Chronicles of Late Night Dramas [Episode 1].

So i'm sitting at my dining table cruising online swatting the random mozzie, which i might add the bitch has bitten me 3 times already. I'm assuming the combination of heavy down pours and extreme skin cancer sun rays must be the perfect concoction for breeding those blood suckers!

I'm sure i've mentioned this before but not only does my kitten think i'm a walking chewy toy but mozzies see me as a traveling blood buffet, often returning for seconds and even thirds... greedy bitches i tell ya!

So with each MOPIKO layer i slap on to reduce the itching, i am reminded of a Japanese rock garden whereby my flesh temporarily holds the rake like marks left by my nails. And as a result am left with various polka dot shaped scars for months.

And if that's not action packed enough, wait til i tell you what happened next.

Completely absorbed in reading an article, i hadn't noticed that Smooks woke up from his gazillionth nap. Quietly examining the lit tea light i have an arms length away and only centimeters away from the flame. When suddenly i noticed his fine whisker like eyebrows magically shorten. Which was then followed by a smell similar to that time when i lit a cigarette and the flame caused half my eyebrow to vanish. In shock i patted his lint like soft fur as though it was on fire. And in the midst of my panic, i knocked the tea light over and the liquified wax dripped on to my faded pink carpet.

So there i was picking at the hardened wax and attending to my itchy bites. And then i see Smooks inching towards the balcony. Only pausing for a split second to check if i was paying attention, like a child waiting for his parent to witnesses his heroic 5 metre dash. And in a blink of an eye speed climbs up to the top of the grill door.

With his tennis ball shaped head, most of his torso and hind legs over the top of the chicken wire/grill door i am lucky to even grab hold of his tail. And like a scene out of B grade movie, the only effect missing is applying a voice synthesis to my words of panic...

"NoooooooOooooooooooo [insert pause] oooOOoooooooo!"

[This is when the editing team manipulates the footage to create a scene similar to The-Matrix-bullet-dodging effect. And not forgetting a frame that highlights the tension in my face. An expression that easily translates, "OH shiiiit... i'm screwed" in a multitude of languages].

BUT imagine if i were a second too late! Mister Smooks' late night base jumping would be accompanied by a frantic race down 2 flights of stairs. Barefoot, scantily dressed and crouching down on all fours whispering loudly, "...here kitty kitty..." to the early morning darkness. Not a picture perfect moment but perhaps an ideal setting for a cheesy 70's porn flick. But hey, i live in a family orientated neighborhood and such request would be declined by Management right off the bat.

Wasn't it only just last week that i was grateful that i put my ghetto arse pliers to rest? And allowed my right palm to fully heal. But now only to be forced to come up with Plan B for Project BlockSmooksFromBaseJumping. I find myself helpless, waiting for the blood thirsty enemy to have her last feast.

[Insert Voice Over]: Will Smooks finally outsmart the chicken wire trap? Or will Chrissie be eaten alive by deadly blood suckers? Find out in the next episode of 'Chronicles of Late Night Dramas'. [insert cheesy music].



---xox---

Ahhhahahahh... ok seriously, i think i've lost it... it must be the December bug.

'tis the season to be creative.

Today has to be one of those intense days where my thinking cap had mysteriously disappeared. Trying to crack an idea, a concept, an anything... was simply impossible. Browsing through books, hoping that some creativity would rub off or at least be somewhat satisfied. And ya know what... there was NOTHING!

And that PainInTheArse Project is still lurking in the background, so much so that i find myself consciously avoiding eye contact with my AE. But now i have another project to deal with. Potentially a good job to have but currently i am having issues with a design that has substance. Therefore i have named it the 'EfingProject'.

And apart from having Vietnamese nooOOoo-dulls for lunch today i went as far as moving from my seat to the padded red cushions to the bean bags. Shifting my arse from point A to B hoping that the ideas would flutter in my direction. I'm not sure whether it worked but whatever bollicky idea i came up with, i just hope when i show my boss tomorrow, he agrees that i'm heading in the right direction.

But with the christmas holidays just around the corner, my thoughts are invaded with going on a break and how i'm going to make this years' Christmas cards... yes quite pathetic really. An annual ritual which i had given up the last 3 years due to my work load and can't be arsed attitude.

However, seeing that this years' celebration is hopefully the end of a very fucked up chapter, i figured i'd make a wee bit of effort. Plus my sister whom i haven't seen in 2 or maybe 3 years is back for holiday, so that'll be interesting. Slightly nervous since a lot has changed since we last saw one another.

And by the sounds of this years' celebration, my mom is happily busy planning all sorts and is over the moon that the WHOLE family is reunited. I wouldn't be surprised if the Christmas tree is up already. And with the latest addition of a brother in-law, our family of 4 is slowly expanding, i guess all the reason to celebrate.

BUT now i just gotta think of what USEFUL pressies to buy *sigh*

I can't even remember whether i bought presents last year since i was swamped with work. Oh hang on! Yes i do, i clearly remembered that i didn't even have time to wrap my dad's present. I simply hid it behind my back and said "close your eyes" and presented him an unwrapped beautifully illustrated Life of Buddha book by Miho Tei aka Erotic Dragon.

I even used the lame excuse that wrapping paper was bad for the environment and kills more trees hence the paperless wrapping. However, this is coming from someone who practically wasted a tree when printing her last job. Believes that paper towels ranks just as high as 'sliced bread' in the 'The Best Thing since...' list. Never fails to request for extra square serviettes to a] constantly wipe sweat b] clear messes c] remove excess food from her face d] for just-in-case situations but never mind, you get the picture.

AnyhooooOoo... the drama of finding the 'right' gift is stressful. I'm just imagining an army of last minute shoppers ran sacking the shelves and hogging LAST PIECE items. Housewives giving me the evils and high school kids dragging their feet and blocking my way.

So YES, early planning is a MUST plus i should really start designing THIS years' cards before it's too late... eh.

It's moments like these that i get stuck.

Today's post was another lame excuse to fill up some space.

I always wondered what people's work area looks like. Fortunately for me, i quite like the office environment that i'm in. Quite "designery" is what i would like to describe it. Well considering that it is a design firm and i'm fortunate to be surrounded by warm colours and book cases filled with references.

But after looking at my one-minute composition of smart angles and cropping, i must admit the space looks quite neat. But should you zoom out in full view, my desk is a definite eye sore.

And i'm still in the office, not by choice mind you. It's pissin' down buckets and it makes more sense to stay dry in the office than attempt to wave down a speeding taxi that will do so much but shower me with gutter water.

And i was half way down the stairs, seconds after locking up for the night and THOUGHT, "shit i left my mobile on my desk". Made the hike up the steps and back into the dark. Didn't think of asking my colleague to ring my phone as i often have it on silent.

So i made my way back upstairs only to find it neatly tucked in the main zipped up pocket. Well done Chrissie! So now because of my bout of amnesia, i am stuck here praying the rain will stop soon.

Moments like these i wish for sturdy hands to grasp hold of my tense shoulders and ask me how my day was. Eyes that ooze 'adoration' and a gentle kiss that welcomes me home is all i ask for. But there is no such thing. And like every day, i am welcomed home by a kitten who thinks he's my shadow and a cold plate of leftovers fit for 'one'.

Mid-week. My week. It's 17:08.

Rapunzel, let down your hair!

For the longest time i sported the same hairstyle. Hair that extended straight down and rested just along my waistline. And if it grew past that marker it usually meant that i was lazy and hadn't gone for a trim for quite sometime. But i only trimmed my hair twice a year and the longest it had gotten to was just past my hips.

And should my name be forgotten, the description was usually spot on as it was rare to see short, asian wannabe rapunzel's running around.

"You know, that asian girl. She's short and has really long black hair"
"ooOOooooh... her! Yea i know her but i can't remember her name."

Having dyed it various colours ranging from tamarin monkey to deep purple to jet black. Rarely having to brush it as my hair was so dead straight that somehow if fell into place. So straight that often people thought i kept rebonding it.

And going through my rebellious stage, i wanted to shave all my hair off. But the hairstylist convinced me to cut it to a bob and take it from there. Which was probably a better choice as my coconut sized head would only be emphasised.

When that eventually grew out after a few years, it was back to the girl with the long hair. I had gotten used to the length and the extra warmth on a winter day was definitely to my advantage.

But when i returned to Malaysia, the humidity and the continuous late nights did effect its' look. The glossy, well kept sheen had suddenly disappeared. The added stress of work and fact that my partner had decided that 'we' weren't working out but sooner than later, was told he had in fact found someone else was a legit reason for me to grab my rapunzel hair and create a slipknot noose.

