manual labour

Since my twin has already posted her photos from our field trip last Saturday, I think I better get off my lazy ass and get mine up, too.

Being twins, we were both naturally bored by the Bugis Street scene. Us shallow twins like pretty, not gritty, things. And it was only natural that we ended up shooting the same things. The only reason I don't have a snap of the overgrown Ne Zha was because I actually scurried away in great fear that she -- he? -- might actually bestow some blessing upon me.

Out of 7,423 shots, only this handful are deemed suitable for human consumption.


Token shot of the back alley. A security guard came up to us and wanted to know if we were terrorists planning an attack. Well, not in those exact words.


Mannequins with no torsos.


Mannequins with no taste.


A wheel.


More wheels.


At this point, I believe I muttered under my breath to my twin -- so that Biceps Man a.k.a. our instructor wouldn't overhear -- that Ah Loon or Foo Shoo would surely be able to shoot some spectacular pix. Unlike us.


I'm lousy at taking photos of people -- the few I attempted are blah to the max -- so I shoot inanimate objects instead.


The prettiest things, by a long shot, were the lotus flowers. Hence, so many shots of them. I may even try growing some myself, they are so elegant.


I never knew there were different colours of lotuses. Or rather, I didn't pay attention to their beauty previously.


They can look like onions.


Or lemons.


This is my second most fave shot. I didn't even realise that the temple mural depicted lotuses too until I downloaded the photos at home. Just shows how observant I am.


My ultimate fave photo wasn't even shot by me, but by my twin.

best potato salad in the world

Photo of dish and dog courtesy of Mai Minshan

I'm sure you are familiar by now with my hyperbolic tendencies -- Ikea has the bestest chicken wings! My doggie is the cutest dog in the world! -- but trust me, this is the yummiest potato salad you will ever taste.

I first cobbled together the ingredients for my Lazy Labour Day party and on the spur of the moment, decided to roast the potatoes with the skin on instead of tediously peeling them and then boiling. Lazy lah.

The dish was such a hit that I didn't even get a chance to take a photo of it before it was all gone. Luckily, Ms Mai has replicated it, to rousing success.

Here's the recipe (before I forget how I threw it together):

Roasted potatoes with wasabi mayonnaise
Serves five greedy people

1 bag of washed potatoes from Cold Storage, cut into quarters
20 cloves of garlic, minced
A good glug of olive oil

Dressing (taste as you go along to gauge the explosion level):
A lot of Kewpie mayonnaise, and I mean a lot, like half a small bowl
Wasabi, agar agar 1 large spoonful
Splash of light soya sauce

Toppings (optional):
Chopped spring onions
Paprika
Japanese seven spices (not sure what it's called)
Ham
Bacon

Mix the above ingredients together in a big bowl. Place in a single layer (I had to do it in two batches) in oven toaster for 30 minutes, stirring the taters and rotating the tray mid-way through.

While potatoes are baking, mix the dressing ingredients well in a small bowl.

When the oven goes "ding!", take potatoes out and place in a large bowl to cool slightly before mixing the dressing thoroughly.

Top with the, erm, toppings and dig in.

(If you do make it, do take pix and send to me.)

three thousand words

Busy. Busy. Busy. So here's the week in pictures.


Second photography class. Why f/2.8 is larger than f/8 is beyond human comprehension. And don't ask me why, when the instructor said, "The shadow looks like a peace sign", I thought to myself, "Where got pee sai?"


Mother's birthday, just one day after the Sng clan had moved in. Super yum chocolate cake baked by TPL. Super unflattering photo shot by the one attending much-needed photography classes.


Despite all the moving and unpacking, the dog still needed to be walked, and this was what we saw plastered around the estate on our daily jaunt.

last night

The photo shows a very tired and famished girl, who nonetheless is still very gleeful to be at the happiest place on earth, devouring a $1 hotdog and buying cheap Malm drawers in preparation for the Big Move tomorrow. [Eagle-eyed readers will notice that something is different compared to this photo, shot just two hours earlier.}

Chip Bee Gardens will never be the same again once the Sng family takes over the very pink house.

about photos* (but without photos**)

Determined to take some photos in proper daylight of a pair of abandoned armchairs and a rattan chair I spotted last night while walking my doggie, I made the supreme effort to wake up half an hour earlier than usual to go out with my camera.

