I am listening to the techno dance music segment of Perfect 10 on the radio now. The EQ Dance Music Show or something. It is really noisy and getting on my nerves. This is in rememberance and total respect for the dance CDs lying untouched just a few steps away from me in their golden wire box. Well, I have outgrown them. Those secondary two days when I was a twit. Was.


Anyway, enough of irritating techno... I have decided to create a package especially for lovely single women out there. For I have found the most miraculous cure of all for their love life (or lack of it)!




The Almost Perfect Boyfriend Package *exclusive!*
(price negotiable)



Of course, physicalities are always important. Pictures included for utmost clarity and pictures speak a thousand words.


This package comes at a height at 1.83 metres, or 183 centimetres, or 6ft. Although it is not known what are the vital statistics of this package, here is a picture for viewing pleasure:


Look at how the shirt stretches over the body; I certainly feel like running my hands over that chest.


Hair of package is a definite black, with minimal dyeing, only a one time brown hair dye job many years ago, which I am sure have been chopped off by now. Therefore, please be ensured that all hair grown on the head of this package is definitely healthy.


Sexy lips are a plus point of this package.



When the lips aren't stretched into an almost perfect smile (the lips curve gently upwards), they are full and most definitely good for kissing.


Also, this package has pretty normal ears that have acute hearing and one ear hole in each ear, for days when the girl wishes the package to doll up in a cool fashion(black ear studs or diamond/crystal ear studs can be affixed into the ear holes as those are the preferences of the package).



Note the strong jaw line and smooth cheek of package. Sometimes, veins in the neck are prominent for that macho image that some girls (like me) love.


Eyebrows are package are also a rare feature, for they are naturally neat and need no extra plucking (refer to next point in next paragraph). They are also evenly spaced out- this suggests a tame nature.


Package does not have chest hair. Package does have leg hair though. Plucking of any hair on package is highly unadvisable as it results in much yelling and jumping around, which is not a good sight of a 6ft leggy male.


Oh yes, package is of male gender.



As gender is affirmed, I will now go on to the characteristics of package.



This package is

generally hardworking (willing to do housework)

romantic (will suggest romantic walks at night, eating a Subway sandwich takeaway on a bench shaded by trees on a romantic pathway)

charitable (donates to flag-bearers)

good at math and saving (good for financial future)

sporty- track runner and rugby player (therefore has muscles and security of knowing that a snatch thief will be easily tackled)

simple (does not adorn jewellery nor bling bling or sport weird hairstyles)

sincere

thrifty, but will not save on you

tall

tanned

calm and cool in times of emergency

forgetful at times

What this package will do:

He will love your pet even if it is a dog (he does not like dogs). He will talk to your pet and play with it.

Spend his newly received pay check on Haagen Dazs ice-cream out of the blue and splurge on presents and dinners just to please you

Go shopping and even help pick out clothes (and warn when its going over budget)

Compliment sincerely (frequently)

Sing off tune just to make you laugh

Cross his eyes in three different ways (although it makes him dizzy) just to make you laugh

Do romantic things like suggesting to walk towards each other from a far distance and giving you a hug in the middle of the road when you finally meet

Stroke your hair and say its lovely although you have dry ends

Nuzzle his face into your neck and say you smell lovely at all times

Make it a point to socialise with your family and extended family

Buy gifts during holiday season/birthdays for your family

Comfort you when you have really bad PMS

Give you good advice on what to wear/choose while shopping

Always remember monthly anniversaries (even things that happened few months back!)

What this package will NOT do:

say you're fat

criticise people who matter

spend your money

allow you to cut his hair

wash dishes because he is convinced that he will get scolded for unclean dishes

lie

What this package likes:

The colour brown

Nicole Kidman, Marcia Cross, Jeanette Aw (doesn't every guy *rolls eyes) >> in other words, older, classic looking women (except for Ms Aw).

Subway

Sneakers and jeans

Calvin Klein's Eternal fragrance

Short hair

That would be a hefty summary of this package and what it offers. If any single girl would most certainly like to date this awesome package, bidding starts at $10.

I mean, he may not be rich but he's a saver and will spend any amount just to make his girl happy! He may not be a body builder but at least he has some muscles!

