide method. We exchanged battle stories. My dad would say, "I killed five today. Some were trying to sneak past me via an alternative route (he meant the washing machine) but I anticipated the various moves." He's a sharp fella, my dad. My hubby would also proudly declare that he had contributed to the demise of at least four by ambushing them into the sink and spraying them with water. It was a proud moment. Even my nature-loving mom took to giving the floor a few extra and random whacks with the broom when a caterpillar happened to cross her path. Still, it was a long and tedious process and only when we managed to massacre about 30 of these garden pests did we breathe easier. It was not, however, easily a case of out of sight, out of mind. We knew we could not rest until we had checked as many little potential hiding places (and believe me, there were many of them) before we could declare the house finally creepy crawly-free.

I can now relate this story with humour. However, at the time I wondered if life at home would ever be stress-free again where the only furry things around were the carpets. I had awful thoughts that we were going to have to fluff the pillows and sheets with vengeance each bedtime to check that no furry creatures were sharing our bed. It was thus a tremendous relief to get back the much taken for granted comfort of home. The moral of the story is, apart from the fact that it's indeed more convenient to get your vegetables from the friendly neighbourhood market, is that something seemingly simple and with the best of intentions can lead to unwelcome surprises. Any ideas to beautify the home should best be approached with much planning and when it involves potential living things, be broached with cautious care. My family and I have not had any similar incidences since the success of The Operation Bug-Out but there were certainly unforgettable lessons learnt, not to mention long term repercussions. I, for one, have developed a phobia for anything green and have taken to shaking my clothes vigorously before wearing them in case there are a few stray bugs lying around waiting to execute a vendetta after what we did to their family members.

And oh...we also did solve the problem of beautifying the garden with some colour : recycle cloth flowers from Hari Raya (you know...that time of the year when floral frenzy invades almost every Malay home) and pretend they're real. No muss, no fuss. I like...:P

A Granddaughter's Birthday Wish

2004-08-04T20:43:00.000+08:00

A Granddaughter's Birthday Wish

Dearest "The Best Grandma EVER",

Happy Birthday Grandma! My biggest wish and doa for you is this: I pray to Allah that you will have a long, healthy and wonderfully happy life and that you (and Grandpa) will be able to experience life with me....until I am married with kids (that would be about 2 1/2 decades from now seeing as I'm only 3...:P)! InsyaAllah, Amin.

Grandma, I also want to say a huge big THANK YOU (with a truckful of hugs and kisses) for taking care of me and showering me with so much love and attention. From my first red-faced wail within the hospital walls, you have been one of the most important people in my life. I know that my Mama feels the same way too. That day, she told me a little secret. Don't tell her I told you this but she whispered to me the other day that she feels she would not be able to cope if you are not around to help her. She told me that I must always, always love you (and Grandpa too, of course) 'cos without you both, her life will not be so happy and meaningful.

I truly enjoy our time together, Grandma....you really are the best Grandmother in the whole, wide world. You play the best games with me, you read me the nicest stories and you buy me the coolest things! Best of all, you always know what's best for me. I think I'm the luckiest baby ever! Mama also says she feels so lucky and blessed that you are there to teach me (and her!) all the wonderful things and that you really enrich our lives...

Grandma, please forgive Mama for being such a pain in the neck sometimes...'cos you knowlah...she is still so inexperienced as a mother and has so much to learn : so she very kanceong one! But she also only wants to try and take care of me the best way possible, like you do. So please put up with her nonsense from time to time, ok? She always feels guilty about "scolding" you (she acts on impulse and is SO stubborn) and she will sometimes cry 'cos in her heart, she hates making you feel sad or angry. I know for sure that my Mama loves you so very much. She told me too that if anyone dares bully you, she will go and hantam that person! No qualms about it! That's how much she cares about you.

Ok, Grandma, have a great year ahead and I hope we will be able to spend many, many, many more birthdays together. When I grow up and have money, I will buy you presents, ok? Now I takde hasil one....so I will leave the present buying to Mama (she is always looking for excuses to shop anyway...)

I Love You, Grandma and may Allah panjangkan umur, sihatkan badan and murahkan rezeki my lovely Grandma. Amin.

Lots of love from your grandbubba, Iman.

Offline Blogging

2004-07-27T13:54:00.000+08:00

Offline Blogging

When I first started this blogging thing I had only a vague idea of what it was. And while I expected it was gonna be an enjoyable ride, what I did not expect was to "meet" such wonderful people, whose blogs I truly enjoy. I had the pleasure of the company of a few bloggers...and lemme tell ya....they are fabulous and gee-whiz-terrific, both online and off. So gals, thank you for your fantastic company and (adopts tone of crisp British upper class accent) "we MUST do this again soon, dahhhleeeng!" (air-kisses).

With Lin and some of the members of the "77 Clan":
Hana : the witty-est blogger chick EVER....a compact punch of dynamo...
Nat : vavavoom...and humble and hilarious to boot....what a babelicious fun-magnet!
Jetaime : So bubbly with that infectious giggle....KIUUUT ah you!!
Lin : Sunshine smile that lights up the face....and the whole room too!
Rahyan : Deadpan humour that keeps u in giggles...u go drama mama!

With Herda and Fina :
Herda : One sexy gal...one cool chick...
Fina : The quintessential youth...FUNtastic!

Cards and Such

2004-07-27T13:40:00.000+08:00

Cards and Such

Remember that good ole' card game of "Snap!"...you know...the one where you shriek at the top of your lungs "SNAP!!" (and sounding very much like a very loud child on his first ever ride on a roller coaster), and slap the pair of matching cards with the gusto of a WWF wrestler going for the world title? Yeah...that's the one.

'Neway, I found this updated version of that quaint leisure activity that kept many of us occupied in our pre-internet, pre-cable childhood days. Called "Shnap" (I can only assume you must utter this word from the back of the throat in the manner of a thick European accent), it costs about 5 times more than the original version, but really, what price, cuteness eh? :P

He ain't Heavy, He's my Brother....

2004-07-27T13:03:00.000+08:00

He ain't Heavy, He's my Brother....

Once upon a time, there lived a girl. She was 10 and prety much used to being The Princess of the family. There was actually another child, a boy-child to be specific, in the house : whom she pretended rarely existed or acknowledged only when she was picking for a fight. For some reason, this boy-child had incurred her wrath (simply by being pretty cute) when he came and took some of the limelight from her. One day, another baby arrived. This boy-baby was fair, cute and stole everyone's hearts. And so The Princess had to share the glory with not one, but two boy-childs now. And she was, needless to say, not very happy.

A couple of years passed and there were many ups and downs (mostly downs) in the childhood trials of the trio siblings. Fights and arguments got in the way of their friendship. It looked as though they were doomed for a life of sibling squabbles.