Naturally, doggie trotted along with me on my morning jaunt.

Barely two minutes after setting off, I came across a tripod standing on its three legs next to a garbage bin. Score! I'd been thinking of getting one for the little vanity project known as the Fashion Diary.

It looked a little dusty but seemed sturdy enough, so I toted it along -- leash in right hand, tripod in left hand, camera slung around neck.

First stop: Newly vacated unit one street away. Two moldy armchairs were locked in what can only be described as a Kama Sutra position on the pavement. Click click click.

Next stop: A perfectly good rattan chair sitting next to two garbage bins. Light seemed to bright and white, but I was still fiddling with aperture and what not, so just practised. Click click click.

As I was just snapping the lens cap back on, my doggie tugged me violently around. I turned and there was his brother Slanty -- yes, real-life brother, who lives a couple of streets away and is named Slanty for the diagonal scar on his forehead -- and the family maid.

My doggie lunged a few times futilely at his brother, not in a friendly way, more like a "I must attack this doggie that looks exactly like me except for the cool scar" way. Undeterred, I mimicked a camera snapping action to the maid, as I didn't have a pix of Slanty.

Just as I was in an unstable half squat, my doggie decided to do his mad lunge again. This time, I fell forward, head first onto the road. Luckily, I broke my fall with my hands. Even more fortunately -- now you see where my priorities lie -- my neck prevented the camera from plummeting to the ground.

Even though both my palms were now scraped raw and bleeding, and I was still sitting in an undignified heap on the roadside, I just had to smack doggie's rump. He was still straining against his leash at Slanty, who was a good 2m away, watching the whole spectacle like an innocent bystander.

After an eternity, I finally managed to get up -- not easy when you are trying to control a mad dog, prevent a camera from strangling you, and cannot use your palms to push on the ground. I waved weakly to the maid, who probably would have a good tale to tell her ma'am later.

But all was not lost. As I hobbled home, all the while muttering "bad doggie, bad doggie", I noticed that my next door neighbour's flowers were in bloom. There was even a little bee buzzing around. Click click click.

My morning photography field trip wasn't a complete waste after all. In fact, it was rather fruitful: the tripod is now wiped clean and in perfect condition, ready for self-timer photo shoots.

Maybe tomorrow, I should try again to shoot a pix of Slanty. Who knows what else I may pick up along the way?

* Almost forgot to include this very exciting news. My twin and I are going on a photography course together, starting next week. Got field trips and mini exhibition at the end of the eight-week course. Squeal!

** Lazy to put up photos. Blogger will only allow me to upload one at a time and it's too trying.

a long day's night

9am: Wake up to face being washed by dog's tongue
11am: Set off for the shop
12pm: Quick lunch of chee cheong fun and beancurd drink
12.30pm: Pack the back area of shop and rearrange furniture for Swirl Swap Swop
2pm: Swirl Swap Swop starts, manage to bag two dresses and a pair of heels
4pm: Pack up four huge bags of leftover clothes and clean up cupcake crumbs
6.30pm: Lug bags of clothes home to be donated to church in JB
7pm: Walk and play with dog
7.30pm: Shower and repair make-up for Girls' Night Out
8.30pm: Dinner at Persimmon with CC, CO, HC, LG and TPL
11pm: Attempt to adjourn to Link Hotel bar for a drink
11.01pm: Escape from bar full of lecherous men, strange Mandarin yodelling and putrid smell of dried puke
12am: Lychee bellini at Mimolette
1.30am: Play Rockstar on Playstation. Fail miserably at being the drummer of The Swirls
2am: Spur of the moment decision to go to Mustafa to buy some baby bangles and bath brush with natural bristles
4am: Unable to find brush in the behemoth 24-hour store, but end up with cheap vitamins, tongue scrapers and magic sponges
4.30am: Loud overjoyed greeting from dog at front door
5am: Shower and collapse in bed after tottering around in killer heels the whole day

itadakimasu

A good rummage through my fridge turned up these Japanese goodies...



