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.

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.

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.

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!

bush baby

"What's that I see in my human's hand? Ear drops! Nooooooo!

"I better hide among the bushes and hope she doesn't attack me with those foul-smelling ear drops!

"In fact, I think I should shake my head vigorously to get rid of the ear drops after the attack.

"Yes, that shall be my plan of action. I don't care if the ear drops sting her eyes or blind her!"

wip #3

I've framed a couple of prints from Etsy, an old Chanel ad with Nicole Kidman and a colouring project of two pink flamingoes, intending to hang them all together over my bed.

But the thought of multiple brain contusions in the middle of the night deterred me, so I've to find alternative places to hang them. For now, they languish along the corridor.

As for the empty yellow wall behind my bed, I have a WIP #4. A mural!

pawtobello

Doggie ate in a restaurant today for the first time. It was a real classy joint, too, with a chandelier dripping with crystals, antique damask couches and a waitress:customer:dog ratio of 3:2:1. I'm glad he didn't embarrass himself by using the wrong fork, although he did get a sharp warning when he lifted one hind leg to mark his territory.

Although his food cost half of mine (human's carbonara, $11.90; dog's fish chowder with brown rice, $6), his enjoyment was double of mine. His speed, too, was double.

But I drew the line at ordering him a $4.50 Berry Milkshake. If I was drinking plain water, then so was he.

i said bye to my drug pusher

So, after nearly two years of popping pills every morning, my doc decided it was time to stop. He'd tried to ease me off it a couple of months ago, but because I'd always had episodes in the past when medication was stopped, I kept resisting.

But now I feel ready to stand on my feet again without the drugs.

i do have a social life*

"Wake up, my human, wake up!"

It was supposed to have been a day for running errands and catching up on elf work. Not exactly the sort of day you bounce up from bed and greet with joy.

But the day got better just one hour after I dragged myself off my supremely comfy -- albeit dog fur-covered -- bed, when Mel suggested we lunch with Randolph at the Botanic Gardens.

Errands can wait.

We had a yummy laid-back lunch in the open-air cafe, which brought back so many memories of the golden age of the Friendship Programme**. Was it already that many years ago that we frittered away hours there planning a surprise birthday for TPL [which involved a hotel room and a half-naked Ah Gu]?

Doggie had fun, too, sniffing every single tree, pissing on every other pillar and basking in admiring looks from strangers.

After a very fruitful running of errands in Chinatown, it was off to the shop to do more mindless things like sending out mass emails about Swirl's latest collection.

Then unexpectedly, a Facebook event invite popped up. Drinks that night at Jessica's new place! I couldn't wait to see her spanking new and very white apartment, but oh, how it rekindled my dreams of home ownership. One day, one day, when Swirl makes it big...

Somehow, I found myself messaging my lurve in the middle of happy hour: "So many people here, but only two cute guys max."

Sadly, it was true. [Even sadder still, I later found out that one of the cute guys whom I did speak to was a practiced charmer, while the other one, who probably didn't even notice my presence, was married with a dozen kids. Oh, there was a couple of cute angmoh boys, whom I mistakenly picked up on my gaydar cos they were dressed so spiffy and air-kissed me and all, but then I've always preferred decent Chinese boys.]

Still, it was nice to talk to a whole bunch of really articulate people, including one who tried to educate me on the intricacies of the re-insurance business, another on the labour laws of employees earning above $1,600 and yet another on the joys of the SAF. No, really, it was more interesting than it sounds.

Happily, serendipitously, six-degrees-of-separationly, I also met up with a high school friend whom I'd not seen for -- get this -- sixteen years. Yup, we were both horrified at how old we were.

The night ended with me being driven to pick up my car -- parked stupidly far away -- by the SAF enthusiast, narrowly missing a police road block at Holland Village, and a very happy doggie who had stayed up all night waiting for his human to come home.

