If I am a slab of meat, my recognition of self-worth will be unfaltering, since I will be valued by weight, and I am as heavy as an infrastructure.

Unfortunately, I'm human. And the measurement of my desirability works negatively in relation to weight. The heavier I am, the less I get seen as a productive (no, not reproductive.), efficient, dynamic person.

My concept of self is starting to venture into regions so dark, I don't want to envision it. The fact that I've sent close to 20 applications and only got called to one interview, which consequently was a failed attempt, no different, makes me deprived. Yes. Deprived. Not depressed, yet. I feel as if there's something wrong with the way my cover letter sounds, or there's just some cosmic, divine whatevers that is preventing me from getting a job and landing my applications into the KIV tray like stale donuts. Thanks, but no thanks.

I'm starting to get a little frustrated, hearing about my friends' fortunate employment. Which makes my level of self-doubt escalate into new heights. Am I not suited for the jobs I am applying for? Have I misjudged my own capabilities and interests, and that I should send out my applications to other fields of employment sides the ones I am sending them to? This all makes everything a blur, blur fungus in the eye condition. The road ahead doesn't seem bleak. Yeah, not when I can't even see it, oh lord lord lord bahhhhhssss.

But I am still positive. Well, I can't be unemployed for the rest of my life right. It might take months but eventually, my stars will align with the lucky constellations and I will strike gold, I hope. This prolly is an icky time, being 22 and unemployed is far from the feeling of accomplishment. I'll wait, till it's my time. Prasad would know this, how our conversations about chance, fate, timing are coming to hit me like a curse.

Everything in its time. And I should not let my self worth be affected by this paranoid state of joblessness. I seem to be putting too much pressure on myself, wailing at each day that passes without anyone, not even agencies, calling me up for interviews (it's been like. 4 days.).

Unfortunately, I'm not just a slab of flesh. (You might say I'm MANY slabs of flesh. Pssst.) I am a homosapien who needs to be judged by capabilities and somehow, is tortured by this arcane concept of luck. Oh providence. Please kill me.

I might be unemployed for the next 2 months, as divine intervention has spoken. Cheers to joblessness.

I've been anal to myself these few days because only one hirer called me up for an interview and she misread my resume and thought I was more experienced than I am. Thanks. But then, it woke me up a little, in a sense that. I realised I might have been looking into the wrong field and industry altogether.

Well, it's only been 3 days since I started my job search. I shall just be patient. And let the deities decide for me. Everyone has to do something sometime.

My Mom, being extremely $$#$^@ murmured something (which she later held back but was forced to fess up nonetheless) that went along the lines of

"Aiya now I have job you don't have."

BOOOHOOO.

That itchy mouthed woman. EEEEEEHHHHHKKKKK.

But, it's only been 3 days since I started my resume sending. I shouldn't get all emo yet

I FREAKING HEART THE FEELING. As in, the band.

Dooo dooo.

Brit bands <3 brit boys <3

Maybe I should get Sugar to do the brit thing. The I-just-snorted-20-lines-of-coke-and-smoked-pot-and-I'm-aliveeeeeee-peace-out-john-lennon-pfffttt look.

That's a perennial buzzword for me. I am the EPITOME of whatever is synonymous with laziness.

I finally got my act together, sending out resumes and tuning my cover letter for every differing job application. But, not before getting a new skirt and bag from Bugis.

I brought Layhoon to Dear Fashion and she got a skirt she adores. That's great. And she got it cheaper because of my unofficial membership! Bahaha!

I finally got to eat at Miss Clarity Cafe. Very nice, LA.I HAVE to bring Sugar there.

Last weekend, Prasad got my Dunkin Donuts all the way from the land of smiles. Who can be thoughtful like that? He even got me the thai traditional dancing finger extensions thingie and the dog shit I always dig. Sounds very disgusting already huh. But the previous lot was nicer! Argh.

I met up with the girls on Sunday for my birthday celebration. They got me a Rive Gauche cake. =D Thanks lovelies.

Sugar and I are due for our Top of the M treat this weekend. So friggin excited. What to wear, what to wear...

I'll be having my last bit of birthday celebration with Prasad on Friday.

Thanks for the Angbao, Jialin! And the uber-sweet compilation of songs. That's so sweet of you! I LOVE YOUUUUUU.

I had fried mars bars, cheesy sausage from Chippy's and Mango Lingo from... Mango Lingo. RAHAHHAA.

I'm just fat and unemployed now. EEEK. Ah, Nevermind!

I'm waiting for watch Transformers and Harry Potter.

I need a job!

My birthday cakes are getting better and better each year as I try to drown my sorrows of growing older with really nice cakes.


Like, finally.






I look like dunno-what in this picture. But, hey. My peeps were all around! (Including my half-naked brother that graciously went to hide himself and Sugar who's the camera man. Who else will devastate me from such angles?)


Not bad at all. Tho we had to engage in some serious mango cube poking activity. The crust was mighty hard, so it was eaten like a separate biscotti.

I cut my cake at twelve midnight. Okay, I know it's quite boliao. Aiya. I have to grow old with style what.

19/06/07 Tuesday







Sugar took leave to keep me company! Sugar suggested to do a lunch instead of dinner because he had work next day and it was the better thing to do for the NS man and the unemployed. I loved it!




Two crazy people dressed to the nines on a hot afternoon. I loved my ensemble.


Sugar looks like some 90s mando-pop singer right? By the way, his current hairstylist is, ME. Not bad at all, ey. And that's a very very good angle for me.


On the way to lunch. It was so sweltering hot, my makeup melted and my face went out of shape. Bah.


Flowers! <3

Jaan at Swissotel




The view.

STARTERS


Scallop and carrot mousse.


Smoked duck.


Lamb Rump.


John Dory.


Dark chocolate with Raspberry sorbet.


Nougat ice cream with some chocolate... something.

The names of the dishes were peppered with french terms and so. Yeah. Okay. I shall stop embarrassing myself.

What mistake is it to have French cuisine without knowing french?


The coffee that revived my senses. Before which, I clinked my glass to the wine glass, making a loud, resonating siren across the room. Oh god.


What a view! 71st floor, no less.

Sugar wrote me a letter and bought me a rabbit in a red dress. The present I want is pretty expensive. And so, Sugar will be doing some saving. But somehow, tho it mattered a lot before my birthday, I enjoyed myself so much that I could do without whatever material gratification Sugar will submit to me.

I had a great birthday. Cheers to many more birthdays to come. 21st birthdays, that is. Coughs.

I celebrated my 22nd (OMG PLEASE KILL ME) birthday with my parents at Spring Court (Sugar proposed to get to that place for dinner. Unfortunately, he had to get out of town and so, he didn't get to taste his own suggestion.) and before that, my brother's girlfriend's sister's company had booked an entire theatre at the picturehouse to screen Fantastic Four and I just tagged along. Alone. Bah.

Sometimes I think, I have a way to life that has everything paced out, eventually. Everything falls into place the last minute all the time. Funny.

Because Sugar had told me that he's gonna be going to Malaysia to pray to his Grandma and Great Grandma over the weekend eons ago. On Friday night, it was cancelled because his brother had something urgent to attend to and wouldn't be free to drive him and his family into Malaysia over the weekend. Sugar made a call on Saturday morning at 8 and it was still held that he's not going. So a plan was made that, since I only have a ticket to myself, I'd watch the movie and meet him afterwards after he loitered around in PS or whatever. At 10am, his peeps called and said his brother had stuff settled and was ready to go. Sugar rushed back home. And saved him self from some good 2 hours of lonely boredom. Which brings home my point that. No matter how my life twists and turns and bumps and overturns, it fucking falls into place eventually. Which does not do anything to cure my terminal procrastination problem. Dang.

When Sugar got the phonecall that he had to get back home almost immediately because they were leaving for Malaysia in less than 2 hours' time, I cried. Like. Boohoohoo kinda. Cry. Which brings me to another point.

I hate disappointment.

