Continuing with the Spirit of the Winter Olympics...

Canada responds to their Olympic hockey game loss to the US...

(via)

After Tuesday

Sigh, after Tuesday, even my calendar says W T F.


Happy Tuesday everyone!

I Don't Think Google Likes Me...

Was doing my daily trawl on the internet and well here's what I came up with... (by the way, yes I am ethnically Chinese so I don't imagine Google likes me much, apparently, I'm terrifying...)

Word of the Day: Hotdorable

Ooo new word new word.  I love learning new words.  So here's the new word of the day.

Hotdorable  :  To describe someone who's hot and adorable.  

What a great combination.  And yes, you are hotdorable.

Green Bags

While buying a cake for someone's birthday today, we got a free "green bag" (yes those for supermarketing that saves you 10 miserable cents for every $10 spent at NTUC).

Shopgirl: This is for you. We give it to members who buy one whole cake.

Me: What is it?

Shopgirl: Its a green bag.

Me: No, its yellow [The bag was yellow!]

Shopgirl: [pause] Huh, errr, no its a green bag. Its for...

Me: [rudely interrupting but smiling while doing it] Yes, I know what a green bag is. I'm just saying its yellow.

The shopgirl just gives me a strange smiley look and carries out packing my cake.

The King is Dead. Long Live the Queen.

I first heard about Michael Jackson's death when I stepped into the office one lovely Thursday morning. I hadn't taken 3 steps when my colleague literally yelped at me, "Michael Jackson is dead!". For a moment there I didn't believe her. Surely something as big as that couldn't have escaped my ears from the time I went to bed to the time I headed to the office? Afterall, I was the proud owner of an iPhone - that revolutionary gadget that's suppose to keep me on top of things. But alas, he was dead and I also realized how much I needed a data plan to go with the iPhone. But never mind that.  


As I stopped to let it all in and watched as everyone around me reeled in horror, I found myself at best ambivalent. Sure he's dead, hey people, take heart, Madonna's still alive. And if Michael was the king, surely Madonna was DA QUEEN. After all, they both rose to fame in the 80s at the inauguration of MTV, they are about the same age, give or take, they both became so famous simply because they were unquestionably talented and more importantly, they were unequivocally different. Both burgeoned on creativity and innovation - albeit one was more deliberate, whilst the other was, shall we say, slightly more pathological.

Michael Jackson was an icon in every sense and by any measure. But somehow he wasn't my icon. I moan the loss of the white glove and his ball grabbing antics, I do, but part of me thinks that if he hadn't died the way he did, shrouded in mystery and conspiracy theories, he would and could have faded. He was an true icon, but to me, the queen, as in the spirit of a good chess game, is the one who with the real power.

So while the king has died, all I can say is long live the queen.

Shhh... I'm having my period

I got my period a couple of days ago and I realize that people don't talk much about it. Considering that over half of the world menstruates at some point in their lives, it strikes me as somewhat peculiar that we are constantly hush hushed about it. It is amazing how many euphemisms we have for periods. I know of friends who call periods their "visiting auntie" and the attendant sanitary napkin as her overstuffed luggage. I had another friend who would only refer to her period as "it". "It has come" she would tell me while I struggle to figure out what "it" referred to.

"What's come? The anti-Christ? The apocalypse?"

"IT lah", she continues, "you know - IT!", all the while subtly pointing her index finger towards the direction of "it". I don't know about you, but with all the trouble she goes through with the pointing and all that, why can't she just say "PERIOD"?

It has always seemed like dirty business, something you don't see and certainly don't talk about. But I've lived with it for so long now, I think its high time I told my side of the story.

I got my period when I was about 13 I think (I can hardly remember now, it wasn't exactly one of those coming of age events the family celebrates. But then again, my Japanese friend tells me many Japanese households eat red rice when the daughter of the house gets her first period, so I guess it is pretty much culture specific). Anyways, by the time I had my first period, I had gone through those mandatory sex education you had in school (or health education as they were called in my days) and was well versed on what to do. I admit I panicked a little but I knew exactly what to do. I quietly went to my mother's bathroom, grabbed one of those oversized pads (I don't think the concept of ultra slims existed then, or at least my mother didn't seem to trust them) and put them on. I felt like a sumo wrestler. But the strange thing was, I didn't know how to tell my mother. So I didn't, but she found out that day anyway, then again who wouldn't with the bin filled with wads of napkins (I changed them at least 5 times that day).

What followed was something I was never to forget. My mother taught my how to dispose of these nasty napkins. She rolled them up, wrapped them in what might have been about a metre of toilet paper and stuffed them deep into the bathroom trash. It was much like the disposal of radioactive waste, careful and calculated. It is still a ritual I practice to this day. There was something about the entire act of hiding the napkin, burying them deep into the recesses where no one could see that made me feel there was something shameful in all this. Bleeding was shameful and was something all girls had to hide. I was however languid the disposal of my radioactive waste and was chided many times, only to be punished with more lessons on the importance of disposing them "properly". It was a three step act - roll, wrap and bury. My problem wasn't so much with the rolling and wrapping than with the burying. I just didn't want to dig my hands into the bathroom trash. But I was taught that this proper nuclear waste management procedure must include the important act of burying your napkin under whatever was already in the bathroom trash. Rolled up napkins had no place amongst the better company of snot filled tissues and clumps of hair.