And then, things started to change. The Princess realised that the two boy-children could actually be fun to be around. And they were handy for a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, and slowly, a comfortable camraderie was firmly built. Years passed again....and time only served strengthened the sibling bond that had seemed impossible to build.

Now all three siblings are full fledged adults : all building their own lives, alongside one another. The Princess lost most (ok...some) of the witchy streaks that were caricatured into her role as Only-Girl-Of-The-Family. And finally, she learned that it was far more special to be known as The Sister. And she got the hang of it too....and only slips up on very rare occasions (such as PMS-induced hormonal imbalances).

The Sister realised that she loves The Brothers very much, and that they were a part of her life that she could not live without. And so the Brothers two, wonderful, fine and caring creatures that they were, finally stole The Sister's heart. And all three siblings lived happily ever after....(of course, with the occasional fight or three...hey...such is life...:P)

What brought on this sudden display of brotherly affection you ask? Well, we just got back from sending my littlest Bro, Adi, back to school in KL. We had a blast during the weekend itinerary of food and shopping. It was stuff our faces (menu included Ribs, Steak, HotDogs, Subway foot-long sandwiches...not for the fainthearted...), retail exploration, more ingesting of goodies, and then onward ho to more purchasing pleasures. There was no time even to feel guilty about the overindulgence (but when the credit card bill comes, it'll be another story (sob) I bet. But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.....:P). And when it came to saying bye-bye, I couldn't help but feel so sad cos there's always that protective Big Sis in me worrying about my littlest brother, all out on his own in his educational pursuit (never mind that he is only three hours away and he's back every other weekend...:P). Adi is one fella with a heart of gold. When he's around, he will without fail offer to play chauffer to my mom and I, without us ever having to ask. And he tolerates all my bitchy displays (which can be pretty often) with the patience of Gandhi....and that says a whole lot about him...:) Oh sure...he has the irritating bits that irk me so but bottomline is, dun u mess with my bro or you'll get it from his big sis. So here's wishing him all the very best in his studies...:)

Many Happy Returns Ayah!

2004-07-27T12:55:00.000+08:00

Many Happy Returns Ayah!

My dearest Ayah turned 60...errr...something (slaps own wrist for not remembering dad's actual age) last week. And the family made merry as we best knew how...with food, food and more food...:P

Here's Looking at You, Babe...

2004-07-20T12:15:00.000+08:00

Here's Looking at You, Babe
Babies. You've gotta love 'em. Whether they're your own or someone else's cutie pie, there's something about the innocence of children that strokes the heart just so.

Especially when they are at that coochy-coochy-coo baby stage. Simply put: Smile Magnet. I kept a Baby Journal to capture those magical moments of Babyhood, especially those that I knew would remain etched in my heart. Thot I'd share some of the early entries....here goes....:)

FIRST WORDS

Words have always had the power to move me. But no words came close to having the impact that my baby's first word had. Who'd have thought the word "Water", a word so ordinary until they passed through her lips at 8 months old, could so bowl me over?

It happened during one of our bedtime baths. She ran her fingers under the running tap, and ever so nonchalantly uttered crisp and clear (well, as clear as baby talk could be anyway), "Wuuuhder". My heart did a somersault and I almost did a back flip when she uttered it a second time, affirming that it was no fluke. Thereafter, each time she said the word while pointing to a glass, bottle or puddle, I would beam with maternal pride in the realisation that she actually understood the context of the word.

I'll never be able to look at a glass of water again without breaking into a silly smile and remembering my baby' speech debut. :P

CAN'T STOP TALKING

It's begun. Once the first word was out, there was no stopping her. At 10 months her vocabulary range was pretty good, and words like "bear", "door", "star" (at least I think that was what they were…you can never know for sure with baby talk, can you?) were soon tumbling out of her mouth. Of course, there were the uncomprehensible (to adult ears) babbling too, to which I figure the best respond would be to just nod back and pretend to understand. You'd do the same if your baby earnestly locks her eyes with yours and says in all seriousness, "goobledook buhbuhbuh tahathtah goo ppttooi", looking all the while like she was discussing the theory of relativity with you.

At 12 months, she progressed to longer words and it was nice to see her look at a flower, be it a picture, actual flower or a design on her dress and say "fwower". And when she points to the sky and says "mooh" (moon), or when she say "yeshh" and nods her head with purposeful vigour (and closely resembling one of those battery-operated nodding toys in the process), I practically feel my heart melting.

At times, though, she has her mind made up on what terms she wants to use on things, never mind that they do not sound remotely near the actual term. Once, she picked up her toy cow and said to me, "Luo". So I told her, "Not Luo. Cow. C-O-W. Cahh-ow". Unimpressed, she looked back at me with a that's-what-I-said look and said, "Luo". Ah well...

I remember when it used to be that Iman, as very young baby, would either stare blankly at me or make small coo-ing sounds as I babbled. Now, she mimics my words with relish and I know soon enough, I’ll be wishing she'll be quiet for two seconds so I don't have to answer for the hundredth time why the sky is blue and why we can't invite Hi-Five for dinner. And before I even know what hit me, she'll soon enough be talking back and developing the ability to argue her way...and that I'm definitely not looking forward to! :P

PAPA SINGSONG AND MAMA LUNCH

Never mind that it was I, The Mother, who endured three months of non-stop puke-fest, nine months of bloatedness and gas, and several hours of excruciating pain no drug could eradicate totally. It did not seem to matter that it was I, The Mama, who had gone through, to date, about 5500 diaper changes, 1050 bath times (some with as much drama as a TV serial), 9000 feeds and countless crying and tantrum spells. Sure, The Father helped of course, with a grand total of 5 feeding, changing and comforting sessions.

But when The Baby started to show her first signs of recognition of her parents, it affirmed that love and affection is not directly proportional to amount of parenting tasks done (and least of all amount of poo handled). Case in point: each time The Baby sees her dad, she will respond with an excited outstretch of arms, complete with a lilting sing-song "Pahpaaaah". And when she sees me, her mom who facilitated her first rite of passage to life, who had to sit on a rubber float for a week, it's the word "Tehtek" (breast in Malay) that she utters. Meaning, to her, I'm just lunch.

Oh well. At least that's better than being known as The Pee Cleaner...:P

ROBOCOP WALK

It finally happened. I try to avoid being one of those mothers who worry unduly when their child is not developing at the textbook rate (you know, those national averages found in baby books). This attitude served me well as Iman was "late" in most of the physically developments: she flipped on her tummy (and back) only at 6 months, she crawled only at 8 months and she could barely stand on her own at 12 months, let alone cruise well. So I've firmly believed that babies have their own schedules and no amount of "training", coaxing or bribery can artificially accelerate their development. But still, when she still did not seem to show any signs or interest to walk at 13 months, I couldn't help but get a little nervous. And it didn't help that other babies her age were practically running.

