Tuesday, January 30

let me count the ways

Ten things you can't tell from looking at Randolph's photo:

1. He was named Randolph, not Rudolph, because his nose is pink, not red.
2. I've decided that since no one knows when he was born, he would share my birthday. Happy 2nd birthday, sweetie!
3. He smells very, how should I put it delicately, doggie. But his skin condition -- due to a diet of fried rice by his previous owner -- is now improving and so is the smell. Either that, or I'm getting used to it. Or worse, I'm starting to smell like him.
4. He not only looks intelligent, he is intelligent. He knows how to open doors to come inside the house, he knows how to avoid the antibiotic pills I try to sneak into his food, he knows to hold his pee and poo when he is indoors.
5. He has an unbecoming girly bark.
6. He has awfully visible nipples.
7. His fur is kinda scruffy, but at least he doesn't shed much.
8. He doesn't like water, but stands obediently still when you bathe him.
9. He totally ignores the rubber ball I bought for him unless I stuff some doggie treats inside it.
10. He isn't one of those slobbering, over-enthusiastic licker types.
11. He whimpers when I leave home and jumps all over me when I get back.

Okay, so I can't count.

Friday, January 26

CNY bomb

Last CNY, Ms C had the bright idea that she was going to compose a generic ching chong CNY song that will be played to death every year and live off the royalties, not unlike the Hugh Grant character in About A Boy.

This year, my grand plan is to make all-in-one CNY goodies. It will be one giant CNY bomb.

Nibble through the crisp outer layer made of love letters, and you will reach the har bee hiam. Continue through the various layers -- bak kwa studded with melon seeds, kueh bangkit embedded with Van Houten chocolates and White Rabbit sweets, and finally, a layer of pineapple tarts. And when you reach the inner core, there will be a Yeo's packet drink, chrysanthemum flavour, waiting to quench your thirst.

Bread Talk had better not steal my idea.


As you can tell from the numerous posts, it's a s-l-o-w day at the shop. But these "livingstones" are cute, no? From Smarin.

time waster

This jigsaw game is dedicated to my twin, even though she probably has no need for such time wasters now. After all, she has no need to wait for stories to be cleared, photos to be scanned or proofs to be read.

Me, on the other hand, I'm bored to death. And this is an addictive game, so be forewarned.


For those who grew up with Rubik's Cube. I remember being so frustrated by it that I flung it out of my window. We lived on the 19th floor.

* Spoiler alert: You can learn to do it too. Just go to YouTube for the solution.

Thursday, January 25

truly madly deeply

Just when I'd been disappointed yet again, a new guy has come into my life, almost by accident. I'd rather call it fate.

He has an old man name -- Randolph -- but he is young at heart and in body. No one calls him Randy.

I spend all my waking moments, except when I'm forced to go to work, with him.

Right now, I'm looking at his photos and stroking the computer screen while making cooing noises.

I wake up early in the morning just so I can see him. And I whisper good night before going to bed.

I make endless lists of things that we can do together and how I can to pamper him.

We have long conversations about everything and nothing, and he listens with the most understanding eyes in the world.

Thursday, January 18

porn again

I had a pix* of my doppelganger a.k.a. Cynthia Lee Mcquarrie a.k.a. Ah Girl on my page yesterday. She had the coolest sleekest bob**, the smokiest smokey eyes and was posing most seductively in lingerie, as she was appearing in a play about Annabel Chong.

In a straw poll among my colleagues, it was agreed that I did resemble her. Not that that was a bad thing, of course.

The same photo, only blown up much bigger, appeared in The New Paper today.

* I can't seem to find the pix online, so can't steal the image.
** He hated my hair when I got the bob, calling it a helmet. He hasn't seen me since it grew out into the current unruly mop. And I've almost forgotten how he looks and sounds.

