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lately, many bloggers would have found my humble opinion strangely missing from their daily posts. i blame it on my mother's teachings. she taught me from young that when people are talking, you should keep quiet and listen. so, i kept quiet and listen loh. rest assured, still reading but not as eloquent in commenting. do you have days when you just don't know what to say? be it political, dramatical, comical or plain boring-ical, my mind draws a blank; the frame of the house is here, the windows open but the home empty.

a little like my posts too. a lot happening at the moment but don't quite know what to write. (of course, it helps to stimulate the brain cells a little when i'm fed with a dose of dogmatic remarks, as seen from the chicken story). shall i post about that idiotic colleague who doesn't even know his own job and gives me a load of crap? i don't think he's even worth the effort. shall i post about that stupid jerk who just called me on my handphone and hung up when i answered, causing a very piercing beep to go off in my ear? my ears are still ringing and so is my brain. shall i post about her daughter, finally having the courage to bring her out to join our activities, after so much deliberation, so much consideration and cowardice? too heavy to go into that for the moment. shall i post about how much i hate being angry and the people who caused me to get angry in the first place, about stupid senseless pilferage? ohmmmmmm.....meditate. anger is bad for my well-being and fixating on the issue is not the way out. shall i write about my kiasuism and the 3 halloween parties i partook? all in due time.

to say so much without saying anything at all.

(yes, yes, still within the 5 min time-frame for short-memory-span chickens)

thick-headed rhino

warning: people who can't take my dry acerbic wit will find this rude.

some people just can't take a hint, can they?

he texted me on the 15th to say he'll be coming over for a visit at the end of the month and will i be around? i ignored the first text. fair enough, he texted me again. i don't quite fancy my handphone beeping me every other hour, so i replied with a 'sorry i won't. overseas at the moment'. overseas for half a month?? well, that has been known to happen to more fortunate people, of which i do not belong. that in itself is a very subtle hint, don't you think?

ok, call him thick, but i did mention 'sorry, i won't'. as you can guess, the story is not ending there. he texted back with a 'when will you be back?'. that's plain rude, in my opinion if nothing else. this business acquaintance is turning into a stalker. i was really put off with that brusque intrusion into my personal life. i thought the topic is closed with 'sorry, i won't'?! did he need to know when i will be back so that he can adjust his time-table to further stalk me? by the way, he's not discussing multi-million dollar business with me nor fundings to put food on his table for his crying 2 year old. i just met up with him to touch base one month ago!

being the subtle princess that i am, i ignored his message. hullo? get it? i'm not answering. obviously, he didn't. he texted me again today. end of the month, remember? said he is in kl and am i back from my trip? nope, i'm still gallivanting about for half a month, i am so blessed! looks like this thick-headed boy has forgotten the 'sorry, i won't'. was it not obvious enough? should i have typed 'sorry, i won't be in kl when you are there, whatever the date'. or perhaps a more subtle 'i'm lost at the moment. will call you back when i find out which country i am in. estimate to be lost for a few months. huge desert they have around here'. how are you suppose to tell a person you don't want to meet up with them, because you have just met up with them not long ago and really don't see the need to, short of actually using the sentences i just mentioned? usually a 'will be in a meeting / seminar' lie will be enough for business acquaintances, don't you think? should they follow up with a 'when will you be out of the seminar?' or 'i'm still here, are you out of your seminar yet?'. that's plain crazy. and unprofessional.

before any of you wise-cracked intuitive people start to suggest that he is very keen on pursuing a friendship, i will prefer to think that there are just some plain dumb, persistent, bored, friendly people out there who has nothing better to do and believe that a old working-from-home mother has more social connections and strengths than reality, rather than attribute all underlying motives to attraction. puhlease, i'm not so egoistic as to believe that all business acquaintances who want to meet up with their clients are eager to get into their pants. then again, for the horny unselective male species, that could very well be true, you know! (what's wrong with men, anyway?) whatever. let's not debate his motive, it doesn't make a difference to me either way. perhaps i should show him the book where i have neatly compartmentalise him as 'business acquaintance with no prospect of friendship'. i don't mix business with pleasure.

