Was having dinner last week with three other gal friends at one of those hip restaurants [I know, using the word "hip" is so unhip].
Talk got decidedly SATC when we started discussing:
(a) how to stick a tube up your ass with the help of KY Jelly
(b) whether poo should float or sink [floaters are good and healthy; dropping like rocks is bad, especially the backsplash]
(c) the most marvellous invention in the world -- tampons
(d) what happens when you forget you have one inside and try to insert another [you realise you can't]
(e) what happens when you forget you have one inside and leave it there for a week [it turns green]
(f) what to do when a condom gets lost inside
Conversation then turned to the subject of the oldest among us turning 40 next year. She was looking forward to it, but when I, the youngest of the lot, blithely mentioned that I'll be hitting the big 30 milestone next year, I swear I got dirty looks from the rest. Then she delivered that Samantha line, with panache.
food diary
huge packet of chee cheong fun
tea with sugar
three chocolate fingers
mochi
keropok
chicken chop [without baked beans and cole slaw, and only at most four soggy fries]
One Beebee
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