Hiding Place

Bugs and I don't get along. I mean, I hate them with a vengeance. It might be in the genes. My mum freaks whenever she sees a worm anywhere and she won't go near the sink if a lil squiggly worm falls out from amongst the throngs of veg that she buys home. My brother and I take sadistic pleasure in pouring hot water over ants to kill (KILL! KILLLLL!!!) them all. Ecological and efficient--yay me. Another sadistic simple pleasure in life during the lantern festival is to drip hot wax on big red ants, thereby encasing them in a wax tomb. Muahahaha.

A particularly memorable incident with bugs has to do with my brother. There was once he aired his brown pseudo-leather shoes in the balcony for months on end and didn't bother to bring it in. One fine day, as my mum was going about her chores in the kitchen, she saw a wasp hovering around my brother's shoes, so she shooed it away and didn't think too much about it. Until she saw the wasp revisit the shoe... this time with a load. Upon closer inspection, the load... was... a... WORM. *SCREAMS!* Of course she wasn't going to do anything to the shoe since there may be a worm involved, so she conveniently waited til dinner time before she announced the little piece of news to my brother. How appetizing.

Because he likes that pair of shoes, he needs to redeem it somehow from the wasp who have taken over ownership of that shoe, having made it into its place of residence. I volunteered to be his lil assistant because it was morbidly fascinating. First there was the inspection: yup, our worst fears are confirmed. The wasp built a tidy little mud nest in his shoe, about the size of a small coaster. We will have to scrape it out somehow. After some discussion, we split the job as such: he holds the shoe above the toilet bowl, I scrape out the contents.

He: Okay I'm holding it firmly in place.
Me: Okay I'll start scraping. It's very hard, so hold it tightly ah.
He: Okay sure.
Me: *scraaaape scraaaaape*

*a slight dent in the nest*

Me: Eh it's super hard lah.
He: Try again.
Me: *scraaaape*
He: *bangs shoe against side of toilet bowl*

Shoe: *a mini avalanche of dirt and... several gray fat ugly worms*
He: OH *BEEEPBEEPBEEEP*
Me: ARRGHHHHHH!!! OH YUCK YUCK YUCK! OH *BEEEEEEP*
He: WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR MAN! FLUSH THE TOILET! *FLUSH!*
We: *ran out of toilet screaming with shoe in hand*
We: *nauseated*
Me: Shucks that was just a small section of the nest!! GOT MORE INSIDE!
He: I think I will throw this pair of shoes away.

And that was how a pair of shoes fell prey to a wasp. Wasp lesson of the day: Did you know that the *gag* worms were kinda still alive but paralyzed? There were loads of wasp eggs in the... avalanche of dirt. When these eggs hatch into *gag* worms, they will.. eat the paralyzed ones. *GAG*

Speaking of hiding places, who knew that they could hide so well. A must read for all IT folks out there, courtesy of Mr Bing.

Simple Pleasures in Life: Routines

"Quirkie, wake up or you're going to be late for work! I'm going to leave the house in 1 minute, so you have exactly 1 minute to get ready to go for work! Otherwise I'll go off without you!"
*10 minutes later*
"Quirkie what are you doing? 1 minute is up! I'm going out of the house now har! NOW HAR! See you downstairs."



*in the car*

"Where would you like to go for breakfast? I don't feel like eating anything lah. Ever since I came back, I've been getting fat. You eat lah, I won't eat anything. *fiddles with radio* Don't listen to that brainless stuff *tunes away from whatever local morning show was on* Listen to BBC. The British speaks very good English. Their pronounciation is very good. Ok ok don't talk to me, I want to listen to what's on radio."



*in the coffee shop*

"Eh I ordered fishball noodles. You help me eat some hor?"



*somehow, sometime during the morning*

"When will you buy me a bungalow? I will think that you have made it in life if you can buy me a bungalow."
Har? Property in Singapore very expensive leh. I buy you a bungalow in China can or not?
"No I want a bungalow. Your mum needs a bungalow for her to keep her pets in the garden! Nothing less than a bungalow. Otherwise you are a useless daughter!" *big wide toothy grin*
Dad, cannot lah, I cannot afford a bungalow in Singapore. Mansion in heaven, you want? Jesus offers us a mansion in Heaven =) Very BIG one! Got a lot of rooms =)
"Dowan. My daughter help me get brownie points with God can already right?"
No dad, cannot lah, this kind of thing cannot do for other people one. Must be your ownself want one.
"Hrmph."