...Which I then cobbled together [except for the mayo, too rich] into a super yummy, low carb and healthy dinner.

Century egg with tofu and pickles, drenched with sesame-wasabi dressing, and cold shirataki noodles with soba sauce. All topped with freshly-chopped spring onions.

All that was missing was ice-cold Choya.

you've got mail

I've always expressed a wish to marry a rich old man, and I think the universe has finally heard my plea and given me half of it, sort of. On top of penning me an e-mail, this old man has also found me on Facebook and poked me. Ewww. And now there is a pending Friend Request. Double ewww.

Oh, and how do I know he's an old man and not, say, someone tall dark and handsome? His Facebook profile states he was born in 1953. That's three years younger than my Dad. Triple ewww.

Edited-to-protect-this-blog-from-being-traced-back-to-him version of his e-mail below [I've left his translated-from-Chinese English intact though]:

Dear Suzanne

Hi, I read your article on George Clooney, it strikes me that you are perceptive to the predicament of being the girl friend of George, an element which I seldom see from the Strait Times group of writers.

I searched the internet and followed your footstep to Facebook and being induced to the crime of face-stalking ha ha :)

Your trip to St Paul de Vence's, and other places indicated that you are a person who enjoy spontaneous urge in life for quality enjoyments. May be we can talk about Australia, Paris, London, and 40+ cities of USA, which to me are more a series of bitter-sweet encounters.

Your takes on Friend-in-law are very readable, let's say I really get to enjoy your brain juice.

I spent too much time in consulting and IT business writing in Business English... therefore my literally releases are mostly bilingual :)

[Website address removed.]

This is a small part of my works testing how popular I can be in pop-culture of blogging.

I kind of assume most of the high IQ creative-people are bilingual nowadays.

Let see whether we have the 缘分 to be friend.

a very pink house

Project Smitten mag did a shoot of my very pink house last year and the spread has finally appeared in its latest issue. Mousey's place was also shot recently, so watch out for it in, oh, six months' time. [The text is legible if you click on the pix to enlarge it. And you can also see how adorable my doggie is.]

It looks so much better in pictures than in real life -- no balls of dog hair rolling around, no armies of ants marching up and down the window sill, no unwashed dishes or unmade beds. But actually I love it, dog hair, ants and all.

But due to my landlord being an opportunistic money-grabbing bastard [my rent will go up by a frigging unbelievable 70% in June] and both my housemates moving out [one to London to work, another to cheaper digs], I have been forced to consider the following options:

a) Look for two new housemates and pass on the rental hike to them
b) Sell off all my worldly possessions, which I have a lot, and move home with 500 boxes until HDB allows me to buy my own place when I turn 35
c) Get my parents to rent out their place [can fetch a good price, apparently] and move in. The best option in my opinion, except that my mum is against it.

All are not without their pros and cons. And I'm running out of time, as I need to renew my lease by the end of the month.

Headache.

may the shampoo last for a long long time

Out of the blue, I received an email from my former housemate C -- she's the Brit gal who used to teach at a special needs school here but then moved on to teach in Dubai sometime last year. [There was some drama and heartbreak over a callous expat guy here who turned out to be married and a soccer yob she met in the UK when she went back for a break.]

In the breathless email with no punctuation marks, she announced that she had met a "very handsome dark young Lebanese guy" and they got married last month. She had also left her job and gone back to the UK with him.

To put the timeline in perspective: I am still washing my hair with the giant bottle of shampoo she abandoned only half used when she left.

lower temperature

The fever has abated. I've finally loaded a handful of non-Jay songs onto my phone's mp3 player.

Because of that, I have nothing much to say. So let's warm up some leftovers to rehash the highs from his previous gigs.

This was what I wrote after his first concert in 2002, when I grudgingly covered the show at the expense of a precious Saturday night off:

MUMBLING is a talent.

Sure, anyone can mumble, but no one can do it as pleasurably as the multi-talented Jay Chou.

