Sunday, October 31, 2004
blogging kissy pics
cocolatte
haha. got u all. did anyone of you for a minute think you could've caught a glimpse of something r/x rated here? *sniggers* its only me and lurv having some fun on a friday night.
bee wrote this at 10:16 PM
the day i bid adieu to ebony
as of yesterday, i've only three weeks to say my goodbyes to the family black MPV whom i've fallen in love with during the past eight months. she was bulky, a tad heavy and at times mighty frustrating to park, but she was gentle and lovely cos she made her mistress feel like doing road trips all over again (since perth days).how i missed the long highway rides home in the ratty old car and at times the cutesy echo (with the most mind numbing stick shifts). how i missed the the wind blowing in my hair. how i missed belting out rock ballads at 120km/h. how i missed filling up my own petrol tank. how i missed washing my car (er.. only once). how i missed the dirt cheap parking fees in perth.
now i simply miss the long therapeutic walks from amoy street to one fullerton. haven't had the opportunity to renew that nostalgia since centro/embargo deserted us. i loved the walk with light rain. reminded me of melbourne and ally mcbeal's poignant walks in the rain.
how i digressed. pseudo master, having experienced ebony's battery relapse last week has finally decided to trade her for a silver harrier (which he's been eyeing for the past two months). the harrier was sexy. masculine and powerful in design, i found myself secretly admiring him in awe when the ah beng salesperson showed me his sunroof and automatic steering wheel lock. as i walked out of the showroom with pseudo master, i felt a heavy sense of guilt and sadness for my beloved. guilt cos i found myself attracted to the harrier and sadness cos i know i only have three weeks with her now. i've decided to steal her and spend as many nights out as possible till he comes.
how we broke her heart. *sniff*
bee wrote this at 9:21 PM
Friday, October 29, 2004
the thing we call "relative"
we've (or i've) never been really buddy with my paternal relatives. uncouth and only concerned about self-interests, it's never occured to me how thoughtless they really were until the past week.with my aunt's passing barely a month ago, i've two nicompoot paternal relatives calling my mom to attend birthday and wedding parties. HULLO. they knew about mom having a tough time losing her only sister and these fucking morons didn't even call to express their condolences much less attend the funeral itself. and note: one aunt's particularly superstitious and doesn't attend other's weddings nor funerals. and now they have the cheek to tell my mom it's ok to come for the party cos females, once married, are considered "out of their own family". you NO LONGER belong to your own family. WHAT IN FUCKING HELL IS THAT?
i know chinese traditions believe in a woman "marrying" into her man's family et cetera but that does NOT equate that you no longer have relations/ emotions tagged to the ones who've seen you through the toughest times of your life?
being the usual softie that mom is, she kept her anger in check and was browbeaten again by these two selfish morons. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE???? why do they keep picking on mom? their selfishness is completely and utterly unbelievable. who gives a shit bout respect when they don't even have the decency to show our family any.
i've decided to insert laxatives in their drinks for CNY next year. shit asses literally.
bee wrote this at 9:03 AM
Thursday, October 28, 2004
the plight of my compulsion
due to an insurgence of stressful sticky situations, my fingers have degenerated to a bloody and pitiful state. i yearn for saturday to come so i can put an end to the sorrowful sight by visiting a manicurist. i've never seen my addiction as an act of self-mutilation but more as an exit from pent up anxiety. slatering lotions don't work no more. the disability to disfigure my hands would only cause more aggravation and tension.i need to find another form of release. i need. i need. i need.
bee wrote this at 1:47 PM
tasting fear
had an dreadful night despite the lovely spatters of raindrops on my window.what freaked me out was the protaganist(me). i was the ghoulish creature (ala Van Helsing's female vamps) flying around in my primary school searching for something which i have absolutely no clue of. jolted at four am in the mornin amidst lightning and rain, i stayed huddled under my thick covers with a mighty full bladder cos i refused to walk thru the entire hallway and kitchen just in case the evil in me decides to appear in the mirror reflections.
they say dreams unify us in body, mind and spirit. the entire mystique and gruelling process of unlocking our personal emotions and experiences would help us look upon our current state of minds in a different light.
it's tough deciphering dreams cos i often lose track of them by the time my mind's running like clockwork. the elements may be lost but the emotions linger. one can taste fear no matter how far it runs. freud's got a sound theory for that in the interpretation of dreams (third ed).