Suddenly my body was going through a downward spiral, everything i had hoped and dreamed for suddenly crumbled. Eventually i started losing huge chunks of hair in patches the size of 50 sen coins, mostly due to the stress. My health just went haywire.

My vanity and self esteem suddenly disappeared. I hadn't felt so out of place and unwanted, my only option was to go under the knife. And no i don't mean plastic surgery, i'm talking about those shearing knives used to create layers to give ones' hair style that whispy look.

I hid behind my work to the brink of exhaustion, drank too much hoping that it would numb my reality and to top it off live off meds to control the depression. And with every bad thing that happened or feelings of self hatred, my hair kept getting shorter and shorter.

Subconsciously, wishing that my hair was an extension of me and if i cut it off, it would mean i didn't have to worry anymore. So between 2004 til now, you will notice that my hair had gone through various stages. And at one point, contemplating whether i could pull off a human hair skull cap. Which i ended up not doing as i remembered the unevenness and coconut skull.

But lately i've been missing the feminine locks and the option to style it to create another look. Envious of girls with luscious hair and being able to smell the scent of my shampoo infused in the strands. My mission is to grow it out once again. Only problem is having to go through the yucky 'in-between stage' where no amount of product will keep it in place. My hair will have to suffer by being held in place with half a dozen of bobby pins and clips so it looks somewhat neat.

In the meantime, i can play around with Makeover-O-Matic at Makeover Central at iVillage.com where i can create a variety of styles and looks ranging from Drag Queen contestant to the solemn librarian.

Welcome to my frosty Arctic Circle.

Unfortunately for me my fully furnished flat is no where near MTV Cribs standard. My tour would barely fill a full minute of footage and all the clutter [90% of my belongings would need to be chucked outside to give it that Minimalist/Zen look].

I guess it would help if i were famous and had a home fit for a magazine shoot. A place where i could show off my shiny cars which i'd refer to as 'toys'. All of which so happen to have the darkest tint that no UV ray or paparazzi flash could pierce through. What am i going on about? The only wheels that i own are a pair of roller skates that were hand me downs from my sister and i don't even know where they are. So scratch that idea.

So back to the Cribs episodes, the camera crew will usually zoom in on the fridge. Highlighting the colour coded soft drinks and neatly packaged goods. And depending on their occupation, a bottle or two of Cristal will pop up and appear in the corner.

But back to the world of the more common people, my fridge contains half filled bottles of what nots and random items that i suddenly felt like buying but ended up forgetting about. Each shelf has a variety of items that usually gets replaced once finished. And 99% of the time you will find multi-grain or whole meal bread stuffed somewhere in there along with a pack of Singles and a chunk of Dutch Edam cheese or an equivalent.

Half a shelf houses beer and continues to chill the white wine that i got from a friend so long ago, that i'm sure it's alcohol content has matured. [And yes, i did remember to lay it flat to prevent the cork from drying up]. My fridge is not the oldest i've seen that still works but occasionally it makes these weird sounds like the motor has just died and miraculously comes to life soon after. Thankfully i haven't had any issues in the past 6 months.

That was until just now when i had decided to make some pasta for dinner. I'm not sure why but i looked at the freezer [located in the upper section of the fridge] and thought, why does it look SMALLER? I mean it's not exactly huge to begin with but something looked odd.

I opened it and to my horror, i have somehow created a mini arctic circle! At least an inch and a half thick of ice has formed on the walls and floor bedding. It looks as though a blizzard has taken place without my consent and my bottle of vodka is encased in a layer of thick frost.

So when i wished upon a star for a white Christmas, i didn't think i'd have to bust out with a chisel and rags so soon. But here's wishing that the damn fridge conks out and can't be fixed, so that i can ask my land lady to replace it with one that preferably was manufactured in this millennium.

Yes, technology has done wonders in making our lives so much easier. Some serious defrosting is needed ASAP. *Goes off to find old newspapers, a wooden spoon, old rags and a bucket*

I missed Sexpo... again.

So i was reading an online buddy's blog and it touched on the topic of swinging. And no he was not offering services or sharing his experiences. But he was talking about how a country which is better known for its cleanliness and absurd fines has quite a number of individuals who participate in such activities. A country not too far away and a lot closer than you'd think, i'm talking about Singapore.

And so i read the linked article and it mentioned that this year they had their 2nd Sexpo. Never would i have thought that the government would actual endorse such exhibition. But i'm wondering how explicit it really was? Seeing that even Playboy is banned in the country. Hell even gum is banned! I'm only guessing visible nipples were masked out and porn stars [if any] were restricted to remain in their booth and were decently dressed.

Perhaps the government is reminding their citizens that 'Work and No Play' is in fact bad for the country as i am assuming more people are choosing not to marry young and are opting not to have children.

But it reminded me of when my [then] boyfriend and i went to the Sexpo in Melbourne a few years back and how excited i was to go. Spoilt for choice as a variety of toys for him and her were screaming for attention. Anything and everything related to pleasure and pain was on display. Big breasted women in ridiculously high platforms dished out samples of lubricants and random items. And if you were lucky, you may even get to meet your favorite porn star as there were scheduled times for them to meet their fans.

And although the percentage of dirty old men walking around was relatively small. There were just as many women, if not more there and was tastefully done. And comparing the Sexpo Singapore site and that of the Sexpo in Australia... it is obvious which one i would prefer to be at. A city where sex shops are just as common as 7-11's and isn't shy about their extra curricular activities.

One of many things that i miss about Melbourne.

Envious

Iggy Piggy's birthday dinner write up is on hold until i receive the photos. Which i am unsure when i will receive, so instead i will entertain you with some fantabulous, exceptionally beautiful digital artwork that i found on deviantART.

So my business card and work permit declares that i'm a designer. But the title itself is so vague. The categories and branches extend to all sorts and trying to describe to people what i do, me being a graphic designer can be explained in simple terms; anything printed and that involves building up a brand. Examples are logos, packaging, brochures, stationery, posters, books, layouts etc.

Basically i try to brainwash the masses by getting them to want my clients' brand.

But apart from my limited design capabilities, experience and computer skills, somehow or rather i have managed to squeeze some creativity and that has landed me a job and results that my boss appreciates. Two very important factors especially when it comes to the end of the month and i receive my pay cheque.

And lately, i've spent hours browsing through strangers' galleries, amazed by some of their artistic talent. Whether or not they've been trained or by a freak of nature was given the gift naturally, i am simply blown away. A sucker for photography and in particular fetish art for some reason. I am inclined to levitate towards images that have a theme or are slightly on the dark side.

But i am looking to remove the crappy framed pictures that still remain hanging on my rented walls. And surround myself with inspiration and artwork/prints that reflect what i believe beauty in art is.

And one deviant member i have decided is my ultimate favorite is that of Kassandra-Cassie. There are a few that i would LOVE to get printed huge and framed and if i can't find anything remotely as beautiful, i'll try and contact her to see if she's willing to do them commission based.


Milk by *Kassandra-Cassie on deviantART


End of Summer... by *Kassandra-Cassie on deviantART


Mistery. by *Kassandra-Cassie on deviantART

Friday to Saturday but feels like it's Sunday.

I can't decide whether the past 13 years of clubbing has finally made me want to tone down or that i'm actually 'tired' of the whole scene [not including Hard Sequence or BAXX nights of course]. Or it could be that i am in fact getting older and the whole get up and get jiggy with an equally intoxicated stranger doesn't do it for me anymore.

So Friday i decided that i'd make a guest appearance at Zouk. My second home once upon a time and a regular at the Recharge Area. It so happened that SuperOrganisedStoreroom was celebrating his birthday there the night that Armin Van Buuren [recently voted #2 DJ in the world] was playing.

By the time i arrived, the line was already getting quite long. And as usual, i made my way to Terrace Bar to meet up with my mates for beers prior to going in. When DJ Irritating, the birthday boy and entourage arrived, i made my way outside waiting in line with the rest of the people. But with a few DJ Irritating spoken words to the manager on duty, we waltzed straight in and got our hands stamped.

And the door girl, whom i used to see every Wednesday through Saturday had recognised me and was surprised she remembered my name. It must be at least 4 months since i was there last. [Sometimes i wish my memory skills were better].

As the night progressed and i stood somewhat stationery and failed miserably at avoiding being smooshed by strangers. I sent a sms to Chook to see where he had disappeared, as i had in fact made my way back to Terrace after i knew where the party had their table.

Ended up at the Recharge Area, sitting at the table that my arse once familiarized itself with. But oddly enough, the seats didn't feel as comfortable. The majority of faces surrounding me were unfamiliar. And as usual when a familiar track came on, everyone went ballistic. Looking from the balcony on to the lower ground and where the dance floor was, it was packed like sardines in a can.

