My mp3s. Loud. To keep my voyeuristic neighbours in the next block from falling asleep on their feet. It must get rather boring looking at me stare into my computer screen.

And in today's news

Now, here's something to put you frisky bunnies in the mood for love. AND it's nationally sanctioned foreplay that won't get you in trouble with the law.

Under the new censorship guidelines adopted by the Media Development Authority of Singapore, allowing sexually depraved, I mean, deprived Singaporeans, to watch more "uncut movies", the previously circumcised Love Actually returns to our big screens with an entire ten minutes of fore-scenes reattached: "In three scenes, the two characters have to deal with the contradiction of getting to know each other while working completely naked on a movie set."

The aptly named sneak previews - nobody wants to be seen on national television in the company of other depraved, I mean, deprived Singaporeans - are next weekend. Mass ejaculations into the hormonal hordes will start on 12 February, in time for Valentine's Day.

This is. Just. So. Retarded.

Et cetera

The Odd Couple. Excellent production and witty dialogue. (Sorry, no scenes - fore or postcoital - of depravation here.)

"Let's go to the zoo, there's lots of things to do..." Anyone wanna take a day off to hang out at the polar bear pool?


Safri Duo Episode II.

The monkeys are listening

It was ten in the morning. At a time when most people would already be hard at work replying to personal emails, or sharpening their private collection of airborne weaponry designed for minimal detection and maximum impact, I found myself at the foot of an escalator that didn't have to pretend to be working, since most of the shops hadn't opened yet.

Force-marched up two flights of the escalator, and in my fancy pointy-toed heels at that, I must have sounded like an approaching horde of goblin war drums in the relative quiet of the shopping centre. Pray tell how else could people standing behind glass walls, hear me coming from 25 metres away? As soon as I stepped off the escalator at my floor, and walked towards the dental clinic, they turned from their innocuously casual chatting positions at the reception to observe my 25-metre walk down Death Row Alley. They must have found it all terribly amusing, because they had the kind of infectious smile that wouldn't go away - the kind that you wanted to Lysol off their transfixed faces. And, so intent in whatever it was that they found so amusing, neither of the gentlemen offered to open the door for the lady as she arrived for her appointment.

Is there an ethical code against dentists whose appointment books double up as "Coming Attractions" and who look at their clinic's patients like they were the Pizza Hut delivery box?

Your slip is showing

A certain publisher: "... Yes, it's our pressure to meet up with you next week..."

Me trying to be cute: "... Looking forward to the pleasure of meeting you too. BTW, no need to feel pressure :-)"


Today, in 1963.

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."
- Robert Frost (1874-1963)

Culled from Eve:
"... what a slender thread all happiness depends on. To know the future would not be a blessing but a curse. Life would be unlivable without the innocence of our ignorance."

Why I wanna be my dog

[1] He gets to nuzzle himself back to sleep in the rain while I stumble around the house, making sure I've got all four limbs with me before I leave for work, resisting the urge to curl up on the couch with him.
[2] You can't deny those beautiful brown beseeching blinkers - I let him lick my ice-cream cup clean.

How could you not fall in love with this?

Idle thoughts

He's a funny guy in person and it was a parody with potential. But this time, his pen didn't serve him as well. It's a pity to see a good idea fizzle out because of impatient writing and ink blots. (But it's not for me to "prune" unless invited to.)

How many of us can confidently say that we WILL do things differently if given a chance to turn the clock back? Since it's a simple choice between X or Y, how difficult can it be? But you see, they don't call it HINDsight for nothing - you ain't got no HINDsight when you're in the middle of it all. Sometimes, lessons are meant to be learnt.

Today's news

All hail the King!

Phwoar! They allow THIS but not Sex and the City in local media???

0500 hours

Tomb Raider II Soundtrack.

How quirkyalone are you?
"Your score was 93. Very quirkyalone: Relatives may give you quizzical looks, and so may friends, but you know in your heart of hearts that you are following your inner voice. Though you may not be romancing a single person, you are romancing the world. Celebrate your freedom on National Quirkyalone Day, February 14th!"

Sunday. Already??? The good things always end too soon.

