.fat and fatter.

I FINALLY met rosieflower a few days back for a cup of coffee after a crazy evening at this sleezy pub near school.

For those who don’t know, rosieflower’s an old OLD OLD friend. She has seen me FAT(or shall I say FATTER than now), when I had thick bushy wavy hair that would perpetually cover half of my face (I thought I was cool then)… when I was in a mess and wailing about Ms Leong (this teacher who was a BI-YATCH to me).

I used to see her ALL THE TIME. Before I moved a few blocks down the road, we used to live like a five-mins-walk away from each other. And it didn’t help that her mum used to be my chinese tutor. Every saturday, I would drag myself to her house for tuition LATE, pretending to pant like a dog so I would not get into trouble. After a while, her mum started to get rosieflower to call me at my house phone when tuition started to see if I would pick up. I was busted a few times watching the telly and refusing to leave on time for tuition.

Even when we were young and naive *gag*, we were super calculative with our friendship. We would always insist on meeting at this playground that was right in the middle of our houses. That playground was one of the main reasons why we were such good friends back then I have to say. When we were in primary school, we went on many obstacle races around the playground. We would scratch our knees crawling through the tunnel and racing like mad just to come in first. And when we started to out grow that, we would climb on top of the tunnel and talk about EVERYTHING under the sun. Rosieflower used to praise me for being brave and strong for daring to climb on top of the tunnel till she finally managed to one time and she realised it was no big deal. But I was smug about it for quite a while.

Though it was a really short coffee session, it was good catching up. We were both fighting to get our stories in and update each other about all the exciting things that had happened thus far.

 

 

She said that I’ve changed.

 

 

I told her, I know.

.Here comes November.

September flew by just like THAT *think tyra banks on America’s next top model doing the cool zig-zag-snap-fingers movement…*

Hell, October is almost over!

And I’m a little confused. I have grown a year older but none the wiser. No I did not get drunk on my birthday. No I did not par-teh like Lindsay Lohan when she turned 20. No I have not gotten the rocking tat that I’ve been raving about for the longest time ever (i can imagine the indian friend- let me call her Queen Slut- rolling her eyes right now).

My life has reached a stagnant point really. And to be honest, I have not been feeling very happy for a while now. It’s not because anything bad has happened to me. I mean I did lose my whole fucking wallet and phone a while back. And I did so fuck up school. But it really isn’t all that. (Excuse the profanities… Which does remind me of my older cousin, who came up to me during one of the most boring wedding dinners I have ever attended a while back, and said “wow our baby cousin is all grown up, you used the F-WORD on facebook”. *gag* But that’s besides the point. Oops?)

That aside, I really hate the fact that sometimes, when I just want to sulk in my own misery and be all narcissistic, I feel obliged not to. Because some person out there has a much more serious problem that everyone can identify with and feel sorry for. Someone who actually has a fucking problem. And I don’t! I mean at least not one that I can put my fingers on right now. Alright, I know that this sounds all bull shit and the friends will probably call me on this melodramatic crap and knock me to my senses. But I do hate a lot of things in my life at the moment. Being short for one. All the Not-Happenings for two- is there such an expression? My english is alibab right now-. And honestly, preaching is the last thing I want at the moment.

Alright I shall stop this theatrical melt-down and sort it out in my sleep.

 

Bahhhh.

 

LINGLING: Bitch you left me to rot and dieeeeee in smooo… we need to drink like there’s no tomorrow sooon!

 

 

 

.The Witch.

I am currently sitting at (what I hope to be) an inconspicuous corner of the National Library, patiently waiting for the BFF to be done with class so that we could do coffee together. I haven’t seen the BFF much this hols (even though we had a 4 month -but way too short- break).

 Anyhoo, the reason why I bothered to lug my heavy laptop out from my bag and am typing excitedly right now is because I have spotted The Witch. Again.

 The Witch was sitting at her usual spot on this black armchair at a turn just beside the library entrance when I entered. She has a crooked and -somewhat- hooked nose (kind of like the witches in the Roald Dahl book that was made into a movie), on which her large brown plastic spectacles hung awkwardly. I have to say that the main reason why I had named her The Witch was simply because of the ugly distinct bumps on her nose (much like that of Phua Chu Kang’s mole) which she tries to hide with her huge spectacle frame. I remember coming to this library several times over the holidays; and every time I came, she was always sitting on that particular  armchair with her legs folded comfortably to the side, wrapped with a red blanket-like jacket.  Very often, she would be staring intently at some fiction book, too engrossed to notice anyone who walks pass her (or in my case, who sneaks darting peeks at her). Occasionally, she would put her book down and start biting her nails. She has made herself so comfortable it’s much like she lives on that armchair really.