ending of the story? ms. subtleness ignored his text once again. i'm so rude, aren't i? would you rather have me text 'i told you i'm not around, didn't i? what are you getting at? too much credit in your handphone ah?'. it goes with the illusion i'm creating, really it does. i'm still lost in the big great outback. there's no signal in the desert, right?

ambiguous

was reading quaintly.net's post this morning when the words jumped out from the screen and danced before my eyes. when did the comic section in the paper become a reprieve, when did food suddenly taste like it had one tablespoon too much sugar, when did it become an option for corners to be cut? 17 years of difference, a young beautiful lady blooming to greet the best years of her life and a woman bordering on auntiedom who has already travelled down a major part of hers, and yet their feelings are one. is this the inevitable for sentimentalist?

i can't even remember when i've started to hide in the comic section of the papers; it has been too long ago but i distinctly remember the day when all the politics and hypocrisy that lies within its pages became too much and the purposeful action of turning to the comics section first as a balm for my soul. growing up was akin to getting clearer vision for all the ugliness in the world.

when did sweetness become unbearable and seemingly farce? when all the bitterness is too real and the coldness a part of life. i used to be able to tell the difference and objected strongly. now i think i have unknowingly merged into part of the world i fight so hard to stay out.

as i sighed, stretched and looked up into the embossed flower etchings on my ceiling just now, i realise that the beautiful artwork is now desecreted with many little freckled spots. mould or dirt, i have no inkling, but it reminds me of growing up. don't know when, don't know why, you're no longer as innocent as you were or would like to be when you were young. your character is probably flawed from the stains the imperfect society has left. you had ideals, ambitions, principles, ethics...all of which had to be compromised for the gray areas that lies between the right and wrong. you used to be passionate about everything, now your soul is tired from the countless fights between what is correct and what needs to be done. sometimes you look to the children for guidance on what is morally good.

the world was like a white empty canvas when i was growing up, with the palette of colours in my hand. now, i realise the picture has long been drawn, i'm just filling in the colours.

the chicken story

there's no pleasing everybody.

i was going to start with a story, one with a underlying moral somewhere, but i'm not quite in the mood for it so i'll just skip the drama.

the chicken complained that i am being too long-winded. the thing is chicken has pea-sized brain, so it is incapable of retaining long-term information. everything must be condensed to 5-minute versions, otherwise the chicken will forget what we were discussing about in the first place, a little like the movie memento for those who caught it. he said so himself. however, the chicken's memory is very visual so if you post pictures of flesh and nudes, the chicken will continue to scroll down until kingdom come, till his hand is numb and his eyes popping out.

sorry, too harsh? can't afford to offend the chicken. he's one of my last remaining loyal readers, offending him will mean sending my blog to the land of oblivion.

oops, my time's up. the chicken's attention is straying. the chicken only accepts posts with less than 150words.

note to the chicken: just teasing. by the way, chicken doesn't read blogs. chicken only pecks and crows.

hot gossips

sometimes you overhear gossips in the strangest of place.

last night, as the ladies were busy going about looking for food, buzzing here and there for their favourite pick, i perked up my ears and listened. it seems that the little one wearing black was seeing a lot of this new hot guy she just hooked up with. but unknown to her, he was also dating her two other friends, who are sharing stories about their sexcapades as they savour the food. i hear whips, leather thongs and handcuffs. strange rendezvous. these ladies are all slender, sexy and beautiful with long legs that go all the way to their voluptuous chests. to die for. little do we know they hide such sordid secrets.

then there was the one with the black and white striped shirt who was jealous of the threesome (or is it foursome?) and was spreading lies behind their backs. it seemed she has also been sneaking into their abodes and ransacking through their things, vandalising them to release her frustration.

another group was talking about one who was so addicted to her poison that she has forsaken her children, abused her partner and goes out everyday at dusk to seek for her thrills and highs, only to return when the sun comes up in the morning. a little risqué, if you ask me. then again, when listening to gossips with neither head nor tail in the story, one shouldn't pass opinions.