So when Iman finally took her first steps at 14 months, I literally did a little jig. Granted, it was only three steps at first and she looked a lot like RoboCop, but the euphoria and relief is indescribable. And when she could walk the entire length of the room, my whole family spontaneously broke into a cheer : That's the impact of babies on full grown adults for you.....

Now that she's gained more and more confidence, the little tyke is amazingly nimble despite the tiny legs and feet! I think I'll have to invest in one of those child : harnesses" soon. Sigh...another dilemma looms...to strap and risk looking like you're taking out a pet for a walk or not to strap and run the (bigger) risk of losing her in crowd. Motherhood worries....it's just the beginning eh? :P

Tres' Petite

She didn't stand a chance. Nature was going to take its course. Science and genetics were going to win. A modeling career could be safely crossed out of the list. Height-wise, Iman was clearly going the way of her mom. Unless she somehow goes through a miraculous growth spurt, she is going to be Petite, Tiny, Small, Delicate...in short, Short.

Sometimes I ask myself…did I do something wrong such that my baby is a full head shorter than most babies her age? Did I not feed her enough milk, hence she has never looked like one of those chubby Michellin-like poster babies? Did I somehow feed her less than the required amounts so much so not only is she short, she's so lean I can feel her bones?

However, looking at how she eyes greedily whatever food I'm holding and smacks her lips in anticipation, despite having just finished a whole bowl of dinner, I think perhaps she's got one of those high metabolism things going (lucky thing). One thing I'm sure of, I'm going to have to make it my personal mission to fatten her up. Food, glorious food, here we come....there's the silver lining for you.... :P

Wednesday 14 July 2004

2004-07-14T14:10:00.000+08:00

Mid-week slump has hit (grooooaaaan). So thot I'd put up a little comic relief...here's a pic of my cheeky little bubba after our usual hair-washing session....we call it our Mamak Epok-epok/Karipap look. You like? :P

and oh...I was s'posed to be on a saving-quest after last week's shop-fest, cos the balance (think sub-zero figures) in my almost non-existent bank account almost gave me a seizure (gulp). shhh..dun tell The Hubby. Anyway, I did try, I did (really!) but found a tee that was SO apt for shopaholic moi. And since I have the willpower of a baked potato when it comes to beckoning bargains, it's now sitting in my cupboard as we speak (sheepish grin). But really...ain't it cute??!! Worth digging into my piggy bank for, no?! :)

Monday 12 July 2004

2004-07-12T17:52:00.000+08:00

"WhOA...WOOHOO!!! Check out the curves on THAT baby!!" a male friend yelped the other day. I turned my head towards the direction of what was making him drool, fully expecting to find a hot babe clad in clothes that didn't leave much to the imagination. I was all ready to roll my eyes heavenward and remark on his typically male behaviour.

There was no sexy lass, though. Instead, the object that had ignited the look of pure, unadulterated desire in my male friend had a gleaming body, taut curves, sleek ergonomic look....in the form of a red Porsche.

I rolled my eyes at him anyway because that was also such a typical testosterone-driven response.

What is it with men and cars?! Donch unnerstand....

anywhoo, speaking of cars, last Friday I was dragged by the Hubby to attend the launch of a sports car. I went along cos I am such a good wife (ahem)....ok..ok..you got me, I tagged along cos of the free food (they always have food at these launch events don't they?). Long story short, the launch was pretty nice : held at Boat Quay and we took a river taxi to the actual launch event : smack in the middle of the Singapore River. I entertained myself with the hor'deauvres, little bubba went mad with joy at the laser logo display and big bubba (aka The car-crazy Hubby) stroked and admired the metal body of said car being launched. Men...

The car was nice (at the price it was being sold, it had jolly well better be able to do super-duper things like, oh I dunno...fix you breakfast in bed or something) but the food was FABULOUS! Huge strawberries on a stick dipped in chocolate, bulbous mushrooms filled with cheese...worth dragging my butt out for. So ok, car launch blah blah blah...I mean, oh sure we could afford to buy the ridiculously expensive piece of metal...but we'd probably have to survive on free food samples at the supermarket (you know..those bite-sized promos thingees) for the next 20 years..AND get used to wearing gunny sacks for clothes. So buhbye nice car....(hubby waves forlornly at car)
Afterwards we headed for the real action : stuffing our faces at good ole' Adam road. . Man, oh man, I LURVE hawker centre fare...cheap-cheap, good-good. The Adam Road feast was to be the start of a weekend gorging on LC food. We wrapped up the weekend with Tulang on Sunday night and tried to burn off the calories with a walk by the east coast beach. We walked for 10 minutes, and spent the next 20 eating ice kachang. Hubby is such a bad influence....LOVE him!! :P

Thursday 8 July 2004

2004-07-08T17:06:00.000+08:00

Is it Thursday already??!! Man, the week has whizzed by. After last week's seven-day work-week, Monday was a zombie-meets-bride-of-frankenstein, looks-wise, for me. I was THAT peaked. And then the next two days I was thrown into The Good Mom role, starring me as supporting actress, on leave taking care of the little lead Drama Queen bubba who's down with the flu (poor thing ; so lembik like sayur lauk smalam). Alhamdullilah, she's better now....:)
Okie...in case anyone's interested to know what I've been up to, here are some snippets of the blur that was the week gone by:
Saturday Dessert : an attempt at DIY ice-cream fondue (cos the proper ones are blardie expensive..:P). VERDICT : Don't bother with the ice cream. LESSON LEARNT : Ice Cream M.e.l.t.s. (and there's a reason ice cream fondue sold at stores is blardie expensive) But 'twas fun nonetheless....we improvised and used satay sticks, cereal and grapes when the ice cream refused to co-orperate. LESSON 2 LEARNT : ANYTHING dipped in chocolate tastes yummy.

Sunday Brunch : My lovely Mama made the most fabulous pulut whatchamacallit. Whatever its called, it sure was delish. But it was so nicely done it was almost a shame to eat it. Well, that thought lasted all of 5 minutes : rumbling tums took over any sentimetal thoughts and we dug in like there was no tomorrow....(burrrppp).
Mid-Week Pick-me-up : There is nothing...NOTHING in this shopaholic's world that is more satisfying than trinklets of the (retail) trade. In between taking temperatures and trying to convince the bubba that the pink concoction in the cute lil bottle is liquidified strawberry lollipop (it did'nt work: she called my bluff and said : Don't be silly, Mama, that's medicine lah....), I managed to squeeze in some purchasing pursuits. Not bad for two-days of loot : The cutest pair of mismatched earrings (sounds crazy to me too but apparently it's all the craze in Japan. Go figure, huh? But ooooh...it has the cutest crystals set in butterflies / flower setting....so who, WHO can resist rite??!!) and a pink with a retro gal motif tank top. Nevermind that I will look like an overgrown teenager in that.:P And oh...oh...my Baby Phat bags finally arrived. The pink one was one hot diggity dang candylicious I could almost eat it...).
So there...I don't know about you but I'm a miserable sod when I'm broke (which is abt 90% of the time anyway)...so who said money can't buy happiness eh?! :P

Read The Label

2004-07-03T15:26:00.000+08:00

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet..." and so said the bard, Shakespeare. But try telling that to the people within the posh walls of designer boutiques and they will shout "Blasphemy And Sacrilege!!!" faster than you can breathe the "Gu" in the "Gucci".

