Sunday, July 15, 2007

Eager Beavers Them Two

My dad and mum took to life in retirement like eager beavers wanting to make the best of everything they have now.
And if our govt ever needs mascots to front lifelong learning, they're the ideal choices!!!
My mum's experimenting with kueh-this and kueh-that every other day. I know it overly indulgent to say this, but i think i have too much good food and that feels so sinful. To have a full platter of good food always waiting for me.
My dad's learning to use the internet so that he could track the stock market movements. He's a young old man who's game to take life on like a foolhardy teenager who has never tripped over life. I mean it in an affectionate way. "Foolhardy" as in "Brave". His passion for life is not an inch diminished by age nor risk.
i hope to be like them when i'm old: the wrinkles being the only thing that betrays them.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

catharsis for sale pls...ANY...

I wanna dance...
I need loud music...
I need to read...
I need to run...
I need to jump...
I need to sleep...
I wanna sing...
I wanna drink myself silly...
Anything...but work...
I even resorted to reading bimbotic CLEO to stop my mind from thinking about work. How bad is that?
And I thought i should stop being a loser and do something about my situation. So i decided to go for a jog.
Then a bigger loser situation popped up:
Raindrops keep falling on my head...(No i'm not humming the song. It's for real)
And when i went up, the rain seemed to have stopped!!! AHHHHH....loser with a BIG CAPITAL L.
And thereby resulting in me taking on another form of catharsis that you're reading now.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

A Record of Some Sort

I have a pretty picnic mat. It is brown in colour, with slashes of orange at the corners. It is so pretty that i have to tell everyone who goes to picnics with me about it. One fine day two weeks ago, it took up a task it had never quite had before: to become exhibit A.
Here was what happened.
On a not-too-sunny Saturday that drizzled on-and-off like a woman having her pms, my mates and I went BBQing at East Coast park. Mr Bunny, in his trusted mini van, came to pick us up from our houses. Along the way and when we finally arrived at ECP, the Grand Dame wasn't particularly in a good mood and we had to take whatever of her insolence that came our way, be it an overcast sky, sudden gust of wind, etc. But the BBQ had to go on. And so we did.
We needed to choose a good spot to BBQ. Afterall, it needed to be a place where there's light, since it was already evening. But finding a good spot on Saturday evenings at ECP was so much of an arduous task, with people occupying the tables and seats like they were glued to them for the rest of their lives.
After tracking through a jungle of trees, we finally came to our little idyllic piece of heaven, the breakwater. With no time to lose, we started on our picnic adventure, hoping to beat the Grand Dame at her game, frantically setting up the pit and taking out all the food that was to be grilled.
While Mr Bunny and I were trying to set up the pit, Mrs Bunny, Ms Tay and Ms Lim had other plans in mind: they wanted to set up the perfect picnic spot. So they started discussing -- at length -- where they should place the newspaper such that the newspaper wouldn't get wet with all the puddles of water at the breakwater. After much thought, consideration, analysis and evaluation, they found the perfect position, which was exactly 30.00 cm away from the bbq pit. And then, the highlight of the evening, my pretty picnic mat, was going to make her appearance, on top of the newspaper. After laying it down, the newspaper sheet looked like a giant, waiting to gobble up the puny picnic mat that was sitting pretty on it. I told them my mat was pretty, not BIG. I didn't know what gave them the idea.
So we started bbqing. 5 minutes down. Bits of the pork chop, satay, hotdog and fishballs were done. 10 minutes later, our tray of food multiplied. Within 25 minutes almost everything was done. Thirtieth minute. Drizzle. BBQed last batch of food. Packed up. Thirty-first minute. Packed up. Packed up. Packed up. Panic. Rush. Packed up. Extinguished fire. Packed up. Packed up.
Oh wait. We haven't even sat on my pretty picnic mat yet. So there goes the fastest BBQ ever recorded in my Guinness Book of record, with the pretty Exhibit A playing the role of the bimbo -- nice to look at, but of no use.

Sweet scent...Not...

She had too much money? She did a nose job? She wanted additional attention? She wanted to boost the roaring economy?
That lady must have poured one whole bottle of perfume on herself. As if it was not enough to make herself a walking stench, she had to stink up the whole bus. And i had to sit beside her. My nose died, almost. Thankfully the bus journey wasn't long enough and my dear nose was resuscitated with a whiff of fresh air after i alighted. I don't know what might happen to it with that sustained exposure to the high concentration of perfume molecules. My nose and I were not the best of buddies. She used to always give me a hard time in the morning, as if she derived pleasure from me blowing her. Wooh. That sounds really wrong. As if she derived pleasure from me rubbing her. That sounds equally bad. Ok, i realise i'm not exactly good at describing sinus. Or sometimes, personification doesn't quite work. Right, i'll keep it simple. I have sensitive nose. Ha. So perfume and I aren't exactly good friends too. Hence my mindless grouse here. Full-stop.

I miss you...

I miss you. I do. Sigh.