one was complaining of her partner leaving her for for another male, something about being tired of her 'blood-sucking ways' and all. it must have hurt her pretty bad because she was a little erratic in her behaviour and she reeks of alcohol.

after a little while, i was growing wearisome of listening to their whinings and gossipings. i wish they will go someplace else and leave me alone. their itchy bites weren't particularly appealing either. i swatted at them and hid under the covers. useless. i drenched myself and the log beside me with citronella spray. could very well have been perfume. i turned the fan higher. finally. they left me alone. peace. i could go back to sleep.

alien life

it's not a matter of where, when, why or what. the most wonderful part of being on vacation is never having to look at the clock, never having to let the ticking rule, or ruin, your day. i wake up when the body tells me so (or when the noisy monster makes a ruckus during his morning rituals), i eat when the need arise (though that need seem to arise more often than the regular three meals of the day) and i go wherever my feet take me and stay until the little ones start whining. it's such a welcome release from my daily routines, which are heavily dictated by the hands of the clock. it's 12pm, i have to drop all the things and be somewhere. it's 1pm, if i'm not at the dining table stuffing my face, my hand phone will ring with someone shrieking down the line 'why are you not eating yetttttttttt?'. i drive like a lunatic from one place to another to meet these ridiculous restraints and perform routines like clockwork. it’s not for the carefree soul that is so me.

i enjoy roaming the streets, not just to look into the windows and stare at another world, but to revel in the safe and secure surrounding that is theirs. i no longer have to be paranoid when the roaring of the motorbike comes up fast and furious from behind. i only realize how hardened i have become when i instinctively reached for the backpack on my back as a group gathered around me to see the exhibits in one of the tourist attractions. the warm, smiling and welcoming faces of the waiting staff is a far cry from the ‘i’ve lost a million bucks’ foul black-faced ones we have serving our many eateries over here, spoiling my appetite even before i have a look in the menu. and for those sales-ladies who telepathically know that the shoe size i wanted is out of stock without the tiresome hassle of checking or who don’t bother to move their bum from their stylish pose to locate an item because they are all gathered to discuss the latest agenda in the all-important apec meeting, kudos to you lot. our country cannot be what we are today without your generous contribution. oh, sorry, my frustration for the ways of our world seem to be running a little out of control today.

when I am walking on their streets, i am reminded of the many people who wish to make this safe and organized country their new home. it is certainly appealing; the coordinated transportation system, no build-wherever-you-like-and-as-high-as-you-like-as-long-as-you-pay-me-money skyscrapers and sardine-packed condominium parcels, no warped enforcement system where they go after the accuser instead of the accused, policemen who don’t listen to ipod when they are working or have a penchant for coffees, pieces of cakes the size of your face (i’m talking about a piece here, not the whole cake!) and beautiful countryside. and you can even dress up as rabbits and ridicule the prime minister without being thrown in jail and left to rot, if that's your cup of tea. as with all countries, there are pros and then there are cons. there is the so-dry-your-skin-will-look-like-crocodile’s-and-your-nose-will-bleed, the even-a-hawker-stall-style-fried-rice-will-cost-three-times-as-much, the very erratic weather and the very very pricey tax system. and be glad you are not of indigenous heritage, or you’ll be victimized all the same. then again, any country that makes it a law that you don’t have to wash your car can’t be half bad. even if yours is dusty and dirty, be comforted that the porsche down the road looks the same and pretty soon, nobody can tell that it’s a very expensive imported sports car from under all those layers of mud and dirt.

so, will I think of emigrating?

when i returned to home soil again and switched on the handphone, there were several missed calls and messages left on the service. because of what i can only presume is inefficient roaming service and the long flight back home, mum has been unable to contact me for several days and is close to losing it. will my presence be missed anywhere else in the world? i seriously doubt so. it's a very nice and warm feeling to be wanted and missed, to mean a difference in someone's world and to matter.

home is where the heart is.