Case in point; a bag ceases to be another contraption to lug your stuff. Simply if it is a Louis Vuitton. Telling the time becomes secondary for a watch. Just by being a Rolex. Suffice it to say, designer labels will do for a piece of merchandise what caviar and escargot (puhlease....they are basically fish eggs and snails) did for French cuisine. And with this luxurious trademark, naturally, is a towering cost to match.

Doesn't this just beg the question of: why would anyone pay $900 for a pair of shoes, when you can easily get one which does the same job of protecting your feet, is just as easy on the eye, and does not burn a hole the size of a small island in you pocket? There is no straightforward answer to this question. But definitely, it has all to do with the moniker a product has. And you'll need to throw in a couple of socio-psychological theories for good measure.

Now don't get me wrong. Unless you have to beg, borrow or steal to feed your designer fetish (now that's an absolute no-no, although my sources tell me has been known to happen), there is nothing wrong with fancying designer labels. I like designer brands myself ("like" and "can afford" being two entirely separate entities altogether, mind you). I have also seen enough Prada-parading people to deduce that, there are indeed many who are willing to pay big bucks for a branded buy. So I'm intrigued to find out more about this phenomenon called Buying Things That Cost a Bloody Fortune, Without Having a Gun Pointed to Your Head.

There are varied responses to the "whys" and "why nots" of buying designer goods. Take for instance my galpal Aliya, a most-times-No-but-sometimes-Yes buyer of designer goods. No, because to her, you are essentially paying money by the bucketful just to display a famous logo or name. You might as well hand over your life savings to Mr (Christian) Dior or Ms (Donna) Karan, she retorted. But Yes because in most cases, designer goods are of superior quality and lifespan.

Be honest now...is that reason enough to say, choose a Bally over a Bata? Not that I dispute the fact that designer goods are of good quality. Heavens no, that goes without saying. But my point is: non-branded items are hardly going to disintegrate within a week of purchase, are they? And do you really wants a fashion item that can last longer than the average Hollywood marriage? What with fashion's fickle fads churning out designs more beautiful then next by the minute, I say bring on the wear and tear, honey.

This brings us to the next probable theory that designer buying is about staying current in the style scene. Presumably, design labels take the lead in determining the vogue factor and are seen as the arbiters of taste. And with celebrities having a go at endorsing designer products, it is no longer simply about adornment. It becomes tagged to Lifestyle. In theory at least, buying branded stuff has greater implications beyond the purchase of an item. You also buy the promise that comes with a brand. It is a ticket to what the brand aspires to stand for. Be it timeless elegance, sophisticated chic, or stylish hip. You reach into your pocket to pay for the symbol and personality associated with these brands. And the hefty price tag that comes with it consequently make it a status symbol.

This, however, does not necessarily make a Ferragamo-ferrying gal a snob. A close pal, Irdina, says she wears her designer goods not with the intention of "showing off". In fact, around people who do not quite share the same fondness for designer labels, she keeps her penchant for brands low key. Rather, she says it's simply a treat and only if she had some of her hard-earned money to spare. But, here's the twist. Put her is a room of snooty Kenzo-carrying folks, and her designer gear serves as ammo to help boost her confidence. You know, in case she needs to send a message of "Don"t you give me that patronising stare just because you are Chanel-clad. I am not intimidated, I am LV-toting too, so there". I warned you of the complexity of this issue, did I not? :P

Another popular reason for buying branded goods is that of Impulse Buying (otherwise known as Lapses of Stupidity). Many a woman has fallen prey to this, especially if a Sale ("Don"t buy sure regret") is involved. Some other reasons I've come across range from revenge ("Using Hubby"s credit card to hit him where it hurts most"), to peer pressure and competition ("Isn't it SO gorgeous! I have the same one in Blue, you know"), to self-reward ("It makes me feel soooo good") and of course, the mantra of the moneyed ("Why not, I can afford it").

All things considered, I guess it's difficult to fully analyse designer-buying mentality. Whether one wants to be a top-to-toe walking brand advertisement, or if one chooses to pair a Hermes scarf with a This Fashion top, I'd say, to each his own (or as us Malays will put it : "gasak kaulah, bedah"). Didn't someone famous once said, if it makes you happy, then it can't be that bad? I, for one couldn't agree more. :)

The Shopaholic is in Da House

2004-07-01T23:01:00.000+08:00

Wokay...I think I've exorcised that eff-ing anti-shopping bug for good now (I repeated "Out damn spot, OUT!" several times ala Lady Macbeth. It seems to have worked...). Today was a good day, retail-wise. Armed with some ammo (whatever little money that's left in my bank as well a my galpal for that mandatory second opinion), we scoured the streets of Orchard Road at lunchtime today. The one-hour (ok...ok..1 hr 30 minutes..shhhh...dun tell my Boss) speed-shopping stint bore some fruits...two absolutely ADORABLE butterfly pendants (hmm....oooh-er...that makes four pendants purchased in less than a week. No matter. Here's where that mantra "You can never have too many" applies rite?). And a well deserved pat on the back for managing to pry my fingers away from my wallet and avoid at least four impulse buys. Suffice it to say, I'm a happy camper...:P

My Reason For Existing

2004-07-01T22:31:00.000+08:00

Since I'm no longer such a newbie in this blog biz, thot it's time I'd share a lil' bit bout my family (shy smile)...the reason for my very existence. I love, love, LOVE my family to bits...idiosyncracies and all. Oh sure....we get in each other's faces at times (what more with living together in an extended family arrangement) but there's nothing quite like family to love and accept you, bitchy bits and all. You know, I can be SO difficult to live with at times, especially when I'm doing my Monster Jeckyll and Mom Hyde routine (you know the one : wicked witch mode one moment and angelic sweetness another). But love me they do...heck I think they may even like me! :P No mere words can ever describe the goodness in each of my family members but for the sake of editorial brevity, I'll attempt a phrase that best describes each of them. Here we go...
My Mama : Heart of gold, beautiful inside and out.
My Ayah : Pillar of strength and steady hand of guidance.
My Hubby : Best friend, love of my life and soulmate.
My Bubba : The extension of me, that which keeps me alive and living.
My Bro Zul : My Confidante, The Charmer.
My Bro Adi : Gentlest Giant and my baby bro forever....