I spent the next 2 and a half hours checking the time and wishing that i had the power to fast forward. I sat on an available seat and made small talk with people i knew and did a bit of shoulder rocking and that's just about it.

We ended up leaving around 2.30 because the birthday boy was going to continue the party at his place. So with a few pit stops and more drinks, we eventually made it there.

By morning we made our way to DJ Irritating's place and took advantage of the pool. I later spent the next few hours swimming, pruning and lying on the edge of the pool partly submerged in the water. Our tanning mission was cut short as the blue sky was replaced with heavy clouds and threatened a down pour.

At which time, i figured it probably would be a good time to actually head home. And knowing that at 8pm i had a surprise 30th birthday dinner for Iggy Piggy, a mate of mine from back in college [more detail and pictures of the night will be in the next post].

So now half a shade darker and with obvious tan lines where my bikini covered my flesh, i am starting to feel certain parts of my body feel slightly more roasted. That's what i get for not putting on sunscreen.

Feeling like i had no recollection of time, my Saturday felt like a Sunday for some reason. I figured that listening to the soothing water dripping from the pool into the drain just added to the whole I-am-on-holiday feel. The longer i let my fingers and toes to prune, the more of my built up stress dissolved. It had been awhile since i chilled by the pool and with the added good company... it made it just a little more special. So thanks to them all.

Me and my 6 inch Stanley...

So i got myself a 6" Stanley yesterday. There it was just chillin' with the others, all various lengths. Locked behind a glass door, i'm only assuming so randoms wouldn't have the opportunity to do a five-finger discount. Followed by the excuse of suddenly getting amnesia should they walk out the store "by mistake" and get caught.

But the minute i saw it, i knew he was the right size. My petite sized hand grabbed hold and i caressed the sides. Glanced at the minimal design on the packaging and read that it was BUILT FOR COMFORT. And that's exactly what i was looking for. And let me tell you, i've had some cheap arse dinky ones and they definitely don't do the job.

I figured an extra inch wouldn't be necessary since i already had one that was bigger and although it has gone past its expiry date, it is definitely a life saver should i need a spare.

I got home and hacked my way through the plastic packaging. Eager to see how it would fair, i was eager to finish what i had started. But i only got so far before my hand hurt.

And before you even think anymore perverse thoughts, my ProjectBlockSmooksFromBaseJumping had in fact done more damage to my palm the night before than i thought. Still very bruised and slightly swollen, i decided to let my 6" Stanley pliers familiarize itself with all my other crummy tools whilst i hung on to an ice cold can to reduce the swelling.

And decided i deserved an early night...

HS heads to JB on the 15 DEC 2006

We're baaaaack! This time we're heading to JB and to all those in Singapore, i reckon you should grab your passport and make it over the bridge, cause there will be some serious bangin' tunes... See you there!

Blunt Pliers and Chicken Wire.

The main purpose of having a grill door fixed to my sliding glass doors was not to keep wildlife outside of my apartment but to allow air to flow through my place without worrying that Smooks will one day abandon me and join the hundreds of stray cats patrolling the area.

Previously i've had to practically chuck kitty in my bedroom when i need to keep all the doors open. I have adopted a four-legged shadow. But any chance he gets to be on the balcony to sniff the intoxicating smells, he takes full advantage.

The devils' spawn continues to lurk behind corners and strategically places himself behind an object and continues to practice the "Leap & Lock". And like a jack-in-a-box, he springs forward and lunges towards my ankle/calf/toes/whatever closest and wraps his jaws around the area he is attacking.

Of course those kitten teeth are harmless NOW but once those rice grains grow into fangs, imagine combining them with Captain Hook Claws! It'll be like the Animal Planet equivalent of Freddy Krugar on Nightmare on Elm Street.

So yesterday i went to the hardware store... again, with an invisible map engraved in the back of my head. I plucked out the items i needed and strolled through every aisle like i was on a tour and needed to stop at every section.

Seriously, i wonder whether in my past life, i was some overweight plumber or hardware man. Because honestly, you chuck me into Bunnings or its' equivalent, not only will i be a happy camper but i would probably find some D.I.Y item, a new set of tools and various things that i don't necessarily need but got suckered into buying because of the demonstration.

I admit, i can be as exciting as a spec of dust. And if you have only JUST realised my long winded-ness OR so happen to be a foreigner and finds that learning swear words is your ticket to being "cultured" you may be disappointed OR you so happened to be in a google kinda mood and got thrown into [I SWEAR...] and soon thought, "WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE ON?"

Well i may not be what you had expected but fuck would i know what people want to read... i write what filters through my brain and in the limited amount of vocabulary i have stolen, i'll create a vision in your head that closely resembles my world.

Anyway, back on topic... armed with chicken wire and random other items, i was eager to get home to start my Project BlockSmooksFromBaseJumping. Thinking it wouldn't be too hard to cut and twist wire, i was Miss Eager Beaver. But try doing all that with VERY blunt cutters. AND yes i did try to use a nail file and all that did was scrape off its layer so it was shiny.

So determined to get it done, i worked til the wee hours of the morning. I just hope my neighbors weren't too pissed off with all the metal on metal scraping and the occasional "OH FUCK!" coming from my balcony.

And with some additional scratches, sore shoulders/neck and a bruised right palm, i will now be able to give up my shift as a grill door watcher. And will always be prepared to repair the chicken wire that my four-legged feline wannabe caged monkey hangs from.

TO BUY LIST:
1) Kick arse sharp muthafuckin' pliers/cutter.

T3 and T4 = NORMAL

I am absolutely over the moon because i went to see my doctor about my Thyroid. And the results have come in.

But let me tell you what my very first T3 & T4 levels were back when my GP was a bit suss and suggested that i should take a blood test. And as suspected, i was told that my levels were extremely high and i was confirmed to have Hyperthyroidism. And NO dont' be silly, it's NOT contagious, don't worry.

OK so i can't remember what it all means except that i was told my levels were nearly double of what is considered normal. So huge thanks to KatieBaby [Hayden's girlfriend/fiancé] for insisting that i should get myself checked out because physically, the various symptoms were showing. It was obvious that something was wrong.

MY RESULTS | WHAT IS NORMAL
31 JAN 2005

T4 : 231 | between 58 - 155 nmol/L
T3 : 4.16 | between 0.69 - 2.16 nmol/L
TSH : 0.06 | between 0.49 - 4.67 µtu/ml

But alas, i got my results...

MY RESULTS | WHAT IS NORMAL
10 NOV 2006

T4 : 14 pmol/L | between 9.1 - 24.4 pmol/L
TSH : 1.10 mlU/L | between 0.30 - 4.50 mlU/L

And within 14 months my levels had finally normalized. March 2006 was when i had my last blood test done and the results were encouraging. But having changed doctors/hospitals, i was told that i should recheck my thyroid since there is a huge possibility that my downward spiral a few months back could have been related to that butterfly shaped gland that sits in front of ones' neck. [seeeee... i am jinxed when it comes to butterfly shaped things =p]

And again, having no idea what that all means or whether i got the symbols right. But i've been told that i remain within the NORMAL range! My doc insists that i continue with my meds but i've been reduced to ONE Carbimazole a day as opposed to starting with SIX or EIGHT per day [i can't remember]. And not to underestimate the small little pill that looks like an Equal artificial sweetner because like most "little/petite/pint" sized things, they're usually packed with tremendous power... ehehe.

And having followed a routine weight check, i have lost HALF a kilogram... woooOoopy-doo-da-day! So yea, great news for me and YAY for the gland that controls my hormones and what nots. And after all that good news, i rambled on about how i'm NEARLY cured but was interupted and was told i have a 50% chance of getting it back again...

Hmmmph... well nooOoooow. Think happy thoughts... tra la la la la!

Red is the colour of blood.

It's strange how the mind captures memories and people. And how it all gets muddled up the minute one falls into deep sleep. For many of us, dreams are remembered and often forgotten the minute one hits their morning shower.

And at one point, i could clearly remember every single detail. And having difficulty differentiating what is my conscious and subconscious self.

But thankfully, in recent weeks my sleeping patterns have regulated. With the exceptional nights that i sit glued behind MattEbony because Smooks has decided to fall asleep on my mouse pad and feed off the warmth whilst i cruise online using the track pad.

And like a new born, taking short naps just so i can rejuvenate myself, i wake up and return to what i was doing prior to my siesta. No dreams, just silence.

But my dreams are starting up again. And although it's been so long since we came face to face, he remains engraved in my psyche. There was a time when we were able to sense when the other was thinking of the other, despite being thousands of miles away. It's starting up again. The only difference is i don't think he's thinking of me. But if like a freak of nature, he is, it's probably best that i don't know.

