after the storm

Ever noticed that expressions of extreme pleasure and extreme pain are remarkably alike?

Spent hours trawling the wire pictures for a page I was doing on dealing with the emotional aftermath of the tsunami.

Cliched as it sounds, that was when the news really hit me, like a relentless wave.

Ended up severely depressed after looking at literally hundreds of colour photos of brown bloated bodies and faces of despair and grief.

I padded around the office in a daze with a stack of photos, looking for my editor to choose the "best" one. But in my heart, I was reluctant to use any of them, really. It seemed like such an intrusion into someone else's private mourning.

I walked past into my favourite photographer and listlessly showed him all the grieving images. I guess I was looking for reassurance that all those souls are somewhere above in a better place and badly needing a hug.

But because it was sure to freak him out, I blinked back my tears and asked for his professional opinion on the quality of the photos instead.

cable car revisited

C and I had a romantic dinner for two on Cable Car No. 15. Two hours of swaying motion, a Japanese meal that had been sitting in the open for a little too long, some amateur night photography and a good girl friend. It doesn't take much to make me content.

Just like when we spent 24 hours in that enclosed space in March, there was never a moment when we had nothing to say to each other.

Topics discussed include: best and worst kissers, alternative jobs, and boys we had "hu gao" with before. But 'nuff said, cos we agreed that nothing would be repeated outside the cable car.

seeing red

On Monday, a blood vessel in my left eye burst. There was a red clot, but I didn't think much of it, since it didn't hurt. I even wore contacts.

Same on Tuesday, but I decided to see a doc anyway, just in case.

Turns out that I can't wear my lenses for the next two weeks.

The reason for the burst vessel? Eye strain, the doc says, probably due to staring at the computer.

But I know better. It's eye strain due to intensive sewing into the wee hours.

wo zhi zai hu ni

Listening to Teresa Teng's classic Wo Zhi Zai Hu Ni, sort of in honour of my parents' 31st wedding anniversary. And also because the tune has been echoing around my head since I heard C and C rehearsing it in the pantry for H's wedding.

Am so full now from celebratory buffet dinner at Amara that I can't sleep.

Update on my dressmaking progress: Have been frantically trying to complete a day dress and night gown for the wedding of the year coming up on Thursday.

Spent the better part of today hunched over the sewing machine, with my sissy roped in as the assistant elf to do tacking. Have even taken a day off tomorrow so as to go for dressmaking class.

As my sissy says, "The fire has reached your eyebrows." [It makes more sense in Mandarin!]

So far, the bubble dress with little sailboats is 99 per cent completed, with only the zip part to go. It's lurvely, if I may say so myself, though it is a little fattish [a word which my sissy and I invented which describes so precisely clothes that make us look fat].

The dress for the night, however, is only 75 per cent done. Need to join up the top and bottom parts, do up the armholes and add pretty lace bits. And only tomorrow left to accomplish all that, or I'd have to go for the wedding dinner in -- god forbid! -- some old dress.

While running Elna my sewing machine -- yes, I named my sewing machine, cannot izzit? -- at full throttle this afternoon, I caught a glimpse of my darling Jay on Chinese MTV.

How the heck am I supposed to get over him when he keeps popping up everywhere in reality, and not just in my subconsciousness?

Which reminds me of something funny which I had meant to blog about, but forgot. On jay-chou.net, there are these rabid fans who translate almost everything he has ever said or written into English, which is wonderful for people [ie. me] who take hours to figure out his mumbled lyrics.

Anyway, there is a link there to get his fans to vote for him for the MTV Asia Awards, and the exhortation is to vote "every five minutes" because "the S.H.E. fans are overtaking us". That just cracks me up. And no, I haven't voted. Yet.

showers of blessing

If your husband-to-be picks you up from your bridal shower: +10 points
If your husband-to-be picks you up from your bridal shower in the rain: +20 points
If your husband-to-be picks you up from your bridal shower in the rain looking drenched: +30 points
If your husband-to-be picks you up from your bridal shower in the rain looking drenched and handsome: +100 points

Congratz to the happy couple!

one more time, with feeling

It makes us sound like losers with no life, but we had a post Singapore Idol party last night.