Thursday 1 July 2004

2004-07-01T12:13:00.000+08:00

I'm baaaaccckkk...I can feel that shopping bug slowly but surely creeping in. (HUGE sigh of relief). Thank goodness the anti-shopping madness was temporary....wish the sad state of my back account was temporary too tho!
Day before, my gorgeous cuz Nadia came over and brought the most sinfully delish Papa Beard cream puffs. Man, I looked at them, all fat and round...and gained 10 pounds on the spot. I prolly gained another fifty after actually eating them. Hubby and brothers (aka beruangs) at home practically breathed them whole...sigh...two things in life that tops my list : shopping and food. No contest there. And ooh...Nadia and I ended up buying a similar MNG top...the second exact top we own. Great minds think alike we say (read : with the abundance of sales in every corner, be prepared to look like everyone else the next few weeks...:P). We almost ended up buying similar shoes (the most fabulous pair of slip-ons with a butterfly charm...GORGEOUS!!) But my fat ole' feet did not do it justice...(i.e. I'll just borrow Nad's next time..SCORE!)

Tuesday 29 June 2004

2004-06-29T15:53:00.000+08:00

Shopping tally from Sunday to date : Nil, Zilch, Nada, Kosong. Shopping urges from yesterday to date : Mayo. None. Zero. Takdak. This is not normal. What's wrong with me??!! (hand on forehead). It's as if I've (gasp) lost the (gulp) desire to shop! Oh the tragedy of it all (goes into full Drama Queen mode)! Oh such a catastophe to have befallen me (and one third of the retail industry...worldwide.) Ok...calm down, Lin. Everyone goes thru periods of slump...why should shopaholics be any different right? But still (shudder) it's damn right out of twilight zone, this sudden disinterest in shopping.
Control freak that I am, I have decided to analyse this loss of primal yearning to spend money. I have a couple of theories : one of which is PMS (and we know what a killjoy THIS can be) and the other is (leans over conspirationally) I suspect my real actual self has been kidnapped by aliens. (Which may not be a bad thing, come to think of it. Perhaps I'll ask them aliens to keep me in space till Pay Day). But NOOOH!!! I want me back!! So while I contemplate whether I should go file a missing persons report, I beseech you good people...puhhhlleeaassssee rescue me from the shopping slump. Tempt me...tempt me pweeeaaseee....:P

Monday 28 June 2004

2004-06-28T18:18:00.000+08:00

Did anyone happen to see blue pigs flying over the weekend?! cos the impossible happened : I've been SUCH a good girl (uncharacteristically so) and bought ONLY TWO tops at the MANGO sale!! I KNOW! Me...the ultimate Shopping Queen, against all odds, did not give my wallet a cardiac arrest. I should go get my head checked...:P
'neway, it was a fun shopping trip despite my small loot. Me and my sis-in-law (and we brought Iman along cos she's been so clingy lately she's almost surgically attached to my hip), armed ourselves in combat gear (i.e. olive-green fashion theme : right down to the little bubba!) and indulged in some serious window-shopping over the weekend. And now, the appetite has been whetted....retail world, here I come!

Thursday 24 June 2004

2004-06-24T17:30:00.000+08:00

AAARRGGHHH!!!! I.am.Old.(sob). Found my first white hair today. Oh...youth..thouest movest furtherest away-est...this calls for a major shopping spree to calm my distraught self...any takers for shopping kakis just holler...:P

Monday 21 June 2004

2004-06-21T13:59:00.000+08:00

Today I am playing housewife...shiok jugak seh...agenda for the day is send Iman to school (I'm the one having separation anxiety ), then home to do the laundry (something about hanging clothes out to dry in the hot sun is vairy the syiokrable), then dinner out as a "reward" to the little bubba for being good (i.e. : takde tergolek-golek temper tantrums.....yet) on her first day. Nothing like being on leave from work to beat the Monday blues.... I could so get used to this...:P

Yesterday was another shopping day...this time strictly for necessities (really!)...and to compensate for the Bad Mother moment displayed. I did prepare for her school stuff early. I mean, I bought her a kick butt bag (everyone know bags make or break an outfit rite??!!), the cutest pair of shades (never mind that she will be indoors), a Hello Kitty scotch tape (dun ask)... but forgot to buy the most importat stuff like towels and milk...ooopss...talk abt having my priorities screwed up...hehheh...'neway, here's a pic of us in our lst minute shopping spree....

Saturday 19 June 2004

2004-06-19T13:24:00.000+08:00

Make up : Miracle or Mayhem

Sweaty palms against my sides, I braced myself for the onslaught of what was to come, the decisions I would soon have to make. The quandary I would soon face. I am of course, refering to life changing questions of.....What colour lipstick to choose ??!! What type to buy??!!! Which brand to opt for??!!! :P

Surely I jest, you say? Well. This may be a tad OTT but I kid you not when I say I think the world, cosmetics-wise, has gone quite mad, but in a rather exciting more-more-more! sort of way. I am not usually this passionate about cosmetics (not enough to attempt an article about it anyway) but a recent hunt-down to replenish a simple tube of lipstick made me realise just how big The Make-up World really is.

I recently wore to the very core my all-time fave lipstick, y'know, the sort that shows just the tinniest hint of colour but does not make you look like death warmed over? So I thought I'd trot down to one of the store branches which carried the brand to buy another, simple as that. Some things were easier said than done as I discovered soon after that they had discontinued the range. "Soon after" meaning after trips to almost all of the branches in the hope that by some oversight or divine intervention one branch might still carry the old range. Ok, I thought, perhaps this was a sign to go-venture and try some new stuff. How difficult could it be to find a similar colour amidst what appeared to be a gajillion cosmetics brands around, right?

Wrong again. What greeted me was a myriad of choices no make-up novice should be exposed to without first being trained in the art of Not Buying Ten Lipsticks of Similar Colour. What more, only armed with a vague memory of my now defunct lipstick shade, I was clueless as to where to start. I decided on the look-around-for-somewhat-similar-shades approach. Not a bad idea, if you count having ended up with four 'they-all-look-brown-to-me' (courtesy of my husband) lipsticks but none The One a success. Perhaps the technique was wrong. You know which I mean. The one where you try lipsticks on the back of your hand and hold them up to the mouth area and subsequently have your eyes do rapid shifts from mouth to hand in an attempt to mentally transfer the colour to the lips. And fat load of help the dim lighting did.