Ghost
In general, ghosts symbolizes aspects of yourself that you fear. This may involve a painful memory, guilt, or some repressed thoughts. You may be afraid of death and dying. Alternatively, ghosts are representative of something that is no longer obtainable or within reach. It indicates a feeling of disconnection from life and society. This dream may be a calling for you to move on and abandon your outdated modes of thinking and behavior.To dream that you reach out to touch a ghost, but it disappears, indicates that you are taking steps to acknowledging some painful or repressed thoughts even though you are not ready to fully confront them.
Ghoul
To see a ghoul in your dream, suggests that your habits and negative ways are hindering your growth. The dream may also represent a fresh beginning.
Fear
To dream that you feel fear, signifies that you achievements will not be as successful as you had anticipated. You are having anxieties in certain circumstances of your life.
Flying
To dream that you are flying, signifies a sense of freedom where you had initially felt restricted and limited. To dream that you are flying with black wings, signifies bitter disappointments.
i'm still having goose pimples. what do i fear now? of who i am now or who i will become? if this is what the future tastes like, i await with bated breath.
bee wrote this at 8:45 AM
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
pseudo master and his eccentric nature
for some peculiar reason, pseudo master avoided telling me personally at 8.05am this morning that our sturdy-one and half years old-mpv's battery went kapoot. instead he chose to call mom who had to call me. erm...it's always been this odd practice where pseudo master refuses to tell me things personally and chooses instead to mediate thru my mom who gets frustrated over such a tedious and impractical course of action.it boggles the mind indeed. oh whatever again.
and now he awaits the good ol AA's arrival. but i bet he's calling his mechanic right now and giving him a earful cos HOW ON EARTH CAN THE BATTERY BE DEAD when its only be serviced a month ago?
in case u're wondering, the headlights were switched off. pseudo master's anal bout things like that. i got shit big time when i forgot to wheel lock the car earlier this year and had a 2 day lecture and month long reminder on security and responsibility issues.
and no one is spared from that. not even psychotic ah-mah living next room to me. she had bigger shit cos she forgot to lock the main door and gate! whoosh! that, to pseudo master ala "paranoid cos the world is going to steal my super bulky vintage rosewood furniture" is the ultimate no no. she had a permanent lecture every couple of days from the master. oooohhh. she had full sympathy from mom and me.
bee wrote this at 8:43 AM
Monday, October 25, 2004
destination for retirement
bali bali bali. a place where i thought nothing of but to unwind from the taxing month before. but the trip surprised me. the welcoming hospitality of the balinese. the low-priced cost of living. the heart-breaking moments of poverty. the over zealous massagers, pedicurists, tattoo artists and taxi drivers. the awesome driving skills of cabbies in impossibly narrow lanes. the frustrations of finding a similar item at a lower price five doors down the road. the amazing food. the sweetness of the entire experience with my beloved.
bali
from left: mak having his massage, sunset at tanah lot,view of mt kintamani,me at padi fields, tasty snakehead fruit.
some special moments.
episode 1- the one with the mango.
being a mango slut, mak bought us 3 mangoes to last the trip. with a sudden craving for mango at 1am in the morning and discovering to our horror there're no knives in the room, we've decided promptly to do things the super primitive way. PEEL. and that we did. mak's recorded an MPEG of it but i reckon blogger.com doesn't support videos so i can't show you guys how disgusting i look eating it. but heck, as long as it gets down my stomach, i dun really care now do i?
episode 2- the one with the potential kidnapper.
went to deja vu as recommended by a manager at maccaroni (which incidentally has fucking awesome interiors designed by an architect). was trying to hail a cab back to kuta when this dodgy man in sarong approached us and offered his taxi services. oooook. in our anticipation to go back to poppies, we trooped hesitantly over to his cab. and alas, it turned out to be a rusty looking van with dark windows. FUCK! with a million worries running thru my head, mak made the immediate decision to walk away and ignore the angry sarong man's shouts bout us being unfair (by not taking his erm...potential kidnap wheelies).
episode 3- the one on the beach.
its heart breaking trying to lower the cost of beach massages when its already so lowly priced. i felt like the cheap slut bargaining my way thru the masseurs and repeatedly rejecting persistent mani/pedicurists despite the temptations of submission. ended up doing the massages and going home with 3 lovely tourist accessories (shell bangles). branded with 3 tattoos made visible in my bikini, mak had to help fend off annoying tattoo artists who kept pestering me to do more. bali men, for some peculiar reason, seem attracted to women with tattoos. but really, would i pay for stick-on tattooes when i really dig the real thing? and do i look like i wanna take the risk of doing my tattoo on the beach with unsterilised needles when i didn't even want the manicurists getting near my cuticles for fear of infections? man...