"Don't try to fix me I'm not broken"
- Evanescence

Listening to the rain.

Itching, shedding, evolving

Ten years down the road, he's still the same person I knew and remembered. The poetry's still good. The wit's still there. So are the books - the same old books.

Ten minutes into his enthusiastic account of the books that he thought I should read and would like (since he liked them too), I was actually B.O.R.E.D. In a surreal OBE moment, his chatter faded into a wordless buzz, and I found myself standing at the side of the table. Watching. Thinking. Evaluating.

Ten years down the road, I'm not quite the same person ten years ago. Heck, I'm not even quite the same person I knew one and a half years ago.

Somewhere in those ten years, I had taken a few detours. I don't think he realises this. Even I didn't know this myself.

When he brought along "The Celestine Prophecy", something different from the usual, and found the eager student turned impatient teacher, there was a momentary flash of surprise, then confusion, yes confusion - too quickly dissolved into more star-gazing; too blind to see. He hinted the book would bring us together; would make me see it wasn't just a serendipitous coincidence that our SMS had collided on Christmas Eve. (How strange that our encounters have centred around SMS coincidences.) The irony is that the book showed me how similar, and yet different, we are now.

When I saw the familiar adoration in his eyes - the same that I used to cast in his direction from my little corner in the computer lab ten years ago - while I could feel mine narrowing in barely suppressed irritation, I knew that the verdict was out on this one.

He's like the Dragonlance and Belgariad I have outgrown.

Sometimes, I wonder if the EX-communicated had outgrown me too.

"i never knew why
something so beautiful
is tainted with transience;
unapologetic even.
the magic's gone."

I'm becoming very comfortable with my current state, and even possessive about time spent alone.

Will I ever outgrow love too?

"What is the worst of woes that wait on age?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
To view each loved one blotted from life's page.
And be alone on earth, as I am now."
- Lord Byron (1788 - 1824)

And in today's news

What happens when the frozen dinner you're spending the night with isn't what it appears to be?

DIAMOND Jon??? Cute. Heh.

The Wizard - Part II

The final instalment of "Flirting with Customer Support for Dummies".

[Friday night...]

Not a problem. It was the sugur on top that did it for me. Your password is [censored]. Hope you're going to mention how great i am on your site!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Regards, Jonathan Whitby, Web Wizard

[A minute later...]

By the way there's nothing wrong with flirting and i do have a face!!!! Regards, Jonathan Whitby, Full Faced Web Wizard

[A few hours later...]

Dear Whitby Baby, you are the GREATEST! Another Satisfied Customer.

ROFL!!! Couldn't resist the rhyme. By the way, I'm not normally this way with the Customer Support. I blame the monkeys.

Today's reads

" stimuli can alter the adult brain's structure..." There is still hope for my feeble brain! Heh!

Taxi drivers have bigger brains?

Lesson on punctuation

A: "really seems like a girl's blog, wat with bras and breasts and all"

Okaaay... that wasn't quite the reaction I expected when A read Re-minisce. Perhaps, I missed something... there's a lot of older entries that I've not read. Still, people are entitled to their quirks and fetishes... like Mr Steve Chia... and nobodies like you and I... errr...

Turned out that I did miss something - the hyphen in the URL. Laugh!

Blessing in disguise

Because I'm already on an existing promotion - two months of free access at S$56 x 2, I don't qualify for the free S$349 Xbox, which A has been bugging me to sign up for. Oh well.

Between more work for the same pay, hanging out with SF, terrorising fellow commuters on the train, writing, MSN chats, and spending time with family and dogs, I don't think I could possibly survive on even less sleep, without morphing into the Bastard Admin Lady at work again.

The Wizard - Part I

[Thursday night...]

You're very welcome sexy. Are the comments worknig properly now??? Please say yes. Regards, Jonathan Whitby, Wonderful Web Wizard

[Friday morning...]

Yesss. But I still need that forgotten password for my account - when I feel like changnig the settnigs for my comments. Please help me??? Pretty please with sugar on top???

Must... not... flirt... with... faceless... customer... support...


HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR! Be good. The monkeys are listening. OoOok! Heh.