the new generation

have you seen a mother sitting quietly by, watching her son hungrily devour his lunch, not finishing her plate of food just in case little johnny wants to have a little more? or her friend, the mother who grabs all her son's favourite food onto the plate, even before other people have a chance to take a tiny piece and definitely not leaving any for others, so frightened that her little precious will not have enough to eat eventhough he looks and weighs like an elephant. how about the one who emerged from school, with his bag on her back and her hands full with his art bag and lunch box like a slave whilst little billy hopped around carefree and light? perhaps the man who surfed the net for days for his son's favourite toy for his impending birthday and then forsake all business meetings to pick it up personally from the airport when the item finally arrives?

all parents are devoted to their children, perhaps even more so than several decades ago. an act of love back then would have been the lashing of the cane followed by the scolding 'if i didn't love you, i wouldn't even bother to hit you'. that was as close to a 'i love you' as we got. parents nowadays are of a different species and i'm not disillusioned enough to believe i'm not one of them. it is a hard balance between doing what's right and doing what's easy.

for some reason, of which i have yet to understand, parents of present time seem to regard their children as the products of the golden hen, regardless of their financial conditions or the number of siblings. perhaps it is genetically programmed that all parents are selfless and giving but if i were to hear another whiny and patronising 'you're doing great! go on, you can do it! well done!' when the boy is obviously sucking big time or carrying out an activity of questionable integrity, i'll start to lose my sanity. imagine the elderly mother standing next to the burglar, who is kneeling on the floor and is busy trying to unlock the safe, and going 'come on, little billy. i know you can do it. just listen for the click. wonderful job, honey! i'm so proud of you'. i've seen its analogy, albeit a milder version.

perhaps it's for the protection of the young that we seem to have this inborn trait to serve and please but i don't seem to remember any of our elders behaving in the same way, falling around our feet in their eagerness to provide. are we rearing a new breed of selfish and self-centered army of dictators? for my peers, filiality has always been a big part of the education process. we are always mindful to be respectful, to please the elders and to provide in return when we are of the capability. will the new generation take care of their old as we did when everything seemed to have centered around them for their entire life? it has always been about what they like and what they want. cars and houses laid down before them even before they step a foot into the employment category. will they honour us, respect us and be there for us when the time comes? i have never known self-centeredness to be reversed overnight. the philosophy that has been taught to them since young has been to take, take, take. do they know how to give? not just to their parents and their elders, but to the community, their partners, their families and their work? can they comprehend responsibility when everything has been done for them?

i don't have any answer to the questions. i can only watch with my eyes as they grow up and time reveals the answer to my curiosity.

i went hot-air ballooning and all i got was a lousy cert?

apparently, fear was not a factor for me.

in the last episode, we witnessed this blogger who realised albeit a little too late that she has bitten off more than she can chew. she went ahead with all the bookings for hot air ballooning only to remember at the very last minute that she has acute altophobia, a condition in which it is strongly recommended to abstain from anything related with heights unless she fancies wet pants and quivering knees, of course.

perhaps it was too early in the morning and my systems were still warmly curled up in the cozy hotel bed back in the city centre, i think i woke up when most of you have just started to go to bed. it was very exciting, to finally be able to live what i have dreamt of for several years, i almost felt the physical need to put a check on an imaginary list somewhere.

the entire experience was surreal; the ackward climbing into the chest-high basket like a clumsy rhino, the slow lifting off from the ground, the cold air of the early morning, the vast flat lands below, the continued ascent even after i've screamed enough! enough! inside my head for the millionth time, the bumpy landing, the group effort in keeping the balloon and the champagne breakfast afterwards. unforgettable of course was the occasional loud blasting of the fire over my head which had me nearly ready to duck to the floor every time. the pilot turned and looked at me in mid-flight and said you don't have to hold on to the handles during the flight. only when you land. like hell i don't, i'm not letting go off it no matter what you say, mister! of course, i replied with a meek i'm afraid of heights. he must have wondered what i was doing there. then again, he told me after the flight that he was also afraid of heights, which in turn led me to wonder what he was doing piloting our flight!!! there was a small hole on the floor under our legs. i wonder if that was where the by-products of quivering cowards like me wash out. so, if you were relaxing in the countryside with a glass of cabernet sauvignon and a splotch of liquid fall from the sky, don't be too quick to assume that it was the birds that just took a leak.

