mememe

I love me and memes. Thanks for the tag, Wallflower. Those who want to play along, please do. I'm looking at you, you, you and you.

where is your phone?
limbo

your hair?
wavy

your mother?
downstairs

your father?
upstairs

your favourite food?
savoury

your dream last night?
disjointed

your favourite drink?
coke

your dream/goal?
nebulous

what room are you in?
bed

your hobby?
creating

your fear?
moths

where do you want to be in 6 years?
home

where were you last night?
dreaming

something that you're not?
mature

muffins?
cupcakes

wish list item?
uncountable

where did you grow up?
library

last thing you did?
squeal

what are you wearing?
necklace

your tv?
habit

your pets?
smelly

friends?
essential

your life?
so-called

your mood?
starvation

missing someone?
denial

vehicle?
legs

something you're not wearing?
glasses

your favourite store?
internet

your favourite colour?
sky

the last time you cried?
loneliness

your best friend?
amazing

one place that i go to over and over?
yesterdays

facebook?
unexciting

favourite place to eat?
italian

ah sir

In case you are not familiar with TVB dramas or terrestrial TV crap, there is now a cop show on Channel U, 学警出更. My entire family tunes in because (a) we like TVB dramas and (b) terrestrial TV is crap, so we don't have much choice.

As I was showering at 10pm, I could hear the familiar macho theme song: "Oh can you feel, our sweat and tears, will overcome hardship and fears." Yes, I know the lyrics and can even sing it in the requisite Hong Kong accent.

My sis, who was brushing her teeth, exclaimed: "Oh, Zhang Sir fell off the cliff." To which I replied: "He won't die one lah. Because Madam Yuan is going to die."

At the same time, I could hear my mother asking in Hokkien: "Wu si bo? [Got die or not?]" and my dad assuring her: "Si liao bo hee zo! [Die already no show!]"

After all, it is only episode 12. Cannot be so fast bo hee zo.

fickle is my middle name

Is it possible to covet a ring more than the meringue ring? Why, yes, I believe so.

From Kate Spade.

tis the season for gingie

What can I say? I love Gingie in all its incarnations.

Make your own with this pattern.

pithy, that

Notch in the mood to work, so am just loitering at time-sucking sites on the net. Like One Sentence, for instance.

gingie

At first glance, I thought these were karma sutra gingerbread men. But this is even better: yoga poses!

The Warrior 1 and Plow poses crack me up. Gingie has a fat ass.

From here.

ichiran vs ippudo

After a hugely disappointing ramen dinner at Aoba at Ion Orchard (soggy noodles which bore only passing resemblance to ramen, sodium overkill in the soup, even for a self-professed MSG addict like me), I sorely needed to exorcise the bad memories of that meal.

Lucky for me, I was in Tokyo for a junket, so I made ramen my mission. (My other mission to get a Jil Sander for Uniqlo double-breasted winter coat was a fail. Sold out!)

First up, Ichiran (Iwamoto Bldg. B1, 1-22-7 Jinnan, Shibuya-ku).



I dub it the Anti-Social Ramen, because you have zero human contact during the entire meal. First, you purchase a ticket from a vending machine at the entrance, then you queue up in front of a board with two rows of red lights. When a light turns green, it means a customer is done and you can proceed to the vacated solo booth seat.



The bamboo curtain is raised and a pair of disembodied hands politely slips you an order form in Japanese. I whisper: "Sumimasen, English please?" and the Japanese form is whisked away and replaced with one in English like magic. It is extremely detailed, from noodle firmness to strength of soup to spiciness to even the amount of green onions.



I order an egg, thinking it would be added in the soup, but it comes first, accompanied by a sachet of salt, a thoughtful wet napkin and detailed step-by-step instructions on how to peel it.



When the noodle arrives, unexpectedly quickly, the bamboo curtain is lowered and I am left to tuck in in private. The soup stock is awesome, but my order is too moderate, being my first time and all. I prefer much firmer the noodles, spicier soup and much more green onions.



The egg, too, is not runny enough -- a cardinal sin in my book.



Nonetheless, I slurp up every last drop.

Three days later, it is time to taste test the ramen at Ippudo, (Odagiri Bldg. 1F, 4-9-11 Roppongi, Minato-ku).



If you squint, you can just about make out the name of the shop on the chopstick holder, which would come in handy should you not be able to identify the shop (although the queue outside is dead giveaway). Also check out its website with the cutest Lego people zipping around. My digital camera, which keeps faltering intermittently on me throughout the trip, dies on the spot. And my film camera only has only three precious shots left.



The customisation of your order is not as detailed compared to Ichiran. I only get to choose the noodles (firmest, of course) and spiciness (more spicy). You also get to talk to the waitress and oogle the cute young chefs just an arm's width away behind the counter.



The noodles and spiciness are just right, though the soup is not as robust as Ichiran. Being the freak that I am about different food items mixing in the bowl, I am secretly pleased that the meat, seaweed and half a runny egg (which came with the ramen) are served on the side.

The ramen at Ippudo wins this round, but finicky me will definitely be going to Ichiran again finetune my order. And I need a return visit to Tokyo to try another apparently hot fave, Kyushu Jangara Ramen at Harajuku. Next time!

P.S. It is on my travel wishlist to visit the Shin-Yokohama Ramen Museum. Other dream destinations include Legoland and Six Flags Magic Mountain.