On another note, my hormones are balancing out [and NO this is not an announcement to say my eggs are ripe but to say my moods are controlled]! *Bursts out with a song and dance* And finally i have a job that isn't the cause of stress related bald patches and anxiety attacks... definitely not a pretty picture. The road to recovery is definately bumpy but it sure beats being in a hole.

I have my second appointment to see my thyroid doctor tomorrow.

So hopefully, with my second blood test done last week, he will be able to tell me whether i can reduce my meds or take me off them completely. And now all i have to do is maintain this lifestyle and constantly remind myself that MY HEALTH COMES FIRST.

Talking about blood, it got me thinking about my food intake. Any blood thirsty carnivore will debate that humans are built to function as meat eaters and not vegetable eating rabbits. Formerly proud of a digestive system strictly made for farm animals and refusing fish unless it came boxed, breaded and deep fried.

And believe it or not, it's been nearly 4 years [in March] since i ate my last piece of meat. And by meat i mean not one that is attached to another being... [yes YES i know the gutter talk still is alive and kicking]. I'm starting to wonder about all the amazing food that i'm missing out.

I'm not sure whether it's the lack of vitamins and red meat in my diet but i have read that individuals with an O+ blood type should in fact consume red meat. Most importantly reduce their protein intake [which in my case, i would have failed at since i am a self made pescatarian]. But that could all be bollicks since the person who came up with that theory was probably a burger eating whore [no offense].

And being part of a blood type that is universal, i am capable of having my blood transfused to others. But the sight of a puny little needle sucking out my blood terrifies me. And believe me no amount of milo or sugared cookies will make me feel better. I am convinced the many weeks spent in hospital as a young child has in fact traumatised me for life.

Odd, since i can tolerate the jabbing of a needle to adorn myself with 14 piercings. And lately, i'm considering redoing one that i had previously done but had taken out and has now closed up.

POSSESSED and NO means NO so STOP.

Having installed my new grill door on my balcony, i was pleased that i could finally keep my sliding door open without having Smooks running out and attempting to base jump from the second floor.

At first the little tyke was curious and meowed non-stop. Which was when i reassured him that everything was ok and he sniffed the polluted air. Then as i was unpacking my groceries he comes running from behind and tries to bury himself INSIDE the plastic bag. [Awww, so cute the furball wants to play hide and seek].

And almost instantly this adorable peek-a-boo game turns violent. And as though someone had shoved a lightning rod up his arse, he begins sprinting around the room and only stopping so he can latch on to my ankle.

So with a firm "NO" and a shove, suddenly those angelic eyes transform and his pupils dilate. The devil's spawn has been reincarnated and has possessed my kitten. "OH MY FUCKING GAWD... FUCK OFF!" [My neighbors must wonder sometimes because of the yelling]. But trying to shake off a four legged creature who thinks i'm a walking piece of meat is no easy task.

Keeping my 3 and a half month kitten happy with his fetish for plastic bags and rolled up tissue. I'm relaxed when he spends time tossing it around and carrying it from point A to B to Z. So attached in fact that he sometimes brings the plastic bag into bed and i wake up with it neatly tucked behind me.

So anyway, eventually he calms down and i decide to cook myself pasta for dinner. And no more than 15 minutes i see him eyeing the grill door. And like a four legged spider man, he attempts to climb to the top at record speed. At which time, i'm bolting from the kitchen to the balcony and plucking him off the grill door just in time before he reaches the gap at the top.

I've realised unless supervised and when my energized spidercat gets sleepy is when i can keep the sliding door open. Otherwise i risk losing him to the outside world or worse a reversing car.

Oh i can't wait for him to fatten up so he can't fit in the gap and the sooner he can wear his collar with a bell the less mini heart stopping moments i'll have.

Monday's faded crimson patches.

I received a phone call from my land lady just now... "uh oh". She called to confirm whether i had asked for contractors to come to the apartment. My initial thought was "SHIT!" She's going to think that i've gone ahead and planned for a complete make over and transformation [I WISH]. I explained that i was just fixing a grill door onto my balcony and apologised repeatedly for not informing her.

The reason she called was to say the contractors were at the front gate and the security guards weren't letting them in because they weren't informed. More importantly, my land lady wasn't informed.

I rushed home during my lunch break hoping that my pint sized land lady wasn't waiting out front ready to give me an ear full. But she's at work and i had explained that nothing dramatic was happening. Plus she's a sweet middle aged woman that had once declared that she treats me like her own daughter... whether that's relevant at this point, i'm not too sure. So no drama there.

But i'll tell you what is dramatic. I decided to walk from my apartment to my office [a good 20 minute power walk] in the midday sunlight. Armed with a burnt out fluorescent tube, red mary poppins bag and somewhat matching beaded necklace, i started my journey. And having disposed of 20% of my body's water, i made it back to the office in one piece. Only to be drenched and feeling an oncoming heat stroke approaching.

I looked down to see i had red blotches all over my white top. And no i didn't have any cranberry juice this morning nor do i dribble. The combination of my much loved red beaded necklace and my possibly acidic sweat had caused a reaction and smeared itself on my white top.

And to add to the junk food intake, i went to go buy a fillet-o-fish meal and ate a soft serve on my way back to the office to make me feel better... [absolutely no relation to topic but thought i'd share].

So yeah, Monday has not only made me dehydrated and look as though i've entered a wet t-shirt competition but now i have to go through my day with ribena looking stains on my chest. Terrific!

I've missed you too.

One of the first things i do when i reach the office, apart from switching on my mac, is make my way to the pantry to make an instant coffee. A sad excuse for a caffeine boost especially when i can buy an adrenaline filled cup down the road.

But never mind, i'm here and it's free so i can't complain. I've slightly overdosed in instant Ipoh White Coffee, so Nescafé was my second choice [in fact, my only option].

AnBloodyMumNoMore bought a mini bottle of milk last week. I clearly remember it wasn't that long ago, so figured it would be safe. There was no curdling or funky smell. And as usual i mixed my rendition of a mocha = 1 heapful of coffee + 1 heapful of milo + 1 teaspoon of sugar. Content that i would be using REAL milk as opposed to powdered milk, i trotted along to my desk to continue work.

After a few sips, i realised there's something really iffy about this coffee. Perhaps it was in the first stage of expiration or perhaps my taste buds have suddenly decided to be more picky. And then evil thoughts of me being violently ill and racing to the bathroom filled my head.

I ended up pouring it down the drain and made my usual = 1 heapful of coffee + 1 heapful of milo + 1 teaspoon of sugar + 2 powdered milk teaspoons.

Unsatisfied, i decided to check my email and lo and behold, i receive an email from Hudsons Coffee. It's been more than 4 years since i got off the tram and made my way to their branch before i'd enter building 88.

I wish my Past would stop interfering.

Someone once told me the reason why i get disappointed is because i put all my effort and energy towards one focus. And like a game of Jenga, all the work i put in suddenly crumbles with the slightest wrong move. It's disheartening, it almost makes you want to give up. It makes you want to throw those kit kat shaped blocks against the wall in hope that it would banish the hurt.

But why is that? Why is it that when one doesn't put any effort things fall into place. Is that why some people develop that come-go-lucky kind of attitude. Or is it because they happen to be at the right place, at the right time and are able to grab opportunity by its horns? Hmmm.

I believe everyone has issues, some more than others unfortunately. Some people struggle through life physically whereas some battle through it emotionally. There are those who are determined to get over their own weaknesses and conquer their ego, hoping for something better. Then there are some who analyze the past and the future, unintentionally forgetting about the present as it trickles away.

And as most adolescents, i struggled with dealing with my own emotional daemons and kept secrets. Wishing that when i got older, it would be better. I'm just a little older now. I've had my fair share. I've battled with my daemons and hopefully i am on the winning end. I've also updated my scrap book of secrets and they currently sit quietly hidden.

But why does it feel like i'm lost and 13 years old again? Lying on my front staring at the second hand moving forward. Each second going by is a forgotten second and a past i'll never be able to retrieve again.

And i just hope whatever it is i'm looking for, i'll find it soon.

Calories? What's that?

Because i can, i ordered Domino's. Having ordered the same deal since i found out that Domino's delivers in my area, i punched in the number on my phone. After repeating 'yes' a few times when the order taker took my order. It would have saved him time if he only said, "will that be the same, Miss Christina?" I admit, i have tendency to eat the same thing over and over until i get sick of it.

It's Saturday night and the only calls that's come through my phone today were from my dad. My phone is by far a hotline for eager pursuers. If anything i get more SMS' from clubs giving me reminders of what nights they're having and nights that i never attend.