Half of his lyrics were barely intelligible at his first concert here on Sunday, but of course none in the appreciative audience minded.

Because that is precisely the appeal of this wunderkind of Mandarin R&B, who composes and produces almost all his songs - in addition to mumbling through them.

Nursing a slight flu and a dry cough, the 24-year-old Taiwanese singing sensation displayed his musical talents on the piano and the cello, with songs such as Quiet and Pa, I'm Back from his recent second album, Fantasy.

The theatrically-produced concert - which started with a haunted-house sequence complete with eight masked and hooded dancers - also showcased talents of the non-musical variety.

While performing the Japanese-inspired numbers Nanchaku and Ninja, he displayed his boyish hero worship of Bruce Lee and wielded a mean nunchaku, a weapon made up of two sticks joined with a chain.

Probably not that different from boys his age in his love for shooting hoops, he wove a nifty basketball sequence into Bull Fight, which climaxed with him lobbing autographed balls into the eager audience.

Packed to the roof and up on their feet by the third song, the 9,000-strong audience - which included his divorcee mother - was almost entirely made up of teenagers and 20somethings, with some of the male fans even dressing like their idol, with red baseball caps and B-boy street style.

While the guys dug his rapid raps and chants, the girls swooned over ballads such as Tornado, Adorable Woman, Simple Love and Can't Say It, all delivered with strained sincerity in the R&B style which shot him to fame two years ago.

Mid-way through the short two-hour concert, his mentor, Jacky Wu, made an unscheduled guest appearance.

A household name in Taiwan for being host of a number of top-rated variety shows, Wu is also the managing director of Alfa Music, which discovered Chou.

The glib host more than made up for the bashful Chou's lack of words, prattling on and on about how much he loved Singapore, that the applause was always the loudest here and he hoped to hold a concert here, too.

The main act of the night might not be a smooth talker like his mentor, but he showed his appreciation to the audience in his own earnest way, such as when he muddled and mumbled his way through an impromptu Song For Singapore during his encore.

Who needs to hear the words when sincerity can speak volumes?


This was what I blogged after my second encounter with him in concert in 2004:

Just got back from what must be the best concert of my life -- Jay Chou! Shuai dai le!

I would gladly have paid three times the $128 I spent on tickets -- and this is a lot coming from someone who is so spoilt and used to getting free tickets.

But that is part of the joy of the concert, that it has absolutely nothing to do with work. No need to take note of crowd behaviour, celebrities in the audience, number of empty seats, run-down of songs, encore or not, etc etc...

Instead, it was pure unadulterated idol worship. Heck, even Sly was in the audience! But he was but a mere blip on the radar compared to the meteor that hit when Jay took over the stage.

[Full-blown teenage groupie mode ON]

Swoon. Scream. Melt. Swoon again. Especially when he played the piano. And the flute. And the drums. [Not all at the same time of course!] But he looked so good no matter what he was singing or doing. Or as TPL put it: "Even the way he walks!"

At intermittent intervals, we'd be turning to each other and sighing: "Shuai dai le", "He's soooo coooool!", "He's so talented!" and "I lurve this song!"

Trying to think which is my favourite part is very tough... I would have to say the whole three hours! We wailed when it was over... I think we melted and left a puddle on the floor too.

Am now listening to the Jay Chou for Dummies compilation I made for the girls as a primer for the concert... still swooning away...


And finally, I started a Facebook support group after this year's long-awaited concert:

- Are you unable to eat and sleep?
- When you close your eyes, do you see Jay playing the piano, possibly a transparent one?
- Are you no longer functioning as a responsible part of the work force and instead just look at concert photos and make squealing sounds at your desk?
- Are you thrilled to find out that he ate steamed fish and veggie for his birthday supper at 3am?
- Do you have curious urges to rewatch Initial D (the driving with elbow propped on the window scene) and Secret (the piano battle scene)?
- Have you swooned over the music video of 我不配 and imagined you are his secret lover?
- Do you have all his songs on repeat mode and think they are fantastic, even 阳光宅男?
- Are you frantically trawling YouTube for snippets of interviews with him?
- Have you attended a Jay Chou concert recently?