P.P.S. Actually, my favourite noodle type is udon.

white wishes

Meringue rings, to be worn, not eaten.




Hipster headphones, to be seen, not heard.


White iPhone, to have and to hold.

teef

Keep forgetting to post about these milk teef. Cute until can die, can.

My fave tale of them is the one where Lardee wants to play but ickle wants to read. Which is yours?

3D in the 19th century

I have no idea how to post these awesome, if a little nausea-inducing, animated gifs, so go here to see them. Way cool!

molotov cocktails

Upon checking in at the unintentionally funky retro hotel (ie. hasn't been renovated since the 1970s, now finds itself back in fashion, immaculately maintained) in Karuizawa, I spotted this innocent looking blueberry pie on the side table in the nook by the window.



I didn't take a bite of the blueberry pie because I was momentarily distracted when I opened the curtains and took in the view. I may have also gasped audibly, suaku that I am.



D, in the next room, was able to multi-task and take in both the view and the pie at the same time, before we had to rush out again to go to the sprawling outlet mall before it closed. She could not raving about the one bite she managed. (Check out the graphic print of the carpet in the lobby. Groovy!)



We both did not find much to buy at the outlet mall, although two other girls bagged thousand-dollar totes from Tod's. Apparently they were a real bargain. I wouldn't know. Thousand-dollar anything doesn't sound like a bargain to me. The mall was real pretty though, in a manicured golf-course way.



After the shopping frenzy, we rushed back to our rooms to change for cocktails and dinner. I had a few minutes to sneak a bite of the blueberry pie. That was when I had my Molotov Cocktail* moment. If not for the fact that I was running late, I would have devoured the entire thing.



Throughout dinner (spectacular dining room with a million bulbs in the ceiling, but unspectacular Western food with Japanese touches, such as this green soup below, made of the yomogi herb), I kept thinking of the quarter of pie languishing in my hotel room.



And I wasn't alone. My dinner companions were also contemplating how to fit the pie into their stomachs after that four-course dinner.



The pie -- filled with subtly sweet raspberry jam, topped with fresh blueberries on a crumbly buttery base -- was that good. We were still talking about it the morning after. I just had to buy a Doraemon phone charm representing the region's special pie as a keepsake.



Back in Tokyo, while wandering around Ginza, I came across this supposedly famous Belgian waffle place. There was a longish queue, but since I had nothing more pressing to do than visit Muji, I decided to try it, thinking it would be like those limp waffles made on the spot at heartland bakery shops. I mean, how good can a waffle be, right? After a 10-minute queue, I was standing outside on the sidewalk having another Molotov Cocktail** moment.



Imagine "Hot now!" Krispy Kreme, crispy on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside, just not in a donut shape and without icing. The waffle shop name is Manneken -- not sure how to pronounce it, but I'm sure it means "best darn waffles in the world" in Flemish or whatever it is they speak in Belgium. I'm still kicking myself for not buying the gift pack to bring home.

* Molotov Cocktail is the shorthand X and I came up with to describe eating something so incredibly mind-blowingly delicious that your tastebuds just explode with a "jee-bah-BOOM"!

** I proclaim Japan the land of Molotov Cocktails. Erm, okay, that doesn't sound right, but you get the meaning. I remember having a Molotov Cocktail moment in Osaka last year over a stewed tomato. Coming up: the battle of Ichiran vs Ippudo. Ramen! Banzai! Kamikaze! Ganbatte!

#24

On an extra humid Sunday evening, I found myself shepherding a bunch of balloons through the Botanic Gardens, trying to find my picnicking friends.



It was a birthday celebration for K and S, but really, I didn't need an excuse to buy balloons.



There was way too much food, including a whole suckling pig (harking back to a recent wedding and another birthday feast a year ago), but all I shot were the plastic wine glasses.



Who doesn't love balloons? Nope, not young chewren and not me.



I like that you know that your enjoyment of balloons is finite. At best, they deflate. Sometimes, they burst. Or perhaps, they just fly away.

lo res

When I saw these black pumps from United Nude, I was intrigued and not a little taken with the clever twist on the classic black pumps.


Then I clicked on the other colours and let out a gasp when I saw this. I want!

still feeling nippon-esque

This reminds me of kimono fabric.



This, of course, makes me think of my fave origami cranes.



And this is just plain beautiful.

All from Milk From A Thistle, which unfortunately seems to be only stocked in Australia.

typography love

Love the use of typography. Love the love story. Most of all, love the last sentence.

[Click to embiggen, not sure why Blogger is refusing to post it at a legible size.]

origami on my mind

Yes, I'm back from the land of origami (and ramen and shinkansen and warmed toilet seats). Bet some of you didn't even notice my absence, but it's okay, you're forgiven, because revenge is mine. I am on the verge of inflicting 84,525,463 photos of autumn leaves on you.

While the film is still being "washed" (as my family would say), here are some adorable origami ideas. (Oh, I bought a book on origami birds on the whirlwind trip. Clearly illustrated step-by-step instructions and perfect squares of coloured paper, that's all I want from life, really.)



If you look carefully, you will realise that the bird in the glass is not a real folded crane. Cheaterbugger. And notice the little square piece of paper with faint dotted lines? Packaging designer Nathalia Ponomareva has obviously been reading this humble blog. Ha!



I'm sorry I can't find the source of this marvellous pillow to link to, but I'm sure it must be Etsy. And I'm about to utter my most famous line: "I also can make!"