Tuesday, September 30

Last day of freedom. Indulged in a final lazy mid-morning roll in bed, leisurely read The Straits Times while having breakfast, played at being one of those Ladies Who Lunch with a girl friend, had an afternoon snooze and a relaxing facial, and made a delicious, if slightly too soupy, carbonara dinner for my family.

Tomorrow, I head back to the world of slavery...I mean journalism. I've been assigned two stories even before I've officially started work. Just call me Isaura. I can hear the whips cracking already...

Monday, September 29

At the crack of dawn this morning -- meaning 8 a.m. to a jobless bum like me -- my mom hauled me out of bed to go to Batu Pahat, which is in the boondocks of our friendly neighbouring country of Malaysia.

A three-hour ride later, I realised why we were going all the way to pray at this particular ulu temple. She wanted to consult this supposedly all-seeing and all-knowing medium about my “future success”.

Knowing my mom, this was less about success in my career and more about the success of my love life. But I feel so vindicated because the medium chided her instead for being overly anxious and pushy. Ha! That will give me ammunition to rebut whenever she starts on one of her weekly nagging sessions about so-and-so who is married and has kids already [unfortunately, a lot of people my age got married while I was away], or how I’m too choosy [she doesn’t believe me when I tell her certain of my male friends are gay], or -- this is my favourite of all her rants -- that I’m too unapproachable and driving men away [as if I have queues of suitors waiting outside my house].

From now on, instead of ignoring her or resorting to sarcasm, I will just calmly remind her that I am “still young”, “need more time to look”, and “will eventually find a very good husband”, in the very words of the medium she trusts so much. Only time will tell if the “prophecy” will come true.

Wednesday, September 24

“I’ve been away lah.”

That has been my standard excuse for almost everything since I got back.

Q: How come so fat?
A: I’ve been away lah. Too much potato and pasta.

Q: You don't know how to go to Lau Pa Sat?
A: I’ve been away lah. Forgot where it is.

Q: Why is your parking skill so horrible?
A: I’ve been away lah. One year never drive car.

Q: Have you been to the Esplanade?
A: I’ve been away lah. It haven’t opened yet when I left.

Speaking of the Esplanade, I finally found my way inside that durian. Previously, I thought that it looked pretty hideous, like a squashed up Sydney Opera House wannabe. But it was tastefully done and pretty with those blue twinkly lights. And the waterfront was fabulous for sitting and chatting without having to pay for a coffee. I would have taken pix, but my dear cousin who was my tour guide there [even though it was her first time too] said it is very suaku to do so.

And call me suaku, but I am quite taken with this choc concoction at this chocolate place at Esplanade. You are presented with what looks like a mini aromatherapy burner, a metal spoon-straw contraption, a miniscule jug of milk and a saucer of what looks like Hershey choc chips, and basically you DIY to make molten chocolate milk. I’m sure what I just described has been written about to death because of its sheer novelty value, and everyone has tried it already, but hey, I’ve been away lah.

Sunday, September 21

Reasons to get married [and some of these are actual quotes from people I know]:

a. “For sex on demand.”
b. “Money. Lots of it.”
c. “To get to wear the white dress.”
d. “So that can buy a flat lor.”
e. “Sometimes the condom doesn’t work like you want it to.”

Feel free to comment with any other plausible reasons I might have left out. True love, perhaps?

Tuesday, September 16


My hair will never be this long again. Just a twinge of regret after cutting it.
[If you can't figure out which is the "before" and which is the "after" photo, I can't help you.]

Monday, September 15

Before I left for London, I swore to many friends that I would not return with (a) an ang moh accent, or (b) an ang moh boyfriend.

Yep, so here I am, still speaking in 100% Singlish and still 100% single. Everyone I've met up with so far agrees that I'm still me, just fatter. Does that mean I'm boring, rigid or consistent?

Thursday, September 11

Today is Lantern Festival -- Or is it called Mooncake Festival? Mid-Autumn Festival? Whatever! -- and today is also the second anniversary of September 11. Not that both dates mean much to me, just thought I'd mention the coincidence.

Wednesday, September 10

When I was young, innocent and foolish, I totally believed in the concept of “Friends Forever”.

As I grew older, more cynical and wiser -- or so I thought -- I found out that there was no such thing. I learnt to cherish whatever times I had with friends, because they were so fleeting.

Now that I’m practically ancient, totally jaded and have realised that I can be as foolish as a teenager at times, it has finally dawned on me that friends are both fleeting and forever. They may move in and out of your life, you may meet every day or once a year, but once you have formed a bond of this nebulous thing called friendship, it can never be broken.