there are too many tales too tell, too many amusing stories to share for this small little blog.
the rest of the holiday was as enjoyable, a mixture of lounging, relaxing and active sight-seeing.

next time, some place that i have never been to perhaps? as fun as this trip has been, i'm starting to tire of visiting the same old countries.

new zealand? beijing? switzerland? finland?

i must start planning now!

on this and that

on detoxification and dieting

i survived the detoxification stint, with the last two days on the chart hanging in limbo somewhere, tempted the entire way by co-conspirators of the devil with local delicacies, thick argentinian steaks, good wine and multi-course dinners. the funny thing about asians is celebrations are always marked by eating, eating and more eating. so is death, if you think about it and any other occasion between the two. sunday's dinner was supposed to be in celebration of my little nephew's birthday but everybody was so busy stuffing their faces that i did not even glimpse the cream on the elusive cake nor raise glasses in toast of his smoke screen celebration.


the question most want to know is so, did the detoxification work? in terms of cleaning my entire 30 feet of intestines, i think it was very successful, judging from my new-found closeness with the bathroom . the cons, however, come when you stuff your face silly with food again after leaving your stomach slightly hungrier than normal for so many days. the feeling's almost akin to rolling in mud after taking a nice rose-smelling bubble bath. the stomach wants to throw its contents out and you're just so tempted to step over the line to the bulimic dark side. but food, glorious food, i shall not forsaken ye. by the way, detoxification leads to unstability in the mind, or was that already there previously?


on pride and peculiarity

on sunday, the little ones were invited to their friend's birthday party at the little birthday boy's home. i don't know the parents very well, aside from the usual nodding and hellos goodbyes at the gate of the school every now and then. being the very gracious hosts that they were, they invited us in and gave us a personal tour of their house, every .....single..... inch of the newly-constructed abode, which i must add is really quite nice. the ackward thing, perhaps only on my own part, was the sudden transition from not even knowing their names to knowing what colour towels they use, what bedsheet they sleep on and even what they do in their jacuzzi bath. urgh! a little information overload at such a short time frame, don't you think? i think people do that all the time, showing off their pride and the labour of their sweat. heck, i do that too when i see friends' eyes glaze over with that curious nosy stare when they come over. but i've seen way too much and i still don't know their last names.

i'm just letting out a sigh of relief at not having to see the condoms that were lying around the bedside. or maybe i just wasn't looking hard enough?!


on relationship and reality

was reading a book that claims many relationships are formed from a common source of interest. amusing, considering that the man is as different from me as night and day, coal and snow (him being the coal, of course). suffice to say, we have nothing much in common, except from the single fact that we both agree i am wonderful (kakaka). the list can go on and on about how different he is from me, from taste to lifestyle, behaviour, personality and interest. still, we have made it thus far and the diverse poles of our being does not seem to come into friction very often, except perhaps for when he wakes me up every morning with his very noisy routines i feel a little like smothering him with my pillow (ok, i jest). textbook theories are not always holy gospel and reality often brings pleasant surprises, as long as you keep an open mind. a relationship is how the partners make it.


on procrastination and passivity

i have a set of keys which i keep on a u-shaped key chain, with a ball on one end and a mickey's glove on the other. a simplistic piece of beauty which i immediately like when i laid eyes on it. then again, i'm so fickle with materialistic things, it's only a matter of time before i grow tiresome of it. in my bag, the little ball rubs against other things and over time, it loosens to the point where it comes off. always when i'm in a rush and always at the worst possible moments. once undone, the keys will fly out to every possible corner on the floor and so it lies whilst i grumble and curse putting them back in, one at a time. each and every time, i swear it will be the very last i'm using the key-chain. i'm staring at it now as it is still sitting innocently on the table, that wicked devilish piece of contraption, which is probably laughing mockingly at me inside. it doesn't take me 2 minutes to change it. it doesn't take me 2 seconds to apply some glue into the ball end of the chain. still, i do nothing. sometimes, i wonder at this person i call myself and wonder how my mind works. is it simply procrastination or is it attachment, i do not know. or do i revel in chaos?