 

 

Anyhoo, The Witch (no matter how witchy-ly awkward she looks) has become a familiar face that I would expect to see everytime I pop by the National Library.

 

To The Witch: Till our next meeting! Be well cause I know you’re kind.

.to a better life ahead.

And so as the summer holidays came to an end last night, woowoo, yams, yaytee, choonie and I gathered at the “rooftop” bar at the mint museum to catch up on our lives so far. We thanked the universe for our healthy bodies, we sulked when woowoo reminded us that school is about to start, we bitched about the music in the bar till the owner relented and started playing some mambo tunes. We even gave jack neo a piece of our minds for commenting that eric khoo’s movies were too difficult for the average singaporean to understand! As the night progressed and our inane conversations grew more serious, there were clink-clanks of alcohol and many MANY toasts to “a better life“, “money money money“, “more drinks and nights of mayhem” and “a life rid of stupid people“.  (I added the last toast for us).

It was a good night.

 

The past four months have been crazy (and lazy). Just a quick summary of the things I did/ accomplish this hol:

1) Hong Kong

Hong Kong was good fun. Yams and I shopped till we dropped (literally). We almost didn’t have enough cash to cab back to the airport! On one of our most life-changing experiences ever, Yaytee and I dared each other to take The Abyss at Ocean Park. On our way up, I swear she cursed like I’ve never seen her did before. It started with a slow heart-felt “fucccckkkkkkkkkkkkkk fucccccccccccckkkkkkk” which sped up into quick intermittent injections of “fuck this”, “oh fuck” and ”fuck fuck fuck” (her vocabulary is a bit limited) as we shot to the top (awaiting the great free-fall). We were changed people after the ride (thinking about how great this universe is)- well, for at least a half hour.

2) Drinking at Hong Kong

On the plane ride to Hong Kong, yaytee, yams and I kicked start our trip with a can of red shiraz wine. And it was on that note that we clung onto the entire trip. Our drinking night at Lam Kwai Fong definitely made it to top-three on my “greatest-hongkong-moments” list. Despite it being on a hill (which makes it not good for drunken tumbling), Lam Kwai Fong is a pretty cool place to visit at night. Maybe it was because we ended up in a bar opened by a friendly foreigner who bought us alcocol, most probably because we did shots and had quite a few rounds of “nothing” (some specialty drink), I had this sudden urge to move to Hong Kong and never return back. Of course this thought only lasted a few hours till I was reminded how pressurizing it was to live in Hong Kong… the staff at the eateries were always coercing us to order our food IMMEDIATELY upon arrival, people on the streets were often walking at god-light speed, even the trains arrived so fast we didn’t have any excuse to be late anymore! BUT besides all of that, I absolutely heart drinking in Hong Kong!

3) The afternoons

Over the past few months, I’ve spent countless afternoons in bed watching inane reality shows like The Hills, refusing to budge even when the skin-cancerish sunrays have shone THROUGH the lousy curtains my mum bought. As I competed with the menacing sunrays for a cool spot on the bed, I’m often left stuck in an awkward position at the end of the day. Despite the ocassional backaches arising from the clumsy postures I have grown accustomed to lying in, I really enjoyed my afternoons. It was lazy. It was brain-less. And it was me, myself and I.

4) My indian friends

It’s kinda weird how I term this new bunch of friends I made in smoo law “my indian friends”. I think having been in SAP (chinese) schools all my life, I have become rather culturally impaired. I remembered being so shock over coffee at gloria jeans with two of my indian friends (there I go again!) when I discovered that this other indian friend is actually a Punjabi! I had known her for two semesters, I had partied/sheesha-ed with her, and I had met up with her at least once a week over the hols! To think that I had thought the silver bangle that she always wore around her wrist was a fashion statement. Eek. Anyways, this sheesha session at Arab st on a suppossed girl’s night out confirmed my suspicions about my indian friends. They curse like sailors, they know how to have good fun, they work extremely hard when it comes to school but not to the extent that they get competitive and refuse to share their notes with you, And they are all related somehow. Some friend’s friend can, over a few smokes, be another friend’s brother’s best friend. Everyone knows everyone. And finally being the minority race (and the shortest) whenever I hang with them, I curse and swear like I never had before.  :D

 

Anyways, that pretty much sums up my entire holidays.