If you have answered "yes" to all of the above, you have a bad case of Post Jay Concert Disorder. It is not unlike Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, except much more pleasurable.

Fortunately, there is no cure. I speak from personal experience of attending three such concerts. You can only alleviate the symptoms by indulging in more music, more photos, more videos, more movies.


Footnote: The support group for Post Jay Concert Disorder sufferers has stagnated at 79 members.

the belated birthday cake

So happy with the cake that my lurve baked. In fact, I kinda liked that it was two months belated because it felt like I was celebrating my birthday again in some small way. And check out those buttons!

P.S. I predict that someone has a promising career ahead as a baker. The cake was super yummy and chocolatey and moist. Mmm...

yellow

Would love to take more photos, but having a desk job kinda makes it difficult, unless I enjoy shooting pix of computers, photocopiers and office drones.

Still testing out foreign concepts such as aperture, shutter speed and exposure on various subjects like my sleeping dog and the flowering bush in my garden.

keming

Subs' private joke: "Long live sk2!"

the wu man

夏夜晚风
夏夜里的晚风
吹拂着你在我怀中
你的秀发蓬松
缠绕着我随风摆动
月亮挂在星空
牵绊着你诉情哀
有你味道的风
就是我还在等待的爱
一个夏夜晚风的爱
一颗寂寞的心的爱
一个还在等待的爱
不知道怎么搞的
最近老是做这个梦
可能是我痴情
或者是我太笨
总之梦很美你也很美
只是我还在等
灯火闪着余波
随着你的呼吸移动
你说你想入梦
我的臂窝有你的梦
将你轻轻捧起
让你在我耳边细语
夏夜的风有你
就是我还在等待的爱

This song is currently transporting me back in time. (Thanks, WW, for picking it to sing last night.) Ah, gan xing ah...

Quick question: Do you see some mysterious question marks in the lyrics? My MacBook is so screwed up these days.

Another quick question: Does anyone have Cai Lizhang's Feng Le? And Xu Nansheng's Ye De Xuan Yun? Nostalgia strikes and I need some xinyao.

i love heung gong again

Someone asked me, after the trip, "Wah, Four Seasons ah! How was it?" My blase reply, "Okay lor." Even a room with a gorgeous view of the harbour, bathroom with scrumptious L'Occitane toiletries and long bath with mini TV cannot match up to the Bvlgari resort. I'm ruined for life. (Take note of the squat white rectangle building almost right smack in the middle of the photo.)


Before.


After.


The luxury brand which shall not be named -- no need to give it more publicity, it's already very well known -- wined and dined us. Even the napkins and plates were emblazoned with its name and monogram.


By the end of the four-course dinner, the poor goldfish in the flower arrangement were gasping for breath at water's the surface.


We had to take part in a luxury version of The Amazing Race. One leg of it saw us sailing on a reproduction of an antique Chinese junk while sipping cocktails and having foot massages. By the way, the winning team of 10 journos from Taiwan walked away with a huge monogram bag each (estimated eBay value at over S$5,000).


We also had to go to a temple -- the name eludes me, Mo Wan or something, we cheated and eavesdropped on another team to get there -- where an ang moh woman demonstrated the art of breaking spears with her neck, like some Shaolin monk. Very incongruous.


The last stop of the race was a private champagne room where we guzzled Krug. We were supposed to taste how well it went with foie gras and caviar and Alaskan crab, but frankly, I was too hungry by then to appreciate the nuances. Although I did notice that the light fixture was made up of bowls and plates.


Four days in Hong Kong and the only local food I had was wanton noodles. And we had to sneak off from the launch party -- with its free flow of champagne and non-filling canapes -- to get to Tsui Wah for it.


What I was in Hong Kong for. Obligatory shot of the newly-opened store.


The store is so humongous -- biggest in Asia wor, second only to the one in Paris -- that it has its own art gallery. Yes, that's Gong Li, as shot by Chow Yun Fat, as shot by me.