It's not that I hate being disappointed or I hate people disappointing me because normally, the reasons are founded and justified. It's a very objective hatred to this noun. I didn't cry because I was angry or anything that I had to have Sugar taken away from me (I wanted him to join in my family dinner badly.) but I was just disappointed. Because I had my hopes held up high after the initial displeasure, then consequent resignation to fate, when his trip was cancelled. It wasn't the fact that there were a change of plans that made me cry. No. I'm a very filial person who still thinks my Grandpa receives the things we burn for him (read: superstitious.) and I hold a great deal of respect for ancestral offerings and prayers. I had no desire to hold him back. I cried because I was disappointed. Like. HURHUR YOU CANNOT ACCOMPANY ME LIAOZZZ ARHHH??? Not. WHY YOU HAVE TO GOOOOO.... I HATE YOU!!! Geddit???

I'm happy Sugar is a person who knows what to do and what not to. He offered to cancel the trip of his own accord. But I know he knew that I'd never let him do that, which means, he said that knowing that it'd not happen. STILL, I think it's really sweet that he made that offer. Whether he was gonna execute it or not, is not the issue. (I like to think my brain works in a higher level and focuses on things people cannot contemplate.) I'm glad he just offered it. It was comforting. Appeasing. And very sweet la, to me.

I hate disappointment. Because I'm a very hyped up person. I get all chihuahua about dinners, parties, events. And so, when that mood goes a bathos, I snap. The extremity of my own emotions is scary. And sometimes I tire myself out feeling feelings.

Okay. So. Sugar is in Malaysia now. I'm glad I recovered to being the understanding girlfriend within minutes and Sugar could leave my place for home when peace at heart. I'd sure his grandma and greatgrandma are gonna bless me for being understanding. Because I'd have done the same as Sugar had. And I'd be uber guilty if he stayed by my side. Lightning will strike me!

Oh yeah. I kinda hit it off pretty well with my brother's girlfriend's sister. She's chatty and spontaneous. Like me. Hehe.

We finished off the night with a cuppa at Fullerton. Their mudpie. Sucks.

My Rive Gauche cake's gonna be collected tomorrow. Woohoo.

Nobody who talks to me is online now. They're either overseas or prolly out. Lin and Prasad are out of town. Jialin, the last I heard her trip plans were cancelled. I have an MSN list so deserted, it could be haunted.

My beloved brother was the one who ordered (and paid) for my Rive Gauche cake and he bought me a top from Isetan yesterday when we all went shopping. He's like sooooo nice when he shops with his gf. OMG. And they got me a white bag from Charles and Keith for my birthday, which I am so afraid to stain. I'm very bad with such stuff!

The Spring Court dinner was tabbed by my brother as well.

Getting attached is better than rehab. Unless it's to Calum Best or Isaac Cohen.

Wahahahahaha.

By the way, my birthday's on 19th June. *Hic!

Because I'm capricious, more so than a Capricorn. And so, I am itching to a burn to change my blog layout.

I've got the ideas and all. And well, I have alot of do. I have two layouts to complete, one for my LJ (I suck at CSS and so I'm gonna die making that) and one for my Babe pitas. Rawr.

Sides that, I have to start making jewellery to at least have a decent debut launch. And, SIDES SIDES THAT, I have to look for a job. HAHAHA. Okay, I'm gonna start on the 20th, alright? Which is an official two weeks after my unofficial graduation.

Today was kinda chaotic because Aunt was getting discharged when she released she didn't have the keys back home and Mom had to rush down to keep her company after her son sent her to my eldest Uncle's place near hers.

Then my Dad called to say he was sick and so I had to bring the 49 year old Baby who fed me to become an overweight woman to the clinic. He'd been having dizzy spells and fit-like encounters, and this morning, it recurred.

The GP advised we went to the poly clinic to get a referral letter. It's like the edict to cheaper rates at the hospital aided by subsidies. We waited for 1 hr and 15 minutes, which is kinda short for a polyclinic and we got our letter. Yeay. He's gonna go for a neuro-check.

I'm just in a very discontent state of my life now. I need a job. But I'm not looking for one yet. SOMEBODY KILL ME! HAHAHA.

Well, Law of Business Organisations blew the last horn yesterday, marking the death of my student life. Mixed emotions made this grande finale to my degree pursuit end anti-climatically. Like. Everything became lukewarm and there really wasn't a big deal being graduated. I wished I could be more enthusiastic about being out of school but I'm not. Because I have to start looking for jobs, and getting my resume together is making me depressed. I wonder what jobs will be there for me. But, hey. I won't be pressurising myself to get things done and get a job asap. It's gonna be. Like cherry picking. Only the best.

I prolly will change my layout. I hope I do, since I have an abundant amount of time to do nothing and also, catch up with my heroes and sex and the city series. Heh!

Okay. Omg. Should I start sending resumes out now? How about Monday. PLEASE???

I realised I've been blogging about nitty gritty insignificant stuff and it really bothers me. I can't help but think that my writing style is deteriorating, or that my mind really doesn't think about the world in that inquisitive manner anymore. OMG. I've become a commoner! Rawr.

I really should go memorise my cases and sections for my Law paper tomorrow. Damn.

Whoever had the last names of Cooks and Deeks, SCREW YOU. YOU CONTRACT USURPING STUPID DIRECTORS WHO HAVE BREACHED THEIR FIDUCIARY DUTY AND THE OTHER WHO GOT INTO A BAD BAD RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR FOLLOW DIRECTORS!

I'm so jaded.

What Your Face Says

At first glance, people see you as warm and well-balanced. Overall, your true self is reserved and logical. With friends, you seem dramatic, lively, and quick to react. In love, you seem mysterious and interesting. In stressful situations, you seem selfish and moody.

My aircon is leaking like the Niagara Falls and I am by no means awed by the amount of water (possibly dirty) that a silly 8 year old machine can expel.

Life seem to be crumbling itself on me, and attracting me an entire body of ants of late like a decaying cookie. My Mom's wound started to bleed a few days ago, which means she might not be able to get back to work anytime soon, my Dad's boss is starting to threaten my Dad's position in the company by hiring a Chink to work as my Dad's "assistant". When you're a menial worker who depends on the mystique of your skill and tacit knowledge, that's bloody despicable of the boss. If you still don't get it, they're trying to replace my Dad.

So. Yeah. We might pretty well land ourselves in financial devastation. I am going to become unemployed on 6th June this coming Wednesday. I do not feel any excitement about this unofficial graduation, because I will have to look for a job whilst our market spirals downwards this quarter. Thank you very much. I feel like dying.

On a happier note, Sugar, Linda, Prasad and possibly Jialin are all leaving Singapore over the 16th-17th weekend, which is my unannounced birthday weekend. THERE ARE NO HAPPY NOTES IN MY LIFE ANYMORE. JUST FUCKING BLOODY MINOR CHORDS. FUCKING MINOR CHORDS.

Okay. On a truly happy note, Sugar and I have planned on going Bugis to pray at the temple and to collect that super nice skirt I ordered and head on to Chinatown to get cheap toiletries and for me to check out on accessories parts since I'd be officially an idler from Wednesday onwards. Yeay. Hail emobimbo!

I'll be getting time to do layouts rip fonts and brushes off the net and, well pretty much try to waste time on my lappy. I am so. Jaded. GOD. JADED.

Flipping through the Straits Times Classifieds that day, the absence of viable job vacancies upset me a great deal. I haven't had my resume tweaked at all and I am feeling fat, useless and unhealthy. On top of that, I have a burning desire to kill Salomon, Clemens, Cooks, Deeks, Percival, Wright, and others who make up the bloody case laws for my law paper on Wednesday.

I'm studying less than I should. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. If promotion and termination and ultra/intra vires come out, I'll be promoting my own termination, la!

Grrr. Bye.

You Should Weigh 171

If you weigh less than this, you either have a fast metabolism or are about to gain weight. If you weigh more than this, you may be losing a few pounds soon!