It was rose champagne, KFC, black sesame and Earl Grey ice-cream while Sly and Taufik sang their hearts out in the background. Even the lone Taufik fan among us, who watched the finals live at the Indoor Stadium and couldn't really hear much, had to admit at the end: "I'm a little swayed towards Sly now."

The next party will probably be when His Slyness releases his debut album.

fruit head

Forgot to write about my new hair, which I snuck out of work for two hours to get done last Friday. I didn't want my bosses to know but I guess it was pretty obvious when I returned, that I'd had my hair cut.

Anyway, my previous cut made me look like a coconut -- a cute coconut! -- while this current one makes me look like a pineapple. A stylish one, butofcos.

I guess a photo would paint a better picture. Akan datang.

la la la la

It was a reunion of sorts last night, when the four of us who went for Jay Chou's concert grudgingly attended Jolin Tsai's concert.

I say grudgingly because:
(1) we don't know any of her songs, besides the annoying one which goes "la la la la" [which is now stuck in my head, demmit!]
(2) we hate her already cos she's Jay's rumoured paramour [why he so no taste!?!]
(3) we are not teenage Ah Lians with bleached waist-length tresses

So why did we bother to troop down to the Indoor Stadium?

Sly, butofcos! He was the opening act and we had to control our swooning cos we were seated in the press section, hence had to appear professional [especially T who had the unfortunate task of reviewing the concert].

But mark my words, he is gonna be big. Huge, even.

say cheese

An afternote to yesterday's post:

L came over excitedly to show me a photo of him and Karl Lagerfeld. I equally excitedly told him: "I got photo too!"

And promptly showed him my prized pix with SpongeBob and Patrick. He almost fainted.

last fling

Dragged my sorry ass back to work today after one week's leave, which I frittered away doing nothing much. Didn't even manage to do my ultimate indolent off-day thingy -- wake up at 11am, brunch followed by cooking and decor shows on TV, capped with an afternoon nap with the blinds lowered. Where did the time go?



What I did manage to accomplish in the past seven days:
- Semi-annual catch-up session with old friend [we can pick up like we'd only just met yesterday]
- Idolising party [waving of Sly flags included]
- Getting over Jay by watching a lot of old music videos [bought dirt cheap from Chinatown]
- A pathetic bit of sewing on my bubble dress [and a lot of unpicking]
- Facial
- Dentist
- Zouk Out
- Post-Zouk Out recovery [which took a whole Sunday]



But on my final day of leave yesterday, I did squeeze in quite a lot:
- Karaoke with my sissy [first time ever singing! It's all cos of Jay Chou!]
- Spongebob Squarepants roadshow [we were the only adults there -- the kid in the pix is a mere decoy! -- and shamelessly went on stage to hug Patrick Star even though we were not among the privileged first 50 children there. Check out his adorable stumps!]
- Meet up with friend back from New York [must maintain good relations for future visits there! Hotels there very expensive, you know?]

life's a beach

Zouk Out was a whole lot of bikini tops [not ours though, cos we're no longer 18], bare chested boys [as well as tubby ang mohs] and hot sandy dancing to Jazzy Jeff. And some drinks, butofcos.

Three champagne, two Sex on the Beach, two Apple Shooters -- That's not a lot, right? So why, then, do we look so sloshed?

I swear M said this to me as we got happier and happier: "If I see Sly now, I would KEYS him."

But she claims this is how the [drunken] conversation went:

Me: I think I'd KEYS Sly on the cheek if I see him now. You on one side, me on the other.
Her: It must be on the lips!

Alcohol-induced amnesia strikes every time.