To my old friends -- you know who you are -- there are still many years worth of long lunches and leisurely dinners ahead, filled with gossip and laughter.

Tuesday, September 9

I was all geared up to sign up for motorbike lessons, but chickened out at the driving centre today. Too intimidated by the instructors hollering through loud hailers, too feeble to handle the bike, too broke to pay for lessons, too vain to endure helmet hair, too discouraged by the comments of the bike-riding ex-boyfriend.

No pretty pastel blue Vespa for me then. Nevermind, I can still dream about my Volkswagen Beetle. In pastel blue too, of course.

Sunday, September 7

"Welcome back to the new paradigm."

That was the one sentence that stuck in my head from Friday night's drunken debauchery. Even in my non-sober state, what my bear-hugging, rib-crushing friend shouted over the pounding music made sense.

It was just like the good ol' parteee days of yore -- champagne, lychee martinis, red wine, endless number of shots, and lots of lansing -- except it was different. The drunken vibes and throbbing music and all that posing of Beautiful People at Zouk were unchanged. But among my friends, certain people were now polite strangers, others could not be in the same room, and there were so many new faces that I could barely keep track.

But nonetheless, I am "so happeee" to be back, which was what I kept squealing to my lurves the whole night. I wonder how long the euphoria of being the Homecoming Queen will last.

Friday, September 5

I had no intention whatsoever of contacting a certain someone when I got back. And I didn't. There was no point with so much crap between us, and besides, I'd purged his number from my phone. So why should it disturb me to hear that he had gotten married while I was away?

Once, he told me about a friend of his who got hitched out of the blue, and I exclaimed: "He's the last person I thought would get married." But in my heart, I was telling him: "You're the last person I thought would get married."

Guess I was wrong.

Wednesday, September 3

I’ve only been back for three days ah? I feel totally re-integrated already leh.

First thing I did on my first day back was to go temple to "bai bai" my grandma with pears, grapes, egg tarts and kopi-o. I don’t know what’s the significance of the food selection. Felt totally inept, as I had no idea that I have to light three joss sticks to the Sky God first, that only vegetarian food is allowed, and that you have to leave the food on the altar for a while so that it can be "eaten", before taking it home to be eaten for real. Got the usual nagging from my mother about the proper way these things are done. The tradition of ancestral worship is literally dying out with my generation.

Second most important thing was to get reconnected with a new phone number, which I still have problems remembering. SMS-ed my friends until my thumb went numb. And I think half my SMS quota and free airtime are gone, but I don’t care cos we’re in the same timezone and paying local call rates.

And I have delicious lunches and dinners and suppers lined up, so much so I don’t know what local delights I want to eat first. But I predict saturation point will be reached soon at the rate I’m going. Already had egg tarts, prawn noodles, otah otah, yong tau foo, Japanese food and all kinds of weird Chinese pastries that I don’t know how to spell in English. Trying not to overdo the bingeing, since every single person I've met has exclaimed [some rather tactlessly too] that I'm so fat.

Just weighed myself and I've put on 2 kg, apparently most of it on my face. In order to conceal my fat cheeks, I got a much-needed hair cut today. Hopefully, I can hide behind the curtain of hair and the layers will give the illusion of slimness. But the upside of being fat is that some of the excess baggage has deposited itself on my boobs, according to one of my lurves. For once, I have a hint of cleavage to show off.

Which I suspected was what the DOM [dirty old man] on the bus was staring at. Either that or the loud error BEEPBEEPBEEP my virginal EZ Link card made attracted unwanted attention. So paiseh.

I’ve taken my own sweet time to post an update cos I still am undecided about continuing this blog. On the one hand, I still have a tiny number of friends reading this overseas and I don’t even meet up with some of my Singaporean friends that often. So this is a good way to stay in touch without needing to bombard them with emails about my boring life. Plus, I won’t have to kick this blogging addiction.

But on the other hand [this is like some GP essay weighing the pros and cons!], I don’t think I’d have much time for such long-winded and detailed descriptions of my day once I get back to work as a journalist with no life. And I feel kinda weird writing about all these things which must seem so familiar to everyone in Singapore, which are actually familiar to me too, yet totally foreign at the same time.

I guess I’m going to just bumble along and write as and when the mood strikes. There’s nothing wrong with being wishy washy wat!?!
London time is catching up with me. Or is it my body adjusting to Singapore time? Jet lag setting in, eyes closing, mind slowing down. Later...