(Source: The Internet)

I like


Not having to think about work for four whole days.

Blading with Xena, who managed to keep up. I'm so proud of my Warrior Puppy :-D

The cake

Female February 2004: "What constitutes a bad date defining moment?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Circa August 2002. British Film Festival.

It was one of those dates on pretext; a date that shouldn't have been - for so many reasons.

She had just broken up with her first love after six years; the soulmate; the one she wanted to marry. But she couldn't - because she wasn't the one he wanted. As a moment's weakness was unravelled, half-truth by half-truth, she was left counting the pieces of her life in her broken hands, until they overflowed with her crying eyes, into the nothingness of lost dreams.

He has always been there - a friend, who she exchanged banter, poetry and books with. It has been ten years since she, an impressionable freshman then, finally met the face behind his popular online persona, and followed his self-assured strut into the computer lab. She has always had a thing for thinkers and poets, and found herself harbouring a minor crush on the older man (amidst bigger crashes along the way). They lost touch after she graduated, and she was caught up with work and the new man in her life. But she kept fond memories, and attended occasional gatherings. After one of these, on a whim, she re-established regular contact with him. She missed the poetry and books; and she was curious. This time around, it wasn't just the poetry and books, he also confided his crushes and relationships.

So, he was also there (as were all her closest friends), when she needed a listening ear, a male perspective, and the eventual break-up in July 2002. Then, he suggested the British Film Festival for the weekend, to keep her mind off her troubles. She agreed, uneasily - she had suspicions, but would not accuse her friend of being an opportunist. As the festival neared, his true feelings showed through his friendly overtures, unusually persistent, and the fear in her took shape and substance. As the tickets were already booked for two nights, she couldn't back out of what was beginning to look more and more like a "pretext date". Then, he wanted to have dinner with her on his birthday, just a few days before the festival, and she declined. He was sorely disappointed - too much so. And her fear unsettled her further, at a time when her emotions were still a raw mess and she was barely able to hold herself together for the practical demands of daily living.

She doesn't know when things began to change, but she remembers the poems he showed her had turned wistful. And there were the strange Sandman dolls on her birthday - Morpheus and Daniel. When she confided in the love that wasn't to be, who she met before Christmas in 2002 to pass him a last gift, he observed wryly that it had been at least a year, even while they were still together.

When the weekend finally arrived - too soon for her, not soon enough for him - she pleaded work commitments and barely fended off a persistent invitation for lunch and dinner before the movie. She pulled on a simple long-sleeved top and jeans, and wore her black-rimmed school teacher glasses, hoping to deter any amorous intentions. (It didn't deter the cab driver, who spent the trip trying to find out what she was doing and if she was meeting her boyfriend. Ta1 ma1 de4.)

She arrived just five minutes before the movie, and he presented her with The Alchemist, which she hadn't been able to get, but he managed to find a copy at a second-hand bookshop. The movie itself was without event, though she suffered a stiff back from maintaining her posture at a defensive angle, AND a headache from sharing breathing space with the woman on her left, who happened to be having a mild case of halitosis that night. After the movie, he wanted to hang around, and she obliged with a coffee. She didn't have to stay long because her friends had strategised a midnight movie on the other side of the island, which gave her an excuse to leave way before midnight. Still, the walk along the dark streets, and the long wait at the deserted bus-stop was nerve-wrecking, as she constantly kept a bag between them and fidgeted compulsively with her phone.

After he sent her off on her train, she settled down in relief, the frantic butterflies still in her stomach, and quickly updated her friends. To one of them, she thumbed this SMS:

"Kor! I survived! I met him as late as I could, and left as early as I could. And I kept my hands to myself!"

The pretext date sent an SMS to check on her too.

Click [SEND]

[SENDING MESSAGE] Oh...wait...frantic thumbing at the cancellation button.


In a world where a parallel reality of star-crossed coincidences and bittersweet parodies exists, the curtain rods came crashing down.

* * * * * * * * * *

NO. There are no prizes for guessing who the girl with the bad thumb was.

YES. There is a sequel - the force is strong in this one.

