As expected, my appointment was at 11:00 am but I sat in the waiting room until one full hour later.
Explained my condition and answered the usual personal questions that followed. When was your last period? Oh I don't know, a couple of months ago. When was the last time you had sex? Monday morning. Was it painful? Are you kidding, it was sexcellent.
I hate urine tests. Mainly because it's about fifty times more difficult for women to catch their waste in a cup than it is for men. How much would it suck to be the technician that spends all day sticking test strips into warm solutions of urea. At least she takes pleasure in causing tremendous pain to all the gardasil receivers by sticking mindblowingly painful needles into their arms.
More waiting.
Re-enter consultation room to find that as always, I'm perfectly healthy. Nevertheless Dr M. did the usual. The usual being pressing with great force on various parts of my lower abdomen while I'm lying down and asking me whether it hurts. Of course it does if you're crushing my uterus into a pancake.
Because my strange little burning sensation couldn't be linked to infections of any sort, Dr M. suspected pregnancy. After more waiting we ruled that one out too. Vienna and Kei and the other one will have to wait (who is the other one?!?).
In the end, three hours after I entered the centre, I was advised to take painkillers for the time being while my excretions undergo further testing. I was also strongly advised to take a smear. Except it's kind of awkward because the only female GP practising there is on leave. While reluctant to go to another centre I find it creepy that if I don't then this middle-aged man with big ears is going to be the third person to have seen all my goodies.
The gardasil gave me an explosive headache that persisted throughout my half-shift. I stumbled around doing absolutely nothing but looking busy so to keep Mirjana off my throbbing head. Apart from changing the bin linings the most productive thing I did today was sticking L'Occitane stickers all over Glenda's back when she was closing the till.
Was supposed to have dinner with Jez at that snazzy fish-tank sushi place opposite Capitol Square but we had alternative plans. With sexy results.
1.30.2008
Oh Cranberries
Woke up this morning feeling unpleasant. Suspect cystitis. Strange, right. Do I have too much sex? Not enough, I say.
Called Mirjana to request taking leave in the morning to visit the doctor. She was very understanding. Hopefully she'll be understanding enough to understand that to see my favourite and only responsible doctor of the medical centre my booking has been placed in queue for 11:00 am. If I requested the first available GP I could have made it to work ten minutes early, but that's ridiculous. I'd be just wasting thirty seconds of my life opening my mouth to tell him about my condition while he blurts out "here's-a-script-for-some-Ural-don't-worry-too-much-about-it-I-haven't-even-spoken-to-you-let-alone-examine-you-but-I'm-sure-you're-fine-kthnxbai" and shoves me out of the consultation room.
Seriously though, that's exactly what happens.
In the worse case I've had the life of my breasts squeezed out of them in a breast examination during which I was not instructed to remove any of my three sweaters. At the time I was an A-cup. I seriously doubted she could have been able to grab anything under all that wool.
So this is why I've been seeing nobody but Dr M. for the past two years, despite the fact that each visit comes with a hour-long (with booking) or three-hours-long (without booking) waiting room period. On top of that the man seems somewhat condescending because I must come off as a giant floozy having 90% of my consultations being about contraception and my sole concern being not breast cancer or thrombosis, but the couple of kilos I gained after my first COC. And then I'd say something totally stupid like "does it really help my skin? Cause look, LOOK, I have a break-out, right here. And here. It's like counting stars, except they're on my face".
Now he's going to diagnose me with cystitis. Bloody great.
Called Mirjana to request taking leave in the morning to visit the doctor. She was very understanding. Hopefully she'll be understanding enough to understand that to see my favourite and only responsible doctor of the medical centre my booking has been placed in queue for 11:00 am. If I requested the first available GP I could have made it to work ten minutes early, but that's ridiculous. I'd be just wasting thirty seconds of my life opening my mouth to tell him about my condition while he blurts out "here's-a-script-for-some-Ural-don't-worry-too-much-about-it-I-haven't-even-spoken-to-you-let-alone-examine-you-but-I'm-sure-you're-fine-kthnxbai" and shoves me out of the consultation room.
Seriously though, that's exactly what happens.