You Are an Okay Student

You know how to get by school, but your heart isn't always in it. Motivation is a problem for you. Maybe you need to study something more exciting!

You Are 44% Girly

You're a little girly, a little boyish, and probably a whole lot indie. You have your own unique style, and it pretty much defies gender lines.

Your Love Life Secrets Are

Looking back on your life, you will have a few true loves. You're a little scarred from your past relationships, but who isn't? You expect a lot from your lover - you want the full package. You tend to be very picky. In fights, you love to debate and defend yourself. You logic prevails - or at least you'd like to think so. Getting over a break-up doesn't take long. Easy come, easy go.

You Are 64% Non Conformist

You are a pretty serious non conformist. You live a life hardly anyone understands. And while some may call you a freak, you're happy with who you are.

Your Blogging Type is Artistic and Passionate

You see your blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great. One moment you may be working on a new dramatic design for your blog... And the next, you're passionately writing about your pet causes. Your blog is very important - and you're careful about who you share it with.

Caramel Frappuccino

Creative and expressive, you tend to match your Frappuccino flavor to your mood. And a flavored syrup is always a must!

You are a Great Girlfriend

When it comes to your guy, you're very thoughtful But you also haven't stopped thinking of yourself You're the perfect blend of independent and caring You're a total catch - make sure your guy knows it too!

I went to the Kwan Im temple at Bugis Waterloo yesterday, in hope of getting some divine guidance or premonition for my life upon graduation.

The lot was a bad one, depicting a scene where a fish is trapped in the net, and how bad luck will befall in a sense that there will be a magnitude of risks and disorder, etc, etc.

Well, I was kinda tranquil about the lot, instead, my parents were fretting over the divine-signal. They engaged in acts that included prancing into my room after watching the news, asking me whether my cert is applicable for civil service because they are upping the starting pay for them, telling me to lose weight to avoid being ostracised and disadvantaged during interviews, losing out to svelte pretty candidates, warning me about bad bad bad unethical corporations etc. I have no idea how to react to all this, because sometime back, when I went to ask about my future, they told me I needed not worry. And someone will be there as my aide. This time, they're telling me I'm gonna be shittrapped in a lousy fishnet.

And then it struck me.

It was my self-destructive lack of motivation and reeking procrastination they were possibly referring to with regards to my upcoming two papers and job search in the future. I realised, the trap might be self-induced. This epitome struck me when I was feeling sicky and squeezing a nap (and prolonging it) into my supposed study schedule. Sometimes, I love the way Kwan Im Goddess always speaks to me in ways more than one, when it comes to the lots I draw. Sometimes, when I ask about a certain question, it becomes irrelevant to my query but instead sheds light on the present. Maybe it's telling me to think about all those after exams, since I can't possibly get a job before I finish exams anyway. Yeah. Maybe.

Well well. I'll have to get a job anyways in the future. Grrr. I just spent 130bucks on office clothing. Very nice. But incidentally, I didn't get any white cotton blouse crisp enough for first interviews. I bought a retro top, a black oriental looking blouse, a little vest and a skirt all for 130bucks.

Haven't graduated already spending money. Mother's money somemore. Tsk. But she's very glad to sponsor la. Cuz the things are so cheap. It's from a shop called "Dear Fashion" (LOL!). THEIR PENCIL SKIRTS ROCK. It's at "THE BENCOOLEN" near the Kwan Im Temple. The nice teochew auntie calls me Xiao Mei cuz I went there with my Mom and told me I'm pretty and fair and shouldn't lose weight else I lose that cute cute face. -_- See, I attract aunties.

Sugar said "Of course la, you bought so many clothes."

Sometimes, I forget why I decided to get together with this man.

Arghhh.

I know I'm fat la. But you can lie abit right. NG WEE TECK.

Okay, effectively, I have TWO people who bother to take my test. Eeek. HAZLINDA. I WANNA KILL YOU.

I'M SO SAD. CF CF CF

Do, do, do! New questions!

Create your own Friend Test here

I downloaded hoards of ps brushes today. I'm on a HIGH now feeling like a profound adobe cheater. They're gonna make web design much easier, really.

Vivian did the test but her results were lost. Linda did badly. Sugar and I got 70percent for each other's test (well, a consolation's that it means we still have loads to find out about each other and so, we'll never get bored.). I doubt I have enough friends to make a list, haha. My questions are killers.

Linda and I realised we know little about these factual things. Our friendship runs like blood under the skin.

At least I know her first brand of ciggies was Sampoerna. Dang, how could I forget?

And NG WEE TECK. I'M THE ONE WHO LIKES ERDINGER, YOU COPYCAT. AND WHO KNEW YOU LIKED BLACK HAWK DOWN MORE THAN FORREST GUMP WHEN YOU TOLD ME A HUNDRED TIMES TO WATCH THE LATTER BECAUSE IT'S A HELLUVA GOOD SHOW? Oh. Maybe because I've watched BHD before. Oh. Who could forget how Somalia looked like with Josh Hartnett and Orlando Bloom (before he lost his grip and die)?

And your favourite colour was sky blue 2000 years ago. YOU WERE THE ONE WHO TOLD ME THAT I'M A COPYCAT CUZ I LIKE RED AND BLACK TOO.

GRRR GRRR. He's a sly one.

And too his disappointment, what I love most isn't sex. But money. I SHOULD BURN IN HELL.

And how could I have dated anyone when I still looked like a MAN in Sec 1?

And the industrial piercing was a giveaway, because... I MIXED UP THE DATE MYSELF. Lol.

These tests are a nifty distraction.

Saw this somewhere before, but saw it again from Joshua's site. He must be icked that I read his site. He's feel worse when he realises I'm a bored stalker.

Create your own Friend Test here

Lectures 11-14 of CF to be done tomorrow. Finish lectures 1-5 over the weekend. Lectures 6-7 Monday. 8-10 On Tuesday. Wednesday and Thursday will be spent looking through tutorials and questions, then, god bless me. I WILL NOT DIE OF CF. NO. NO. NO.

The lack of chronological order of my entries is kinda. Rampant. Haha. Well, Sugar and I celebrated our 18 months of togetherness at Wasabi japanese restaurant last Friday cuz we can't venture far when my Mom's alone at home. I am surprised with the elevation of standards there. And the service there was great. I found a strand of hair in my slab of Salmon Mayo and they replaced the set without any questions asked and they were so apologetic. That's very nice, huh!


The Boyfriend.


Sashimi!!!.


Dandy, dandy.


The food and my fat thighs.

Sugar got my red roses from Cold Storage. Lol. I arranged them nicely, and TADAH!


And economical way to melt a girl's heart. <3


I reciprocated with a rabbit card. See, I'm nice okay.

The next day when we were bored at home...

HAHAHA. I subjected my boyfriend to insane acts again!


Yeah, I love rabbit. The one I drew for Sugar was much nicer than the one he drew for me. I started this terrorism, and when I wanted him to write me something on my palm, he didn't even bother to squeeze out some creativity and resorted to plagiarism.

In the evening, Sugar and I, my brother and his gf, my cousins, parents and auntie all went Bliss Restaurant at Punggol Park for Mother's Day dinner. When we got home, Sugar and I started to camwhore a little.


My Mom and Aunt with the Bengawan Solo Longan Mousse cake Sugar and I bought for the Mothersss.




I love overexposure!


The panning shot. Haha. A moving Dad in the background makes for some spiffy special effects.

Okay. This entry was supposed to come before the previous one. But because my mind tripped and I hallucinated having blogged about the weekend already since I edited the pictures some time back, it's only out now. God. Loads of pictures huh.

As you'd have already discerned from my blog entries, I do not enjoy the mental health bestowed onto most people. I am sick. And I subject my boyfriend to weird gay-inclined acts that could present him as a lolita. I have a fetish. And that is to make my boyfriend look wanton, slutty, and feminine.





So very kinky!

Well, you'd be wondering, why is he still stooping himself to such levels, continuing his relationship with a sick woman like me?

Because.