Conversations that I've had with my dad that are almost routine by now. Just press play and repeat =)

A Public Fantasy

One of my fondest fantasies of late is one that cannot be spoken out too loudly in public, for you never know who is listening. However, as each month pass me by, the small fantasy grows bigger and bigger, until at times, the weight of it upon my heart makes me listless and dissatisfied until something is done about it.

Yet I know, my fantasy shall remain precisely that--a fantasy, a dream that will not become reality, and that knowledge wipes the smile off my face and takes the spring out of my step.

*Deep breath*

It is my deep desire to go out in the middle of the night, like a caped crusader, hacking down the towering behemoths of Evil and Stupidity--the ERP Gantries that are erected to redirect traffic flow but instead, redirects our cashflow. Gantries that are obviously futile in easing the traffic problems in this petite island nation, and yet are touted as The Only Way of solving the jam.

What happens when these Gatekeepers don't work? Why, if they don't work, it must be because there isn't enough of them! That's why we need NEW ones at Toa Payoh, Ang Mo Kio, Kallang and Bendemeer! Heavens forbid that people go into town via alternate routes! Gahmen forbids that people travel NEAR town without paying anything! If we must erect more Gantries, extend their operational time, increase the fares, then by george, we shall! Pockets of the commuters be damned! Their cashcards are our new cashcows!

It is as though the Minister of Transport's job is to make transport as painful as possible, for a reason that completely eludes my comprehension--I must be not cleber enough to understand. These ERP Gantries create more problems than they solve. Like a massive jam along CTE that goes on past 10pm on weekday nights. Or that people end up paying ~$6 when they go through a few Gantries within a short distance because that's the route they have to take. That's just too bad, isn't it?

Another problem the ERP contributed to is the cab shortage in town. Taxi drivers are reluctant to enter town during ERP operational hours because it's a cost to be borne, and who knows if there is anyone flagging a cab down in town. Might as well coast around until someone calls, therefore justifying the $0.50 / $1.00 / etc it costs to drive in.

So we have a cab shortage in town during peak hours. HMMM, how should we solve this problem? Why, by increasing the cost of taking taxi, of course! A simple matter of demand and supply, Economics 101--simply increase the price andddd... whaddya know, you get an overwhelming increase in supply!! Tadaaa, old problem solved.

What? New problem created--too many taxis, no customers now? No lah, after a while, they will get used to it one, just wait and see. Never mind that cab fare increased by almost 50% suddenly and all the statistics reported in the Straits Times sound much rosier than real life. Never mind that the taxi drivers also need to make a living and that by increasing the cab fare so drastically, their income drops drastically because now no one wants to take taxi! That can't possibly be the case--Singaporeans are getting big bonuses, just look at how they did their Christmas shopping. Right? Right!

In my little world, public transport is an unavoidable aspect of my life. It's an area that is getting more and more frustrating to face, for thinking too much about it will simply get you heated up with nowhere to turn to, except for a little page on the WWW. Can you stop the ERP Gantries from being erected? No, but you can fantasize about zapping them to death. Will the taxi fares go down? For the sake of the drivers as well as the commuters, I certainly hope so, but I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for it to happen.

A set of superpowers that must be really useful to have when going about the daily transportation grind will be these:
- ERP Stunner / Zapper
Stuns the ERP Gantry into silence, therefore allowing your vehicle to drive by FOC.
- The Pusher-Backer-Forcefield
When activated, causes all those standing along the aisle of a crowded bus, ignoring the squashed commuters trying to board the bus while gawking at TV Mobile to be pushed to the back by an invisible force.
- The Discount-Giver-Taxi-Driver 6th Sense
Can sense which taxi driver hates the price hike as much as you and is willing to drive without the surcharge (cos they actually do make more that way, with the increased demand.)

The (Beautiful) Letdown

I was so anticipating the Switchfoot concert, although at $80, it's quite painful on the wallet. Still, why not, I thought, once in a while mah.

