my left foot

Back on my feet -- Literally! And figuratively! Finally! -- after being bedridden for four days and naturally, I was so glad to be out and about that I overdid it.

First up was yummy Jap lunch. Paper steamboat, juicy tako, grilled squid and one extremely entertaining lunch companion and his girlfriend that we'd been convinced was imaginary. I really shouldn't have eaten all that toxic seafood, but after a whole week of nothing but chicken and lots of fruit, I couldn't resist.

Then, I made a quick stop at Times to check out the 20% discounts, but it didn't have the Domestic Goddess book by Nigella that I was coveting, so I ended up buying Vogue instead. Totally forgot to check out Kafka On The Shores, cos I didn't bring my List Of Books I Want To Read. [Very nerdy to have such a list, I know, but I can't help it.]

A substantial chunk of the afternoon was taken up with the witnessing the humiliation of the Cleo Bachelors, more specifically those two that I know. Both had to take off their T-shirts in the middle of a busy shopping centre. One executed push-ups, which he did effortlessly -- ahem -- 69 times. The other had a relatively easier -- and arguably more enjoyable -- time having his hairy torso rubbed with lotion by some girl they pulled from the crowd.

By this time, my feet were killing me and we retreated to get something to drink before heading home.

Before I could flop down on my bed to rest my feet and flip through the overdue Vogue, I had to head out again, this time to conduct an illicit transaction with a friend back from New York. It involved a dark corner next to a smelly rubbish dump, out of sight of the crowds thronging Orchard, and exchanging a wad of $50 notes for an airticket.

As I hopped onto the first available cab to zip home, I entertained myself by thinking how I would defend myself and my cash if the cab driver turned around and decided to rob me. Decided that jabbing him in the eyes would be my best line of defence.

Spent the rest of the night horizontal, recovering from all that walking. My trotters were swollen and about ready to fall off.

Later that night, K -- who had been attempting to pimp me the whole afternoon to the bachelors -- sent me an SMS.

Him: "I still cannot believe I put myself thru that fiasco this afternoon."

Me: "I tink I've lost ALL interest in boys... Not the least turned on by any of the bachelors! How?!?"

Him: "Haha good god u r turning gay!"

Me: "But I'm not into girls either! I'm turning into a... NUN! Faint...this does not bode well..."

Him: "Haha then how u gona fulfil your needs??"

Me: "Nuns dun have needs. They have god. Haha"

Him: "Yup...hands of god huh?"