Well, he definitely sounds like a good package. In fact, I think I might take him for myself. Why should I let such a huge excellent opportunity go...

*ahem*

Yes, that was a very nonsensical post.

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Friday, February 17

\\**//

It's been a few days since the celebrated, all-romantic and for some, dreaded, St Valentine's Day. The saint himself would most certainly be happy.


Most naturally, I spent the day with Mr M.


I didn't expect anything much besides the usual bouquet/stalk and a dinner, since I feel that Valentine's Day is most commercialised. I heard on Perfect 10 that a guy actually gave his girl a new car! Geez. No matter how high maintenance Mr M thinks I am, I surely don't expect a car.


On the previous Friday (although we were quarrelling heatedly and what would I do without dear ole Yiting who stuffs tissue paper into my hands and prevents me from being banged down by cars as I shout into my phone while crossing the road), I bought Mr M a Creative MuVo Vidz- a gadget that allows him to play his songs, listen to the radio, record his warbling, watch his movies and view his photos. Although it was slightly over budget and I certainly blew almost all of my one month's pay check on it, but Valentine's Day was an excuse for me to give him something he actually needs or wants.


I hate giving something meaningful on a nothing-day. Then when I think back, I'd say, "Hmm..when did I give you this? In January? Or was it February...?"


How I spent my day. Hmm. It was rather self-accomplishing. Mr M had a rugby match in the morning (his team won 5-2 and then 17-5 against Nee Soon camp) so I was left at home. I did housework! Most surprisingly. I hung out wet clothes, folded the dry ones and mopped the house floor. I fed my chicken pox sister and played with Junior. I even handmade one of those long, chunky mis matched earrings with beads and pendants from broken necklaces! Then I got ready.


No pictures, but I dolled up in my exclusive one-piece purple top with diamantes



and the woolly furry brown skirt. I tied my hair in a bun (or whatever I could muster without Yiting's help) and fastened it with a long purple scarf that looked like a pretty veil trailing down my back.


Then I went to fetch Mr M around 4 plus. What kind of girlfriend goes to fetch the boyfriend on Valentine's Day? Only the best one.


Just kidding. Knowing that he'll be so tired from all that tackling and grovelling around with other sweaty guys on a hot muddy, grassy field, the least I could do was to go fetch him.


So I arrived at his grandma's house, after about forty minutes of travelling, and the door was unlocked so I let myself in.


Said hi to grandma and then saw Mr M looking all tanned and sunburnt in his jeans and Ralph Lauren tee shirt. Oh my god he looked so hot. And the tee shirt was like hugging his biceps so gently that I felt like rushing over to bury my face in them.


Of course I didn't do any of that. I just stood at the door and he came to me, saying, "You look so beautiful,"


His first words.


Obviously, since I put in effort dolling up for him. But as usual, he said it with such sincerity and the look in his eyes were of admiration and something else I can't describe.


"Sit down and have a drink. You must be hot from walking in the sun but you're not sweating as usual," he said and used his hands to wipe off his sweat.


"Don't you have tissue paper?" I said as I sipped the cold water.


"You are so beautiful," he said again.


I rolled my eyes in mock impatience and punched his arm gently and told him to get changed. He put on an outer layer of a long sleeved black shirt and god, he looked even more delicious.


"Stop looking so handsome!" I exclaimed when I couldn't take in any more and he just smiled that cool, nonchalant smile and made me feel like... hugging him so tight until he ran out of breath, but this action will never be possible because I will never have enough strength to hug him until he stops breathing.



So we headed down to Holland Village, where we had made a reservation at Essential Brews, this restaurant that makes most of their food with tea.



But first, we chose between StarBucks and Coffee Bean and decided on Coffee Bean since we're both StarBucks junkies and Coffee Bean would make a refreshing change. I got sneered/stared at by some bitchy looking model lookalike who was sitting with her beau and god knows whats her problem. But I was on a high, and she would not spoil my mood.


Mr M said I was beautiful and that was why she was staring but I just told him that she should be staring at him instead.