* Just a couple of days ago, I was lamenting to Mel that I have zero social life. My schedule revolves around sub-editing, elf work and dog-walking. Oh, and a lot of crime programmes on TV. Yes, I follow Bones, but don't look down on me please. But for once, I actually have plans for Saturday night -- Boogie Night! I've got my outfit all planned and it's a good one [ie. I think I look kinda hot. Haha, shameless!], so watch this space for drunken pix.

** The Friendship Programme deserves a complete post of its own, but it's shrouded in so much nostalgia that I find it impossible to capture even its essence in words. [Actually, I feel very clumsy with words these days. Coherent sentences, form with difficulty, by me.] Coincidentally, the subject came up thrice that day with three different people.

who doesn't like baby pix?

One final look at my baby blankie, put to its intended use.

sofa, so good

The first (and only) photo in my Abandoned Sofas series.

why i'm a lousy photographer

Rain started drizzling down as I hurried to the bus stop.

It was that strange inconsequential silent sort of rain that hardly wets you and can barely be seen except under the streetlights.

My bus number 77 trundled past the National Museum where a kampung-style movie screening was taking place under the giant banyan tree.

I couldn't see what was playing on the screen but against the white of the building, there were the silhouettes of perhaps a hundred little heads, rapt and still. And here and there, above the heads, the distinctive upside-down-bowl shapes of umbrellas bobbed about.

If I were truly dedicated, I would have hauled my ass off the bus, rummaged through my tote for my camera -- which I'd borrowed precisely because I'd wanted to take better photos -- and captured that shot, rain be damned.

WIP #2

It started as a pancake stack of squares. Actually, it began as 10 balls of wool. No, actually, it was a sheep eating grass in New Zealand or somewhere. Anyway...


I took forever to join the 16 squares together. And then there's this mysterious process called blocking to make the not-very-square squares totally square. It involves the pins you see above.


Finally. Done. Done. Done. Just in time for birth of the National Day baby.

Bobo Wong keeps kicking it off though. It's the thought that counts, right?

salted fish

A frozen salmon, uncovered in an exploration expedition to the depths of my freezer, inspired me to attempt poaching for the first time.

I wanted to make some sort of terikayi broth and simmer the fish in it, but realised it would be easier just to pan fry it, then add the watered-down marinade. It was super salty, which is exactly the way I like my food.

Served on a bed of soba noodles, with seaweed and a ridiculous amount of sliced spring onions on top. Yum.

facebook

What I've been doing at work all day. Add me! Add me! Send me flowers!

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

i've had exactly the same thought

“There are nights when I can’t sleep. I go into a fantasyland and tableau sort of thinking, like, Tonight would be the perfect night to say, ‘Honey, I’m really tired and worried about work. And tell me about your day.’ Do you think someone will read this and try to get in touch with me? If I read that about someone, I’d drop him a note.”

Marc Jacobs, interviewed by Amy Larocca in Lost and Found.

bunny family

From top: Bunny me, bunny sissy, bunny daddy and bunny mummy. Boing boing boing.

sunny side up

Lazy Sunday brunch. Looked like a frown, but still brought a smile to my face.

P.S. I've been trying without success to fry eggs that have whites that are, how should I describe them, bubbly, and the yolks still runny. Like those from Muslim food stalls with the dark sauce. I never seem to be able to get the oil hot enough.
P.P.S. This is also not a food blog. Heh.

eliminated

After hearing snippets of this song by Eason Chan, I finally got round to finding out the title and "obtaining" [don't ask by what means] it. It was only then that I realised why I was so drawn to it -- it's written by none other than Jay.