I can look like this. I wonder why. It's the "emoticon" look. Can you imagine, while others put cute chiochio pictures of their girlfriends in their cupboards during BMT, he put a picture of me with this expression. His friends were kinda traumatised, questioning his motive behind putting such a picture. Well, truth to be told, this FACE was first shown to him during the budding stages of our relationship when I was preparing to meet him and took a picture like this with my webcam and sent it to him. This face, connotes longing and forlornness. Haha. We're just warped!



On good days, I look like this. I looked so happy, even though I was due for OT exams on that day. It was done pretty okayly. I'm not having balls of the world to say I'm gonna ace it. But I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna fail, with my spotted topics appearing before me.

My boyfriend is so cute. And he's been mine for more than a year and a half already. Can you imagine? Two idiosyncratic psychos lasting so long together?

I really should be studying Corporate Finance (CF) now. Argh. Lemme get my cuppa cuppa first.

I'm gonna have an exam paper tomorrow morning at 10. Organisation Theory, one of the papers that I have rather high hopes on, not because I'm a shameless slacker, but because, I really want my second upper honours degree badly. And the only way to salvage the situation (I only have 2 effective 2nd classes now.) is to get three more second uppers. Which is insane. Okay, maybe I can get 2 more and a good aggregate score, which is non-existent since I have 2 thirty-somethings (fuck econs and marketing. i thought i could get a second upper with that wussy marketing.). I sob. I mourn. I should be better off dead.

Well that said, a second lower is well in sight. Because I have 2 second uppers and 2 second lowers. I need one more to get myself a second lower honours. Which sounds quite. Off right. -_-. Private universities allow no room for incompetent degrees. Because there are those NUS, SMU business students who have their head, as well as their degree reputations way up in the sky. And SIM, well, I love my school, but, reality is nothing but fact, la. ARGH.

So, well, I'm prolly gonna graduate with a substandard degree. Grrr.

Which will land me in a substandard job. On days like these, I feel like being a financial adviser.

BIGGER THAN MY MOUTH, BLOODY HELL.



Okay, lemme act cute a bit la. Pity this aging woman.

I have, in a single blog entry, lowered myself to become one of those teeny boppers who talk about how big fruits are. Random.

Now, back to Organisation Theory.

I realised I have two significant voices in my head. If I could colour codify them, they'd be pink and black.

I oscillate between the two extremes, one the manja-ed strawberry-print loving bimbo, and the other, of neurotic emoness.

Sometimes I perturb myself. How I can want to be so different. And that makes me an absolute whim of a person, operating on spontaneous spurs. I lack consistency. I lack patience. I lack discipline. I don't like to be predictable. But I am, eventually, when you get to know me long enough. My inconsistency actually has a pattern to it. Aha. Aha.

This reflective thought pounced on me when I was trying to change my friendster layout. I was choosing between a retro, green skin and a red one with strawberry-prints (major -_-|||). I couldn't be decided, so I stuck to my original. I'm not clueless or draggy, and it's not that I can't make up my mind because of confusion. Some people do that because they have no idea what they want. For me, I want too many things. HAHA. How do strike a balance with a bimbo and a goth bitch. YOU TELL ME LA.

You know what, I'm going bonkers because I have exams in 72 hours. I wanna die.

I should quit trying to make myself look like an apparition. HAHA.

I just finished one chapter (sorta) of my International Comparative Perspectives syllabus and have developed a divine itch to blog, and an even more irritating desire to snap narcissistic pictures and post them online to make up for the lack of sense and content. Damn.

I might be moving on to the next chapter, because I am feeling kinda fidgety now. I doubt I covered the topics really well but, the fountain of hope springs eternal and I am praying for a miracle. Right in the exam hall. Which incidentally is Hall 7 at the Expo.

I am feeling so repressed. And the danger of studying into the wee hours of the night, tho rather refreshing with the lack of sun-heat, is the susceptibility to becoming emo and depressed and becoming severely lacking of a sense of meaning in life, or anything. It pretty much sucks you up and depletes you and makes you feel like you're never gonna get through this. I always eventually do, because somehow, someone up there loves me every now and then to ensure my lack of staying back in my life is a student.

I should quit getting mental and buck myself up. When Sugar isn't around, I face a sudden loss of security and I start have neurotic fabrications of pessimism and failure. I suck. I suck. I suck.

Maybe I should just retire. But I fear that tomorrow will be another unproductive day. I'll hate myself for that. Damn. I hate myself.

I have exams on the 11th, 15th, 25th of May and 6th of June and I have yet done any serious revision sides completing my revision for the Pricing lecture which is my favourite, but is hardly a sure come out question. Thanks.

Well, I'm pretty confident with my Foreign Direct Investment chapter, which if I'm lucky, will give me two questions to answer, and I'm now trying to study things I spotted for Mocks. I know, I must be surprising you because instead of sleeping, I'm TRYING to study. Yes, I'm blogging. I have NO SELF-DISCIPLINE at all.

I fear having to step into the workforce. Because fat people are perceived as unproductive. And I fear becoming ostracised like I was, in varying degrees, throughout my whole life of academia. Bahs.

I should start studying, seriously. Goodbye.

edit: I'm all decided on writing a novella once I finish my exams. It's long overdue.

I wonder was it the herbal tea, oatmeal, or just the effect of being a week away from exams.

I realised I've changed pretty very much from last year, in terms of appearance. My hair looks different, my makeup's different, my face has evolved. BAH. And I'm fatter. HAHA. Singularity makes me lose weight I guess, brooding about becoming a spinster for life and stuff. Now I'm like a housewife. And housewives always grow fat. HAHAHAHA. Well, at least I've lost my love for greasy stuff that was once so prevalent and Sugar almost ordered me to kick the Mac Fries addiction. Well, they sorta faded off. Now I have a Red Bull fixation. I wonder if drinking that regularly will turn me into a man. Heck. I'll just be gay, la.

But I've only drank a can out of the three I bought. I'm trying to regulate myself because Red Bull has a crazy amount of Sugar.

I kinda miss my thick black long ghoulish dreadlocks a bit. Now my hair's like. Very. Chinese girl. I'm no longer the girl with very long hair, tho I still look very fair. Okay, consolation. And I've not been aging for some time. That's good!

Staying at home a great deal has alleviated by cracked heels condition, to a point that, they're no longer cracked. My cells are actually still regenerating. I am so elated.

I miss Hanabi, all that sashimi makes me feel so forlorn. I realised, my boyfriend, who used to have longer hair, looked like an underaged boy boy boy in the past. Now he's so much cuter, I think. Although his head now looks smaller than mine. Dang.

I'm gonna go nap a little. I want my jap food soon. My Mom's wound is healing very well. Yeay. Well, she was almost tearing the house down last weekend with her yelling and nagging. That's a sure litmus that she's fine, already. My Mom is so. Funny.

I cut my hair and it's now voluminous pong pong pong again. I'm sad. Emo. Kill me.

I've been staying within the proximities of my home, fearful of wandering away for too long a time that would cause my Mom inconvenience, that I have forgotten how town, or any other trendy vicinity looks like now.

Sugar has been really, really understanding to drop by whenever he can. I used to travel to his place to facilitate his booking in on weekends. Now, he ungrudgingly travels all the way to my place. It's almost godsent that he's in a stay out vocation now, meaning, it's easier for him to travel here and there without that stringent of time constrains.

So, to sorta make my Mom taste something yummier, besides all those pork porridge, pork something, or another, we made pork chop! It was our way of still adhering to the rules of the post op menu but spicing it up a little.



Sugar and I marinated the meat together after hammering them to tenderness and we baked the pork chops! We didn't fry them on a pan because my kitchen is almost sterile and I have a Mom who just had an op who has a serious case of OCD for cleaniness and so, yeah!

Wasn't that bad at all. I'm glad we enjoyed it. We had Jacobs Creek Chardonnay. Neither of us are whites people and so, we didn't manage to finish it. Oh give me some reds already.