After about forty minutes, we decided to go for dinner. We were led to the upstairs of Essential Brews, which was a cosy pretty place, where all shoes were forbidden, and we sat on comfy cushions on the cool wooden floor.


We pored through the menu, deciding not to go with the boring Valentine's Day menu. After 20 minutes of poring, we called over a waitress.


"We would like the grilled tofu steak..." I started.


"Only Valentine's Day menu today," she snapped.


"You mean we can't even order a la carte?" I asked.


"No, only Valentine's menu," she said without a smile, without apology, without courtesy and left the table.


"PMS-ing bitch," I muttered.


So we looked at the Valentine's Day menu, slightly disappointed. But we were not daunted yet. After 3 minutes, we called over the waiter.


"We can't order a la carte?" I tried one last time.

"Can, why not?" the waiter answered with a smile.

"Cuz that woman over there said we couldn't," I said. And he went to check and I heard the woman snapping at him as well.

So we couldn't order a la carte.


While waiting for our food, we read magazines on the shelf. It was only awhile later that I realised the importance of the magazines.


Half an hour later, our soup hadnt arrived. But even that wouldn't spoil my mood.


We had ordered at 7:35. At 8:10, our tomato soups and my strawberry infused red tea arrived. But Mr M's drink was not here yet.


Twenty minutes later at 8:30, we had finished our soup and still his drink nor our salad had arrived.


Ten minutes later, his drink arrived.


We asked the waiter for our salad, and he said so sorry, but our kitchen needs to send the food up and there're alot of orders as we're full house so it will take a little longer.

Forgiven, having worked in this type of situation as a waitress before.

Ten minutes later at 8:50, our salad arrived.



But it tasted to awfully bitter, the greens, so we asked for thousand island sauce. Starving but unable to eat the food in front of me was awful. The thousand island sauce took them another 10 minutes.


Mr M couldn't stand it anymore and went downstairs to complain to the manager. As I remained upstairs, I didn't hear his fierce tone and didn't want to because he can be really fierce to people when he's upset.


Five minutes after Mr M was gone, I was flipping through a magazine when a bouquet of white roses, baby's breath and some purple flowers were thrust under my nose. "For you," came the voice from beneath the flowers.


FIVE minutes, and he could choose the flowers for a bouquet, choose the wrapping, wait for the lady to wrap the flowers, pay for them AND complain to the manager? And how does he know I like white roses (six of them, my favourite number too) over red?


"Thank you! What a surprise," I said happily.


"You must be so sad right, seeing all the girls holding flowers and you don't have any," he said. "But I wanted it to be a surprise so I didn't buy them first thing,"


"Thank you," I smiled, thinking, "luckily he didn't go, 'NAH' when he gave me the flowers like the guy said to his girl at the next table".




A flurried manager came pounding up the stairs (she looks like my friend Siew Ping) and went to scold the service staff. "Where's the thousand island for that table?", "Things that don't need to serve first put here, go and serve all this now!"


And putting on an apologetic smile, she said sorry to us again and the thousand island was placed in front of us, together with our main courses (ribeye steak medium rare for me; salmon for him).


Mr M said, "Better ask for our dessert now, then when it comes will be just nice after we finish our meal,"


After my main course, I went to the toilet. While I was washing my hands, the girl from the next table whose boyfriend also gave her a bouquet of three red roses came and asked me to excuse her to use the sink. While I was still washing my hands. A little put off, I moved aside. And at that same moment, a flash of recognition passed both our faces when I realised at the same time as she, that she was from my secondary school, one year younger than I.


"Eh?" she said.

"Hey, hi... you are...?" I said, remembering her, but couldn't place my finger on her name.

"You're Maxine right? I'm Huiyi..." she said.


"Oh yeah Huiyi!" I suddenly remembered those secondary school days where girls hung out in groups and did lots of stupid things.

I was not friends with her, nor accquaintances, just knew her.


We returned to our seats, just beside each other and I told Mr M that she was from my secondary school. He opened the present I got for him and was extremely happy with it.


We waited another 10 minutes for the dessert (lime and lemon sorbet in apple juice) and Mr M said he'll never come back Essential Brews again. We asked for the bill (another 5 minutes to arrive), five minutes for the waiter to come and take it away, and after waiting another 5 minutes for our change, we decided to go downstairs and take it ourselves.