on phobias and perturb

there is so much i fear, from the scampering cockroaches to losing loved ones. experts say that to get over your phobias, you have to face them. i say crap. there is no way i will stand still while you bring a cockroach, with its little legs flinging everywhere so disgustingly, within 100metres of me nor do i see any need to. what exactly would overcoming my fear of cockroaches do for me and my bright future? zilch. except to save the ears of cockroaches (yes, i know they do not have ears) from being deafened each and every time they see me.

but i'm going hot air ballooning. soon. too soon for my comfort now. i'm absolutely terrified, petrified, terrorised and cowed of heights. i don't quite mind being immobilised by the prospect of heights because that means at the very least my legs would be glued onto the floor. i tend to sway. damn! talking about heights make me want to crouch down on the floor and get as low to ground as i can. again, i don't understand my motives, probably stemming from the need to experience everything at least once in my lifetime. i went into the planning, booking, arranging with such gusto when i suddenly realised, shit! what am i doing? i'm going to be flying soooo high up. my question now is can i squat in a hot-air balloon? must remember to use the bathroom before i jump into the balloon, lest there is a unplanned 'accident' from between my legs when they start to shiver and shake.

if i go m.i.a, you can imagine me screaming for escape from high up in the sky. if i go m.i.a. for an extended span of time, please think of me fondly in your memories.

duck soup, day 3

i had a visit from the devil today. in the form of my wicked and temptation-bearing husband, who with a few of his syrupy words, killed and buried my determination. faced with another plate of watermelon for breakfast or one tiny eenie loh mai kai (glutinuous rice), it didn't take much to tempt this woman over to the dark side. one little lapse won't hurt the overall picture, right? i don't care. i want real food.

today, i get to add vegetables into my diet. no more papayas for lunch. besides, they were doing nothing for my bustline *wink*. a large salad, the little holy detoxification gospel said. think large salad, think......chili's!!! never in recorded history has the restaurant saw anyone finish the humongous salad in such a short time frame. most times, i can't even finish their salad but today i was very close to licking their plates clean.

the bathroom has been upgraded from the least visited place in the whole house to my best friend in the whole world. i think i see more of the bathroom in recent days than my husband's face. perhaps he may not view that comparison very fondly. if i lapse a little in drowning myself with glasses of water, i feel a headache approaching, which is a good thing i guess for someone who doesn't reach for a glass of water unless her throat is parched and voice cracking.

getting use to the programme and the yucky fiber drink by now. when i smell waffles and fried chicken, i smell the very disagreeable stench of oil and greasiness. a very strange transformation, albeit a temporary one, i'm sure. i like feeling thinner, i like touching the curves. asked hubby what if i turn anorexic after this episode. he's not worried; he says i love food too much. spoken like he who knows me best.

devoid, day 2

24 hours seem longer than it actually is. after each time i pour that offensive, hubby says it's not that bad, fiber drink into my mouth, i wonder if i will be able to go through a next time. just when you think no way, 2nd time isn't actually that bad because i was mentally prepared for the worst. plus the i'm-so-hungry-i-can-put-anything-in-my-mouth factor. the peculiar intake tolerance graph goes downhill a little for the 3rd time because, despite being mentally prepared, you realise you can't take the shit anymore. your courage tends to be a little yellow early in the morning, especially when your brain runs images of yummy instant noodles with ham, sausage and an egg on the side. *drools* makes me realise how pampered my lifestyle has been. i've never had to put things i find offensive into my mouth, except for the very burnt and completely inedible fried rice, which i had to drench with ketchup to make it more tolerable, that i had to frequently ingest during my secondary school days in singapore, with nary a soul but the incompetent maid and my m.i.a. brother. i'm thinking of old times, that cannot be a good sign. the booklet never mention hallucination and disorganised thoughts as a symptom. refund!!!