I still menstruate and I still bemoan the days when I suffer from menstrual cramps, backaches and the all too familiar feeling of bloatedness. But I know I don't bleed alone, I never have. All this time, millions bleed alongside with me. Over half the world bleed at some point and although we may not know it, it is neither shameful or something we feel we must hide.

Being Erica

Oh My God. I've been watching so much TV, I've starting watching Canadian TV. Somebody help me.

Skinny Jeans and Boobies

I finally got my pair of skinny jeans so that I can feel (not necessarily synonymous with "look") like a model while I'm in Michigan. While at Mango, I thought since I'm going for the whole ultra slim/skinny look, maybe I should get myself a smaller size. Tried it on only to find that I end up have 2 sets of boobies - 1 set are my own, the other set is below the 1st set thanks to the skinny jean effect (i.e. my fats get rolled and pushed up my ribcage like a german sausage). And even thoughI do have a particular affinity for boobies, having 4 of 'em on me isn't exactly what I would call a turn on.

In the end, I bought the bigger size and ate Macdonalds fries and nuggets after that. Would much rather eat sausages (ok nuggets are close to sausages right? They're both processed meat that will kill you anyway.) than have them on me.

Geek R Us

I am such a geek.  Its Saturday morning and what I am doing?  Instead of going out and having a whale of a time, I'm trawling the internet reading tech news.  Tekzilla anyone?  

Uploaded with plasq's Skitch!

New Shoes? Old Shoes? Same Shoes?

I wear size 3 shoes. Yes I have small feet. Plus I'm small (read: short) which means heels are a must for me. Nothing that could potentially kill me, 2 to 2 and a half inches max.


I'm not a shoe maniac. I don't have cupboards full of shoes. In fact, if I like a shoe, I usually wear it almost everyday. Yes I know it isn't necessarily a good thing, bacteria, smell and all that. I'm in love with my grey wedges from Charles and Keith. They aren't very expensive but they are feet friendly, kinda cute with a bow and round tipped. But recently they've turned from a nice homogeneous light grey to a grey sprinkled with obvious patches of a darker grey. I'm kinda upset cos I really like these wedges. But I couldn't expect them last forever. They are light grey, they are on my feet, they do daily rub their noses against the ground. Sigh. I'm tempted to buy the SAME pair of shoes again, but the more fashionable part of me goes, "Are you crazy? Buying the exact same pair of shoes??". So I'm trying to find time to go shoe shopping. Maybe during lunch tomorrow. I should stop having conversations about shoes with myself.

Green Fingers Me

I live a house with a garden. This means we have plants. And while I'm not the best gardener around, I mostly trim things until they are botak, only so that I don't have to trim them again anytime soon, I'm proud to say that I've managed to grow healthy chillies! Word from the folks who have eaten them is that they aren't spicy enough. What do I know, I don't even eat chilli. But I must say they do look good! I'm quite proud that I managed to grow something, something edible. Next step, papayas!

Desktop

I love looking at people's desktop pictures, only because I think it says a lot about a person. My desktop at work is just plain blue cos I never quite bothered with it. Says a lot about how I feel about my company. My company still uses Windows 2000 mind you, although in defense, I must say we are in the midst of globally moving to Vista. But anyway, here's my desktop at home... definitely says lesbian alright.

Hot Weather Means Hair Must Go

My hair has been growing out since I last but it before our US trip. Because I'm not particularly brave with hair cuts (I've weeped on many a occasion because of a bad cut), I hate going to the salon to get it cut. It always somehow means that something might potentially go terribly wrong. But since the day I got to taking the bus for that one day, my hair has been pinned, pushed and tied in an effort to keep the heat off. And to top that off, I've been wearing my glasses because I'll be going in for my first Lasik review in 2 weeks time and having worn hard lenses means I've to keep them off for at least 14 days before I see the doctor. And tied up hair and glasses sooooo do not go. I mean aunties who go to the market on Sunday morning tie up their hair and wear glasses...  So in an effort to preserve my non-auntie identity, my general outlook and to keep the heat off myself, I've decided to go get a hair cut, and this time, a real shape changing, hair actually gets snipped off kind of hair cut. So if you don't hear from me anymore from here on, it would mean I'm in my room crying my eyes out, refusing to see the world. I know what you're thinking, its just hair. WRONG. Its not just hair. Its hair that defines almost entirely how you look as a person. Clothes, make-up, shoes... they're all just accessories to the hair. Merely accessories! So don't tell me its just hair, its THE HAIR and no one's messin' with it.

Reasoning Skills and the Lackthereof

I love it when people agree with me…

We were having this conversation about someone A and I know…

A: She’s just blur lah

Me: No, I would say stupid…

A: No lah…

Me: Ok, she has poor reasoning skills…

A: Yah… (in agreement)

Me: And what do you call that?