淘汰
陈奕迅

词曲：周杰伦

我说了 所有的谎
你却都相信
简单的 我爱你
你却老不醒
你疏离的剧情
我不想收敛
因为我喜欢 喜剧收尾
我试过 完美放弃
的确很踏实
醒来了
梦散了
你我都早散了
情歌歌词何必押韵
就算我是K歌之王
也不见得把 爱情唱得完美
只能说我输了
也许是你怕了
我们的回忆 没有皱褶
你却用离开淌下句点
只能说我认了
你的不安得到的信任
我却得到你 安慰的淘汰
我试过完美放弃
的确很踏实
醒来了
梦散了
你我都早散了
情歌歌词何必押韵
就算我是K歌之王
也不见得把 爱情唱得完美
只能说我输了
也许是你怕了
我们的回忆 没有皱褶
你却用离开淌下句点
只能说我认了
你的不安得到的信任
我却得到你 安慰的淘汰

WIP #1*

"Randolph! Sit! Stay! I need to take your photo!"

Y'all know I love my dog, right? I mean, you've seen the "I love my dog (and yours is cute too)" tee that I wear to death. For the past couple of weeks, I've been half-heartedly trying to snap a photo of the silhouette of my dog to then blow up and cut out on coloured paper.

Today, I stumble across this photo from Cut Arts. I'm now even more determined than ever to make this work.

*WIP = Work In Progress

printed matter

So, I'm torn. Which of these should I get?


The snoozing bear in the bottom right corner just did it for me. From Apak


Heart-broken pink bear, who can resist you? From Ghost Ghost Teeth


It's not a coincidence that all the prints I've chosen are sorta this shade of sea foam. From Alicia Bock


I used to doodle stuff like this, before I was convinced that I couldn't draw. Maybe I should just draw something on my own instead of buying. From Benben

be nice to the little people

My love for all things miniature should be well known. Check out this Little People website, where little handpainted people are left in London to fend for themselves. At 150 pounds for a print, though, the price tag is a bit too large for me.

feeling it

I love it when you call
I love it when you call
I love it when you call
But you never call at all
So what's the complication it's only conversation
I love it when you call
But you never call at all
~ Love It When You Call, by The Feeling

The upbeat soundtrack to my Sunday, which played on while I placed bricks in semi-parallel lines in my front yard in the morning, watched sweaty Ikea men wrestle with a Klippan, a Lack, a Lindved and an Expedit in the afternoon, and endeavoured to paint a hospital green wall butter yellow without success.


It's incredible how many books one Expedit can hold. Good thing I bought more shelves, much to the dismay of M. Now that doggie has graduated from obedience school, I can get him to stay down and pose for photos.


Round 2 and 3 of painting tomorrow after work. After an exhausting Round 1, it was still greenish. My room is filled with fumes so I have to share M's bed tonight.

smell the roses

I have so many items on my To Do List, it's crazy. It's my own undoing of course, since I elected to repaint one wall of my room, have new furniture delivered and write a procrastinated travel piece all on the same day tomorrow.

But in the meantime, I'm taking time to stop and smell this website, with its smells of the beach in summer, the field in winter, even the musk of libraries.

This is what the perfume creator wrote about Winter 1972:

A field of untouched new fallen snow, hand knit woolen mittens covered with frost, a hint of frozen forest & sleeping earth

I remember, one December when I was much younger, sitting alone at night in a field. There were no tracks in the fresh snow other than my own and no sound but my own breath. Occasionally I heard a twig snap in the pine wood that bordered the field.
The air was perfectly clear and nothing was visible except the small cloud of my own breath between me and the infinite stars. All of them were visible, sparkling silently against the endless blue of space. I can remember nothing in my life so beautiful as the sight of the sky that winter night.

I recall clearly the scent of that winter air. It was not at all a pine scent and had nothing to do with cinnamon or spices. It was the blue frozen scent of fresh snow and silver stars. It was a scent that spoke to my young brain of remembering what was and realizing what will come. It was the sleeping scent of spring now frozen beneath the snow.

Winter is still like that for me. It is a time to rest, a time to remember and to look forward. Winter is a quiet time to watch the stars and have hope.