episode 4- the one with tears in her eyes.
with not much expectations cept for a great romantic chill out, being the sweetie that he is, mak had once again turned my heart to mush when he did certain things that warranted hugs every 5 minutes.
kutapoppies
i miss bali already.
bee wrote this at 10:03 PM
November baby
Take the quiz: "What does your birth month reveal about you?"November
Has lots of extraordinary ideas. Difficult to fathom. Thinkforward. Unique. brilliant. Sharp thinking. Fine, strong clairvoyance. make good doctors. Dynamic. Secretive. Inquisitive. Know how to dig secrets. Always thinking. Less talkative. amiable. Brave. generous. Patient. Stubborn. hardhearted. Determined. Never quit. Hardly become angry unless provoked. Love to be alone. Think differently. Sharp-minded. Motivate self. Dont appreciate praises. Highspirited. Well-built, tough. Deep love, emotions. Romantic. Uncertain in relationships. Homely. Hardworking. High abilities. Trustworthy. Honest. Keepsecrets. Cant control emotions. Unpredictable.
clairvoyant. maybe i should consider retiring in bali as a gypsy.
bee wrote this at 5:57 PM
Monday, October 18, 2004
an ally moment
again, i found another old diary entry from three years ago. didn't realise how depressed i was. and fuck it sounds like a script off ally mcbeal in the latter half. maybe i should consider giving sumiko tan a run for her money and submit my resume if she ever needs a protege for penning love life grievances. here we go...vacation thoughts 1
sat morn, 5 May 2001, Hill Terrace, St James, Perth, WA.
i personally don’t believe in history repeating itself. trying to live the life i've lived is quite impossible. no one can recreate memories. cos memories are meant to be remembered. and anything to be reminisced is special, relieving it would of course rob it of its beauty.
lawson street, st james. The wee hour drives at two back to student v. the anticipation of a good night and companionship. the blasting of techno trance amidst the twirls of marlboro reds. sash’s adelante. tommy hilfiger’s lingering scent on my pillow and quilt. vcds were never this interesting (especially sausalito and crappy HK pirates). fast eds at carousel was never this fun.
[ARE MEMORIES DISPENSABLE?]
jandakot. the long dark winding roads. mayhaps a premonition of the ill-fated relationship? the lighthouse was never this romantic. everclear's “everything is wonderful” was never this good. the sunset was never this beautiful. margaret river was never this perfect. beef never tasted so delish. sleeping at night was never lonely.
[Again, are memories dispensable?]
the pain overrides the beautiful memories. if memories bring forth so much pain then why bother remembering? cos i simply can't erase. then again, can i choose to forget? do i have a choice? there're some things i can’t walk away from. so why can’t i live the life i've led a year before? why am i always recollecting? memories are meant to be embedded, not rehashed into reality whenever I desire.
stephi’s no longer at murdoch. neither are Ivan and friends. neither is vincent nor bryan. neither’s the ford festiva. neither’s flat 70, room 1. ahhh, my greatest love that I can’t leave behind. my little room of solace. my shelter from the world. how I missed that room. the dusty cupboards. the tiny spiders (spider therapy). the knocking of my knees against the wall. the heater burning my toes. the ashtray next to my bed. the CHAIR. the quilt. my freedom. my love. my life.
memories's like an old sofa. you’ve gotten so used to it. bummed in it. slept in it. drooled in it. clawed at it. the years of bonding are often overlooked. is this a good analogy of memories? we call them memories because they're incidents that we've conveniently put aside for the new and the interesting.
[ABORT. READY. RETRY] unlike a computer programme where i can erase, save and shut down, i cannot plainly ignore the consequences of my actions. a click to either would determine my destined future.
i would love to explore my ambiguous future with open arms. Or would i not?
[ACTIONS PRECEDE WORDS] 26 May 2001, Saturday, 11.45pm
i'm tired. but i can't go to bed. images of bryan still swimming in my head. moby’s porcelain playing, repeating, rewinding, fast-forwarding. when will I ever forget and truly let go?
all I want is you. who are you? when will you appear? when will you be there to hold my hand, comb my hair, massage my head, pick on my food, bitch about late night TV shows, snuggle up with in the morning, comfort me when i’m broken, love me for what I am, be truly happy with me and only me? Why are you making me wait all this while?
Have I not been a good person?
bee wrote this at 9:54 PM
label manifesto
flout emotions.disregard passions.
Sell her soul.
Welcome to her world.
One driven by material greed.
Drawn towards the sensual beckoning of city life, she finds herself falling for the lusty companionship of pure decadence. As magnanimous as she would like to envision herself to be, she cannot ignore the enchanting call of material promises that would give her immense power over others.
she's ashamed to say that she's been living in artificial happiness. one where success can be reflected upon the exquisite leather of her emma hope and marc jacob collectible shoes. What does it tell of society, of her? Where does it lead her children and her? The thought of bringing a beautiful being into this monstrous society driven by soulless gratification scares her.
Because she is part of this soulless generation.
Had she not seen these riches and what miracles it did, would she have turned out a better person? Then again, what is a ‘better person’? Someone generous? Someone self-sacrificing? someone simple? someone who gives her all and ends up feeling like her life is worth nought and begins to wonder about the very purpose of her existence?
wealth is a self-destructive toy. it makes people very happy most times. but it makes them very sad too cos they can no longer enjoy the simple things in life without conjuring dreams of a "better tomorrow". nothing satisfies anymore. Aldous Huxley deserves applause for his study “We are surrounding ourselves with all these things; icons, status symbols which for some reason we are thinking that we need to be here, when we cannot even afford to get there.”
she, as the malfunctioning individual, is indeed a contradictory creature. she cannot comprehend most of her actions. In fact, she's spent a lifetime trying to understand herself. Or maybe,she like the others, are simply created to be misunderstood.
bee wrote this at 9:15 PM
Sunday, October 17, 2004
THE DAY
i've always wanted to be my girlfriend's wedding planner. helping them select the best spas, giving them opinions on their wedding dress, sourcing the right music for the march, giving tips on make-up, recceing locations, brainstorming THE DAY themes, creative menus, invitations and mucking the perfect program rundown.and it suddenly hit me why. why i so wanted to be part of their big day. cos pessimism has again blinded me and i foresee THE DAY might never come and i may end up alone and bitter. so the most remote chance for me to experience what a wedding's like is to volunteer myself for their BIG DAY. if i don't find the right person to celebrate a lifetime together, i might as well spend the rest of my life making my girlfriends happy whilst basking in the wedding vibes.
every little girl has dreamt of her prince charming [sue disney, they brainwashed us.] but dreams...that i have about my own someday. not the fancy ritz carlton bull but one lavish with personal touches. my bud tony used to, till this day, call me his "yuppie" mate. yes. i do enjoy the finer things in life and would rather spend a little more making this day special to the ones who've meant so much to me over the years as opposed to spending money inviting idiotic relatives whom i only see during CNY and funerals. sides, why would i invite shallow pain-in-the-asses who judge how successful my new husband is with the elaborate servings of endangered sharks fins and cash depleting abalones that night? nuff said. i digress.
what's my dream you may ask? i would love to have a garden party in the evening. toast champagne and red wine. listen to sax and trumpets. enjoy breezy outdoors. fill the tables with red roses. light up the nite with candles and lotus flowers. share my beloved boston mudcake. capture the memories with polaroids. share the first dance with pseudo master and watch him bawl his eyes out cos i'm no longer his little sweetie after this night.
for once in my life, i yearn for this weasy bit of stress. till then, i'm mighty happy lending two hands to the first friend who gets hitched. and i wish you happiness. not love cos sometimes love just ain't enough.
bee wrote this at 8:34 PM
more than w-o-r-d-s
writing is a form of art.or a form of subtle revolution.
or a portal for releasing tension.
to me, writing itself is the solution to my problems.
my brain registers ideas thru words rather than pictures. which is why i get along dandy with copywriters as opposed to art directors. in writing, the answers will most often than not appear in your face. it's only thru writing can i decipher thoughts and look at them from another picture when i've read the final piece. bearing uncanny semblance to jigsaw puzzles, the millions of individual pieces ain't mean a nought and i would only begin to see the big picture when the final puzzle's formed. and sometimes it may be a little too early. and other times, a tad too late.
bee wrote this at 8:10 PM
Friday, October 15, 2004
the simple anticipations
as i speak, i await the lovely cake that is to be devoured upon at 5pm for my colleague's surprise birthday gathering (again). should've asked what cake it was before my lunch. darn! what if it was a chocolate cake? dammit.bee wrote this at 1:26 PM
the idiocy of select homo sapiens
its shitty enuff running off to your suppliers nestled in the uluness of lower delta road at 9am in the morning. what's worse you may ask? wouldn't it be nice to relax in your cosy pseudo work abode after all that lugging of press kit folders for a little coffee break? THEN YOU discover to your absolute horror the silliness of the receptionist in placing all 30 leftover goody bags from the event on Tues scattered around the ENTIRE cubicle. now...HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO MOVE AROUND THEN? ISN'T IT COMMON SENSE TO PLACE THEM AT AN OPEN AREA (which we do have)? HULLO. *THINK.THINK.THINK*
argh *GOOD GRIEF* USE YOUR BLAINS. USE YOUR BLAINS.
btw, i spied pseudo master peeling his fingers this morning whilst driving. now i know where i inherited that from. hmmm.
bee wrote this at 9:35 AM
Thursday, October 14, 2004
opportunists
i can't fucking believe they're charging $350 for 8 sessions on sociology of fashion when you can do your own researchhttp://www.lasallesia.edu.sg/secondary.html?courses/diploma_degree/artsmanagement/index.html
then again...the libraries here are limited in reading materials on gender studies. BUT still, why would someone pay couple of hundreds to decipher general readings?
baffling minds.
bee wrote this at 1:45 PM
serendipity
haven't we ever wondered why fate had decided to poke around and bring certain people together? have you ever explored why? why this person? why not X, Y, Z who seems more visually interesting when i pass them on the street? why are the nice girls with pricks? and why are the nice guys with bitches from hell? why do some people have so many "love of their lives" and some none at all? why why why?is it karma? if you've been a close to flawless person in the past, you'll be rewarded with a good person to share your life with? mom always told me that. if u do good in this life, you'll be rewarded in your next. but if i do good now, why do i have to wait for my next life to enjoy it? cos i probably don't even know who i am in my next existence. i could be a chihuahua for all i know.
i've known some friends who've never had a single good relationship with anyone in their entire lives. and they're great people. smart, caring, articulate. so why have they not found their partners? how long is the wait? and the wait for what? The One? how do we know if it's The One? what if The One comes after you thought you've found The (previous) One?
my destiny awaits me. maybe i'll be struck down by a random car before The One shows up. or maybe The One is the one who'll end my life. the sick irony of it all.and there you have the poignant musings of my morning.
bee wrote this at 8:49 AM
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
the trauma
lesson learnt from last nite's event:1. always clarify complex roles ala technical producer
2. always hire extra elves to help lug heavy shit around and roll sharp edged posters (so i dun have to have multiple paper cuts on hand)
3. always LOCK the god damn dressing room cos i dun need another celebrity going ballistic on me thinking she's lost her personal belongings (her tiny bag was hidden under our bags..oh duh...but really glad we found it cos it would've ruined the nite)
4. always start working on alcohol sponsors early so tired muggers like us can down the free booze when the event ends and not fucking coke and water.
5. always wear cargoes big enuff to store mobile, walkie, full pack of cigs and rolls of event agenda and rundown.
6. always take down all mobile numbers of people involved (no matter how small they seem)
7. always ensure people holding onto key items (like a stunt for launch) dun go for dinner fifteen minutes before the event starts. what the fuck. are we all on standby mode for fun?
8. pray hard that key people hanging onto key items are responsible enuff to grasp that we are not your brains so we cannot help you remember where you left certain very important things.
and thank God this happens only once a year.
bee wrote this at 9:21 AM
lost again.
something triggered me last night and i yearned to simply drop everything here for perth again. perhaps its the post event trauma where a month long of tedious planning finally wrapped up last nite. or it could be due to other factors. its like watching a monochrome movie played back and all emotions, personal and work just seemed like a flurry of images, exciting yet exhausting. whatever it is, i'm on the verge of giving up. there's only so much resolve i can hold onto at this wobbly stage of my life.but what would happen if i did? would i regret my impetuous actions and kick myself again? or would i finally let go of something which has been hurting sporadically? i don't know.
a close friend once told me "we'll cross the bridge when we get there". now...i'm sorry but who the fuck will know when will we get there? it could be now, tomorrow, next month or never. and watcha gonna do then? tell me sorry and wish i could've found happiness when you've had yours somewhere in between? or twiddle our thumbs and comb the white hair whilst still hanging onto something called hope? or perhaps do what i did again and simply walk away broken. young and broken is better than limping away old and broken...the things i do in life.
i can't cry and i won't. cos i'll end up hating myself all over again. and self-love is important cos you'll always have to be there for you cos no one else will.
bee wrote this at 8:46 AM
Saturday, October 09, 2004
father and daughter
pseudo master and foul tempered bee circa 1978
had another nasty episode with him again. why is she not surprised? every decent conversation recently would end up spiralling into arguments. has she changed or has he? she loves her dad. and she knows he loves her more than anything in this world (other than mom). so why can't she appreciate him enough? his lack of acceptance to new opinions and the changing society frustrates her. and these frustrations constantly simmer into balls of quiet anger. and at many a time, the quiet anger blows up.
and she cries because she knows he's saddened by her impudence.
that he's lost his sweet little cherub that he's doted on all his life. the lucky charm who picked winning 4D numbers for him. the little squealy he saved his hard earned money to buy cuddly stuff toys and birthday cakes for. the little girl who used to draw birthday cards for him every year and to have him put them aside without a glance. the girl who knew her dad was vastly disappointed with her tacky results when younger. the one who hardly called home when she was abroad. the one who changed and became more confident and vocal as she grew up. the little one who no longer fears her dad. the parent who's jealous of the girl's closer relationship with her mom. the one where silly pride matters to both. the woman who doesn't know how to talk to her dad anymore. the father who feels lost cos he doesn't know how to reach his little girl anymore.
but she loves him nonetheless.
bee wrote this at 8:25 PM
appreciating the mundane
if you need help passing time, i'm hereby sharing some of my personal web collections and inspirations.http://www.time.com/time/asia/asia/magazine/1999/990503/gallery1.html
http://www.agnosticwitch.catcara.com/Witch-defined.html
http://www.philosophypages.com/ph/socr.htm
bee wrote this at 7:52 PM
a little window to bee
inspiration: grace jones. jade jagger. sadness. grannies. poetsphobias: being disfigured. claustrophobia. war
childhood dream: artist. fashion designer. lawyer. writer
childhood nightmare: being alone
collects: vintage bags. female portrait spreads. quotes
loves: orchestras. shoes. operas. books. zine magazines. japanese animation by mamoru oshi, katsuhiro otomo and osamu tezuka. noir films.
appreciates: considerate people. integrity. being loved. self-indulgence
never wears: platforms. hotpants. caps. orange and yellow.
always in: birkies. granny stuff.
to end off. a little something from grace jones that put a smile on my broken days. [MEN ARE TERRIFIED OF ME. I CAN EASILY STEP INTO THE MAN’S SHOE, AND THAT PUTS THE MAN IN A POSITION WHERE HE HAS TO BECOME THE FEMALE. THAT'S WHAT SETS OFF THE TENSION. BUT MY IMAGE IS SUPPOSED TO FRIGHTEN MEN - SO ONLY THE GOOD ONES COME THROUGH.]
bee wrote this at 7:36 PM
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
the one with the virgin
the entire team was so stressed out over space allocations and wet weather contingencies for the big event next tues that...*get this* we contemplated holding prayer rituals to hold the rain at bay...tadah!yes, the weary table of 8 sitting in the tower of an american mnc at seven pm on monday actually toyed with the notion of looking for a female virgin to wave some sort of special plant in the morning before commencing the outdoor set- up. zee mysterious method apparently worked wonders when the client had an event in bangkok during its monsoon season. *you don't say*
fortunately the thought of "locating" female virgins lasted less than 2 min. [but that's probably cos we don't know of anyone who would take on this fatal blow to her reputation in this little isle of i-know-you-who-know-you-you-you-too. and er..we don't wanna sound like pimps when sourcing for the talent "i need a female virgin".] absurd as the entire episode sounds, i do believe in rituals [esp during moments of desperation]. and it would've made such a fucking cool pre-event footage. i can see the press lines going "Virgin launches event with promise of sun. Meet Ms XX. Singapore's weather heroine."
but we got real [after 2 min of cracking up] and went back on track.
rain rain go away little johnny wants to play...rain rain go away little johnny wants to play...rain rain go away little bee just wants to get paid.
