... is a (PMS-ing) woman's best friend.
Like the huge box of Lindt Chocolate my speaker from Switzerland bought for me.
And the LG Chocolate mobile phone *Gallant got for me as a surprise!
Delish!
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Chocolate
Chocolate...
... is a (PMS-ing) woman's best friend.
Like the huge box of Lindt Chocolate my speaker from Switzerland bought for me.
And the LG Chocolate mobile phone *Gallant got for me as a surprise!
Delish!
... is a (PMS-ing) woman's best friend.
Like the huge box of Lindt Chocolate my speaker from Switzerland bought for me.
And the LG Chocolate mobile phone *Gallant got for me as a surprise!
Delish!
Sunday, February 25, 2007
who cares?
And then I ask myself, who cares.
And feel like shouting at the next b*gger staring at my chest what the *f are you looking at?! rather than to clutch my bag close across a careless choice of low cut blouses.
Cold hard world. It is all about projection of sanity and grace under extreme pressure.
Project managers need to lead the team and show that she's got things under control
It's the company policy here. One where you get all things done and leave the office early, and by-golly-genius projects are miraculously successful!
Sigh... and here's a peek at all the work the company's squeezed out of me!
And feel like shouting at the next b*gger staring at my chest what the *f are you looking at?! rather than to clutch my bag close across a careless choice of low cut blouses.
Cold hard world. It is all about projection of sanity and grace under extreme pressure.
Project managers need to lead the team and show that she's got things under control
It's the company policy here. One where you get all things done and leave the office early, and by-golly-genius projects are miraculously successful!
.::.
Sigh... and here's a peek at all the work the company's squeezed out of me!
Soul Searching - the Quest
A Little Bit of Soul Searching...
Thanks, *Fongky for a lovely Saturday evening.
I met her after my pedi & manicure session to watch Notes of a Scandal (Dame Judi Dench is goooood), shared a hamburger at *Billy's, a walk to the newly opened National Museum and caught fireworks (while *Fongky caught the attention of the museum guards!) and got beaten at Othello over brownies and ice cream at Moonriver Cafe.
I learnt that while people are our own worst critics and we are always too hard on ourselves, personal points of view are always right according to he or she who owns them. Such is the way the world is a stubborn mule. While we can waste time trying to convince the other to not only conceed to our way but to even begin to understand why we think like this, why not just move on and accept that there will always be this difference. I am now reminded that Dale Carnegie said something along these lines. If only I had listened rather than declare him a bore.
The year of the dog has gone, and being a dog-year-born, they say it is of great importance to handle all undertakings with great care else it will bring great desaster rather than great prosperity.
Being a wreckless and careless *dog, it was a year of great desaster.
Something about being in the midst of a crisis will open chapters (or as *Fongky says, cans of worms) and force upon this muddled brain tasks of over analysing things have passed.
1. I've handled situations of home and the persons involved unwisely
1. My mother and I have a relationship more tense than ever since conversations over CNY with accusations that she was the root of my insecurities
1. Tears and little faith at work despite excellent results that are coming out of my conferences today. Senior management terms it: ye of bad stress management.
They've all been numbered '1'. All matters of importance attacking conscience and forced over analysis.
I don't know if I'll ever get past these mind hurdles. All there needs to be done is done and can't be undone. Especially with work, I think I'll really be great if I can just "chill".
Problem with *Mother Damsel will take a longer while. Much longer. Funny thing is, it goes back to the essence of Carnegie's thought above. And of all people, I should be able to share that *Mother too thinks and feels unconventionally. But I can't. Not too happy to say, but there is probably an emotional load and history enough to write two Amy Tan-type books.
That's all for now. I need to try to "chill".
Thanks, *Fongky for a lovely Saturday evening.
I met her after my pedi & manicure session to watch Notes of a Scandal (Dame Judi Dench is goooood), shared a hamburger at *Billy's, a walk to the newly opened National Museum and caught fireworks (while *Fongky caught the attention of the museum guards!) and got beaten at Othello over brownies and ice cream at Moonriver Cafe.
I learnt that while people are our own worst critics and we are always too hard on ourselves, personal points of view are always right according to he or she who owns them. Such is the way the world is a stubborn mule. While we can waste time trying to convince the other to not only conceed to our way but to even begin to understand why we think like this, why not just move on and accept that there will always be this difference. I am now reminded that Dale Carnegie said something along these lines. If only I had listened rather than declare him a bore.
The year of the dog has gone, and being a dog-year-born, they say it is of great importance to handle all undertakings with great care else it will bring great desaster rather than great prosperity.
Being a wreckless and careless *dog, it was a year of great desaster.