makes me also realise how much i've taken being able to have three regular meals on time for granted. never having to go hungry, except for deliberate action on my part. never having to go through that cold, empty feeling of not having a full stomach and worrying about your next meal. not that i've ever wasted food nor taken the plights of homeless beggars and war-distressed orphans lightly but it makes me think a little more of them and wish more could be done.

i've lost 1kg and feel lighter, more svelte, but far from slim, though weight loss is not permanent and was never the purpose of this detoxifying exercise. when presented as detoxifying, instead of dieting, strange how it garners more support from family members, who perhaps do indeed see the need for me to remove all the years of accumulated toxins, real or imaginary, in my body.

a point of note; lack of nourishment affect judgement, vision and definitely energy level.known to affect grumpiness as well.

detoxification, day 1

first day of detoxification and my brain is shutting down already. everything is hazy and blurry (i don't even know whether to spell that with one 'b' or two 'b's anymore) and i AM VERY HUNGRY. a little hunger is good for releasing the toxins from the body, or so i am told, but my stomach is growling very loudly in protest. i doubt i can last the rest of the day, much less the next 6 days. i'm greedily devouring a piece of watermelon, the biggest cut i could choose from the plate, to save my sanity. i can snack on sunflower or pumpkin seeds when i'm desperate enough, but safe for a health-freak or some nut guru, who has those things lying around their house?? i don't think i can gather i'm so hungry enough energy to crawl out of the house to get some to save my life. perhaps i should have not dismissed this detoxifying 7 day diet thing and should have been better prepared. then perhaps i will still a grasp on my logic and reasoning powers now. instead, i'm just babbling and rambling.


the fibre drink that i had to stuff inside my pursed and very uncooperative lips was already a torture early in the morning. suddenly, the courage and determination that was nudging me when i paid $150 bucks for the stupid thing i'm so hungry has evaporated into thin air. i guess one can afford to be more courageous and strong-willed when one's stomach is not growling. technically, i can drink the vile liquid and continue with my daily diet of yummilious food....but what's the point of doing something half-heartedly, right? want to die....die all the way lah. i'm so hungry *sob*


and all that i have to look forward to at lunch time is more fruit. :-(

escape from hell

does anyone know how to read body language?

that was on my mind the whole time i sat through the meeting. sitting around a small table in coffee beans, she leaned into the conversation. her body arched as far as she could go, almost as if she was imparting some secret that has been guarded for generations. i, on the other hand, leaned as far back into my chair as i could go. does she have bad mouth odour? i don't think so, but sticking my face so close to hers is not very appealing. i felt like shooing her back a little, to return me a little personal space. i stare at her wrinkles and her open pores. she's probably doing the same. sigh! if she was of the male sex, i would have screamed 'pervert!'.

meetings at coffee places are never a good idea, yet i never seem to learn. the chugging of her ramblings are like the electric-powered train, never stopping, never slowing. no gaps for me to edge in a 'i need to go to the ladies'. perhaps she's worried i'll hide in there and never return, if given half a chance for me to make my escape. for 2 hours, i listen to her babble. it can very well turn into a one way monotony, with appropriate 'uh huh' and 'yes' here and there, i may very well have to listen to her voice for what will seem like forever. the sombre clanging of the jail-door in my mind seemed very real then.

with my bladders bursting and my not-so-discreet looking at my watch, which i almost never wear except on occasion like this where it acts as a deliberate reminder to the counterparty, she still refused to get the hint. even my impatient tapping on my handphone didn't furnish the keys to my jail-break sentence. i couldn't afford the 'i-need-to-use-the-bathroom' excuse anymore, she may very well expect me to return and sit for another couple of hours after my bladders have been relieved. i blatantly told her i had to go, like that was something new to her. i had to go half an hour ago. i would have liked to go one hour ago.

she told me that she flew in purposely for this visit. i told her she didn't have to in the future. i would have kneeled down on my feet and begged her not to, to please spareeee me, if it didn't look so desperate and whiny. she insisted. i am so not looking forward to the next time.