Tuesday, October 30

friday night always is a happy day

For the entertainment of heavily pregnant women -- and I can't believe there are two such readers out there -- this may make you laugh so much that you go into labour.

I got this e-mail after I wrote about being alone and not lonely:

Dear Suzanne,

After reading your article at LifePeople... Sound like you are interesting person, I always wanted to meet. The fact that, I get inspiration from your words 'Sure I can, but it's easy to go by myself'.

Five years ago, I met one of my customer from American. She told me that, Singapore will become one of the great city in the world but are we facing the social communication change? Do we really have to work and live like that?

All I need, just wanted to meet up the same topic crowd to get my writing flow. Friday night always is a happy day. Perhaps, we can meet up for chatting in near CBD area. One of the bar or caffee...

I am looking forward to hearing from you.

There was an attachment with his CV {I call it a CV only to be kind}:

London College of Communication - Graduate Diploma in Creative Media, Graphic Design, 2004 – Recently, I have been working in printing and book industry after graduated; I do simple design and print all kind of books, letters, DM, invitation card etc.

Now, my work also involve in visual juarnal, creative writing, proof read checking and others. Beside, in some case we have to provide some suggestion topical letter.

I am Asian born Chinese, writer and designer. What made me to continued write well infor, funny and life? Once, I got your commission and gift


Another "fan" wrote the following, despite the T word not being used in the most recent column but one many months ago:

You wrote to your readers in a recent byline to drop you a line, so let me blast straight off the blocks and say, with my totally unabashed admiration coupled with a guilty tinge of male arousal - that you're one hell of a young woman journalist to pen the word 'tampons' in a family-friendly paper, alluding to personal use … I can't recall any other lady reporter brandishing that word so offhandedly in the entire history of SPH's English-language news print media.

Hey, don't get me wrong - I'm not one of those middle-aged uncle perverts out to score with provocative praise, then scurry off with grave urgency … it's just that until I read your article on, oh well whatever it was, I thought I was the occasional Singaporean who would get overly explicit in thought and talk, but now I know I'm not alone. There should be a chatroom committed to people like us (NOT that PLS, please!).

Meanwhile, I prefer to remain anonymous, awaiting your next piquant declaration! :- ))

I don't know which is worse -- a proof read checker who can't spell or a tampon-fixated pervert.

Sunday, October 28

the perils & joys of a well-stocked larder

On my supermarket sweep on Friday -- I was actually excited before it -- I got everything on my list for $29.90. Check out my very impressive shopping cart:

Extension cord
Two pints Ben & Jerry's
Valley Chef Sausages
Kitchen towels
Toilet paper
Canned mushrooms
Half a chicken
Frozen dim sum
Ant baits
Two large cans of Baygon
Breakfast ham 300g
Two good sized hunks of steak
Spring roll skin
Tinned tuna
Frozen prawns buy-one-get-one-free
Fish fingers
Fake crab meat
Magic sponge

Long live shopping vouchers redeemed from credit card points! Lugging home all those shopping bags was a pain in the arms though.

My fridge is ready in the event of a nuclear fallout, but the downside is that I keep thinking about what to eat next. Like now, I'm considering padding downstairs to get two scoops of ice cream. And what I can cook with frozen prawns. I'm thinking garlic prawns with pasta. Mmm...

And I'm still so incredibly impressed by the final item I grabbed on impulse, the magic sponge -- proper term is melamine foam -- which my colleagues had raved about.

The innocent looking piece of white foam can really work wonders. I tried it, half doubtingly, on a tea-stained mug. The yellowish marks came off when I wet the sponge and rubbed it like an eraser. I next tried it on my hot water flask, formerly grey, now back to pristine white.

I was on a roll. My sink, my tabletop, even my laptop. All so clean now. So effortless! And so fuss free! Just add water.

Okay, before I sound completely like a bad infomercial extolling the virtues of a piece of foam, I better end this auntie report. Back to looking for dirty surfaces to buff!