If you think you have a story that deserves the cake, I'll be happy to send you one. Chocolate, anyone?

Why I should not talk behind a wizard's back

[Tuesday night...]

I'm working on it my dear. Can you give me until the end of the day?? Without being sarky?????? Thanks. Regards, Jonathan Whitby, Super Web Wizard.

[Wednesday morning...]

Dear Wonderful Wizard Whitby, THANK YOU :-) Unsarkily yours, [censored]

Wizards are omniscient beings. (The term should have been "guai lan" - but I wonder if they're multilingual too.)

The day that I shall stop writing

I was curious why A was not impressed with a local motoring editor even though the latter seemed to get a lot of jobs. He said that what makes a writer stand out is his "signature" - a distinctive style that identifies him; for instance, Philip K Dick's signature in Blade Runner and Minority Report. He also thought that Peter Jackson should be given an Oscar for his faithful adapation of Lord of the Rings, which was certainly no easy task with Tolkien's tight story-telling. You have to admire the amount of self-control needed to not take the easy way out, which would be to leech the story of its essence, and then re-tell it YOUR way. I imagine, too, the immense respect that Jackson must have for Tolkien's work, that he did not allow his ego or lack of discipline to affect its adaptation.

SF once described someone's blog as "self-indulgent" basking; writing for the readers. It got me thinking about respect for our own writing, and ourselves.

I don't follow many blogs. Some, I read to keep up with what my friends are doing. Some, I read for their witty take on people and life. And, once in a long while, I find the ones that call to me. These, I read - for the words. These, I savour - for the dreamer in the words. These, I breathe - for the soul in the dreamer.

Do you remember the scene in Return of the King, when Sam Pippin lit the first signal fire in Minas Tirith, awakening a restless ripple of flames across the amazing panorama of verdant plains and snow-covered mountains? That's kinda how I feel.

I have neither the ease nor finesse with which these writers wield their words. But I like to think that, at the very least, I write for myself. (Well, most of the time.)

But should the day come, when I become "self-indulgent", I hope you will be kind enough to let me know.

Because when that day is here, when I no longer write for myself, I shall stop writing. Or I will surely kill the dreamer inside of me.


[Saturday afternoon...]

Hi, I'm having problems accessing the password change form for my account [censored]. Please, could you help? I think the email account I used should be this one here - [censored]. Thanks! [censored]

[Monday night...]

Hi, What is it you're trying to do??? Regards, Jonathan Whitby, Web Wizard

[Monday night still...]

Dear Wizard Whitby, I was trying to delete one of the comments posted - it's listed as one of the functions supported, I believe? Regards, [censored]

Must... not... be... sarky... to... the... customer... support... resist... resist...

Red light special

So, you drive and one of your pet peeves is the road hog that won't give way. What's it with these people? Don't they realise that you have a beautiful wife and children who you are rushing home to have dinner with, prepared by your equally pleasing and multi-purpose foreign domestic worker, who is also the occasional and willing subject of your roving photographer's eye?

Now, we all know:

[1] Horning ain't gonna work. Every car has a horn - what's so special about yours?

[2] Ditto your middle finger. Every anatomically standard human hand has one - what's so special about yours? The exception to this being that, if your trigger-happy finger succeeds in starting a street brawl, which provides some interesting before dinner entertainment for the other drivers rushing home to their beautiful families, and which also provides the conditions for your offending digit to undergo a life-changing experience of orthopaedic proportions, then yes, thereafter, you could most certainly lay claim to having a middle finger that people would pay special attention to.

Obviously, aggression is not the solution.

Take it from a local dignitary's convoy, whose surreptitious presence in the heavy 7.30pm traffic was only made known by the flashing red lights filling up the rear view mirror of A's car. After the convoy passed, there was even an LED display that ran F...U...C...K... no, no, what I meant was T...H...A...N...K...Y...O...U!

Yeah, courtesy pays. Especially when it's done in style. Take it from our classy leaders.

I eat

Wham Burger at Turf City. Yum.


The mourning after.

Footprints in the sand

15 - Removed.

By Order of His Majesty.