HE: I have to confess. I saw today's TNP Show centre spread and thought of you.
ME: I have to confess too. I had to go buy TNP after reading your text...
HE: So? Hoho.
ME: Should I be flattered or insulted that a porn star made you think of me?
HE: The picture la, the picture...
ME: I've been mistaken for her more than once... Cynthia Lee I mean, not Annabel Chong...
HE: So actually the question is, do you want me to associate you with a porn star?
ME: That's a naughty question. And the simple answer is no...
HE: The complicated answer being...?
ME: Too complicated to explain in mere words...Hiaks!
HE: How would you explain it then?
ME: Some things are best left to the imagination, don't you think?
HE: You're stalling la. I hope your hair stays the way it is...
ME: I'm tempted now to get a porn star haircut just to spite you. Bleah.
HE: And what is a porn star haircut, pray tell?
ME: My lips are sealed. Haha yes, I'm stalling again...
HE: Bad enough that you're stalling, bad enough that I can tell you're stalling, now you tell me you're stalling...
ME: At least I'm honest about my stalling! Heh...and you'd stall too if faced with questions about porn stars!
HE: Thankfully no one's asked so far, and no, now you can't ask either
ME: I demand an answer! So what kind of hair does a porn star have? And no stalling!
HE: No hair. Work it out
ME: Ugh! I hate that I got it, and worse, I actually laughed! You win...
HE: Haha. So you now know what haircut to get if you really want attention...
ME: I don't want to look like an army recruit! I'll stick with my helmet. It's cute and also protects me from insults.
HE: Somehow I'm not entirely sure you got my teeko remark
ME: Oh I got it alright. I'm just playing innocent. wink
HE: Haha. wink

Despite our best attempts at restraint, we can't help flirting. I think the word to describe us is "incorrigible".

Sunday, January 14

i spy

While browsing the ever-excellent The Sartorialist, my heart stopped at this photo. The Stam bag, the object of my desire, in mortal peril! How could she just so nonchalantly balance it on a ledge of a bridge? Is sending a text message such a life and death situation? Gasp!

Friday, January 12

parade of wanted things III

I heart Urban Outfitters. If money were no object, these would be in my room right now.

I need a new bedside table.

This would work too. And it'll be able to hold more of my junk.

Hand-drawn birdcages!

Japanese-y rug. There's also a quilt in the same print.

This is a wall decal.

So is this. More than US$100 for each -- ridiculous!

We almost bought the floating shelves for our shop, but decided they were too pricey. I did buy the little candle holder on it though.

The print and the colours are gorgeous. Is US$100 too much to pay for a quilt?

I'm now thinking of spraying my lamp base powder blue.

I've been looking for a clock for more than a year. At only US$32, there is nothing holding me back.

More wonderful stuff at Urban Outfitters.

visitor #7

We've been counting the number of walk-in customers at the shop since last month. Not sure yet if the data collection will yield any trends.

It's a slow day today due to the heavy endless incessant rain, but check out who came to visit. Her name is Miranda Priestly, by the way.

book 'em

This is not a hoax. Follow this link to print out a 40% Borders voucher.

Thursday, January 11

sweet swell swish

With the second Swirl Swap Swop coming up this Sunday, I'm in a mood for swapping/swopping [these two words can be swapped/swopped around, depending if you're British/American], and stumbled upon this site. I like the idea of sending something out into the wild to brighten someone's day -- who doesn't like receiving a package in the mail?

Tuesday, January 9

going... going...

Holiday destination for my leave at the end of the month has been narrowed down to three choices:

1. Koh Samui for some up-your-butt treatment
2. Ho Chi Minh because my sis knows the city well
3. Brooklyn (but this is a distant third, in every sense of the word)

dropping names

It all started with the Marc Jacobs Stam bag -- named after model Jessica Stam -- which I coveted when I first saw the knock-offs at a street stall in New York last year. "You know this designer? Marc Jacobs?" the obliging black man asked me.

I'm so not one who goes for the IT bag of the season. Heck, I only own one designer item and it was purchased at 90% off the original price [which was precisely why I could afford it].