The sudden temporary disappearance of HS and BAXX nights has converted me into a wall flower and couch potato. In simple terms, a loner.

On one hand, i bitch and moan that i'm single and secretly despise couples who can't stop oogling over one another. Perhaps it's because i'm not the one being oogled over or am not responsible for displaying a perverse amount of affection for the world to see.

I wonder whether having been in an 8 year relationship has in fact ruined my chances of finding a partner. But if HE can find another partner, why can't i? I'm not that horrendous or that ugly.

So maybe i'm not into flouncing around in my high heels and sucking in my gut. Maybe i'm not into the latest fashion trend and have a style that copies every other girl.

And what if i like the company of my kitten, who vaguely understands the word "NO". Do i get credit if i have an opinion and feel passionate about certain things in life? And what if i only speak one language and can't communicate when people speak a dialect i don't understand.

Does that make me difficult? Does that make me not fit in? Perhaps boys find me intimidating therefore i'm not an easy catch. But could it be that i don't fit "the ideal" cookie cut of a partner and i don't flaunt that innocent façade.

So in my single mind frame, i shall continue to feast on my Value Meal 3 in silence whilst watching cooking adventures on Travel & Living. But now i'm wondering whether i should have matched my large sized pizza with an icy cold beer.

I live in a star shaped mess.

The benefit of living away from home is the privacy and own schedule one can live by. No nagging voice that echos "have you tidied your room yet" or "what time will you be home?"

And pretty much living on my own since i turned 18 [not including the one and half years i was in boarding school]. No, i wasn't cast out of home because i misbehaved, i went overseas to further my studies. Which like most teenagers, spend a ridiculous amount of my parents' money so i can get an education which would hopefully get me a job that would pay for my own expenses and rent.

Nearing 27, i rarely tidy my place unless there's company and that usually entitles throwing the clutter somewhere else. And apart from the occasional late night i spend in the office. I'm usually home just as the sun goes down and don't leave the property til i need to get to work. And because HS has taken a break for the past month, i find myself cooped up at home watching reruns or random DVDs. I seriously have no life.

Then yesterday as i sat on my couch surrounded by my unfolded laundry, ripped up tissue that Smooks had got his curious claws on and various rolled up plastic bags. It got me thinking... i need to get my act together... SOON.

It's come to the point that even if i close one eye and ignore the mess, it doesn't work anymore.

I spent this morning lying beside Smooks and noticed that in the past month and a half his dark ash coloured coat has lightened and he's developed more whiskers. And noticed how when he curls up, his arse doesn't fit on to my blue Mogu star shaped pillow [which he has conveniently hijacked].

I contemplated whether i'd waste yet another weekend in bed but i decided to get my lazy arse out of bed by mid day and be slightly productive. And today i will attempt to tidy my place and eliminate the clutter.

The closest i've got, were my gloves.

Take any given day one is bound to see couples strolling along [and for those who are single, it's one of Life's cruel ways of rubbing it in and reminding you of what you don't have]. Lately noticing the ends of appendages interlinked as though one feeds off the others' energy in order to take one step forward. Then i thought, of all the ways a person can hold anothers'.

I SWEAR... Hand Grabs defined:

The Full Hand Grab [typical child & adult crossing the road type of grab or you so happen to have elephant stump sized hands and find difficulty doing the the finger lock; see next].

The One Finger Lock; hooking the index or pinky finger [good if you have clammy hands or you're one of those people who still find it funny when one says "pull my finger" and later release a stench that can be described as a cross between a decaying mammal and wet garbage].

The Clasp [a cross between The full hand grab and One Finger Lock, which allows airflow and gives others a sense that your relationship is laid back yet both of you feel secure].

Look No Hands; minus the minority that do not have any limbs, usually these kinds of couples are either not into PDA [Public Display of Affection] or feel secure in their relationship that there is no need to emphasize their affection further. But then again, they could also have sweaty hands.

And when i see a man/boy/masculine individual extend their arm across their partners' shoulder blades to grasp hold of their current beau's shoulder, it makes me wonder, is she cold and is he wrapping his muscular/boney arm around her because he generally cares for her wellbeing. Or is that his subconscious showing his protective side and sending out a 'YOU TOUCH HER, I WILL CHOP OFF YOUR ARM' signal.

And then there are those individuals who continue to moisturize their hands a] In preparation for their hand to be held. b] It's been so long, the moisture has evaporated therefore alternative methods must be used. c] Those late nights and 'just one more's' are suddenly showing its' evil effects and air-conditioning is in fact drying.

Hmmmm... but to all those love sick fuckers out there, don't be envious because the only creases that my t-shirt imprints are those made from the washing machine or the fact that i carefully choose clothing that requires no ironing. And my natural moisture was given to me FREE along with an intolerance to heat.

My not so little red Mary Poppins bag.

The problem of living and working in an area highly populated with stores that give you a reason to spend is the fact that one must learn how to refrain from even stepping foot in those kinds of establishments. It's not good enough to have will power and say one is "just browsing" because honestly, "Browsing" usually ends up "Just Trying" to eventually "Purchasing".

And in the past 6 months [apart from my getaway across the border], my hard earned cash has gone towards unnecessary purchases like a] accessories/beaded necklaces/previously known as Stupid Girl necklaces - thanks to Pink's Stupid Girls video. b] Footwear that probably would be of more use if i actually used it as a hole puncher. c] Stationery that's just a replica of one i already have but thought i needed to update because of the new packaging or had a nicer finish.

But in light of my ladylike hairstyle that the professional had assumed would be more appropriate, shopping was in order. And as usual i walked into one of the few shops i frequent during my lunch breaks. Secretly wishing i would come across a gem of an item that i hadn't seen the day before or the day before that.

And to my surprise i did. Being very much a bag lady [definition; "carrying practically everything except for the kitchen and bathroom sink"] i came across a red bag and this was no ordinary red bag mind you.

I had made full use of my Olive Crumpler, White Little Match Girl bag and a Black Random store bag... the thought of a fire man red bag may in fact may be a nice addition. And to add to one of women's stereotype top weaknesses, i whipped out my cash since it was a sale.

And let me tell you, it's probably one of my best purchases thus far. Not only does it scream attention but it would even make Mary Poppins proud. Don't be tricked by it's size because it in fact packs in much more than the eye makes out. And so far i have managed to squeeze in an organiser, make-up bag, travel book, collapsible umbrella, a bag of medication, two small bread loaves, iPod, headphones, phone, pepper spray, smokes, wallet and some additional space.

So i am quite impressed with my 14 inch long red stitched wannabe Mary Poppins bag.

And yes i have just realised that this was indeed a brainless post about a bag that will no doubt dislocate my shoulder in due time should i continue to stuff it with unnecessary items. I guess that's the price i've got to pay *goes and hunts for those Camphor smelling adhesive stickers*.

An evening in the Attic...

Pardon the previous post, it was not an excuse for some emotional diarrhoea but more of i-have-nothing-to-say kind of post. And just as i was trying to figure out a topic to ramble on about, things made a shift.

Today or should i say, yesterday was a complete spur of the moment kind of deal. It started off with an excursion to KLCC because MissSeniorPisces had a lunch date, AnBloodyMum had an emergency birthday Raoul shirt hunt and i, well... had nothing better to do so went along with SuperHeroShuz for the adventure. And instead of AXN's Amazing Race... we created our very own and the minute we got out of the LRT station we dispersed into the crowd.

By the time we got back to the office, it was pissin' down hardcore and the last place i wanted to be was cooped up in the office. But by the time my afternoon meeting was done and i had doodled some work, it was nearing the end of day. [Funny how time seems to go by fast when you're not paying attention].

Possom wanted to have nooOOooo-dulls [pronounced in an Hong Kong style accent] for dinner. So instead of strolling home and spending an evening slumped in my bean bag and Smooks past out by my feet, i agreed. MissSeniorPisces decided to join us and we ended up eating Thai.

We were informed that Attic was having an open mic session. So me being the anti-social one grumbled about how i was tired and was in no mood to listen to a bunch of strangers sing. But never mind, after a little persuasion, i agreed.

SuperHeroShuz was there with some friends, one of which used to be an ex colleague and who used to be my AE for an account that gave me nightmares. A little of catching up was done but most importantly was studying the drinks menu and deciding my choice in alcohol. I opted for white wine. Not only does red wine stain your teeth but for some reason makes me sleepy and/or more touchy feely, probably not a good combination... [we're moving on].

So anyway, as the night progressed and so did my glasses of wine, i managed to hear Carmen Soo sing and declare that she sings in the shower... hmmmm... And although i can't comment too much about the voice, i give her brownie points for being able to pick the right spot away from the spotlight to avoid shadows under the eyes [i guess being under the lights gives one a lot of practice].