I won"t bore you with morbid details of my lipstick search. My point is, the choices available are astounding and the options mind-bogglingly holistic. You can go for a sans sun bronzed look one day and emerge porcelain fair the next, all with the wonders of cosmetics. You have got glitter for the face AND body and recently, I came across a foundation for the legs (OK, so I bought a tube, so sue me). The cosmetics industry seems to have thought of everything and one wonders what else could be invented.

Which brings us to the topic of R&D. Whilst cosmetics deal with all things superficial (sub-text: things you mop on only to be taken off a few hours later), the industry's efforts, in terms of R&D, product development, publicity campaigns...the works, is far from, well, skin-deep. But hey, u can't deny that the female of the species do take these things seriously. Why else would they call a make-up base 'foundation' (last I heard, the dictionary explained this as something along the lines of a "concrete support structure". Not a coincidence, I say).

Pick up a brochure from the cosmetics/skincare counter and I don"t blame you if you"re at times reliving a biology / chemistry class all over again. Some stuff I"ve come across: Fucus-algae (I kid you not), beta-hydroxy acid, Arginine (some plant molecule), silk amino acids, Onymyrrh (I know...DUH?!) all meant to 'trigger physicological messages that restore cellular life' (quote, unquote). It’s pretty serious stuff, this.

Swapping faster than costume changes in a sell-out concert of a Hong Kong artiste, the speed and frequency at which the season's "must-haves" metamorphose is enough to make one say to heck with it and go buff, in the face, that is. And no, we are not talking about the latest nude barely-there look, (which by the way is this weeks "must-wear" or did that end yesterday?). One season matt is In, another it is glitter and barely days later gloss makes a comeback. Make up artists shout go au naturel, and within about the same time your new one-minute-fast-dry-matt-nail-polish-with-a-hint-of-glitter takes to dry, they reveal that drama is back. And we"re not even talking about skin-care yet.....let"s not even go THERE.

Don"t get me wrong, I"ve got nothing against variety in cosmetics and the industry"s fast paced developments. I must confess I am enticed by the wide selection that"s available. It"s just that I"m a stick-by-'em kinda gal and rather than having to go through the whole brouhaha of ooh-ing and aah-ing over the newest and latest shades/products, I prefer to stick to things I"ve tried and tested. It"s easier on the heart (not to mention the pocket) that way.
:P

My Best Friend Till Infinity and Beyond

2004-06-18T11:10:00.000+08:00

This here is my fabulously gerek gal pal: we've known each other since way back when Michael Jackson was the In thing (in the era that taste forgot). And now, she's the cure to my madness, the antidote to my lapses of insanity ...LOVE her!

Friday 18 June 2004

2004-06-18T10:21:00.000+08:00

It's retribution that's what it is. For years I've silently cringed and grimaced when people put up the peace sign automatically in photos akin to poses favoured by Hong Kong celebrtities and the like. And now....my daughter has adopted this as her Standard of Procedure for phototaking, every.single.time. Why me??!! WHYYYYY??!! ....:P sample pic of my peace-loving gal below (during a Botanic Gardens picnic last week.)

oh...oh...Monday is gonna be a big day for me and the bubba. It's her First Day of School (also known as Last Day of Freedom). And Good Mother that I am, I have made it imperative that I provide ample support and resources, for her to cope with the demands and stress that educational pursuits will undoubtedly bring......so I went out and did what any Mother would...I bought her the cutest bag. Now she's ready to face the world. :P

wish us luck for our first school day!

Thursday 17 June 2004

2004-06-17T10:13:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, I had a date with a male who's not the Darling Husband (DH). He was tall, dark and erm...purple. You guessed it, none other than the big dino known as Barney. Brought my bubba (the 3 yr old kid, not the hubby) to the Barney show and came to the realisation that:

(a) Kids are LOUD.

(b) Sewing a purple costume big as a house and forcing some poor soul into it for the purpose of entertainment is one damn good marketing strategy.

(c) Kids are LOUD.

(d) Barney creators are laughing all the way down to the bank judging by the 50m queue of people lapping up the merchandise.

(e) Kids are LOUD.

(f) Parents are LOUDER.

But in all, it was fun watching the kids have fun. My daughther's eyes grew as big as saucers when she saw Barney "live" and her smile was so huge it almost couldn't fit her face. If joy had a sound, it would be close to that of a child's pure, unadulterated laughter. I take back all that cussing under the breath when forking out the moolah to pay for the (pricey) tickets.

PS: Ata (my best fren till infinity and beyond), if you're reading this, make a mental note : when should we break the news to the kids that their purple wonder is possibly gay?! :P

Tuesday 15 June 2004

2004-06-15T12:29:00.000+08:00

Retail Therapy : U gotta Love it.

It spoke to me, it did. Just as I was about to turn on my heels and walk away, I thought I heard it whisper 'Buy me...please' and then I saw it peek forlornly from behind the assortment of bags, just begging to be lifted off the shelf. What's a gal to do?! I couldnt very well leave it there, could I?! Not when the glittering rhinestones, on the softest of mauve satin, twinkled ever so subtly as it caught the lights. It was The Mother of all Handbags and before I knew it, the cash register was being closed shut and a plastic bag with my purchase was handed to me. And then I was hit by the familiar euphoria that always comes with a wonderful purchase. Pure. Bliss.

Welcome to my world. The world where retail therapy rules and where shopping is a sixth sense. And if you think this world is small, think again. Economic uncertainties notwithstanding, the countless and almost year-round sales and the way it seems that at each and every sale, you have to jostle your way through throngs of people, is very telling as to just how many people out there love, love, love to shop, shop and oh yes baby...shop. There are Clearance sales, Opening sales, Pre-sale sales, Post-sale sales, Post-post-sale sales, No-reasons-needed-we-just-want-you-to-help-us-raise-profit margin sales; you get the picture. Believe you me, resistance is futile. It takes much less effort to, as they say, get with the programme, girlfren.

I know chances are, I am not the only shopaholic to be found within (at least) a 5-kilometres radius. Just look at the media platforms and you"ll find that be it print, virtual or broadcast avenues, there will always be a segment on shopping, usually delicious advertisements beckoning people to part with their money on things they probably do not need. In short, there definitely is a large market of consumers willing (begging even) to be cajoled into the buying phenomenon.

What is the thrill you ask? That, of course, is a rhetorical question. But for the sake of those out there who cannot comprehend the deal with shopping (yes, all three of you), I only have this to say. Lovely New Things...Yours, all Yours! It is like having your life burst into exciting technicolour after a series of safe monochromes. Its all about getting ownership of things you consider Must Haves. This term is, of course, used loosely. Meaning, it is not at all surprising that a pair of gold-plated nose tweezers can run high on someone"s list of must-haves. That is the whole beauty of the shopping game. There are absolutely no rules. Beyond that, the high that comes with getting a good deal (read: knowing some sucker paid more for the same thing) is indescribable. Shallow? Perhaps. Incredibly satisfying? You bet your ass.