For the entire trip, I kept seeing this pixie-like China journo with adorable hairbands and various cute outfits. Finally, I plucked up the courage to ask for a pix of her hair. Wonder if I can carry it off. Oh, and notice that giraffe-like model in the background? She's from Slovakia and she had just turned 15 the week before. She looks double her age.


Remember that white rectangle? It's this mammoth tent built like a trunk for the gala party.


Sorry, my lurve, this is the best pix I could manage of your hero Kanye West. In my defence, I was balancing on a wobbly stool at the end of the tent in three-inch heels with Dick Lee and boyfriend jostling behind me on the same stool.


One last gratuitous shot. For more shameless shots of me and my various outfits, check out the Swirl Girls blog.

i love heung gong

I've been telling everyone, but in case you haven't been informed: The Swirl Girls have set up a fashion blog.

It is full of silly poses -- mostly by me -- and behind-the-scenes action of running a shop and preparing for new designs. We also have a fashion diary series, where we post what we wear daily.

There are also a detailed posts about our trip to Heung Gong, which should keep you occupied while I fly off to Heung Gong again. I will endeavour not to miss my flight this time round.

fringe benefits

Armed with a large A3 size colour print out of Katie Holmes (and stunted-looking Tom Cruise that I was too lazy to crop out) and determination to cut my fringe, I went to visit my nazi of a hairdresser.

As usual, he looked pained and insisted that hair poking into my eyes was very nice. But I forged on and insisted on the Katie Holmes blunt-cut bangs. For once, I got my way.

My friend D who happened to have made an appointment to cut her hair after mine, came armed with a similar photo of Mrs Cruise. The nazi looked more pained than ever that she, too wanted, that hair cut. He has a thing about not giving us similar cuts, which explains why he tried to psycho me into growing my fringe.

I'm not sure how he convinced my friend, but she ended up with a cut completely unlike the one in the photo.

Luckily I got there first.

trigger happy

Still trying to get the hang the mind-boggling number of functions on my new toy, but super happy thus far. My compulsive reading of online camera reviews and relentless badgering of my fave photog has paid off.


I love the "food" function, it makes a simple shot of xiaolongbao look good.


Still getting the hang of focusing. Wanted to focus on the spoon, not the chopsticks!


The "face detection" is amazing! And see what being married for more than 30 years does to you? You smile and cross your arms the same way.


My sissy and I look like crap in this photo, courtesy of our dad. He, obviously, hasn't been reading the manual like he needs to sit for an exam.


Of course, the most unwilling and uncooperative subject of my photos has been my doggie. I haven't tried the "pet" function on him yet though.

it's a wrap

Isn't this the most fab wrap? Simple yet clever. It's from Missoni's A/W 08 collection, but I'm pretty sure I can make one myself. Now, when was the last time I said that?

As if I have the time to sew anything, especially now that I've got my hands on the object of my desire. Final decision was the Panasonic Lumix FZ18. Just got it today and been turning its knobs and pushing its buttons all night. Love it! Especially the 18x zoom. Woot! [Pardon the sentence fragments and random subject jumping. Tired. Been busy with things like work and sale and mahjong.]

OK, now to go mark my students' assignments while listening to Jay sing 献世 in heartfelt, if not exactly accurate, Cantonese on repeat mode. Then to start figuring out what to wear for a week of 10 to 15 deg C weather in Hong Kong. But first, to play some more with my non-shiny [I opted for black instead of silver] new toy.

Tell me, when am I gonna find time to haul my sewing machine [poor neglected toy] out and make anything?

beautiful in desolation

Ahhh, these are the kind of depressing and haunting pix I would love to shoot if I ever settle on which camera to get...

I've driven my fave friendly fotog mad with my endless camera questions, including "Why do I need wide angle lens?" and "How come don't have pink cameras ah?"

The two contenders at this point in time -- they keep changing -- are the Canon G9 and Sony H7. Any help in making the decision would be much appreciated.

Photos above from etsy seller Still Memory.

jayday! mayday!

While doing a massive load of laundry -- dating back to pre-CNY days -- last night, I unearthed a "new" striped tee that I had taken from the Swirl Swap Swop last month and finally washed it.