bee wrote this at 10:01 PM
let sleeping dogs lie
had a conversation with mak last nite which left me feeling rather ruthless and nasty. it started with my mantra of do unto others as you would others do unto you. it's only fair that respect has to be earned. and for that reason i frequently subscribe to the doggy notion "you scratch my back and i scratch yours". yes, self-absorbed i am. who's to complain when everyone's smiley and shiny? and thou shalt not cross my path for the merciless scorpion that i am. i'm not the perfect miss congeniality i guess.bee wrote this at 8:55 AM
Monday, October 04, 2004
things that make me go hmmm
droolies
10 local big bets (meaning actual food) to make bee smile:
1. eefu noodles (lei garden)
2. chweeh kueh (dunno, not fussy bout this)
3. bak kut teh (with pepper corn, not the herbal one)
4. teochew porridge (they all taste the same)
5. kajiki sashimi (matsuo, kawamatsu and akashi)
6. egg battered prawns (ok, my psycho paternal ah-mah living in the room next to me is really ace at this dish and is one of the few reasons i look forward to CNY)
7. chilli crabs (maternal po-po cooks the best chilli crabs, no starch mate)
8. drunken prawn (this seafood restaurant at east coast makes tasty XO like soup)
9. burnt bah kua (the more "chow tah", the better, so u see, moi not only gets exposed to lung cancer but am at risk for other forms of cancer too)
10. nasi lemak (with extra ikan bilis please)
see. i do love my food.
bee wrote this at 10:10 PM
bala sessions
balamadness
i've decided to name my booze hours at balaclava as bala sessions (inspired by something at work). yeah, nothing new, just a couple of madcaps having a good time with a dash of hoegaarden, boddington, white wine and sushi. must've been abstaining for way too long cos its the first ever hangover from 2 measly beers since i was eighteen. how embarassing. *whimper*
from left: dora, gordon and terrance, mak, dora and me (and gordon's middle finger?)
bee wrote this at 10:01 PM
articulation in its written form
it's not the first time i had people telling me i was more articulate in communication via the written form than in person. as much as i love the human form, it always brings on an invisible barrier which i haven't been able to get rid of all these years. or perhaps i was an only child and didn't have to speak much to get my point across? or perhaps as chuck palahniuk nicely puts in his latest "non-fiction" prologue, books are meant for those who like to be alone. those who enjoy being in their own little world where they can escape and find themselves enmeshed in the thrilling conspiracies of a certain protagonist. or perhaps this is their only way of seeking refuge from the real world. cos reality at many times had proved its disappointing nature.i yearn to tell people how i feel about certain things but...verbal articulation's my stumbling block. and i'll end off upset and livid for not being able to express my thoughts exactly. i'm trying and perhaps when i've succeeded on that someday, i might stop blogging cos i'm finally able to tell someone about my day without the falter.bee wrote this at 8:38 AM
Friday, October 01, 2004
what tickles me?
silly fun...bee wrote this at 1:31 PM
the one with no brains
inspired by my colleague who's been undergoing many unfortunate episodes of working for a fruitcake.what do you do when you're working with someone of a frivolous mind? i've had that opportunity at my ex agency and this was our conversation. [it was SO GOOD i remembered the details till today.]
Note: she came to our agency as client services director with ZERO agency experience.
"i had a fantastic meeting with xx today."
"really?" [skepticism showing in my tone]
"you should always give your clients the "extra mile" so they'll appreciate you."
[DUH. do i look like an intern to you? i dun need you to tell me that right?]
"when XX told me they're planning to do a new attraction [some floral thingy], i immediately told them i used to take flower arrangement classes."
[HUH???? so what the fuck?]
"see, i was adding value to them in every possible way, so that they can see my added value in flowers."
"....oh what did she (client) say then about your lovely flower arrangement skills?" [sarcasm dripping, no wonder she thought me insolent]
"oh, she was very appreciative."
[yeah right. whatever]
good grief. do you honestly think there's any relevance of flower arrangements to detailed landscaping?HULLO. Think. [or mayhaps i was biased. maybe there is a relation between ikebana and an acre of green land to work with.] i couldn't bring myself to further the conversation. i believed then it would be asking too much of someone with limited processing capabilities to delve into the relevant details.
and to think the entire servicing department reports to the one without the brain. again, what the fuck was upper management thinking? the only optimistic compensating factor is her stylish taste in clothes. i mean, how wrong can prada and tiffany be?
but should any of you wonder...she Her Chic Grace was fired within two weeks.
bee wrote this at 9:01 AM