These days it is all too easy to buy-in (pardon the bad pun) to the shopping experience. With the advent of technology, you could literally shop 24/7 and you need not even change out of yesterday"s clothes to do major damage to your credit card. It is that easy. A click of the mouse and you can literally hear your pockets burning holes. Online shopping has hit us in a big way and it is definitely here to stay. Virtual shopping malls, auction sites and classified ads offer a melange of global retail havens. Take for instance E-bay, that online global marketplace that's the shopaholic's nirvana. Now you don"t need to have stepped foot in another continent (heck, you don"t even need to know where it is on the map) to be able to purchase stuff from there. That whirring sound you hear is the collective "ker-ching" of cash registers around the world.

The other riveting thing about shopping is, there will never be a situation where you can say, "I'm done. There's no more shopping to be done forevermore." No sirree bob, there is simply no such thing as there is nothing more to buy. Think about it. In the arena of self-ornamentation alone, there are clothes, shoes and accessories…and these conjure images of vast and copious mountains of things. Add houseware, educational, travel stuff. In short, virtually anything can be an excuse for shopping. Even life transforming events such as getting married or having a baby are the best excuses EVER to go shopping (weight gain/loss is the other perfect excuse). And by the time you get to the bottom of the list, the fashion industry"s fickle trends mean there are newer, trendier items just in and so the glorious cycle begins again.
Shopping is thus the best all-purpose medicine. If you're feeling down, you cheer yourself up with (buying) something nice. If you"re feeling on top of the world, shopping helps celebrate your joy. Now how versatile is that? Is it just me or do you also hear strains of "It"s a Wonderful World" in the background?! :P

_________________________________________

Monday 14 June 2004

2004-06-14T14:34:00.000+08:00

Some people have bad hair days. I have Bad Hair, period. It would not be a gross exaggeration to say I have straw for hair (and this is being kind). And I have but one goal where hair care is concerned: to have wash-and-wear hair and to be able to swish my hair in the wind without ending up looking like I had just been electrocuted.

To make my hair more manageable, I have been relaxing and rebonding my hair for the past six years. So you can imagine my hair has been protesting the years of exposure to chemical treatments. But I have callously refused to hear their protests, choosing instead to pretend it's normal to go around with what resembles a broom atop of the head (I bet in some cultures it is considered pretty babelicious to have wiry hair...:P). But to appease the follicles somewhat, I try my best to find suitable hair products that will prevent further damage, if not improve its condition. So I shampoo-hop in a quest to find the perfect shampoo (cos I die-die want to stick to over the counter products. Feel free to call me a cheapskate). With chemically treated hair it is usually recommended that you use special shampoos and conditioners that work wonders blah blah blah. All well and good but these burn a hole in your pocket the size of a small island, not to mention having to go to specific hair salons to restock. And it is thus no surprise that my hair has gone from stubborn to berserk. ah well...at least there's still hair on my head, I say, so I have to be thankful for that. :P

But the quest for No More Hair Drama still continues....so if anyone has any good hair products to recommend, do holler. With my has-a-mind-of-its-own-hair, finding a good shampoo and conditioner is abt as easy as finding someone over 30 at a boy-band concert. sighhhhhhh.......

Sunday 13 June 2004

2004-06-13T14:44:00.000+08:00

I am loving this blogging thingamajig. And lotsa credit must go to my tres' cute and lovely cousins, Ira and Nadia (see pics below: ain't they both gorgeous??!!), for egging me on (cos NONE of my frens are into this blogging thing. They all went "Huh??!! Why?!" So it's a practically a solo start into the blog world journey for moi...)...and Ira esp for handholding me thru'out the process. You both the best lah cayangs...MUACKS!!!Html Tag

Sunday 13 June 2004

2004-06-13T02:00:00.000+08:00

Today I am reminded of how diggity dang cute children can be. Really, kids do say the darndest things! During our bedtime chat today, my daughter asked me why I did not follow her and and my hubby out to buy ice cream, to which I replied it was cos I had a headache. She then pondered for a few seconds before saying with an oh-so-ernest face: Mama, when I grow up, I want to be a Dental Surgeon and a Princess. After I finish that, I will become a Doctor, so I can make your headache go away, ok Mama? AAAAAWWWWWW I literally heard violins playing in the background, that was how touched I was. :P To all Mothers out there: children are worth every ounce of mind-searing pain of childbirth, would'nt you agree? :)

Saturday 12 June 2004

2004-06-12T23:26:00.000+08:00

Bliss...I have decided to declare today as A Lazy Day. I avoided doing anything more strenous than blinking and breathing. Hubby, daughter and I had an absolutely sluggish day watching back-to-back movies and cartoons...I know...know...hardly role-model-parent type of behaviour but hey, it's the weekend, it's hot outside...so between jostling with crowds and having some quality family time (with snacks within arms reach), it was no contest. Family, TV and food...what's not to like??!!
By evening the sluggish fatique set in so we figured we'd better get off our butts and go socialise before we turn to stone. So we wrapped up the evening with some fun (extended) family time with my siblings (see pic one) and aunts (see pic 2)....

Friday 11 June 2004

2004-06-11T14:56:00.000+08:00

Today's Saving/Spending Tally:

Saved
Breakfast = slept in : saved at least 3 bucks
Lunch = leftovers from last night's dinner, worked in during lunch :saved at least $5 on food...God knows how much on impulse shopping cos there's a sale every 10 m in Orchard Road.

Spent
Transport = the big ole' red and white bus $1.13
Pink strappy shoes (they were on sale, they"re pink..."nuff said) = $19

Not too bad: my wallet's not groaning in despair yet....but it's still early in the day...and damn that Baby Phat bag I saw at ebay was cute...:P

UPDATE : I caved and bought not one...but TWO Baby Phat bags (sheepish grin). I have no self control whatsoever. Shhh....dun tell The Hubby...:P

Friday 11 June 2004

2004-06-11T13:42:00.000+08:00

Just finished a whole bar of Crunchie chocolate and man.. I feel the guilt trip coming up just abt anytime now. Sometimes I wonder why it"s almost instinctive that I feel somewhat guilty when I eat sinfully delish stuff (not that it's ever stopped me from eating them anyway, mind). Then it hit me that that"s the unspoken pressure society imposes upon us. Slim = Beautiful. I mean look, the fashion world is run by stick insects (only thinner) and "Absolutely FLABulous" is hardly a fashion slogan. So today will be my Celebrate Your Body, Cellulite and All Day...here's a little something I think many can relate with. Feel free to share your thots! :)******

Come on, "fess up. Haven"t you, perhaps subconsciously even, "waited to exhale" (read: sucked in your tummy) when you are about to make an entrance, in case critical eyes are going to appraise you? Or tsk tsk-ed, raved and ranted in front of your wardrobe, dramatically proclaiming you have nothing to wear because everything makes you look fat? And don"t you just HATE dressing rooms with multiple mirrors that reflect your image from every angle possible and scream out that you even have cellulite behind your knees?

We"ve all been there. Well, at least us mere mortals who do not relish eating a total of three lettuce leaves for breakfast, lunch AND dinner. Sure, there are amongst us who do not have to recoil in shock at their (body) reflections but my bet is most women border on obsession when it comes to weight.

Look around you and chances are, you"d sooner find a low cal Big Mac than a woman totally and absolutely secure with her body size and shape. And it really doesn"t help when advertisements, with the same warning tones reserved for say, the threat of aliens overtaking earth, proclaim that if one does not subject oneself to slimming treatments, one"s tummy will, be warned earthlings, bulge when one sits. Okaaaaay. Correct me if I"m wrong but unless you're Robocop (ie. part machine, part fiction), you"re bound to have folding flesh, no? As if that was not bad enough, celebrities also endorse the rake thin beauty image with comments of "I was fat, but after losing 8 pounds, I don"t have to hide anymore", while twirling to reveal a concave tummy and bony limbs. As if! Like losing 8 pounds (which is probably the weight of your feet) can transform you from Fat to Fab. So if she was considered fat before, the rest of us above a size 4 would be, haha, considered obese and should walk around with paper bags on our heads?! Hands up those who do not find this the least bit amusing.

So long story short, I have developed a coping mechanism for the fat pressure. I could try to lose the weight, obviously. But well, that takes way too much effort and I"m not sure it"s worth the stress (plus get real...like I could stop eating chocolates and ice cream...these are practically my staples). I"ve instead decided to be more forgiving of the way my body looks (I"d like to think it"s a sign of maturity). I read somewhere a woman"s metabolism decreases with age so, hey, you can"t fight science and hope to win can you? Plus, I"ve found an absolutely convenient silver lining. THIS is THE perfect excuse to shop. So when I gain weight I just buy bigger clothes and this time I can say I NEED new clothes without lying through my teeth. Great, no? :P

Tuesday 8 June 2004

2004-06-08T14:07:00.000+08:00

FACT : I shop way too much. FACT : Have been trying not to impulse shop. FACT : I now buy things only if I reeeeeeaaaaalllllyyy LURVE/need them : the can't-live-withouts. FACT : I still shop way too much. **** So I have awakened the flintskint in me and resolved to put in place saving strategies. Some saving tips to share:

1. Taxis, bad, Buses/MRT, good. Feet, better.
2. Home-cooked food will still taste as good the next day : put that tupperware to good use and tapau food to work.
3. I don't need 30 black pants. 25 will do just fine.
4. I have bad hair / bad hair days all the time anyway so over-the-counter hair products are good enough.
5. Powder is powder. It's hardly rocket science so whatever brand (of make-up) that does the job will do. *******

Wish me luck in my saving quest...:)

Monday 7 June 2004

2004-06-07T16:18:00.000+08:00

Excerpt of an online chat with my best "long-lost" gurlfren who I just hooked up with again....sure do miss yakking with her:

ME : hulo! hulo! hulo! (sheepish, sheepish grin)....everyday, I vow to get in touch with you and everyday, something more pressing comes along to occupy my frazzled mind..and I (sheepish-er grin) forget.. Not that it's indicative of the value of your friendship, mind you....oh I dun know....it sorta became a habit to not keep in touch...(sheepish-est grin).

thank God you occupy my list of galpals who are out-of-sight-but-never-out-of-mind-and-and-can-pick-up-where-we-left-off-like-we-never-left.

FREN : hey, your forgetfulness could be indicative of premature Alzheimer's though. have you checked? what excuses!! stew, stew in your guilt!! (pouts) and u call urself a fren...hmm..lucky I like u so u're forgiven... ok..update on my life: am unemployed (hated the office politics) so am being an accidental tai-tai.

ME : did someone say "stew"??!! hmm...my only interpretation of that word (foodie that I am) is yummm...with beef and potatoes??! double yumm....:P

U're unemployed u say? Hey...I would'nt call ur current state "unemployment"...I'd say it's more "in between jobs", or "assesing possibilities", or "expanding your horizons" or "soul searching" or "extended sabbatical" or "research process
in leisure"...but not unemployed...never....it's all a matter of perspective ain't it? :P

FREN : note: this is not a "perspective" scenario. clearly you have not grasped the concept, after all these years. sigh...

but man, your language skills have improved...you must be good at your job!! (grin)

ME : ah well....doing what I do best....being long-winded and disguising the lack of actual substance by prettying it with lots of words....hehheh...

hey, you are quite the techie these days eh? I was impressed to bits when u revealed that (revered silence) you use the PDA as a e-book to read on the bus....impressive... I'm still using my goode ole pen and paper to record appointemnts, and even THAT I sometimes botch up...haha.

okie..my work update: work is boring with a capital B.O.R.I.N.G. Just dun tell my boss that cos well..I have an image to uphold. And my work persona is such that if you look at me at work, you'd think it was the love of my life and I was being paid 3 million dollars and that compiling loads of reports give me orgasms each time. Yeah........I've gotten to be that good an actress....watodo...it's a rice bowl that I can't afford to break.

What keeps me going is of course that little tyke at home. She's growing fast and is getting to be very enjoyable to interact with (read: less blank
stares and much less drool). Superficial as it may sound, one of the greatest pleasures she gives me is, you gueseed it, shopping for her baby stuff....you can tell I'm not going to win any "Mother of the Year" awards any time soon eh? So yes...another reason why I need to work...:P

FREN : my lips are sealed. your secret is safe with me, my friend. i promise not to tell your baby until she's 18. ditto for ur boss.

oh ya...must tell yu...just completed my Graduate Diploma in Psychology. want to do a counselling course next. will try not to get too used to the tai-tainess and go job-a-hunting...any day now. will let u know when I'll finally get off my butt to do some job seraching. till then, know any switched-off job that pays really well? :P Ok...sorry dahleeng...I think something's burning in the oven...gotta go...man I miss these little chats of ours. will call you later to confirm our outing plans. Till then, love ya, love ya, love ya...Muah!

ME : yeah! can't wait...it really has been tooooooo long...c ya galpal! MUACKS too!

Saturday 5 June 2004

2004-06-05T18:22:00.000+08:00

It is with some excitement that I write this maiden posting...FINALLY...me, the bona fide technophobe has managed to overcome her phobia of anything that involves lotsa buttons and wires and codes....and set up a blog (shy smile). So this here is a significant milestone in my cyber journey....