Christopher Brosius 1994 (Revised 2005)

I'm so intrigued by this blend of scent and prose that I'm tempted to order it, just to smell if it lives up to the beautiful promise.

fabricated

Excursion to jersey warehouse last week. Pancake stacks of cloth, noisy graceful forklifts, and doing business with a bare-bodied man for the first time.

top dog trainer

Doggie came in third in his class, beating three golden retrievers, one husky and one border collie who was having a bad day. All credit, however, goes not to Randolph but to the top dog trainer who woke up at 6am every morning to whip him into shape.

As a reward, I took doggie to his fave park, a derelict [say it like Zoolander!] playground with stone tunnels and slides from the 70s, this morning.

He loves to frolic in the overgrown grass when I take off his leash, but today, he just sat attentively next to me, running around only when I did. He's so well-trained now, he doesn't remember how to play.

pink prank project

203m of pink wrapper was used to transform a messy apartment into a pink oasis. More photos here.

happy belated birthday

I'm a bit late. But you can read all about Tony's birthday here and here.

return to owner

ME: I have something of yours. [Returns him a tiny car]
HE: My god. I'd forgotten about this.
ME: I don't need it anymore.
HE: [Knowing look] Why?
ME: [Bright smile] He got married.
HE: [Exasperated] Who, the bastard? I hate it when I'm right.

It seems a bit meta to refer to my own post but the date is sort of relevant. It's been almost a year.

missing

我懷念的 是爭吵以後還是想要愛你的衝動

The best line in the Stefanie Sun song now on repeat mode in my head.

P.S. Would any one care to translate for the monolinguists among us? WW? CO? MS? I'm not up to it!

who cares about hello kitty?

According to the cat with no mouth, I don't care about other people. But the caring test is fun nonetheless. Try to better my score of 40%.

just shoot me

I've always liked the combination of polka dots and stripes.

After shooting some photos in Provence which I thought "well, those didn't turn out that bad considering it's a crappy one-mega-pixel camera", I've been feeling a little trigger happy. So, my fave photog is gonna lend me one of his many cameras -- the damaged one with 5% LCD not working, but beggars can't be choosers -- and hopefully impart some skills.

Be prepared for more rubbish pseudo arty shots of carpark ramps from now on.

look at the size of that

time for luncherooo

I'm blown away by the obento sets that this mother [I think, not sure, cos the site is entirely in Japanese] comes up with on a daily basis for her kids. The angry octopus above just cracks me up.

pay attention during class, randolph

This Sunday is doggie's final exam for obedience school. Will he emerge as the Top Dog? With this sort of lousy attention span, I think not.

i like pink i think

With my big-ass crochet needle -- it is the size of an Oral B toothbrush, and made of the same acrylic material too -- and some big-ass yarn, I made a big-ass granny square. Yes, the stitches are indeed so big-ass, and not enlarged due to macro photography skills.


Product photography is so much tougher than I'd imagined. Posing a pink baby blanket took me a good 15 minutes, but I was determined to do it before giving it to Y for her soon-to-be-popped baby.


So you get an idea big it is. And how much I like pink.

proximity to the next big things

Sadly, the Swirl Girls have not been chosen as one of Fred Flare's the Next Big Things.

But the good news is, two of our dear friends made it! Well done, Kookii:Kooky and Maki Squarepatch. We're so happy for them! Do vote for them here and here or just drop by our boutique to check out their adorable goodies. We can safely say we discovered them before Fred Flare did!

As for our ingenious, quirky and surprisingly useful entry -- the alice band clutch! -- we're in the process of fine-tuning it, so watch out for it!




Not only does this clutch hold your lipstick and spare change, it also holds back your hair. The alice band is made from lovingly salvaged vintage fabric, while the clutch itself is made of canary yellow satin charmeuse.

one, two, three

Three little things that may make you believe in love again. Possibly. May be. Perhaps.


One. Who cares if there is a scientific reason for the otters' hand-holding?

Two. I tear up a little every time I read this engagement story. I'm a sentimental fool.

Three. This lovely story was posted on a particularly forlorn day, and a blithe "Happy Valentine's and all that jazz" text message only made it worse.