School (Hell) is starting but we”ll all survive! Yikes!

.and you wonder why you’re perpetually bankrupt.

When you wake up one morning, realising that you spent ALL your money the night before on drinks even when you’re already in debt… …

 

 

 

 

 

You know that other than having a financial management CRISIS, you have issues.

.arrrrrrk.

Recently, I’ve been feeling much like a dying bird getting it’s head plucked off by a mean old poultry farmer. And the thought of the universe chanting, “what a joke…” almost immediately pops into my mind…

This sounds all too cryptic for a Wednesday afternoon. On to more life-threating concerns, I lost my new black (punk rock-ish) wrist strap on a nights out over the weekend. It was the first time I’ve ever worn it and I really really liked it. Damn. *… what a joke…*

 

 

 

 

 

AARRRrr *coughs coughs* rr…k..k

*the universe squeals, “oh it croaks!”*

ARRRRRRRK    ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK

*And the universe snarls, “you bitch…”*

.Amen.

I was re-watching Then She Found Me (directed by Helen Hunt) today during my “one-day self-quarantine” (I’m a responsible citizen!). It really is about the thousandth time I’ve watched this movie, but i was still a GREAT audience right from the beginning till the end. I sobbed like a dying cat when April (played by Helen Hunt) lost her baby. I smiled  deliriously to myself when Frank (Colin Firth) did a Hugh Grant. I laughed like an insane fool every time Bernice (Bette Midler is the queen) opened her mouth.

You know how sometimes you make a mental list of the movies you know you never want to forget? For me, this definitely made it on the list.

 

There is a jewish story; an ordinary jewish joke.

A father was teaching his little son to be less afraid, to have more courage.

“Jump,” he said, “and I’ll catch you.”

And the little boy trusted him.

And the little boy jumped.

And when his father caught him, he felt filled with love.

And when he didn’t, he was filled with something else.

Something more.

Life.

Amen.

 

When the universe treats you wrong, you gain something else. Life.

.the amaranthine sageness of dogbert.

If only things were this simple…

 

 

I would be waving that blasted wand every single blinking day

.fairy god-mother.

I kind of have this god-mother…

The text at 1150p.m. at night (a few years back) went somewhat like this:

The L: Hey do you have a god-mother?

Me: Eh no, why?

The L: I can be your god-mother! If you want to of course…

 

And so that’s how I got myself stuck with a god-mother (Not that I don’t adore this lady to bits, and I say this with the heart that I do have). Even though she wasn’t a really present god-mother, I knew she was always just a text or a phonecall away whenever I needed to be a child. She’s always offering to pay for my insurance or my expenses (which I would dutifully decline, though I must admit I do accept her gifts from time to time).

The L trudges along her life (kind of like what I’m doing right now), but perhaps because she understands and that she’s never judging, I’m glad she’s around.

 It’s been a good summer. Catching up and making sure we’re both okay as we tramp about our busy lives being silly and loony (what with all our shenanigans). I must say these few months have been one of re-awakening (somewhat), good conversations, good reading, good fun.

 

Have a good holidays people!

.The rain.

“Tumultous dark clouds filled the sky…”

“… as the rain started pouring vehemently…”

I remember when I was still young and stupid (not that I have gotten any wiser, I still trudge and tramp about life like a five year old), I would often start off my narrative essays describing the rain (usually as an ominous sign that would eventually erupt in someone getting dismembered and eaten up by a carnivorous psychopath- or during certain slow days, I would just write about someone jumping off the cliff to their death).

This was about half a century back when I was still in primary school. My mum used to send me to this place (where the teachers were all eng mohs with perfect British-accented English) during the holidays for creative writing lessons. I think it was partly because I was such a dull child. When I was in pri one, and we were all forced to hold hands with someone from the opposite sex whenever we travelled from place to place, my partners would very often run away to hold hands with other prettier (thin) girls and I would end up having to walk alone. The nicer ones would stretch out their fingers real stiff (like they had botox-ed their whole palm) so that when I place my clammy palm in theirs, it would just be like an awkward hi-5.

I kind of hated myself 50 years back. 

And occasionally on rainy days like today, I still hate what I see in the mirror.