Something about being in the midst of a crisis will open chapters (or as *Fongky says, cans of worms) and force upon this muddled brain tasks of over analysing things have passed.
1. I've handled situations of home and the persons involved unwisely
1. My mother and I have a relationship more tense than ever since conversations over CNY with accusations that she was the root of my insecurities
1. Tears and little faith at work despite excellent results that are coming out of my conferences today. Senior management terms it: ye of bad stress management.
They've all been numbered '1'. All matters of importance attacking conscience and forced over analysis.
I don't know if I'll ever get past these mind hurdles. All there needs to be done is done and can't be undone. Especially with work, I think I'll really be great if I can just "chill".
Problem with *Mother Damsel will take a longer while. Much longer. Funny thing is, it goes back to the essence of Carnegie's thought above. And of all people, I should be able to share that *Mother too thinks and feels unconventionally. But I can't. Not too happy to say, but there is probably an emotional load and history enough to write two Amy Tan-type books.
That's all for now. I need to try to "chill".
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
B*tchy Gay Guy
B*tchy Gay Guy
Over dinner, my conversation with a delightful, politically incorrect, corrupt, vulgar and oh so ever gay man from office:
So why men over women?
Simple. Its the way women smell.
What?! You mean you're sick of flowery, sweet scents?
No la. Down there.
I was already suckling this gorgeous babe's tits but halfway down, there was a stench (cue *flicks of well manicured hands over nose*). Men don't smell. At that point, I knew I wanted to be gay.
And with another gay man around tea time...
You're supposed to come back from a vacation looking refreshed.
I don't know... I'm just tired
Must be that hair (newly curled). So hard to maintain.
So says the man who takes 20 minutes each day to accessorise... and his cuff links for the day were miniature penises. Oh well, I deserve a nagging from him then!
Over dinner, my conversation with a delightful, politically incorrect, corrupt, vulgar and oh so ever gay man from office:
So why men over women?
Simple. Its the way women smell.
What?! You mean you're sick of flowery, sweet scents?
No la. Down there.
I was already suckling this gorgeous babe's tits but halfway down, there was a stench (cue *flicks of well manicured hands over nose*). Men don't smell. At that point, I knew I wanted to be gay.
.::.
And with another gay man around tea time...
You're supposed to come back from a vacation looking refreshed.
I don't know... I'm just tired
Must be that hair (newly curled). So hard to maintain.
So says the man who takes 20 minutes each day to accessorise... and his cuff links for the day were miniature penises. Oh well, I deserve a nagging from him then!
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Valentine's Day
Valentine's was...
A day early (I had a bus ticket back to Malaysia the next morning)
A pretty silk dress by Donna Karen
New makeup from Chanel
Dinner for two at Garibaldi
of Air Flown Spanner Crab with Avocado and Orange & Saffron Sauce for appetizers
and Marsala Wine Risotto with Goose Liver and Grilled Sea Scallops
for him, Beef Tenderloin with Truffled Potatoes and Porcini Mushrooms
The Curve Rare made a delightful *pop* when opened
And champagne fizzes so nicely down the throat
No space for dessert
We arrived at dinner early
But was the last to leave
Wonderful conversation
And a stolen kiss at Garibaldi's
It was a happy Valentine's day
A day early (I had a bus ticket back to Malaysia the next morning)
A pretty silk dress by Donna Karen
New makeup from Chanel
Dinner for two at Garibaldi
of Air Flown Spanner Crab with Avocado and Orange & Saffron Sauce for appetizers
and Marsala Wine Risotto with Goose Liver and Grilled Sea Scallops
for him, Beef Tenderloin with Truffled Potatoes and Porcini Mushrooms
The Curve Rare made a delightful *pop* when opened
And champagne fizzes so nicely down the throat
No space for dessert
We arrived at dinner early
But was the last to leave
Wonderful conversation
And a stolen kiss at Garibaldi's
It was a happy Valentine's day
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Love is... Pineapple Tarts
Love is... Pineapple Tarts
Work is high stress at the moment (really! more than usual) and I am at work early morning till late every evening till at least 10pm since mid last week. Coupled with stress at home (literally speaking), it really wasn't a good idea to tell *Gallant that I will be making pineapple tarts for him to bring home to his family.
Too late to put foot in mouth as he has told his mother and I am committed to making tarts! What horrors it must be to be a disappointment or one-who-does-not-keep-her-word to a lady I was keen to impress.
So on a late Friday evening, *Gallant and I went to the hypermart, practically minutes before it closed and bought 10 ripe pineapples.
An hour later we were peeling and chopping. Not exactly the easiest task as a pineapple had all these 'pineapple eyes' to cut out and the core to cut away! Plus the acid was really unkind to the hands, with such a nasty sting!