"So sorry for any inconvenience caused," a waitress said to me as I waited for Mr M to collect his change.


"Oh, it's okay," I said with a just-won't-come-back-here-anymore smile.


I left Essential Brews and the bad experience as I walked through the doors, just happy to be wih him despite horrible service or slow food.


We wanted to take a cab to town, but Mr M had a sudden tummy ache ("must be the medium rare steak!").



Orchard Road was a culture shock somewhat. At Holland V, every girl/woman had at least a bouquet or even a stalk. But at Orchard Road at 10 plus pm, I only saw one woman holding a stalk of red rose.


It was my turn to get a tummy ache (it was diarrhoea). I wonder if it is the food we ate earlier. Mr M is certain it is.


Mr M kept making me laugh. He can cross his eyes both ways.



The night ended with him saying you're really very beautiful and me saying okok that's enough thank you.



I put the bouquet at my window next to my bed. I was happy. Am happy. As I blog this, he's sleeping like a baby behind me. He brought back a silver medal from Thursday's final rugby match-- and I'm so proud of him.

the angels they burn inside for us|2:05:00 PM|

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Monday, February 13

\\**//

I have been waiting for this day ever since I was 9.


The Day When Exams No Longer Exist In My Life.


When I am double that age, the Day has finally arrived. I went through my last week of examinations last week, struggling to study modules that were pure memory work. The first paper being Public Relations, was more of common sense and I felt that project work was more apt to test our skills, rather than an examination, like many other of my classmates.



Operations Management was next. I found this paper to be the easiest of all, and it was also the first paper in my whole poly life where I handed up the paper early.


What is client management? How does an operations manager meet the highest order of needs of a client?


All but budget. Try as I might, I simply could not do the budget. Numbers have always posed a threat in my academic life and not surprisingly, it has failed me again. Damn the budget.



Next, was Print Management Media. Here, many of us were fooled by the 'revision lecture', where questions appeared when the lecturer (gentle, kind, smiley and soothing) told us not to study certain topics. This examination taught the students one life moral: Never judge a person by his or her appearances-- they can be deceiving.


Therefore, I lost 15 marks in the first question (a. List the 7 steps in the process of designing a newspaper; b. List and briefly describe the process of publishing a magazine). Utterly depressed, I had no mood to study for my next paper, International Media Management.



This paper was an e-exam, and the last ever paper of my life.



It. Was. Difficult.




Struggling in the forever damn cold e-learning lab, frozen fingers scrolling the old mouse and scribbling on the answer paper, not knowing what to study earlier cost me, as I tried to crap as much logical crap I could out of my half frozen brain.


But Google. Ah, I adore Google. Their entire management is very laid back and parties are often thrown but not without stringent interviews in hiring staff to ensure that they do work for the company well and good. They always put consumers first! Love that. Not to mention their founders Brin and Page are rather handsome =X


Therefore, I hope that I get good marks in the Google section and I promise I'll always use Google to search for stuff.



As the clock struck 5:04pm, the noisy lecturer announced that all pens to be put down. I expected mine to be put down with a dramatic flourish, in that, oh-i-have-no-more-exams-yay way, but no. Hell no. My pen was put down much earlier, or rather, thrown across the desk, and I was merely staring at my closed answer booklet, teeth close to chattering had they not already been frozen.


No dramatic flourish, no surge of excitement and happiness to the end of exams forever and no plans as to what to do next.


When I was 9, I swore I'd never take exams again when I could, quietly, under the covers of my blankie. But now, I will take exams again. I am willing! As long as I can get to a university.



The next thing on my agenda is to

1) Watch all the DVDs in the shoebox I store them in.

2) Celebrate Valentine's Day (I bought him a Creative Muvo Vidz! Which I dont think he'll need when he gets his bike =( )

3) Go to the regular end-of-semester chalet to spend some time with my good ole friends.

4) Clean up my room (DONE! Yesterday. Mr M helped. He even washed the toilet)

5) Work.

6) Go on a holiday with Mr M! Yes. We have planned this since last year.