Monkey balls

No dicks. No balls. Not even a miserable pimple of a nipple on the bare chests of the upright monkeys. They sure didn't look like very happy monkeys to me. In fact, they looked so eerily asexual, flaunting their creaseless crotches, that I thought of Michael Jackson. I wonder whatever happened to the people who gave the billy goats their pride and joy last year.


Each day, I go through the irksome routine of clearing spam from my personal mailbox; on average, 50 a day. While it's easy enough to pick out the regular people who email me, I sometimes wonder about missing genuine emails. This is all thanks to the men out there who are not satisfied with the size of their dicks, or need help getting it up, or have turned to online voyeurism because the newly married bunnies in the opposite block have been getting more headaches lately. So, subject headers which contain the following keywords: sex, penis, enlarge, viagra, lonely, help, and the list goes on, are trashed without a second look. Even the seemingly innocuous ones like 'hi', 're', and 'no subject heading' are not spared, though I do spot-checks, just in case. The same goes for anything that comes from 'sexy' female names like Tiffany or Amber, or ang moh names - since I don't have any ang moh friends.


Stumbled onto this, which explained his presence here on 4 January.

"And now I've forgotten the URL. A transient brush in passing in cyberspace... lost to the mists of time. I... can't help but feel regret. I recall the site, it had a picture of a girl taken from the back sitting on a beach. and a lot of words. I don't know what the picture of the girl was all about, but the words charmed."

"Faces chance across boundaries
Our touching fingers are strangers
Sharing intimate moments"

Meanwhile, his take on 15 December - blogging for the love of it, is why I'll be making his site a regular read.

As for the 'picture of the girl', it means naught - except that SF has a good eye for photography ;-) (And we continue to be fascinated by the interesting 'messages' that people read into the photo.)


Am reminded of an encounter way back in September 1996. I was recuperating in the National University Hospital, and feeling glum. My jaw was wired shut, and attached to tubes that drained blood into two glass canisters, which I had to carry with me everywhere I went. The other patients in the ward (C Class) were really old and very ill - they were admitted conscious, got wheeled into the OT within a day or two, and then returned unconscious and barely alive. In their waking moments, I would feel their hungry eyes on me with every breath I took. I wasn't even spared from the curious looks of their families and visitors who wondered about the relatively healthy young woman.

One morning, after yet another frustrating sleepless night, I tried to read a Terry Pratchett book (can't remember which one) when a group of doctors came by on their ward rounds. As they reviewed the patient in the next bed, one of them looked over and commented that Pratchett was a good read. I remember being pleasantly surprised as I didn't know many people then who were into the guy.

My preciousss

In my sick little way, I find Gollum totally adorable, especially when he's being schizo.

Ménage à trois

Seeing as to how anal I can be about drawing a line between business and pleasure, was surprised at how methodically I went about 'picking up' a business contact today. During the 'requisite' small talk to wrap up our second meeting, I found out that she was hoping to pick up diving and I invited her to partner me for a beginner's course with Mako next month.

Have also accepted her invitation to a S H H Harriets' run, essentially a social club, and will bring SF along.

Come to think of it, getting a dive partner for the beginner's course (everyone else I would go with had already gotten their licences) wasn't the only motivation. I was drawn to the fragrance she was using, and the way she broke into her happy smiles, with her eyes crinkling into smokey crescent moons and her slightly crooked teeth giving her that cute Japanese pop star look.

Meanwhile, have been invited to make up a "sexy threesome" (am feeling anything BUT with my face looking like roadkill) for a theme night at Post Bar. Am going with SF and another friend. My only consolation is that it'll be DARK at the bar. Heh.

(Yah. Yah. Yah. Last I checked, I AM still heterosexual. And I don't expect the men to understand this.)

Changing roles

I remember conversations when mum would consult dad about household purchases, starting with how a certain item was no longer working, and then the cost of a repair or replacement. This morning, she 'consulted' me on the replacement of the filter in the vacuum cleaner, which would cost about $40. I said to replace it. And she said, "OK, I'll get it." - which is code speak for she'll get it and I'll pay for it. Not that I mind. Realised it has been like this for the last two years, especially after the dogs came along; have been paying for most of their expenses too - excluding snacks and toys that the others buy to 'treat' the dogs. Incidentally, the big purchases are shared.