Until I had this conversation...
*****
F: I still want to keel my friend.
Me: why?
F: the one who could've gotten me $55 tixx
Me: !!! !! !! !!! !!!!!

Me: HOW COME U NVR GET UR FREN TO BUY?????
F: BECAUSE HE ONLY JUST TOLD ME! An innocent message he sent on Monday.
"Eh F, want to watch Switchfoot? I can get discount."
WAH LAU EH
F: BEE BEE BAH BOO BEEP
Me: ARGH ARGH ARGHHHH!

F: Apparently it's some discount TJC was giving.
Me: *HEART PAIN!*
F: ... at least you bought the $80 tixx.
F: I bought $90. and it's the $90 that's going for $55
Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Me: *bangs wall*
Me: *bangs keyboard*
F: *bangs keyboard against wall*
Me: *bangs wall against keyboard*
F: a feat only your brother can achieve I think *grin*
*****

So. Am grouchy now. Do not cross my path or I will bite. With relish.

Love is...

... not strangling the pet that:

- chewed through your PC power cable
- chewed through your standing lamp power cable
- wakes you up every morning the minute the alarm clock strikes (thereby depriving you of snoozing)
- claims your cozy chair as his own
- saw you put on your mouth guard every night, and one day decided that it must be yummy food, therefore chewed it up while you're at work...

... and then you pay $350 to replace said mouth guard.

That is how I know my cousin loves the Special Needs Dog, Junior.

But when it looks at you like that, it's hard not to melt and give it a great big hug, yes?

Transitions...

... are by necessity,

MESSY.

There is first the getting rid of the old to make space for the new. When you are actually IN the old state or IN the new state, things have settled, the dust have cleared and you kind of know your way around it. It's the in-between that is problematic. You have parts of the old, parts of the new, misplaced parts and parts that you have no idea what it's for and how on earth did it end up here. Then there's the issue of dust and finding space for yourself to function, besides all the stuff.

I am in the midst of transiting from one office to another (and then back to the old one again), and will also be moving house from one end of Singapore to somewhere in the middle in the space of 1.5months. Somehow, these things have a way of finding a common time in my calendar and colliding, to great effect.

Now, every Saturday morning, I wake up and the first thought that hits my mind (after "what's for breakfast?") is "what can I throw today?" even if it's one book, a scrap of paper or a blouse that I no longer wear. Small victories in the battle against The Clutter. The Battle of The Bulge is the other war that I'm fighting right now, but enough of that for now--it's too depressing to blog about.

The Home Front is still manageable. Decluttering haven't started in earnest as my parents are still busy with the renovations of our new, smaller home, a 4-room flat that is so far removed from the neighbourhood my brother and I are so used to that we fully expect to have culture shock when we move there. Still, my mum have been telling me whenever she gets a chance to "start throwing your things away! Your new room is smaller and won't have space for all your junk!"

The trouble with having a penchant for drawing, reading and writing is that your shelves get filled with notebooks and scraps of yellowing paper with a particular drawing / writing that you did in a time of angst / frivolity / anger / happiness. When I pull out these to sort through, I get sucked into a time warp and will reminisce about that moment. Not productive, to say the least. The other trouble is of course, dust and more clutter.

Now my brother, on the other hand, have no such problems. He throws things away with a mechanical efficiency. I will always remember the last time we had a spring-cleaning at home--he cleared his room within half a day, while after a full day, I was standing in the middle of my room, surrounded by piles of books, soft toys and stationary, looking totally helpless as "all these things I dowan to throw!" and my mum and brother just burst out laughing at me. Touche.

My office space is just as bad. As I type this post, my desk cannot be seen and it looks like someone just ransacked through my little cubicle--overturned document holders, document spillage from the document holder surrounded by dusty stacks of CDs and folders. It didn't always look like that. The Karang Guni man is coming this morning and because we are all so busy doing actual work, I only had time to get out the things that needs to be thrown away. Of course, rather than typing this post, I could actually be tidying things up, but when inspiration strikes, you just go with the flow, ya dig?

The good thing is that in the office, I am surrounded by like-minded hoarders and packrats, so the mess is rather universal. It doesn't help that the renovations are happening right by our side as we try to function normally, but it's getting hard to ignore the pounding that is right beside us and the incessant drilling noise.