So yea, 3 and a half hours post our agreed time that we said we'd leave, i admit i had a good night... CHEERS to MissSeniorPisces for stickin' around whilst i finished my wine!

But what a small world it is because i bumped into so many ex colleagues tonight, it was like a mini open house except i paid for my drinks. Numerous "Oh my gawd, how are you's" were exchanged followed by cheek to cheek kisses. And apart from the abundance of individuals who batted for the same team, the atmosphere was not only quaint but pleasant. Yes this self proclaimed anti-social one, did schmooze tonight and made frequent visits to the balcony as the place is non-smoking.

Oh and i must add one particular individual caught my fancy at the beginning but going by the striped trousers and black shoes with gold buckles, it was obvious i was the wrong gender. By the end of the night i asked an ex colleague and to my disappointment, he confirmed it.

Oh well... perhaps JPuppies was right, i should consider keeping to where the grass is definitely greener... i'll probably have better luck. Nah, being greedy isn't all that bad or is it?

brb

Two Sides of the Coin and Three Words.

After deciding whether i'd get some random DVD with a familiar actress or artiste on the front to entice me, i decided on Little Black Book with Brittany Murphy. 15 minutes into the movie, it occurred to me that i had actually seen the movie. But never mind, it's not like i had anything better to do and kept it rolling whilst i cruised online.

And it got me thinking about relationships and what it must be like to be the 'new' girlfriend in a relationship. And unless you've just started dating [which is highly unlikely] you probably have a line up of ex's.

But i admit i am probably not the best person to judge being that my last relationship was 2 years ago. [That's excluding the one that remotely came close to a possibility but i refused to admit there was anything going on]. Yes i frolicked in the rebound window and was very much in denial. But as an ex [2 years post break-up] i can only imagine what it must have felt for the woman who stole my beau's heart.

Like comparing two sides of a coin, one clings desperately onto the past, wishing she was a) prettier b) more outgoing c) wealthier d) more independent. Compared to what the other reveals and that is everything that the other is not.

And like being given the short end of the straw, the truth reveals itself with 3 simple words, "...because she's different". And in all honesty, how is anyone to compete with that?

But as honest as an optimist might proclaim, there are many fish in the sea and the world is my ocean. A pessimist will declare i'm a pescatarian and insist that all the fish are lousy.

And yet still single and caring for a hyperactive feline that proudly carries tied up plastic bags as though it is a fresh kill. I think back to the days when i. love. you. were 3 separate words and the term 'relationship' meant who was my next of kin.

On the other side of the scale.

Nightmares On Wax - Les Nuits


Tired of listening to what's on the radio, i thought i'd dig up my old CDs. Before i even knew what pirated or downloadable meant [mind you, i still haven't figured out the whole limewire business].

Anyway, prior to leaving my place this morning i rummaged through my CD case that stored random genres. So chucked it into my new red mary poppins bag and off i went to work. I got into the office and unzipped the case. And it was like flipping through a photo album, the CDs that sat untouched for over a year suddenly sparked memories. Cranking up the volume and momentarily taking me down memory lane.

One particular album that opens the gate of happy memories is Nightmares On Wax: Carboot Soul.

Chilling back on a raining weekend at my [then] boyfriend's place. Incense burning and the lights dimmed low. Playing a game of scrabble because there was nothing better to do except for the obvious [which was then done after... ahaha]. The game had rules but they were made up as the game progressed. Specifically remembering how he tried to convince me that 'yo' was a word and would entitle him to scoring triple. I can't remember whether i agreed.

But i do remember those were happy times... we were happy.

Appreciate HARD DANCE in JUNK Nov 2006

[Image courtesy of Junkonline.net]. Not too long ago i was asked by a mate of mine whether i'd mind answering a few questions about my views on Hard Dance. If it meant i didn't have to leave my desk, i said, sure why not.

Having studied in Melbourne and having a taste of the rave scene, was probably one of the best things that came out of my 5 years of being there, apart from my education.

Putting aside the dance style, i developed a passion towards a harder beat. Walking into a club with the bass turned up and a beat that no doubt would make me move my feet. Hard Dance is like no other.

Back in Melbourne, going to clubs was not as simple as rawking up before midnight. People would make an effort to dress in colourful threads and adorn themselves with kiddish jewellery. It came part in parcel for those ravers who got sucked into the scene. For those few hours people could check-in their egos and worries at the door and once they paid for entry, they could dance their issues and frustrations away. Strangers became friends and respecting ones' space was taken seriously.

And unlike conventional clubs where you'll find girls on the dance floor huddled together with either their hand bag tucked neatly under their arm or conveniently tossed to the one minding the drinks. Cutting it loose whilst dancing to a banging track on the dance floor is more for a personal satisfaction than a mission to be picked up.

In a post i had written in a previous blog some time in June 2005, i made a declaration...

I realised how much i love music... listening to hard beats, feeling the adrenalin build up and then... waiting for the bass to drop... it's like a miniature orgasm each time! I fuckin' LOVE IT! My heart races and the beats surround me like invisible dots that bounce off my skin... my body temperature rises. My muscles in my body relax and move slowly in tune. I breathe the music... and for a moment, i am One with the music. I can be alone in a room or surrounded by thousands of people... the rush of excitement races through my blood as it runs its course throughout my body.

It's an addiction... it's pure... it belongs to me.

And i am so proud to say that Hard Sequence celebrated their one year anniversary in July 2006, of which time it's been an amazing journey. I admit the scene is predominantly ruled by males but of late i have seen an increase of female punters attending HS events.

I admit, we're a tight family and we look out for one another. Each and every one of us who are part of the HS crew have their part to play in making each night a success. It's a joint effort that makes Hard Sequence different from other club nights. We're all good friends and have one sole purpose of bringing our passion of a harder beat to the masses.

Hard Sequence is more than just the quality tunes, it's about the DJs, our supporters, the friendly faces and the positive vibe that each punter gets as the night comes to an end. It's that satisfaction that makes all the effort and planning all worthwhile.

So i'll see you at the presales counter and on the dance floor... cheers... xox.

A touch of My Fair Lady

I spent my whole weekend at home and only leaving my apartment for no more than a minute to throw my trash down the rubbish chute yesterday evening. Making a tuna sandwich at some point and polishing off the bag of Ruffles Cheddar & Sour Cream crisps i had opened the minute i got home on Friday. I practically live the university life diet.

Unintentionally i kept the curtains shut to emphasize the hybernation factor. And every other hour crawl back into bed because i couldn't be bothered to watch tv or go online. That's as exciting as my weekend got.

But i went to get my hair trimmed on Friday, as one does on a Friday evening... no clubbing or drunken conversations for this lil lass. Telling the senior hairstylist that i'm trying to grow my hair out and just to shape it in such a way that it doesn't look like i had attacked myself with a pair of scissors.

Not to be sexist or anything but i find it odd having a male shampoo boy but that's not to say i have anything against them. Usually i get my head massaged and scrubbed by some young female trainee, who speaks very little english and for some odd reason sports a mullet. But this time around, i was getting my scalp massaged by the opposite sex.

As i sat their flipping through a past issue of Glamour, it felt different. Feeling his soapy hands knead out the twisted muscles in my neck and shoulders was just what i needed. I didn't pay much attention to what he looked like as i had my specs off. But i was inclined to say screw the hair cut, just keep massaging that kink out of my neck young man.

And just as i was getting into it with my hair piled high on top of my head and water slowly dripping down my forehead, he instructed me to go to the basin so he could rinse out the shampoo. So much for that idea.

After a few cuts here and there then snipping off the whispy ends to tidy the back, suddenly my hairstyle went from a haircut Astro Boy would be proud of to a more ladylike transformation. And as the hairstylist jokingly said, with my specs i can pull off the teacher look. Unsure whether that was a compliment or insult, i shrugged and spiked up the back of my hair more.

Funny how a haircut can change a person's look almost instantly. Does that mean i have to act more like a lady to accompany my new style? Hmmmm... i'm better off starting with my wardrobe.

What If was not an option at the time.

Sometimes i wonder if she hadn't been so eager, would things have happened as they did? If she only knew what words to say now, their conversations would not lack substance. Whatever happened to the girl that had no fear, you know the feminine, bold and flirtatious one? Has she become more cautious or has she been weakened by eyes of the same gender?

What would have happened if she kept her mouth shut and played the statuesque? Would she have made the situation better, easier or let it just slip away? Could she pretend to be like everyone else, more specifically just like one? But her genetic makeup is what makes her and that mixture can never blend. If looks aren't just everything, then is her personality to blame?