Friend sitting in the backseat: Stupid!

Me: Exactly.

Favourite Radio Station

I have of late (well maybe not so recently, its been more than 6 months I reckon) discovered a new radio station and we are very pleased with it, particularly with the Morning Show with Joe Augustine and Petrina Kow (oh wait, now its Denise Tan, but its still pretty decent). I've won a number of prizes from this radio station ranging from a scanner to movie tickets and magazines. The radio station is runned by SPH so you can imagine every goodie bag coming with 1 month old SPH magazines and what they call the Radio Pictionary Home Edition (its essentially an empty notepad), but hey, they're free so who's complaining? And it even gets delivered to you! How fantastic is that for lazy asses like myself!


But what I really liked about it was the little card signed by members of the radio station that came with the goodie bag. It was a simple card, but it somehow felt really personal, like it was a real present. Geez, maybe I'm just a sucker for these things but I just thought it was nice.



See, there's Joe Augustine's, Petrina Kow's, Suzanne Walker's and some other people and of course, that idiotic irritant, Elliot Danker (no guesses whose brother he is!). God, he deserves a paragraph all on his own. If you listen to the Morning Show, he reads the news and gives you traffic updates and occasionally inserts his innocuous, puerile and on occasion, homophobic comments. Imagine the intellect of someone who reads this, "heavy traffic along Lor Chuan" as literally "Lor Chuan" instead of what anyone with an IQ of a 5 year old would read as "Lorong Chuan". And his constant ramblings about how Joe Augustine is gay because he has a pink toy aeroplane like its some disease just doesn't sit well with me. His whole "yeeeeeee, you're gay!" over and over again just isn't funny. Be careful when you listen to him while driving, you might get into an accident cos you're too busy rolling your eyes.


But all in all, Elliot Danker aside, its a pretty decent station (no nudity involved), so go check it out.

I Could Never Make It As A Food Blogger

I made chicken chop and fries last night and boy was it good! I must admit the picture is somewhat lacking in quality but I was so hungry I didn't have the patience to take out my camera, tweak aperture settings and all that jazz. I never quite know how people with food blogs do what they do. With such delish food sitting before you and aromatic smells surrounding your senses, how can you stand just looking at it through the lens of a camera and snap snap away? I certainly couldn't cos' all I wanted to do was to chomp chomp away. Ahh... the joys of friend chicken chop and fries...

One of Those Bored Photographs

The title says it all. Was waiting for my sweetie one time and I was so bored I started taking photographs of my shoes... hmm... my feet look small in this picture. Wait a second... I do have small feet... yes try a size 3 for heels and a size 4 for sneakers... Something tells me I would have been one hot chick in ancient China...

Introducing... LUCY

A and I have the absolutely worst-est directional sense. So we recently got ourselves a spanking new Garmin GPS machine! Ever so often we're driving, and I go "turn here, quick turn here!". A of course has the sense to question my poor sense of direction (I have taken us on many a goose hunt), "Are you sure turn here? No leh, go straight lah." And because A's sense of direction I dare say isn't much better than my own, I step up to the plate and go, "No! I'm right lah. Turn here, turn here!" Without having to pen everything down, this goes on for a good 3 minutes or so, after which we find that we have missed the turn, gone so far straight we no longer know where we are and we both sing in chorus, "See lah you! Told you to (turn/go straight)! Now we're lost!".


In case you're wondering why we don't just rely on the good ol' Singapore map like every other lost citizen, I'm usually the navigator and despite my Geography map training (which I took all the way to university by the way), I have problems when it comes to figuring out which side is left/right on a map. Anyway, most times, the whole connect the maps until you find an expressway exit isn't quite working for me either. By the time I do find the expressway exit, I've lost the page of the place we wanted to go. Flipping back all the way probably means I'll lost the expressway exit page. You get the point.


So now we have Lucy. (We named her Lucy because she brings us home and we can proudly scream our lungs out as we turn into our carpark, "Lucy, we're HOME! and we LURVE Lucy.) I hope this means our days of chasing non-existent geese are over.

Ramblings of a Narcissist

If there's one thing I've always been, and will likely always be is sensitive. I feel things acutely and I can never quite brush things off without having gone through it my head a million times over. Small things detonate inside my little head and before you know it, its 1945 and you're in the hypocentre of a mushroom cloud.

I sometimes think my life would be so much easier if I weren't like that. On a very primary and elementary level, I would probably be a lot of happier. Not that I'm not happy now, I am, I just also have the capacity to be tremendously unhappy and absolutely disconsolate. But not being like that would never be enough for me. I have this latent need to want to feel as much as I can until I break or until I can't. I hate this about me, but its also this part of me that sometimes makes me feel like a real person. I can't change this, but I guess its a relief that I know what kind of person I am. I make no apologies for it, its just me.

Maybe all this is just floozy nonsense from a narcissist who needs to find an explanation for feeling the way she is right now. Just ignore me.