So this morning, regardless of the fact that (a) my throat hurt like mad from excessive rubbish consumption, (b) I only had five hours of interrupted sleep because I couldn't stop watching K-drama Queen of the Game till 4am, and (c) I was late for work and had no chauffeur, I just had to do my own private tribute to Jay. And puke-inducing as it sounds, it made me feel 甜甜的. *joooooom*

I told WW after lunch that my outfit was inspired by him, but she had already figured it out all by herself, clever girl. It was what he had worn when he arrived at the airport on his birthday. She just didn't want to say it while we were lunching with non-Jay fans. We're such persecuted folks!

It's a Jay Day also because dear MS gave me a belated birthday present -- her autographed copy of 七里香! So sweet of her to give me "something Jay has touched".

Oh, and the Mayday in the subject header refers to their concert in April. And we're going! So excitement!

P.S. Ignore the giant pile of worn clothes on the left of the photo, please. But note the big green hand proclaiming my love of Jay on the shelf on the right. Doggie's spotty body in the shot is a bonus.

P.P.S. To make this post less "scary fan stalker" and more "fashiony', I'd say I was also inspired by the fantastic Flickr group, Wardrobe_Remix, where people snap and post pix of clothes they wore that made their day. I can spend hours scrolling through the thousands of outfits. In honour of Wardrobe_Remix (and my sissy, who abhors the long-sleeves-under-short-sleeves look):

Striped top -- Mango
Black knit top -- H&M
Black capris -- Zara
Black pointy patent shoes (not seen) -- URS & Inc
Camera phone -- Nokia 6300

P.P.P.S. Check out the incredibly stylish blogger Style Bytes, who makes the supreme effort to get dressed, put on make up (or is her skin really that gorgeous?), accessorise her outfit and shoot a photo of herself, even when she is supposedly ill. When I am sick, I don't even want visitors, that's how bad I look.

i like hats, especially cowboy ones

A long overdue post. Sorry, my two loyal readers. I've been very busy (just like what a certain singer says on his latest album).

Anyway, so what transpired on the day of the cowboy hat? The obvious answer would be the breathlessly awaited Jay Chou birthday concert!!! (Notice the unprecedented use of three exclamation marks? The sub in me now has this urge to go back and edit out the over-enthusiastic, unjournalistic punctuations.)

More on Jay in another post. He deserves a long long long post, but it will have to wait till my fever abates somewhat. Otherwise, it will consist of "I LOVE YOU, JAY!!!", "SHUAI DAI LE!!!", "DAI WO HUI JIA!!!", a whole lot of exclamation marks and no content.

But back to that fateful Friday of 18 January. It was also the day I put on another hat and became a teacher -- something I never thought I could do because of my phobia of public speaking, as well as fear that I would be leading innocent students astray.


It's been three weeks since I started -- I take two classes every Friday -- and I'm still marvelling at the architecture of the spiffy new Lasalle campus. There are bridges linking various parts of the buildings, called pods (very space age), and the green "grass" you see is actually astro turf (again, very space age). I wish I could be one of those art students who sprawl on the fake green with their iPods plugged into their ears and their sketch books open in front of them.


Classes are held in a cavernous hall, with mannequins lurking at the back. Sorta like Project Runway, especially with those drama queen students I have. Take this conversation I had, for instance:

ME: So why did you choose to write about this Chanel bag?
STUDENT A (I'm very bad with names): Because it's Chanel!
ME: But what's so special about it?
STUDENT B: You don't like Chanel?
ME: Ya, I don't like Chanel.
[Collective gasp of horror from STUDENTS A-Z]
STUDENT C (Flaming gay boy who wears a pashimina shawl): OH MY GOD! You don't like Chanel!
ME: Erm, ya. Please don't burn me at the stake.


Oh and the course I'm teaching is called Fashion Communication. Basically, I teach about writing about fashion for magazines. I would share the horror stories of marking their written work, but I'm still trying to figure out the meaning of a word that appeared in a 100-word assignment about a Yves Saint Laurent bag -- "kuluolan".