In the worse case I've had the life of my breasts squeezed out of them in a breast examination during which I was not instructed to remove any of my three sweaters. At the time I was an A-cup. I seriously doubted she could have been able to grab anything under all that wool.
So this is why I've been seeing nobody but Dr M. for the past two years, despite the fact that each visit comes with a hour-long (with booking) or three-hours-long (without booking) waiting room period. On top of that the man seems somewhat condescending because I must come off as a giant floozy having 90% of my consultations being about contraception and my sole concern being not breast cancer or thrombosis, but the couple of kilos I gained after my first COC. And then I'd say something totally stupid like "does it really help my skin? Cause look, LOOK, I have a break-out, right here. And here. It's like counting stars, except they're on my face".
Now he's going to diagnose me with cystitis. Bloody great.
1.29.2008
Cheyne
Purpleberry is back at work.
Seeing as I'll be wearing the exact same outfit every weekday now that uniform rules have been established, I bought another skirt-slash-dress to switch around. It was 15 minutes before I was due at work and I was confronted with two sizes - S and XS. I chose the former.
The good news is I would have been more at home in the latter. The bad news is I now have to pull up the wretched thing every time it falls, which averages to about once every two minutes.
What I hate most about my body is that it's a perfect example of "small ≠ thin". When I'm shopping for clothes, chances are I'll always fit into the smallest size. However, nobody would say I'm skinny. Okay I lie, a number of people do, but these people are always, and I emphathise always more portly. So really, it isn't saying much.
Something else I noticed lately is the way that women have been looking at me. Being female I know what goes through their minds. Oh what a sizeable arse, I feel much better about myself. Damn, I wish I had her waist. Hmm, those ends look pretty split. There's no way those tits are real.
Right, so there isn't any mystery here, but it makes me uncomfortable, and it's been happening all day. God knows why. I checked three times and I am positive that I wasn't flashing a butt-cheek or walking around with a sanitary pad stuck to my thigh. Men are always looking and occasionally commenting but men are men so whatever. When women do it, however, I want to pry open their heads and pull out their thoughts. WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!? AT WHAT PART OF MY BODY WERE YOU WRINKLING YOUR NOSE?!? I'm terribly insecure.
Nothing noteworthy from today's shift, apart from me undertaking an unusually large amount of manual labour and a snotty old lady wearing horrible blue eye make-up. Jez, shut up.
I was standing at the dispensary computer behind the counter. I had one hand entering patient details into LOTS and the other flipping through a booklet of repeats. My eye were on the screen. Clearly I was very occupied.
From the corner of my eye I see a head hovering around the monitor. I look up to see an elderly woman made up like a clown glaring at me as if to say "I'm a customer. Serve me.".
"Yes?" I said, not rudely, but I don't suppose "yes" is an ideal greeting.
Completely disregarding the fact that I was quite obviously busy with something else, she said "I want Revlon complexion powder".
"Have you taken a look at our Revlon stand?" I asked.
"No." She replied, in slightly incredulous tones, as if searching for Revlon complexion powder on a Revlon stand was a ridiculous thing to do.
Earth to clown-queen. This is the dispensary. You come here for Valtrex and Mersyndol. The Revlon stand is two metres on your right. You look like you're seventy-years-old. I think you are well over the age of being able to handle taking a browse on your own.
Dinner was at Sapore in the Italian Forum with Jenny, Mylinh, Emily, Zaza and Danielle. I ordered the bruchetta and Cozze with a Strawberry Colada. The portions were astronomical and I left more than half on the plate.
It sure is hot tonight. I would love to take a cold shower with someone.
Seeing as I'll be wearing the exact same outfit every weekday now that uniform rules have been established, I bought another skirt-slash-dress to switch around. It was 15 minutes before I was due at work and I was confronted with two sizes - S and XS. I chose the former.
The good news is I would have been more at home in the latter. The bad news is I now have to pull up the wretched thing every time it falls, which averages to about once every two minutes.
What I hate most about my body is that it's a perfect example of "small ≠ thin". When I'm shopping for clothes, chances are I'll always fit into the smallest size. However, nobody would say I'm skinny. Okay I lie, a number of people do, but these people are always, and I emphathise always more portly. So really, it isn't saying much.