If love hadn't made an early impact and left her without warning, would she know what she was missing if she hadn't tried so hard? What if she had paid more attention in French class or to those who really cared for her, would she be in this situation where she lacks those words of love?

Maybe it's easier to look back now and pin point what went wrong but there is no point in wishing if in reality she has none. The second she made her decision, she killed the curiosity instead of keeping the thrill of the unknown alive.

Fast forward past now

The beauty of not committing to any plans is it allows me to drift in and out of sleep til the late hours of the day. Even though i've just wasted a whole day wrapped up like a cocoon, i'm not too fussed. It's good to be lazy sometimes.

Suddenly i am in no mood to step out into the world. I wake up from a twisted and murder filled nightmare. I find safety behind my main door but my brain tells me my meds are overdue.

I lay in my dark room wishing i could roll over to an awaiting soothing massage. My back still hurts but there's nothing i can do about it. Instead i roll over to steal some warmth off Mister Smooks who lays fast asleep on the star shaped micro beaded cushion.

The story of my life, going from one extreme to another. And after all of that, the only boy in my life is a grey furred four legged creature that finds pleasure in shredding an unused tissue and tossing a plastic clip.

It's Saturday night and i keep myself occupied with whatever is on tv. My entertainment for the night is watching my cat sneak up to the scratching post that my parents bought for him.

I think i have given up the smoked filled rooms lined with intoxicated individuals. Not interested in trying to finish half a bottle or more of whiskey, so i can feel just as drunk. Too lazy to squeeze in a small skirt and prance around in heels that will end up doing me more harm than good. Bored of telling the same introductory lines. Still trying to heal the cuts and bruises from my unco side of me.

Honestly, i'm inclined to crawl back into bed, just so i can get the day over with. Procrastinating because i don't want to do any spring cleaning, tired of the lack of positive feng shui flow that has yet to find its way back here. Bored of not finding a hobby i can stick with.

More action packed then my daily life, walking hand in hand with my subconscious is my way of fast forwarding through my day.

7 is my number.

The days are inching faster towards the closing chapter of 2006. Close to the middle of November and my Christmas list has yet to be made. My bank account continues to deplete as the days are starting to feel shorter.

And at last the working week is over. Slightly intense and have met various deadlines, i sigh a huge relief because i had my monthly doctors' appointment yesterday morning. Arriving just 5 minutes late but having to wait because she was still seeing a patient. I got slightly restless.

I trotted off to get my 2nd Thyroid blood test. There was no small talk, only simple instructions to sit down and put my arm out. Feeling the needle prick my arm as he sucked a decent amount of my blood with the syringe, i kept myself busy by staring in the opposite direction. Repeating a i-hate-needles mantra in my head to keep me distracted.

Hoping there's no drastic changes to my Thyroid test as there could be a possibility that my Hyper could turn into HYPOthyroidism if i don't take the right dosage of meds. It's slightly complex and who would have thought such a small gland would be responsible for so many dramas.

I returned to the A&E and it was my turn to see my shrink. A short discussion and update this time round. And informing her that the past few weeks have been positive. Confidant that at last, things are finally making a turn around.

So being charged RM1,067.78 on meds and consultation fees to my ever expanding credit card balance, i exit and make my way back to the office. And in approximately 8 weeks time, the 7th of January to be exact, i will be weaned down from 150mg to 75mg.

But having been on the same dosage for the past year and a half [minus 1 month], i will start 2007 with one goal in mind... one New Year resolution. And from the time i could remember, i always said that when i'm 27 something good will happen but unsure what it it'll be. Now, only a few months away, i have high suspicions what it might be.

If all works out, i will be anti-depressant and thyroid meds free by the time i turn 27 in March 2007 *fingers crossed*

Heads it is.

Plans were made earlier this week that i'd accompany my ex colleague to one of the many bars that seem to be opening. Although nothing was set in concrete i said i'd call him on Thursday [yesterday/the day the opening was] if i could make it. And it so happened that CarShowJu had passed me an invitation to the opening when we went for birthday drinks on Tuesday.

So anyway, having worked right through the night and stumbling into work by mid-afternoon with an ache in my lower back and eyeballs fashionably red. I did as much as make a few changes to some past work and fiddled around online.

Next thing i knew, Chook calls to say he's on his way to EVOKE. And instead of waiting for my ex colleague who so happens to be at some other bar, i get a ride with Chook. And after circling the block numerous times for an available space once we get there i enthusiastically yell "THERE" like an eagle spotting a rodent when a space is available.

The bar itself is a modern looking space with the bar taking up most of the room. But with the free flow between 7-9pm the place was infested with bodies clinging onto their cups and trying to find space to stand. And with 2 beer taps and not enough man power, it took longer than expected to take advantage of the free booze. Trying to walk past the bar that's lined with bar stools and a wall lined with people, meant anybody who tried to pass would unintentionally graze a few crotches or swipe a few pair of breasts [both female and male].

Which is when the innocent smile and the option that eyes have are to either focus straight ahead or to the floor with the occasional, "i'm sorry... excuse me... thanks" inserted to emphasize that you're JUST passing through and not just trying to rub up against them for good luck or steal their space.

I got as far as dabbing my finger on Chook's chicken satay [and no that is not some sexual innuendo... ahhaha]. It was drenched in peanut sauce and me being a vegetarian meant that satay is not on my menu, unfortunately. The beer made me sleepy and the cool air just added to the whole sleepiness. So MissLashes, Chook and i went off to eat nearby.

And for the first time in my life i tried stingray. And although the fish had no relations to the one responsible for the freak accident, i couldn't help but keep saying, "Steve Irwin" each time i took another bite. I have to admit... it was rather tasty.

The next hour was spent contemplating whether we'd head to Maison for their RnB night. Even going as far as flipping a coin in the car to decide whether we should go or not.

Heads we go... Chook called Heads.

I later found myself sipping my whiskey + water and spent most of the night trying to conceal my yawns and shifting my weight from one side to another. Leaning against the side rail and amusing myself by watching all the underaged girls grind up against each other in packs of 4 or more. Feeling i had crossed some new territory. Eyes scanned over everyone as a means of identification and a non-verbal indication that perhaps one is worthy of being 'checked out'. I failed to meet that criteria although i had worn a skirt, heels, singlet + beaded necklace to work that day. But then again, my facial expression and body language didn't exactly scream, "helloooOoooo boys" either.

Having not gone to a RnB joint in months, it was like walking into a stranger's house. Unsure where to go but to stand quietly like a wall flower and making conversation with only those you recognise.

By 1 o'clock [as agreed] we'd head home. And sure enough by 12.55 Chook said his farewells whilst i continue to lean back against the railing and stare up at a girl on the balcony with a very short skirt bopping to Fergie's London Bridge.

JUICE Best of 2006 Awards :: VOTE ONLINE B4 15 NOV 2006

One would think a magazine would make it obvious that there is a Readers' Choice Awards coming up and *checks the date; less than a week before voting ends.* But unless you so happen to stumble upon the online weekly update and see the animated flash ad OR or so happen to receive an email update, the chances of the People [that ACTUALLY do go to events and ARE PASSIONATE about the scene,] to actually vote is close to ummm... zero.

And OCTOBER's issue makes NO MENTION of the Best Of Awards, strange... VERY STRANGE.

--------------------------xox-------------------------

ANYWAY, time is ticking... the JUICE Awards is back but unlike last years' process, they're doing it online, giving access to ALL. So just submit your email address and name [not sure how many times you can vote as it doesn't mention], so... if you're REALLY keen on a particular DJ or Night in particular... make use of your multiple accounts or others... ehehe.

Taken directly from the link this is what they have to say:

2006 brought on many firsts that pushed KL clubbing forward. From live gigs to video gigs, it has been an experimental sort of year, and in December, JUICE recaps the very best.

But we don’t just want to shove our well informed opinions down your pie hole. Instead, we want to hear from you. So sift through the fug of memories washed away by alcohol and blurred by cigarette smoke, cast your votes on the proverbial highs of 2006, and tell us where your favourite place to party is. Who your favourite local DJ is. Who serves up the best cocktails. Which brand has the best sock huggers (sneakers) and so much more.

There are 29 categories in which you can have your say - and remember, if they didn’t play, perform or have a presence here in 2006, you can’t vote for them.

The power is literally in your hands. So tell the clubs, the bars and the brand who you think counts, ‘cause they ARE listening.

SoooOooo... most importantly is the deadline: Results will be printed in the December issue of JUICE.