I'm glad Mom thought the meat was well marinated. Yipee. My Dad had only one lament. That the tomatoes were too big. WTH!!!

My Mom says it's because he's growing old.

Cool Slideshows

Cool Slideshows

I've always been convinced that I differ from normal girls. Although I still succumb to the social conventions of diamonds, flowers and candy, I see romance in things otherwise kinda, trivial.

And translating with all klutz from a chinese song,

The most romantic thing I can think about, is to grow old with you; till the time we're imbecile, that you'd treat me like the gem in your hand.

I am old fashioned. I love quick thrills, mistake me not. But I love a good cup of earl grey with my butter cookies too. All this, was triggered by a small act of Sugar.

The other day, Sugar and I went to stock up loads of groceries. Oatmeal, instant cereal drinks, all the things to help ration my Mom and I to survival this grueling time. I told him to put the things in place up in the kitchen cabinet and I pretty much left him alone to do his thing. It was only yesterday evening when I realised he had rearranged the shelves and everything was now in order. I was so touched, I texted him immediately.

Sometimes it's not just about the things he gives you, huh. It's more about the things he's willing to do for you. He's been very understanding this period of time and I am glad, with the rest of the world asphyxiating me, I still have a good helper. And sometimes when I think about how I'd want my future to be, I just want to be, us. To still be willing to do small things for one another. Now, seeing my Dad love my Mom so much, but am all clumsy a man when it comes to being gentle and caring, I'm glad my boyfriend has female tendencies. That he's quite a gentle bimbo sometimes.

When I look at my parents, I think my Dad depends alot on my Mom physically and emotionally. When I think about Sugar and I, I feel safe, because I think I'm the dependent one. And Sugar is healthy and able and doesn't seem to be the sort who's gonna fall ill one day. That's great. Because I know I'll have someone to take care of me. My health is wtfwtfwtf and will definitely collapse one day.

The thought of having someone dependable, and cute, at the same time, turns me on very much. I like to be the small woman sometimes, la. Since now I have to be the big woman in the family, I'm glad I have someone to whine to. BAHAHAHA.

What was I blogging about?

My Mom just went through an operation on Wednesday to remove her womb. The pictures of the womb and fibroid within it was really scary, post op. And well, my Mom having a 15cm slit just below her tummy isn't taking things easily, as far as I am concerned. I've been a really filial daughter, I admit. And even Sugar lent a hand in getting new fans and detergent, all the heavy things my Mom and I could never have coped with. She was discharged yesterday, Saturday, and is still having difficulties getting up and off the bed, sitting down without feeling strain on her wound. She is not allowed to carry anything heavy at all or bend down excessively but my Mom is the energizer bunny who is really, active. She can't really let a piece of tissue paper escape from her vision, whatsoever. Which creates a greater worry than a simple wound. We're afraid that she's over-exert herself and impede the recovery of her wound.

Okay. I just finished vacuuming and mopping part of the house. For all those who go to the gym, why don't you just FIRE YOUR MAID. Because it's darned hell good of a cardiovascular activity. I feel so bloody worked out already (ironic, because i'm wearing my saints pe tee. and i never really felt worked out in that tee before since i hated pe.). Yipeee. I hope I lose weight. I have loads of housework to do now. Laundry KILLS me. Oh god. And I have to cook for my Mom and be at her service all the time because she can't get up herself.

When she was in the hospital, I visited her everyday, till my Dad came to fetch me home. I stayed in the hospital for 8 hours on Friday, went home and got ballistic when I say my brother sitting comfortably at home playing videogames. He didn't visit my Mom since Wednesday and only went to ceremonially fetch my mom back from the hospital away not but not before troubling my cousin to make a detour for him to go catch a movie in town while we struggled back home. Dang. He's not really helpful around the house. I mean. He's been feeding on my packets of milk in the fridge I struggled to carry home, he ate that bar of chocolate Sugar got for me from India, he's feeding and breeding like a parasite! Help!

It seems the burden is almost entirely on me now to help maintain this household. My Dad's not in the pinkest of health, my Mom just had an operation, my Brother is preoccupied in his own world. Dang. I just feel really suffocated sometimes, and tired. Not because I physically am, but because I feel so alone. I mean, Sugar was great help this morning. But he's only out on weekends. I can't control myself but fall into this abyssal, destruction tragic hero state of mind from time to time. Grrr. I'm elven contemplating not painting my nails anymore, cutting them dead short so that I can do housework easily. What a change, huh. I am worried about my exams. And I'm worried about my Mom and Dad. And I'm angry that my brother gets to push everything away. Well, maybe being sensible comes with a price huh. Maybe I should just act dumb. But this year, I've learnt alot of things. And I'm not gonna let my parents go through any sort of pain. Because life is so freaking fragile. I want them to see me succeed in life, ya know. And so before that, I'd have to help them get life through difficult times.

It seems that, women in my Mom's family have always been the heroine, the people who get things done. It's a gift to be a capable woman, but it's a curse to be the only one willing to be capable around.

I'm tired. I don't know how long I'll last. Wish me luck.

It's the seventeenth month that I've been together with Sugar. And yes, I am feeling very blogful today. Too blogful for the section of my life called academia. But that's besides the point.

Sugar and I went through great pains to rebuild our relationship, literally. I shattered whatever was picturesque between us, broke some nifty amount of trust and arteries and heart cells. I want to tell you guys how magnanimous he is. Because, well, I'm pretty damn sure anyone else would have broken up with me. Unless he smoked crack and called me Jennifer (random).

My girlfriends keep asking me why I have curfews. Why I have to give in, and they try to whack me with the doctrine of feminism. Truth is. If I told them the truth, they'd realise that these weren't concessions but simply semblances of repentance and what I shall call REHAB because it's THE word of the MOMENT. I had to build up trust from scratch. And how better to do it than to regulate every aspect of my life, myself. Because I wanted to stay in this relationship really badly. It's not a case of possessiveness. He didn't really put me on a lease. I could have just walked away, single. But, well. That wasn't what I wanted. And if I don't fix this now, I'm gonna find the same problem with any new guy that comes along and I have to go through that entire saga again. You wouldn't want to watch days of our lives twice, would you?

So I did everything I could to earn the lost trust back. The curfews worked, in a way that made them become a little more flexible. I mean. Who would have thought the very element that could remove the curfews was curfew itself. I stuck to the modus operandi of the relationship and now I have a formidable amount of trust between Sugar and I that I am uber proud of. It's a newfound kinda, enhanced edition, ya know? It's deeper now. And heavily invested in. Before that, trust was an arcane concept that had it's crux in the belief in one's personality. Now, it's this enacted, tangible factor of the relationship. Sugar has seen how I strived for it. How I tamed the shrew in me for it. And he knows it's there. Now he has proof to show for if he needed to remind himself that I am trustworthy.

It's pretty remarkable how far we've ventured away from that icky period (periods are always icky. haha. okay. sorry.) and I am more in love than what is required for me to be sane. I'm grateful I stood by the curfews and other regulatory measures. If not, I'd be at point zero. Unloved, unwanted, and AGEING.

I'm sorry Sugar, eternally, for the pain I caused you. You knew I was no angel but you didn't know I would deviate so much from being one. I mean, how wrong could a 20 year old ex-anglican-jc girl be? Very. I wonder what compelled you to travel to my place when things fell apart when you could have just walked away. And I wonder what made you switch your mobile phone back on and eventually, made you answer my calls to hear my stifled breaths and crazy weeping. Even though the reason you said was, you wanted me to pay for all the pain I caused, I kinda think there was something else. Revenge wouldn't have made you be so meticulously saccharine towards me. And sometimes it bewilders me how you could possibly fall in love with someone who hurt you so much. It's insane. Oh ya. You're Aquarian.

I just want to show my LOVE for this silly boy. Altho he didn't stand up for me when he once needed too, it's okay. Actually it's not okay. SHIT. Now I'm fuming. RAWR.