Something else I noticed lately is the way that women have been looking at me. Being female I know what goes through their minds. Oh what a sizeable arse, I feel much better about myself. Damn, I wish I had her waist. Hmm, those ends look pretty split. There's no way those tits are real.
Right, so there isn't any mystery here, but it makes me uncomfortable, and it's been happening all day. God knows why. I checked three times and I am positive that I wasn't flashing a butt-cheek or walking around with a sanitary pad stuck to my thigh. Men are always looking and occasionally commenting but men are men so whatever. When women do it, however, I want to pry open their heads and pull out their thoughts. WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!? AT WHAT PART OF MY BODY WERE YOU WRINKLING YOUR NOSE?!? I'm terribly insecure.
Nothing noteworthy from today's shift, apart from me undertaking an unusually large amount of manual labour and a snotty old lady wearing horrible blue eye make-up. Jez, shut up.
I was standing at the dispensary computer behind the counter. I had one hand entering patient details into LOTS and the other flipping through a booklet of repeats. My eye were on the screen. Clearly I was very occupied.
From the corner of my eye I see a head hovering around the monitor. I look up to see an elderly woman made up like a clown glaring at me as if to say "I'm a customer. Serve me.".
"Yes?" I said, not rudely, but I don't suppose "yes" is an ideal greeting.
Completely disregarding the fact that I was quite obviously busy with something else, she said "I want Revlon complexion powder".
"Have you taken a look at our Revlon stand?" I asked.
"No." She replied, in slightly incredulous tones, as if searching for Revlon complexion powder on a Revlon stand was a ridiculous thing to do.
Earth to clown-queen. This is the dispensary. You come here for Valtrex and Mersyndol. The Revlon stand is two metres on your right. You look like you're seventy-years-old. I think you are well over the age of being able to handle taking a browse on your own.
Dinner was at Sapore in the Italian Forum with Jenny, Mylinh, Emily, Zaza and Danielle. I ordered the bruchetta and Cozze with a Strawberry Colada. The portions were astronomical and I left more than half on the plate.
It sure is hot tonight. I would love to take a cold shower with someone.
1.28.2008
Beat Agents!
Sunday
I walk into the pharmacy and bid good morning to Eugene, who is sitting behind the counter agonizing over something.
"Thank God." He promply plops himself down in the dispensary and falls asleep.
Jez is home with Michael and friends, either drunk or deliberately neglecting. I unwillingly call a couple of times to discuss papa Cheng's birthday cake. Red Mango doesn't open on Sundays, so I call La Renaissance and order a Monet.
I head to The Rocks after work. Worried about the chocolate melting in the heat I called 131 500 beforehand to find the quickest route there from Milson's Point. The operator said walk from Wynyard. Eugene said walk from Wynyard. Jez said Circular Quay.
Note to self: always trust hubby.
Jez's at 4:30 pm. While watching The Notebook, Blacky arrives. Blacky is some family friend who is staying with Jez's family until Wednesday. She is darker than Jez's top half and papa Cheng combined, tall, wears True Religion jeans and the current subject of my displeasure. I admit I'm an overprotective lunatic, and that any reasonably young woman (regardless of physical attractiveness or blood relation) in the vicinity of my handsome man I find a threat. Other than sharing a wall with Jez for the next 72 hours I have nearly no other objections to her.
An hour into the movie she enters the living room.
"Can you guys access the internet?" She asks. The only computer is in Jez's bedroom. I keep my eyes on the TV and dig my fingernails into his ribs. Jez mumbles something about there being only one computer and mumble-mumble-in-my-room-mumble-mumble. She looks inclined to ask whether she could use it. I dig my nails deeper.
Papa Cheng's work buddy Carlos joins us for dinner at the lamb skewer place in Ashfield. Flipping through the menu I find "stir fried rape". I show Jez and he laughs. We eat a bunch of greasy stuff while a little boy on the table behind us plays with my hair.
We come home at 10:00 pm. Another friend of papa Cheng and his family join us for cake and tea. