Wednesday, February 28, 2007

this week

i ought to feel like a sack of potatoes.

past two days were spent moving labeled boxes, shifting tables, tvs and beds, rearranging furnitures, cleaning the stove and fridge, washing bed sheets – but still very much unsettled. the separation anxiety from being 3000 miles away from home and trump while living up to being a decent, hygienic house-mate manifest from the lack of personal space and privacy in this heavily cluttered common area to the stairs and bedroom. as if matters aren’t complicated enough, being virtually disabled without a transport at my call, i have flyers meant for the school bulletins; a long list of furniture for sale and the need to reclaim items from a certain someone – not a propitious social predicament since the falling out. and the timetable for this semester’s modules is cruelly crippling my weekdays.

regardless of all things bad happening,

  1. my favourite Japanese restaurant is just across the street and nando’s will be opening downstairs!
  2. I have a chic pool with the city view
  3. a well-equipped gym – no excuse for sloth
  4. convenience store and asian supermarket are two streets away
  5. a local old bookstore worth exploring
i'm not going anywhere for now.

fuck at 6:10 PM

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summer time

this time, unlike, previous returns from summer/winter vacations, there wasn’t anyone to look forward to. only this time, knowing it’s my final year, without the exception of tearful goodbyes and hugs – as if subconsciously agreed upon, that i’ll be back soon enough. to tell the truth, i could get use to this – traveling and living in 2 different places, allowing time for myself to luxuriate in solitude and self-loving, a recess for prolonged bad karma/aura accumulated in one place.

summer holidays are supposed to be like this. or maybe not entirely, but close.

thank you all for buying me my virgin strip. i mean it.

that 20mins of intense bodily pain with tension surrounding the lower body almost had me convinced to give up childbirth and breast-feeding totally, to pull up my pants, leaving strip partially deforested beneath. intolerable, brazilian wax is. if you are conjuring the image of an uncultured virgin waxer, i did not curse or swear, surprisingly, which i may have forgotten how to in the midst of frantic activity below. my therapist, quite unlike chia’s, did not make the extra effort in calming my pre-brazilian jitters, but rather selfishly hurried in prying ass cracks and labias like i do with my lovely chicken thighs – decongesting the inner muscles from the yellowish semi-solid organic compounds. imagine prying labias for a living – no wonder neoahma decided against being a gynecologist. the aftermath was a lingering numbness. it wasn’t until i needed to pee did it occur to me that i look pubescent once more and strip did a smooth job! so, do not believe your therapist if they say you will get used to the pain. if it’s going to be a monthly affair, i wish you luck to both your coochie and your pocket.

i have learnt to appreciate Vietnam in her cyptic chaotic state but pity we have yet to sip viet coffee from the gong bought from dong (hah! onomatopoeic) together. if only the trip was a few days longer, and the absence of my d-i-a-r-r-h-o-e-a would have simplified matters. nonetheless, sim remains vietnam’s prospective daughter-in-law!

i crowned diya, my diva of 2007.

i love peilin for her quirkiness, linyan for her boldness and all long-lost and new found friends. i’m so glad to be remembered.

from the love of exotic middle-east cuisine and belly dancing, verbally disabled travels while relying on sim’s misleading sign language, paparazzi scoops, pretty canele cakes, being browhaus’s regulars, adoring anna sui’s collection to private ktv concerts, i love you all.


thank you. for a summer holiday like this.

fuck at 3:02 AM

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Sunday, February 11, 2007

if only

agatha, you're right! if only he's donald trump. if only.

fuck at 6:10 PM

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morning after

i woke up feeling that i have aged terribly, certainly not a 22 year-old. muscles aching, neck aching, head spinning - not from a hangover, but i was still drunk with the love, laughter, faces and food (or lack thereof). not only the baby stole the limelight from me, the marinated beef steaks and char-grilled pork ribs were cleanly swept. nice to know trump is a gourmet chef or a kitchen god-in-the-making, so i think.

10feb is anything but special, especially when i have to share it with the headline hogging tabloid princess; anna nicole smith as featured in Life!, her larger than life media presence in semi-celebrity status and questionable death. yes, tragic.

10feb, 4 days before valentine's and a week before festive feasting season. this is when diamonds advertorials and spring sales come in full coloured pages. yes, i get gong xi fa cai greetings on my birthday, less than tragic.

10feb aside, last king of scotland is a brilliant film, so get on to the oscar roll now!

fuck at 12:24 AM

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