Okay. But I still love this muffin. I know his weaknesses, and I shall just pray he rids them soon enough. Nothing is perfect without some flaws, right.

Dang, I'm feeling hurt that he gave in to his nemesis now. ARGH. The things I make myself think about. I SHOULD DIE.

I wonder why we strand ourselves between one and the other. This fateful day, I stumbled upon pages I never knew existed that had my vague but still imposing existence marked on them. Interesting.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm never popular. Maybe it's because I never made an effort to fill all that void that god, whoever he might be, refused to bless me with. And then I get distracted. Go missing for days, months, hoping things will stay the same. Wait. Things had always been like that.

I guess, I still have my remaining group of kindred because they bothered to buzz me every now and then since they don't check obituaries that often and fear that I'd pass away in emoness. Other friendships just faded away. And I was slowly left out. Maybe the crux of the problem is... to do with priorities. I take my friends for granted. My boyfriend is God (oh. now I know who he is.) and my life revolves around that locus. Other times, I am in my own world, mentally, weaving pictures that lack sense, logic, and reason. Just this evening, I thought I saw a road sign gleam a firey red. I must be seeing things. But when have I not?

Truth is, when you don't place someone on the same platform as others, they're not gonna give a shit about you. How you treat others, is how others treat you, right? I mean, with all that zen-nish talk about karma and cycles (non menstrual) from me, I should have known better that there's no one else to blame for being left out other than myself.

I don't have all their msn addresses because I always forgot to get them into my list, I don't have their emails, I don't know what happens to them in between the gatherings which I very oftenly miss. I prolly am complacent, believing that they'll always be there, that they're immortals and they'll live forever and I have no need to be concerned about them on a daily basis because they have others to be concerned about them and, they're immortal. They will live. No matter what.

I know it sounds more sick than silly and it's not funny when I have learnt to take relationships for granted to this sad multitude.

Well maybe it's because they're existent in a group and I know others will be there for them even if I count myself out. Maybe it's just this safety net I have that prevents me from getting all flustered and worried when they stop appearing online or call or text me. The others of my friends exist in individuality. That is. If they die, no one else is gonna tell me that. Because we don't have that kinda friendster linkage. This is the very example of social loafing. That is. When I exist in a group, I become a free-rider. I ride off people's efforts. When I'm in a solo state, I realise I am liable for myself. And so I make more effort. There you have it. I'm a social loafer.

I don't know how I can find myself being integrated into the group again. I tried hard during secondary school but failed. I guess I just am not cut for competitions relating to attention. And I prolly should stop trying. I have. And I sometimes disappear before I feel guilty and start worrying about how I won't have my group of sisters during my wedding and resurrect back into the group outings.

Well, I'm sorry girls, 4/2 girls (who I've recently discerned to be known as femmeight.) to have disappeared, detached myself. Sometimes, it's because I have commitments to fulfill. Others, I just feel less than an imperative in the group. Like. You guys can survive without me. And I'm not the show-stealer. Petty a crime, I know. But for someone like me who finds it hard to find a reason to be existing, forgive me , ey? I'll try to be around. I mean. I've tried to pay for the presents even when I'm broke as hell, and I mean, broke as hell, and I know it's hardly enough. And I know it's impossible to be really close since we've never been BFFs. Blame it on my possessiveness, I like monogamous BFFs. LOL. Well, no matter how far I think I am from you guys, how detached I am or useless in the group, I can't deny the fact that you're a bunch of fun. And it's darned whoppee when we hang out when we get to hang out.

Somehow this has become a sniffy letter of apology for being a bitch doing a disappearing act. But, hey. I'm glad some peeps remembered to link me up to their blogs. It's nice. To feel remembered.

Yep. One less reason to die. It can't be a bad thing.

Sometimes I'm kinda glad that I've resisted the temptations of putting a tagboard/comment site for my blog because, I hate flamers. And I can never tear myself from what they have to say. And well, I don't really blog for comments. If I needed any, I'd ask for some to your face in person. I've always functioned like that. Loudmouthed. And I've offended loads of people. Although it isn't really healthy to be so self-indulgent, I'm emo enough to be lithium-popping. And I don't need some ignorant stranger to prance upon every opportunity to make me prey to their guerrilla tactics. Well, that's the danger of wanting comments from your closed ones. Because normally, the people who don't get a chance to tell you those in person or on msn personally, ie. leave a note or two on your page, aren't that close after all.

HAIL TO NON-COMMENT. Flamers can just fuck themselves off and DIE. DIE DIE DIE. Like the ants in my kitchen. I pray they're just migrating.

I have to accompany my Mom to the specialist clinic at KKH this friday. As if the weight of worrying about the impending operation is not stifling enough, it has to be on a friday marked by the date 13. I am by ALL means, a very superstitious person. I believe in Karma, retribution, taboos, supernatural, spirits, burning stuff for the dead, whatever.

I haven't been going public about my Mom's condition because I felt a lack of need to before this. Because I felt some sort of safety. That nothing will go wrong with my Mom's fibroid condition and the ops to take her womb out will be smooth sailing. But after Sugar wished me our seventeenth month of being together, it struck me that, 13 might just come round the end of the week since today's the 11th. So I clicked on my com's calendar and it was as if I'd struck some black lottery. Dang. So now, I'm worried. The signs don't speak very fondly of my Mom's situation.

The truth is, my Mom has got a 10cm by 10cm fibroid in her womb. That's like a baby's head's size. The solution as prescribed by another gynae not belonging to KKH wanted my Mom to have an op ASAP to get her womb out, since the fibroid is so mighty big, it won't make sense to slice open half of the womb to take out something that's only slightly smaller than it right? So. Yeah. Normally, fibroids are small and tend to disappear or stop growing once a woman hits menopause. But my Mom's fibroid is just simply too big to wait for that miracle to happen. I mean. How can something shrink 90% of its size? There's too much to be done.

It started off with some heavy bleeding. The GP speculated possible causes like a miscarriage (lo and behold), or something bad breeding up in the cervix and beyond. The next day my Mom went to the gynae who gave her vitamin C pills and iron caps, together with some destructive sense of anxiety and worry. Even before the bad news that came out with an ultrasound scan, my Mom's blood pressure had shot up to a scary 187. We went to her private doc who she visited for blood pressure issues and got a stronger medication to force her bp to subside. The next day, we went to KKH A&E hoping that we could step up on the procedure. The lady doctor at the a&e told my Mom it wasn't a big problem (hello, 10by10cm???) and normal fibroid patients can wait up to 2 years before getting anything done. The thing is. My Mom has waited for 2 years, since her last scan where she was told there was a small dot and she ought to be careful and do regular checks. The Leo didn't. Believing that everything will be alright. The appointment was fixed 2 weeks after the visit. OMFG. And we thought going to the A&E could get us somewhere.

My Mom's friends and her relatives all suggested that she cancelled the 13th appointment and booked an earlier date with the specialist. Thing is, the appointment was booked together with a scan. If my Mom and I went there to the specialist clinic on our own, the doc would still have to send us off to get a scan done for my Mom which is gonna take time. So I told my Mom to stick to the Friday 13th date, do the scan and then see the doctor. Trying to tell her we're in safe hands.

At first, when there was severe bleeding, my Mom thought she was dealing with a simple, but icky case of menopause. It turned out to be something worse than just menopause. Removing your womb > menopause. If there are doubts are her own perception as a woman during menopause, becoming non-fertile and stopping to bleed, getting the very reproductive organ removed is gonna be an even worse hit on my Mom's sense of existence. My Mom has always been a headstrong, extremely self-confident woman. With all this coming, it's like a major set back. Like. She's unwell. She's gonna be weak. My Mom hates to be weak. She'd want everything to be the best for herself and the people around her. Now that she's gonna have to go through ops and possibly months of MC (or even a resignation) to recuperate, there's no doubt that she's gonna feel less useful as before. My Mom had always been a capable woman, ready on her feet to act. This is gonna puncture her ego really bad. And I am really afraid to see that.