Itching, shedding, evolving

Literally. The topical medication for my acne is making my neck itch, and there are now deep lines where the moisture has been sucked out.


Recently, TNP reported on a group of women who were molested during the New Year Day's bash in Orchard Road. A female colleague commented, scathingly, that they deserved it, as she looked at the interview photo of one of the women - strategically angled and then cropped to allow maximum appreciation of her covered breasts in a spaghetti-strap top, by the good people at TNP. Sheesh. (I guess comments like this hit close to home - I wear my fair share of 'revealing' tops.)

Well, this follow-up report sums up my opinion, and restores my faith in balanced journalism:

"...And yet, psychiatrists say gropers and other sexual predators don't always prey on those who are scantily clad. Some go for easy targets, like young girls who may not know how to react to their advances. Other opportunistic ones go for those under their charge. In other words, sexy dressing is not necessarily a factor, though it could play a part. At the end of the day, where a man's hands stray depends on him and to use an increasingly liberal pop culture as an excuse is just that - an excuse." (The New Paper. 12 January 2004.)

Lean on me

He boarded the train with the after-work crowd and did the Nod & Jerk routine soon after he sat down. I wasn't too bothered (even though he was nodding in my direction) because I was preoccupied with Lord of the Flies, and alternating between eavesdropping on and exchanging looks with the cute guy seated opposite (that was until I noticed his thick, gold wedding band). Fortunately too, Mr N&J had a nice cologne so I didn't mind that we were sharing a very intimate breathing space.

That was until Mr N&J fell asleep on me. The passengers opposite me were amused (including the cute guy), possibly for the following reasons:
[1] It's always amusing to watch a sleepy head crash land on another passenger's shoulder (or lap, as the case might be if said sleepy head has poor landing skills); and
[2] Mr N&J was a BIG man.

I waited for about five seconds...'Houston, we have a problem.' As I didn't fancy having the blood supply to the right side of my body cut off, I turned my head s.l.o.w.l.y. to look at Mr N&J, and then jump-started his stalled engine with a very hard jerk. He woke up and apologised. I muttered, "It's OK." He remained upright and wide awake until we both got off at Raffles Place.


Took a day off to sleep in late, and then visited the Body Worlds. More than the interesting exhibits (there was actually a specimen, otherwise 'ordinary', with an extra digit on each hand and foot, which I only noticed when the date pointed it out), I savoured the quiet and calm of the mid-day train ride, and the mostly empty courtyards and hallways of the Singapore Expo - the daily demands of practical living just seemed so far away.

Today's reads

Merriam-Webster's Words of the Year 2003, based on online look-ups: democracy, quagmire, quarantine, matrix, marriage, slog, gubernatorial, plagiarism, outage and batten.

I remember looking up 'marriage'. Heh.


I absolutely LOVE the latest Johnnie Walker ad - 'Fish'. (It takes eons to load but is worth the wait; or you could catch it in all its grandeur at the cinema.)


Moments: Work in progress. Some of my older entries can be found here, rewritten as standalone pieces.

Eyes wide shut

Woke past two this afternoon to heavy rain. Heh. After sleeping only two hours yesterday, went to work, and then hung out with SF and her relatives until the early hours of the morning, playing with the family dalmatian and just talking. I also learnt two new words from her teenage cousin: "stead" for "going steady", and "wols" for "slow" (the latter apparently not so new). Too bad I was already gone by midnight, after staying awake for almost two days.

Sex in the City

Singapore's lame censorship.

Mr Brown's Singapore National Education Part 93. "That the Shankar sentence was 16 months jail, and 4 strokes of the cane. So guys, for goodness sake, if she is drunk, send her back home and go home yourself. Better, put her in a cab and go home yourself. No piece of ass worth 4 strokes on your own."

It doesn't matter whether the girl was a tease or the sentence was too heavy.

The issue is: Shankar wouldn't have had to spend even a minute in prison if he hadn't crossed the line.