The JUICE Best Of 2006 Readers’ Choice Awards voting closes at 6pm, Wednesday 15 November 2006

Paying particular attention to the following categories [the following is just an example... ehehhe...];

--------------------------xox-------------------------
Best DJ (Local) :: Bass Agents
Best New DJ (Local) :: Example One of the HS DJs: Drive/Learn/DJ Bone/Niekon/Nottifish etc etc
Best Club Night (Local) :: Hard Sequence
Best Theme Party :: Hardsequence presents PHARMACY BLACK
Best Event Series :: Hard Sequence
Most Up For It Crowd (Club/Bar/Club Night) :: Hard Sequence

--------------------------xox-------------------------


Cast your votes here by clicking the link below:
JUICE Best of 2006 Awards


Much love & fingers crossed!

One down, a few more to go...

Just past 5 in the morning and at last, 56 pages have been mocked-up to the best of my capabilities to replicate what the finished product will look like. And within hours it will be presented by my boss to the client, alongside the two other versions done by 2 other designers.

Realising i have not slept for nearly 2 days. With only 2 curry puffs digested and a not so healthy overdose of coffee, i can honestly say i am now extremely exhausted. And although i am only a few minutes away from home, i only wish my bed was as close to me as those inviting oversized bean bags just a few metres away from where i'm currently seated.

Hoping i can steal a few hours of sleep before i rush back to the exact seat that i've planted myself since i got in about 20 hours ago. The thought doesn't sit too comfortably. Knowing i must dive right back into the ThornInMyArse Project as i have already pushed that deadline as far as it can go, i don't look forward to when it's daylight.

I'm just glad that the weekend is coming up and i can have at least ONE day to do my much needed house keeping duties and errands.

So until i can rest my brain momentarily and before i hear random roosters in the far distance, i bid you good-night, good morning and good-bye.

90-180 degrees

Sometimes i wish i was trained as a ballerina, not because i want to wear a tutu or expose myself in a leotard that acts like a second skin. Or worse, get deformed feet from balancing all my weight on the tips of my fat toes. But for the sole purpose that my posture wouldn't resemble the initial stage of a hump back.

It's not like my bust contributes to half my weight whereby gravity forcefully finds a way to pull me forward. It's not like i'm towering over anyone [except for those adolescents that have yet to hit puberty] that i have to bend lower so i don't stand out like a sore thumb.

There's no reason why i shouldn't stand up straight when i'm waiting in line to go to the loo or anywhere for that matter. And there's no reason why i shouldn't sit up straight like how teens are forced to buy their first bra at a department store whilst a middle aged woman whips out a measuring tape and announces to your mother in the next section that its better to go one cup size smaller.

And ignoring all those times i was told to sit up straight at the dining table when i would rather crumble and slouch. Positioned like a fisherman, tucking one leg under my [then] boney arse and bending my other leg so my foot would rest on the seat.

But now i spend most of my waking hours in front of a screen that projects radiation that does so much as give me a headache when i have my contacts on. Then by mid day finding myself half way down my chair to allow an oversized invisible Garfield to curl up behind my back.

And as a result of my ignorance and Chrissie knows best moments, i have developed this dull lower back pain. And if it weren't so morbid or gruesome i would grab the nearest cutting blade and slice the chunk of pain out instantly like how Tetris blocks miraculously clears the way when you get the right colours matched. If only it were so simple.

But much to my disappointment, as with most things that are unrealistic, i am forced to attach a self adhesive pain relief patch to my lower back. And like a walking air freshner i leave a trail that smells like the old camphor wood chest that my folks have at home. And prior to ripping open the box, i am forewarned that i should "avoid direct application INTO the nostrils"... Uhhhhh yea!

So here i am waiting patiently for this concoction of ingredients to do its magic. But in the mean time i shall continue to read about Posture for a Healthy Back.

Old Skool takes me back.

Birthday drinks at Laundry was civilized, sipping wine til closing. Although Chook and i were expecting the same number of people at the dinner on Sunday, it was a small cosey group of us.

And not forgetting how small KL is or the lack of decent bars to go to on a Tuesday evening i bumped into 24 year old whom i hadn't seen in quite sometime. Making small talk [as you do when one is trying to be polite] and hoping that the instant blush would be mistaken for the glass of chilled rosé wine i poured seconds earlier.

Wrestling was being aired on the big screen and i couldn't help but notice the trend of wrestlers nowadays with long, semi permed hair coated with an obscene amount of oil. And vaguely remembering how The British Bulldog was one of the first few wrestlers that sported one of the best muzza looks slash i've-just-come-back-from-holiday-in-Bali-with-beaded-braids.

Remembering the good old WWF days when Hulk Hogan ran around the ring ripping his yellow singlet off his well marinated roast chicken coloured chest in front of his opponent. And if you're wondering why i know this, well my father used to be a bit of a wrestling fan and i would find myself on Sundays sitting in front of the VCR [back when DVD players were a minority] laughing at them and amusing myself with their choreographed stunts. And no, i don't watch wrestling now!

Then it was time to say farewell and we headed off to meet up with a friend. As the early hours continue to tick on, so did our conversations.

By the time i got home i spent the next few hours cruising online [for nothing in particular] and chatting on msn. Reminised about the good old rave days in Melbourne and how fascinated i was to see old skool hardcore rockers dancin' to the last track as the sun exposed her true self whilst the newbies sat nursing their cramped legs.

The next thing i knew it was time for me to get changed for work. Figured that there would be no point in trying to squeeze in 40 winks, i chucked on my 3/4's and singlet and did the unthinkable... i got to work early! A rarity as most times i am one of the last to arrive but 90% of the time before my boss gets in.

So quickly presenting the project i've been working on for the past few days before he runs off for a meeting... i've been given the green light. Now all i have to do is work on the cover as it's still not quite there yet.

To Lainey...

I was looking for a pink diamond studded tiara and prom queen sash but apparently the store ran out of stock. So instead i came across the one thing that i knew you'd appreciate more.

For all the times we stayed up chatting up a storm and drinking endless amounts of caffeine. To remembering that one time you asked me if i had warm clothes so you could whisk me up to a cooler climate to cheer me up... thank you. Or to watch me attempt a shimmy across the dance floor with a beer and cigarette in hand. Or those times that you'd save me from making a fool out of myself in my drunken state.

Whatever the case is, a huge thank you. And anyway, we still have our Ipoh White Coffee sessions and intoxicated missions to keep us entertained in the future. Have a fantabulous birthday hun and may your night be full of highly potent liquor and random laughs.

LOVE LOVE Tooh Thausurnd Seeks Eh-Dee-Tion,
Chrissie... xox

Mirror, mirror on the wall... stop being so vain.

There was a time last year that i went through my week with very little sleep. Not because i wanted to but because i couldn't. The added stress and consistent deadlines hounded me like a bad migraine. Being introduced to a medication that made me develop insomnia and the sudden inability to consume or digest anything was definitely not a good chapter in my life. But let's move on, shall we?

Shedding kilograms was as easy as breathing, literally. The longer my arse was planted on the chair i could feel the marrow in my bones bruise [ok maybe not so dramatic as that but the lack of protein and vitamins definitely did some damage]. Mainly due to my thyroid.

Remembering people whom i hadn't seen for awhile would look at me and say "waaaahhhh, you're eyes so dark" in other words, "Gee Chrissie you look like shit!" It's funny how people like to point out the worst in others, as though you hadn't noticed yourself. Perfect example is when people say, "waaaaah, you put on weight?" and either you secretly want to stab them with your fork after you stuff another helping in your mouth or respond with a smile and agree. Sometimes, it's nice to be discreet and where white lies come in handy.

I look at photos and definitely i am no Mona Lisa [then or now]. And no amount of eye cream or concealer will disguise the fact that my sleeping patterns were screwed up. Although my sleep is irregular, i would say i'm getting a helluva lot more sleep now than compared to a year or more ago.

Then this morning as i was getting ready for work and Smooks was going slightly ape shit because i was taking so long to feed him. I looked at my reflection and staring back at me was an extra wrinkle... a deep crease under my right eye. [And no it was not an embedded eyelash or shadow].

Remembering that i purchased some duty free earlier this year so i could minimize the damage of late nights and stress, i slapped on some Elizabeth Arden Concentrate Eye cream. Having no idea whether it's actually made a difference but the word CONCENTRATE sounded like some heavy duty eye care and hardcore attention was definitely needed.

Still so young and only 26 but already i'm starting to notice my hands are not as smooth as they used to be. Lines are appearing in places that shouldn't have lines. I partly blame my nicotine habit for the premature age booster. Veins are moving closer to the surface and scars are taking longer to disappear.

Did you know, study shows that by looking at a person's hands one can roughly estimate age. Just look out for wrinkles and veins formed in ones' hands, the older you are, the more blemishes/wrinkles/veins you'll find. So top up your moisturizer!