So my Mom is gonna have menopause plus an operation plus a big scar as she turns 49. She's one woman I love to hate and hate to love. And it pains me so much. The modus operandi is going to change in this family. Who's gonna do the laundry? Who's gonna iron my Dad and Brother's shirts and pants? I have my own things to do. But the onus definitely is on me. If my brother is gonna shirk any semblance of responsibility, I'm gonna get ballistic. I just don't feel it's fair for me to iron his clothes. He should jolly well do it himself. My Dad's stuff's easy. Polo tees are easy. My brother wears shirts everyday, long sleeved cotton. Omg what a nightmare.

There's definitely gonna be alot of fighting around the house. Particularly between my brother and I. I hope he wakes up before it's too late.

I'm not gonna vacuum and mop his floor either. I'm not his mother, obviously.

Argh. I'm just stressed up till my neck hurts. I've gotta study but I've got no motivation to. I've gotta do so many things but I just wanna sleep. And let peace serenade me.

Affectionately known as Prasad the Slut since the times when we were both young, fresh, succulent beings, he's the person who knows me so well. Who never judges me (we don't. but that's prolly how we ragdolled ourselves eventually.) but will always, always be there for me when things collapse on me. Which is, very oftenly.

From the times when we were both so zesty and aspired and passionate till now, being jaded old fucks who can't care more about their other halves (read: domestication) and nothing else.

So, to celebrate his birthday is like celebrating his very existence. I wouldn't say I can't live without him, it's kinda weird to tell your BFF that, but, I'd have had so much less fun if he hadn't appeared. God, we're CRAZYSHIT.

So,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRASAD!



This is the almost ceremonial, annual picture of these two loves together. It's always taken on Prasad's birthday. Ain't it nice when your boyfriend actually bothers to celebrate your BFF's birthday too?

Before we headed to Dragon Gate at Harbourfront Centre for a dimsum buffet. Sugar has proclaimed me LOUSY because I can't gorge anymore. That doesn't mean I'm not growing fatter tho. Urgh.



Aren't these pictures nice? I know I'm sick. I got a pendant made in Sugar's name.

Well, the celebration happened on Friday. Thursday, Sugar and I watch TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES at Vivocity. I heart TMNT so much, altho they're more adult/middleage than teenage. Doesn't matter, does it? They're still a rat worshipping bunch of pizza lovers with cute shells. At vivo's theatres rock bad ass. Now I understand why everyone's flocking there.

Saturday, I made some chinese dessert, those red dates, longan kinda cheng teng concoction. It was nice. Sugar loved it. I made it to impress Sugar's relatives who'd come over from Malaysia. I even bought lotsa kuehs from Bengawan Solo. I doubt I impressed them, but I sure impressed Sugar. And I earnt myself a bunch of bananas. Sugar's Mom has been giving me tau sa pias, beh teh sors and bananas. So oldschool!

I cooked a big pot. And only like. A little was left. I'm so stressed up and paranoid about giving Sugar's family a good impression that I reduced myself to a mute girl with a spastic smile and mousey actions. It really felt like I was walking through a patch of mines. One wrong step was all it took to KILL me.

Okay. Anyway. The weekend is over. Sadded. But hey. It's Prasad's birthday. And so, I'm gonna make myself happy and wish my favourite bitch a very Happy 22nd Birthday. We sorta agreed that our age is gonna get stuck at the big two-two. This is, therefore, the first of the many big two-twos to come into our lives.

Okay. This must be the best thing from Alanis since Jagged Little Pill. LOL.

Well, if you're still wondering why I proclaim myself as a narcissistic emobitch, here's FURTHER proof.



MY OWN EMOBIMBO TEE SHIRT. Made by yours truly, and pic taken on a super low resolution freebie webcam.


Bahaha.


I rock. TOTALLY.


Just in case you're wondering how my room looks like.

Well, in case you're finding the face spray-painted on the teeshirt darned familiar,

It's BLOODY MINE. <3

If you can find anyone who's more narcissistic than I am,


I'll buy you this goreng CHEESE from AMKhub. It's deep fried cheese. OH GODGODGODAMMIT. It's a reason to die. And it's only a buck. The last time I had a twin of this at Indulgz Bistro, it was four pieces for like $10+? Definitely worth the try. I thought I was near puking full when I realised I could stretch my ill-fated stomach a lil bit more and gobbled this fattening darling down.

That's if you can find someone who'd plaster her own face on a tee. Cost. $7 for the teeshirt. FOC spraypaint from miniature enthusiast brother and 10 minutes for copying the picture (I literally outlined it with a piece of paper against my laptop display because I couldn't bear to waste the ink cartridge.) and mask-taping the desired area out, and 5 minutes spent on spray painting.

I love myself. I know now why he's so in love with me. BECAUSE I ROCK. ROCK. ROCK. Wahahaha.

Okay. Time to come back to earth.

I am carrying out this little experiment plainly out of the whim. And I hope it works. Somehow with exams pressing on, I'm feeling that tad bit more like my old self. Somehow, I'm sinking back into some mighty comfortable emoness. Not some depressive shit. But I've tainted my pink black. Sorta.

If my experiment falls through, I'm gonna be so happy, I'm gonna be so happy. Yeah. I think. Meeting Lin reaps supersupernormal benefits because she makes me feel like myself all over again. You know. Old friends do wonders. Since we've thus officialised our BFFship recently, only now after 6 years, I'm kinda getting all chummy. As in. Well, I'm kinda appreciative about all the peeps I have around me.

Well, now you'd think I'm ungrateful for giving Sugar no credit at all for making me feel like myself. In fact, he makes me feel NOT like myself. Ie. Housewife. It's not a bad thing. It's just a different feeling. Getting attuned to the old part of yourself is like catching up with a long lost twin. Being a housewife is iconic of a blessed love life. He can't make me feel like my OLD OLD self because he wasn't around when I emoed myself to death and screwed my life up silly. And feeling like my old self doesn't mean I wanna go back to that time of my life. I would never, go back to that dodgy place to save my soul.

Okay, I'm disclaiming myself because I don't want Sugar to get the wrong idea. Because. The last thing I want now is for someone I heart so much to get unhappy. I'm into this. I wanna make all the people I love HAPPY kinda school of thought. Ohm. Nirvana smells like blue cheese. I like.

I had to raincheck on Prasad again this afternoon because my Mom wasn't feeling well and since I am in a state of MAKING EVERYONE I LOVE HAPPY, I decided to take care of her for the day, and postpone my meeting with the slut till tomorrow.

I've got this feeling he's gonna paint my black pink again tomorrow. That's what he does.

They weren't kept with me. And so I couldn't upload them till now.

Chinese New Year 2007!

First day. My peeps are cute!


My Mom. I made my hair straight that morning.


My Aunt. The main sponsor of my Barbie Doll collection when I was a peanut. By the time I was at her place, my straight hair kinda got wavy again. I look like my Mom in this one!


Second day! I look so loving with my bro right. BAHAHA.


My Dad. Wavy hair is still the best. For me.


My Mom. By the way, that top is SEQUINED and it cost $40-$50. Ho ho ho. At least it makes me look slim-mer.

Big Uncle's Birthday! (December 2006)

When I still had my Rapunzel hair. Long like nobody's business can!

Mama's Birthday 2006. (IT WAS IN AUGUST GODAMMIT.)

I look so stupidly happy with the then tanned and bald Sugar. He's so much cuter now with all his prosperity back in place. Now we're chubby together again! Heh. (idontlikemyboyfriendtobeslimmerthanmebyalotla)

My Brother's Birthday. (Which also was in August 2006.)


Cousin Pauline's Wedding. (October 2006)

She's only a year older than me!

Cousin Patricia's Wedding. (December 2006)

I was co-emceeing the wedding that night!

Random.

I like that dress I wore. Isn't it nice? Why did everyone say it looked horrid. WHY WHY WHY. I like it. So. Yeah.