Similarly, it doesn't matter whether Steve Chia was a politician, or it was a family 'affair' that should have been settled in private, or his wife was a spiteful bitch who had gone overboard, or people were entitled to their kinky hobbies in private, or he had his maid's consent.

The issue is: Steve Chia shouldn't have exploited his position as an employer.

Something amusing

For all their medical know-how, doctors aren't as omniscient as some people think. Was told how a junior doctor was puzzled that the catheter kept slipping out of his 65-year old female patient - until the supervising physician came by and observed that the catheter had been inserted into the wrong orifice. I wonder if granny started to look forward to the young man's ward rounds. Heh. Heh.

The Celestine Prophecy's Second Insight

"The problem was that our focused obsessive drive to conquer nature and make ourselves more comfortable had left the natural systems of the planet polluted and on the verge of collapse. We couldn't go on this way."

The beginning of the end of consumerism: "Richer, fatter, not much happier."

Wide awake at 0127h

Because I spent $500 of my bonus on bleaching trays, and have to sit here for the next four hours while the wonder gel undoes years of coffee stains. Am hoping blinding white teeth would distract potential husband from the acne flare-up; yeah, acne at my age. Why now??? Why ME??? Sigh!!!

Was doing some housekeeping for the December and November entries, and realised I've missed so many comments! Enetations doesn't have an alert function; and the new comments didn't register on the counter! Anyway, thank you for your little notes; sure brought a smile to my face :-)

Q & A

For the guys:
How many times (or how long) should a girl continue to go out casually with a male friend - who she knows has started to develop a serious romantic interest in her, but who she is quite sure is not her type - before she gives him the "let's just be the good friends we've always been" talk? What's the fastest, kindest and cleanest way to give the guy (who also happens to be your long-time friend) the BAD NEWS?

For the girls:
Give the guy the "good friends" talk from the start, and he accuses you of not giving him a chance. Give the guy a few more dates - your intuition about him not being The One could just be wrong - and he accuses you of leading him on. What is a girl to do? What's the fastest, kindest and cleanest way to give the guy (who also happens to be your long-time friend) the BAD NEWS?

The things I ask for when I've gone cold turkey for two weeks, and just had my weekly ration of coffee (instead of my usual four to six mugs daily), before going cold turkey again for another week

"Will you eat a hamster for me? To see?" - After reading this.

Today's reads

My dream holiday destination.

One man's cock-up is another man's talking cock.


For someone who downs between four to six cuppas everyday, going off coffee for six straight days since Monday was uneventful (have been waspish and light-headed the past week but it could just be PMS and stress) - am detoxing with an organic breakfast of millets, quinoa, sunflower and flax seeds, and green barley. Then at Jasons on Friday, found that a gourmet coffee corner has moved into the glass enclosure (it used to house cigars) beside the wines. As it was closed for the night, I could only prowl the outside, catching seductive whiffs of the coffee beans. Heh.

The Celestine Prophecy

Have been passed a copy of and urged to read The Celestine Prophecy, after an uncanny collision of SMSes convinced my friend that something more purposeful was at work behind this apparent coincidence. However, while he was excited by his personal experience of a greater movement that his friend had told him about earlier, and fervently urged me to read the book so I would understand what he was saying, I didn't have to - but I sure had a hard time convincing him. All this is hardly new to me because I've already heard a similar version retold in the audio version of The SF Prophecy! Heh!

So, my gleeful friend, who was relishing the thought of keeping me in suspense, was a little crestfallen when I easily spoke on the tidbits of TCP that he did divulge (reluctantly), and drew similarities between the nine (plus two) stages of insights mentioned in the book, and the concept of evolving life paths in numerology. Then, I told him that I've been 'aware' in the past year and a half.

The 'sad' thing is: I don't think we would agree on the message of that incident that started this discussion.

Quote of the moment

Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you. - Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804 - 1864)


Happy New Year! May 2004 bring you more smiles and laughter :-)

Special wishes to Wenjie, who definitely wrapped up his 2003 with a big bang (Hmmm...pun intended? I certainly hope - for his sake! Hahahaha!) by getting married! ;-D

And how was my 2003? Interesting. Heh.