Okay, gotta go tidy up now. Blog to you again, when I find my way through the clutter to my computer.

Humiliation Part Deux

So after my ego crashed and burned at The Hair Salon last weekend, I went home and tried on a new pair of pants that I bought just before the festive feasting. And lo, it was too tight. My festive feasting have turned into festive flabs. O woe is me.

Today, the first day of work after a festive break (side note: am I the only one who felt that today feels like a Monday? It sucks to have to go back to work immediately after a public holiday), I decided to not wear jeans for a change, seeing how I've been wearing jeans to work throughout November and December. After some deliberation, I settled on my gray pants that is usually quite loose. But now it's fitting!! There is BELLY SPILLAGE when I sit down! *screams in horror and terror!*

The good thing about having a fitness freak for a brother is that he's an in-house trainer. I whined to him "I need to exercise. You got anything to teach me?" and he rattled off a few in-house stuff I could do without going out and flashing my thunder thighs to society at large.

One was called the "plank" or "bridge", something like a push-up, except that you balance on your elbows and toes for one full minute. There is the sadistic variation called the "side plank", which is the same thing just on one side. I did the plank in his room while he nonchalently flipped the pages of the book he's reading and timed me while peppering the session with insults.
Me: *wobbling on my side, trying to do the side plank*
Me: Oh shucks this feels crappy!
He: *barely glancing up from his book* well it's really good for getting rid of love-handles, if you're interested to know. *flips a page*
Me: @#$@%

Me: *turns to the other side to do side plank*
Me: *tries even harder to balance* ARGH! I can't balance! Can I not do this?!
He: Later you one side big, one side small then you know.
Me: Dammit. *Wobbles harder trying to balance*

And so I usher in the new year with 2 blog posts on my humiliating experiences with hair and flab. Truth to tell, my new year started out pleasantly enough and I've got other things to share, but let me get this off my chest first before I start on the other posts. Have a blessed new year filled with God's goodness, yeah? =)

Humiliation

It started normally enough. Hair was getting messier than usual, which meant that it's time to get a haircut. I went to the same place where I got my punky red hair, as they give rather good haircuts (but rather dubious hair colour) and also because I am thick-headed and take multiple times to learn a rather simple lesson.

There are 4 hairstylists--A, B, C and D. The first time I went there to just get a hair-cut, A cut my hair and upon discovering who my brother is (my brother goes there regularly), he started smiling and grinning and telling me how "your brother has a great figure! your brother is sooo driven and motivated! your brother is sooo *gush gush gush*..." O_o *awkward silence on my part*

B was fine, just that he chose a hair colour for me that was exactly the shade that I wanted to avoid, therefore letting history repeat itself.

Now hairstylist C is new. I've not met him before and he came to me, asking...
C: What hairstyle you want?
Me: Do you have any suggestions?
C: Hmmmm... *examines my hair, runs fingers through the hay hair and analyses my face.*
C: I suggest that you get a trim, and try something new, like keep your fringe long on this side, where your parting is. *gestures to the right side of my face*
Me: Okay, sounds good.
C: Do you know why I suggested you keeping your fringe so long?
Me: Um, no. Why?
C: It is so that you can... cover... *gesticulates vaguely at the right side of my face*
Me: *speechless*
Me: ... um, my mole? Oh, I'm actually quite fine with it.
Me: *?!?!?!*

Yeah, I have a facial defect physical deformity beauty mark high up on my right cheek, a rather striking dot on my fair, flawless skin. I've never given a second thought to it, but he wanted to cover it?! What the ...?!

But because I have such high tolerance for awkward comments, I decided to let it pass and immersed myself in my Christmas present, American Gods, while he snipped away. Then while rinsing my hair, the hairstylist went on to say...
C: Now your hair is rather short, but in 1 months time, when you come back for a trim, it will be just nice. Your current hairstyle will suit someone SLIMMER, but for you, it will be better to keep it longer.
Me: *awkward silence*

I should really boycott that salon, I really should. Except that they are just below my flat, charge reasonable rates and deliver fairly decent hairstlyes (by my standards). Curses.