Omg these pictures are so old! I looked fairer than I am now. Is it because I changed my curtains and now sunlight is seeping through? Omg I hate this!

But I'm pretty happy the shade I still am. I mean. I'm still effing fair by homosapien standards.

I finally got myself to be a member of sgselltrade. To my utter dismay, janathema had already been lj-ed by someone else. I, henceforth, shall be named emobimbo!

I hope when my exams are over, I can finally get my butt off my bed and start doing something productive. I really need company for this. Partner anyone?

I'm probably the worst and best person to talk about this both at the same time. Because, well, I've never been a looker and never will be but I've learnt the knack of holding up appearances.

Sometimes, well, most of the time, people think they know me so well, so much. Okay. I sound like Paris Hilton now with the intended "you don't know me" talk. It's funny. I'm prolly a half-fucked wannabe, all the time. I try to come across as this weak, worrisome amoeba who's got nuts for self-esteem with a deficit in the self-worth department. But the thing is. I am the most narcissistic bitch I know (refer to face on the left) amidst all my failure of GP, getting rejected/ostracised/detested by those martians, struggling almost resignatedly with my 20 year old weight problem, I have this voice in my head that tells me there's nothing to stop me from keeping my head up. I price my esteem at an exorbitant high and my desire for the high life has never ceased. Of course, I love the quiet, peaceful domestication I indulge in everytime I feel like it's due time to make myself wife-material but my foie gras, haute couture and jetsetting dreams have not abated at all. You might think, this all is materialistic. You know the funny thing is, while others want to keep up an appearance that shows that they're well-to-do and cash rich, my appearance is one that promotes cheaponess. It prolly is to save myself from being called materialistic. Because materialistic girls are supposed to be slim, pretty with nice hair. I can't afford to be materialistic even if I wanted too, la. The lack of choice is a choice in itself.

So why on earth do I want to be seen as this sorta thrifty (altho it's failing these days with my impulsive and uncontrollable splurges) and weak, and will die without Sugar's arms around me? So that people won't call me a wannabe. Not a wannabe rich girl who obviously can't afford it with blue collar parents. Not a wannabe a hard to ger princess (man I hate that word) when I'm fat and ugly. Not a wanna act chio person when I'm not. Actually my narcissism comes from the excitement I get when I capture myself in the best of angles and actually look nice. Like. OMG I CAN LOOK LIKE THAT FROM LIKE 10CM AWAY FROM MY FACE, 45 DEGREES DOWN, 30 DEGREES TO THE LEFT WITH MY EYES AT 120% WHILE I SUCK IN MY CHEEKS. Trust me. It boosts self-esteem.

I realised. I wanted to be seen as ignorant, bimbotic, afraid and poor to lower people's expectations on me. It's like when I first played pool. I told everyone I'd be damn cock. But in the end, I wasn't that bad at all. And people will start telling me, SEE YOU CAN DO IT ONE WHAT. Yeah. I knew that too.

It's difficult to be fat in this society. However, it's even more difficult to lose weight. And therefore COST > BENEFIT. Negative net value. No no no.

And I managed to get attached even tho I'm fat. So it should be quite telling. Like. Start burning joss sticks cuz it works or try not to eat so much on the first date to push the blame to genes and the unhealthy air for your fatness or start watching porn. Because guys like porn. Like. Common topic or something. Okay I shall stop explaining myself.

Even if Sugar dumps me one day because he finally registered the fact that I'm almost as heavy as he is (bahaha) I doubt I'd be trying to diet. Okay. If my office people keep criticising me, I might. Because colleagues are bitches. Because they are people you have to live with who don't necessarily love you. I find a boyfriend a weak motivation to lose weight. Because. After all, take it or leave it, kinda thing. And since I've been fat for a lifetime, nobody should put himself through the pain and torture of falling in love with my ridiculously magnificent personality and try to change the way I look. You want skinny one go find skinny one, la.

It's hard to keep up to appearances. We often do it to save ourselves from embarrassment. We also, happen to keep up with appearances because nobody likes to be read like an open book. If you do, you're exhibitionist. I'm more of a voyeur.

Well, sometimes, some people say things that they should not. Just keep it to everything. Well, it's not a bad thing to show your emotions sometimes. It's not a bad thing, also, to be weak. It just makes you more human. A facade is a facade, at the end of the day. Being insensitive doesn't make you void of pain. Being mean doesn't make you stronger.

Okay. A false front is perfectly fine to adopt. As long as it doesn't hurt others along the way.

He's coming over NOW. He got a half day off from camp and being the sweet boyfriend he is, he's taking a cab down to my place! Ah...

I think he's gonna be here soon. LOL. I went downstairs to get udon noodles and mushrooms and crabstick to cook my idiotproof miso udon that Sugar has been craving. =D

I know. I am so utterly domesticated now. I've always been very auntie. Just that I didn't find the right uncle until now.

I'm so excited! I'm getting to see Sugar on a weekday! Wooo!

He is a genius.

'Nuff said.

Cold case always brings me an eerie sadness. It's a really sad show where cases from years ago that are left cold are brought back into investigation. And it normally unravels really sad motivations and intentions that would otherwise had been buried forever. It's really. Touching to see recourses. And the fact that most of the show is in the 60s, 70s era, it means that I get to see cute dresses, satin headbands and all things retro that I love so much.

I just like seeing how people die and people finding out how and why they died. I just like investigator flicks. Am I too morose?

I bought two long, dress-tops from Topshop and a BRAAAAAA.

No matter how loudmouthed, illmannered, scandalous, boisterous I am, I never could bring myself to post pictures of the bras I bought up here. It just feels. Weirrrrrd.

Anyway, I'm really happy now. HAPPY. I love the two tops I got. And I bought it on my supplementary plastic. Which means, if I'm lucky, my Mom's gonna cover it for me. I pray! HAHA.

It's only tuesday. And it feels like eons since I last saw Sugar. Grrr.

I have so many new clothes! I heart CSI!

My dear browser does not support coloured div scrollbars. And so, yeah. You'll be seeing that menacing blue and silver scrollbar on my webpage.

But I still heart Firefox very much. Firefox > IE with tabs anytime. Except when you want to download porn. Some sites load faster with IE.

Okay. Thiam was saying that celebrating Monthsaries are kinda meaningless. Well, not when you use it as an excuse to binge. Sugar and I celebrate monthsaries because. It gives us the opportunity to eat at restaurants like nobody's business and mark the grand passing of every month. I guess when your relationship has passed the 3 year mark, monthsaries are redundant. But before that, we're just kinda happy we get to splurge every month!


There's char siew, yangchow fried rice, har jeong gai, fried dumplings...


And mango pudding.

Well due to some unforseen circumstances last week, I felt it was well nigh inappropriate to have blogged about any semblance of enjoyment. And so, there this is. We killed both our $30 Crystal Jade vouchers from Starhub with one meal. Pwnage!

Oh. And monthsaries are really useful when you wanna get something but is feeling a little stingy on yourself that day.
Example:
Looks longingly at a black purse "Bit, can you get this for me?
"You don't want your current purse already?
"I want. Remember that [insert random number>]th Monthsary present..."
And he pays.

I'm not that exploitative. The purse was $8. To replace the $70 Guess? one Sugar got as well.

Ah. Monthsaries.

I was trying to find something that could epitomise my state of life now. But everything I could think of were bears, Sugar and food. I wasn't really keen on the constraints (imagine a bear bear motif wallpaper) and so I decided to just leave the page being solely about me. Myself. That's it. Nothing else. I might just be well on my way to a downward spiral of becoming a faceless blogger on the realm of blogosphere but, hell. That's the point isn't it. I'm not popular in any way and so, I am proud to say, who else can be narcissistic like that?

If you were wondering, yes that's my face plastered on the right hand side. Photoshop does wonders. So do angles.

I linked Sugar up. Yeay. Well, I sense some dangerous ditsyness. Because the first entry of the layout always sets some kind of mood to my following entries.

Well, okay. I just wanted to put my face up somewhere. Period. Goodbye.