Friday, October 26

wip #3

I have an illness. I see a pretty picture and I have to frame it. Finally, after months and, in some cases, years, they are all up on the wall. {Please pardon the poor photography, it's hard to shoot a picture perfect picture of a picture.}

Two old school French advertisements sit atop my bookcase with my parents' honeymoon luggage.

I look at this pix of Nicole Kidman's retreating back in the fluffiest pink gown every time I go up and down the stairs.

This was meant to be a temporary home for this print of a girl reading in a tree, as it was just the right size to block the ugly wall socket next to my bed.

Ran out of places to hang this, so over the door it went. I still love the snoozing bear in the bottom right corner.

(Second row from bottom, right) Pink flamingos that I coloured myself. Strut. It also hides a bunch of messy wires behind.
(Third row from bottom, left) Lacquered cover of Le Lotus Blue, my fave Tintin story.
(Fourth row from bottom, middle) Postcards from The Elegant Twenties by George Barbier.
(Fifth row from bottom, right) Framed wrapping paper from Prints which once toppled off the shelf in the middle of the night for no reason.

I saved this eggy photo from my starving student days in London.

Artwork on loan from Mousey, who has just given birth to a piglet, and thus can't have this painting hanging over the crib for superstitious reasons.

I need to find some other way to display my collection of postcards. I thought of clipping them to a cloth-covered branch, but as you can see, that is still a WIP.

Sunday, October 21

let me count the ways

How smashed was I on Saturday night?

1. I lost count of the amount of champagne consumed. K said it was seven bottles. There were 10 of us. You do the math.

2. I had a nasty tequila shot. 'Nuff said.

3. I fought off extremely sleepiness, a sure sign of impending drunkenness.

4. I hugged K and wished him happy birthday, followed by the performing-seal clap. More than once.

5. The blisters on my foot no longer hurt. The healing powers of alcohol.

6. I sang along with THE William Scorpion.

7. I waved my arms along with THE William Scorpion and assorted bengs and lians.

8. I dozed off in a car with four gay boys singing along to Chicago's Hard To Say I'm sorry at 4am.

9. My doggie did his mandatory Welcome Home pounce and I lost my balance.

10. I fell asleep without removing my make-up and got up two hours later to shower at dawn.

Tuesday, October 9

i saw, eye sore

She noticed him the moment he appeared, because his hair seemed extraordinarily black.

Or was it because he strode about with such arrogance, like he owned the place?

Or was it the striped shirt with the rumpled rolled-up sleeves? [But no, she only noticed that later upon closer contact.]

He called out her name, just once, barely taking his eyes off the sickly green folder in his hands.

He glanced around, saw a figure in a blue dress trying gormlessly to gather her belongings while tangled in her ear phones, and returned straight to his room.

She scurried after him with her Big Brown Bag, ridiculously happy that he had not mispronounced her name.

"Sit," he said with his back to her.

She sat. He scribbled. She fidgeted.

He finally swiveled around. His movements were decisive. He did everything crisply. Time was of the essence here.

He was cute, was her first thought. Possibly it was because of her impaired vision.

Her second was, even though we were the only two in the room, he was not looking at me.

"Look straight at me," he said, his face inches away from hers.

So she did, staring directly into a blinding pinpoint of light.

"Look at my left ear."

So she did, stifling an inappropriate giggle.

"Now look at my right ear."

She did it with great difficulty. She was not used to staring at ears.

He reached over and touched her. No one had touched that part of her before.

As he flipped her eyelid over, she flinched reflexively.

He made consoling noises, like she was an obedient puppy, and then flipped it back down.

And then it was over to the other eye. Flip up. Good girl. Flip down.

Before she could blink, he was bending his head, scribbling away in that folder on his lap.

"Your corneas have minor scratches," he informed the folder.

He gave her a prescription and payment instructions, reciting them for perhaps the 20th time that day. Distractedly, harriedly, even wearily, but not unkindly.

He picked up another folder from the pile. She let herself out.

She had just seen the eye doctor. But he had not seen her.

Friday, October 5

puppy love

Six extremely cute, adorable-until-can-die black Labrador-mix puppies up for adoption. They will be put down if no one takes them in.

Let me know if you want to adopt one. I wish I could!