7) Watch the entire Season 2 of Desperate Housewives on DVD! Yes. Can't wait.




But all my plans may be thwarted, because my youngest sister has caught chicken pox. And no one in my entire family has got it before, so yah. 90% chance, Dr Smiley said.

the angels they burn inside for us|1:34:00 PM|

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Thursday, February 2

\\**//

I used to fantasise-- in those prepuberscent days when I was 11 or 12-- about the Backstreet Boys.

My fantasy started one day from nothing. I just closed my eyes when it was bedtime and thought about them. I thought hard, yes I did, about Nick Carter "The Baby", as journalists called him when he was a mere 16, Howie D, AJ and his tattoos, Kevin and who's that last guy? Yeah Brian I think.


I used to hate Brian because he's so ugly. "How can ugly guys be the lead singer?" I used to say.


Now, add a few more wrinkles and yeah, pretty much the same.


Anyway, back to my fantasy. My thoughts about the Backstreet Boys would run wild... until I arrived at a whole fantasy which was run and re run and rerun in my head until I can still remember it today, when Nick Carter is like what, 40?


Okay, 26?


The fantasy would start one morning, when I was still living in my old house just off the street I'm living on now. I would have just woken up from a lovely night of sleep and the Backstreet Boys are on their way to my house because I'd have written a lovely fanmail that would lure them to sunny lil Singapore and to my house.


So they arrive-- all 5 of them-- and squash onto my small lil rattan sofa that was in my old living room back then when I was 11 or 12. And my mother would serve them drinks (which they sip politely) and we have small talk.


And here is where my fantasy would change.


Sometimes, I would place myself in between Howie D and Kevin, who were my two favourites and I couldn't decide which one I liked more and start chatting to them. Tall, dark and handsome Kevin would look at me with a cool smile and ruffle my hair; Funny, witty and cute Howie D would amuse me with jokes.


While Nick Carter would just entertain my younger sister.


Sometimes, I would sit on a separate seat from the couch they were sitting on, just chatting, and either Howie D, Kevin or AJ (who is my 3rd favourite) would come up to me and ask me to go home with them.


And my mother would smile beguilingly and nod her head in approval when I looked at her for permission.


Sometimes, Brian would talk and talk and talk and I would find him amusing and thus forgive him for his ugliness.


But as the years worn on, as more important things filled my life other than idolising bands like Backstreet Boys and the Spice Girls (whom I'd use to dance to and take on either Posh Spice or Scary Spice's role and I think there's a very guilty video tape sitting somewhere of my sisters and I dancing to Spice Girl's MVs), the fantasy just eluded my mind and



*poof*



No more Backstreet Boys.The Spice Girls, whose merchandise I would faithfully collect from key rings, magazines with their faces plastered on the front cover, small biodata books that cost a tidy fortune, a very old LD (can anyone imagine? LD??!!) of their concert, VCD of that movie Spice World... and god knows what else, cuz I tossed them all OUT


many many years ago when it was collecting dust in my cupboards.


And let me see if I can still remember their full names off hand.Victoria Adams who is now V Beckham.Emma Lee Bunton.Melanie Brown.Melanie Chrisholm


and that lady with big breasts, Ginger Spice... erm. Geri Halliwell?


Not really full names, because I remember they had middle names.



Anyway, that Backstreet Boy fantasy is still in my head but now, I have affirmed which Backstreet Boy I like best and based purely on looks because I no longer follow their songs and didn't even go to their concert!!!!


Kevin. The tall, dark and handsome one with the cool smile. Oh, the married one. Or is he divorced?After that stage of idolising when I was 11 or 12, I no longer idolised idols like I did before.


All that merchandising, mimicking and collecting only shone on my memory as a waste of money that went into their manager's pockets.After that stage, which I thought everyone went through at that age, I was wide eyed when I entered secondary school and found people moon-eyed over some band. And my eyes almost popped when I entered poly and found the same thing.



To each his own, but I am way past the idolising stage.



Yes, Chinese New Year was good. It had me looking like a black, inauspicious, boots-wearing...


Well, all I can say was that my relatives were eyeing me up and down and left and right.