It was 2am when we started boiling. Constant stirring was required as an unattended pineapple jam would start burning exactly 8 minutes unattended. *Gallant persuaded me to nap for a while but he left me sleeping until the morning - and was stirring the jam until 6.30am in the morning.
Saturday wasn't exactly kind either as both of us had work in the office and lab. Nonetheless, we grabbed a quick lunch at Holland Village and shopped at Da Paolo gourmet for Sunday's lunch (the hand made truffle pasta is heavenly! We combined truffle pasta with zucchini pasta sauce for a sinfully rich but oh-so-yummy-worth-the-calories lunch).
Come 9pm Saturday evening, cookie baking started again. We had trouble with our crumbling dough and our jam's consistency was less than smooth for aesthetic purposes on the cookie. The dough was so dry that no amount of egg or milk seemed to help and we could not even roll out the cute little 'x' that usually adorns pineapple tarts.
I was crushed. Obviously because before this potential mother in law of mine sees me, she will see my imperfect pineapple tarts. And with all this effort, buying cute little cookie boxes, cross referencing recipes online and checking out cookie baking tips on the net and asking about, my tarts seemed like a disaster.
But I guess I was missing out on the less obvious point of this mission for the perfect tarts... his love.
Although unsaid that I was out to impress his mother, *Gallant was there to help out on what other men must view to have been a woman's silly obsession with baking and sweet food.
Chopping, baking, cooking, rolling, cutting dough and shaping cookies... he put in his time and effort (even had to run back to lab to finalize his experiment half way) to help me see this through. I also know my boyfriend isn't the kind to want to be seen baking cookies and we were doing this for two nights in his male hostel.
So who cares if I can't really taste these dry, pineapple chunk cookies for the mess that they really are as for now they are the most delicious thing I've ever tasted!
Work is high stress at the moment (really! more than usual) and I am at work early morning till late every evening till at least 10pm since mid last week. Coupled with stress at home (literally speaking), it really wasn't a good idea to tell *Gallant that I will be making pineapple tarts for him to bring home to his family.
Too late to put foot in mouth as he has told his mother and I am committed to making tarts! What horrors it must be to be a disappointment or one-who-does-not-keep-her-word to a lady I was keen to impress.
So on a late Friday evening, *Gallant and I went to the hypermart, practically minutes before it closed and bought 10 ripe pineapples.
An hour later we were peeling and chopping. Not exactly the easiest task as a pineapple had all these 'pineapple eyes' to cut out and the core to cut away! Plus the acid was really unkind to the hands, with such a nasty sting!
It was 2am when we started boiling. Constant stirring was required as an unattended pineapple jam would start burning exactly 8 minutes unattended. *Gallant persuaded me to nap for a while but he left me sleeping until the morning - and was stirring the jam until 6.30am in the morning.
Saturday wasn't exactly kind either as both of us had work in the office and lab. Nonetheless, we grabbed a quick lunch at Holland Village and shopped at Da Paolo gourmet for Sunday's lunch (the hand made truffle pasta is heavenly! We combined truffle pasta with zucchini pasta sauce for a sinfully rich but oh-so-yummy-worth-the-calories lunch).
Come 9pm Saturday evening, cookie baking started again. We had trouble with our crumbling dough and our jam's consistency was less than smooth for aesthetic purposes on the cookie. The dough was so dry that no amount of egg or milk seemed to help and we could not even roll out the cute little 'x' that usually adorns pineapple tarts.
I was crushed. Obviously because before this potential mother in law of mine sees me, she will see my imperfect pineapple tarts. And with all this effort, buying cute little cookie boxes, cross referencing recipes online and checking out cookie baking tips on the net and asking about, my tarts seemed like a disaster.
But I guess I was missing out on the less obvious point of this mission for the perfect tarts... his love.
Although unsaid that I was out to impress his mother, *Gallant was there to help out on what other men must view to have been a woman's silly obsession with baking and sweet food.
Chopping, baking, cooking, rolling, cutting dough and shaping cookies... he put in his time and effort (even had to run back to lab to finalize his experiment half way) to help me see this through. I also know my boyfriend isn't the kind to want to be seen baking cookies and we were doing this for two nights in his male hostel.
So who cares if I can't really taste these dry, pineapple chunk cookies for the mess that they really are as for now they are the most delicious thing I've ever tasted!
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Sorry
More Than Saying Sorry
I'm not the sort of person who is afraid to say her 'sorry's. But when something terribly wrong has been done and sincere apologies have been said, it is wretched, pondering what else I can do.
I'm not the sort of person who is afraid to say her 'sorry's. But when something terribly wrong has been done and sincere apologies have been said, it is wretched, pondering what else I can do.
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