But I really do love the Stam. So, idly surfing just now at the online mother of all designer goods, I saw the object of my desire again. In the prettiest powder blue. At £714.89 a pop, that's about a couple of hundreds more than the rent for my entire place for a month.

Never mind.

So I decided to make myself feel better -- or should it be worse? -- by browsing the dresses. And then I saw this red polka dotted Diane von Furstenberg Betty wrap dress. If I can buy one of her classic wraps, this would be the one. It's a steal at £231.44, slashed from £330.63. [Can you tell that I'm becoming immune to all these figures at this point in time? It doesn't seem like real money anymore, when a Fendi dress costs over £2,000.]

Butofcos, the model had to be carrying the Stam bag. Such good taste.

It was then that I noticed her shoes. They were the exact Christian Louboutin blood red shoes I would put on and never take off -- if only I had nice feet. Oh and some spare change lying around after getting the rest of the outfit.


Sunday, January 7

smokey gets in your eyes

In other non-numerological news, I have sort of succeeded in my quest for smokey eyes.

the time is 11:11

At the peak of my SMS fever, whenever I had to fight the urge to send a text, I would look at the digital clock on my mobile phone to help me decide. If it were 12:34, 3:33, 5:55, 3:45, or some nice number, then I'd think, well, the time is right and I'd give in and text him.

A couple of days ago, I was talking to the elf from the shop next door, who happened to be wearing a really cool jacket she had designed herself. It had 11 sleeves, all functional.

Turns out that she kept seeing 11 when she was designing her collection, like the time, the receipt numbers, etc. And she would keep waking up at 11:11.

So she went to look on-line, and found that there was actually a 11:11 phenomenon. I was a bit creeped out, because I recall seeing 11:11 before too, and more crucially, using the numbers to guide my decisions.

And then this morning, as I was lying half comatose in bed, waiting for the maid to finish cleaning, I glanced at my mobile phone for no reason. And it was exactly 11:11.

Then, I had to turn my mircowave oven off -- every single of one of the China maids who came are afraid of putting their hands inside to clean it if it were turned on -- and when I turned it back on, the time that flashed wasn't 00:00 as you would suppose. It was 1:01 instead.

This is what this website says:

How often have you noticed the numbers 11:11, 12:12, 10:10, 22:22, 12:34, 2:22, 3:33, 4:44 or 5:55 popping up all over the place? These number sequences are not necessarily only time prompts. They can also be number sequences, like 333, 1111 etc. To your mind, is this a coincidence, or are they too frequent to be random? Perhaps you are puzzled or amused by this phenomenon? Possibly even a little bit nervous? The question everyone is asking is "What does 11:11 mean?" and "Is there a reason for this?" And there certainly is.

Millions of folks all around the world are now seeing these amazing 11:11 prompts. They are folks of all colours, all religions, all beliefs. It's spreading, and becoming far more common; it's become a major phenomenon. Someone or something is causing all these folks to look at clocks, number plates, phone numbers or any source of numbers even when they make no effort themselves to look for these things. You can even change your clocks in the house, and you will still be prompted, at the "wrong" time. You can't stop it, because YOU aren't doing it. Sometimes you will even see these numbers flashing after a power outage, even though digital clocks are supposed to reset to 12:00, not 11:11 or 12:12!

These 11:11 Wake-Up Calls on your digital clocks, mobile phones, VCR’s and microwaves are the "trademark" prompts of a group of just 1,111 fun-loving Spirit Guardians, or Angels. Once they have your attention, they will use other digits, like 12:34, or 2:22 to remind you of their presence. Invisible to our eyes, they are very real.

I'm not sure if there is an actual phenomenon or just a case of seeing what you want to see or even just coincidence. I mean, I looked at my computer time just now and it was 9:26, and it sure as hell doesn't mean anything.

More importantly, I didn't feel any otherworldly force beckoning me to text anyone, even when the time was 11:11.