On the 1st day of new year I wore the black cheongsam top and the pretty flirty transparent black rose skirt, topped off with ankle high boots. Oh yes and my red spectacles.


On the second day of new year, my house was open to people and I wore the lacey black-brown dress. I also went to Mr M's house to meet his mother and brother and also for dinner.


Good God...it was one nerve-wrecking experience because I have never ever gone to meet any of my boyfriends' mothers, not for dinner and not during New Year where the meaning of WHY I am meeting the family is apparent and obvious.


Except for once when I went to one of my ex's house to play computer games and accidentally met his mother. And I was 13.


But this was so official!



I put on a cool facade even though my innards were turning inside out and as I handed the packet of oranges to his mother and said Happy New Year in Mandarin and shook her hand, I felt out of place.


Because his older brother of 25 had also brought his girlfriend home. His older brother's girlfriend was clad in a plain orange tee shirt and 3/4 quarter shorts. No accessories, no make up, hair in simple ponytail.


I was in a lacey dress. With a purple lacey bag. And my signature accessories with the exception of my mother's Chanel gold bracelet.


And Mr M's sister was not in.


Imagine a scene of some dramady like Desperate Housewives (which I have watched the whole of Season 1 on DVD and ALOT of self discipline is needed for me to NOT touch the Season 2 because I simply have to study).



So... The scene is such that both brothers bring their girlfriends home on Chinese New Year, presumably for the first time each (don't know if the Mr M's brother's gf was a first timer there). The mother cooks dinner. The father and sister are not at home yet.



One girlfriend is simple and chatty and friendly and outspoken with not a hint of makeup and simple clothes. Oh and she looks chinese.


The other girlfriend is tanned and in a dress and lacey and lots of accessories and quiet and does not look chinese.


So the 5 of them sit down for dinner where the staple dish is noodles instead of rice.


Chopsticks is needed. Now, the frilly girlfriend does not know how to hold her chopticks properly.


But she can feed herself well enough with chopsticks, so as the simple girlfriend talks to the mother about adding more cornstarch to the shark's fin and abalone soup or more chicken cubes because it is too diluted but the mother likes it diluted, the frilly girlfriend silently applaudes the simple girlfriend for being so direct in criticising the Mother's cooking.



She silently feeds herself until only a few strands of noodles are left in her bowl. She uses her spoon to scoop the strands because her chopstick can't pick the strands up.


And the mother asks, "You don't know how to use chopsticks?"



And she says, "Not really,"


And the mother continues, "Your family don't use chopsticks? They use fork and spoon?"


And the frilly girlfriend replies, "Yeah, most of the time," but quickly adds, "But we use chopsticks too, just that I hold it the wrong way,"


And the mother said, "Well then it's high time you learn,"


And the whole table laughed.


And the frilly girlfriend's face turned hot and possibly red, which she can't tell because she cannot look into a mirror.


So the frilly girlfriend concentrates on her boyfriend's brother's dimples instead.


Because she cannot look at her boyfriend, since he is sitting next to her and to turn her head to him is such a great effort because then she can see his mother too, so it is better to look across the table.


With that scene in mind, now imagine how I felt. I felt like a spoilt, un-chinese, extravagant girlfriend, as compared to his brother's girlfriend who even knows how to cook shark's fin and abalone soup.


If I were his mother, I would think that my son's girlfriend would be sure to be the spender in his family, spending on expensive stuff until he becomes broke.


Like, some spoilt type of girlfriend who expects to be pampered.


...


Well...maybe I am like that a little, but I don't spend his money! And yes I may be a little extravagant at times....


Anyway it was horrifying. If not for the party that was going on at my house earlier on, I would never have worn a dress!


I am convinced that his mother looks at me with amusement in her eyes, although he does anything he can to refute me because his mother did talk to me and laugh as compared to his ex girlfriend who visited once whereby she did not even talk to her.


After my exams, which I am so procrastinating right now and luckily I am not working now cuz otherwise I would seriously have no time to study with all that new year visiting, I will DRESS DOWN and go to his house again and help him paint his room.






Spoilt girls don't paint rooms right?

the angels they burn inside for us|5:39:00 PM|

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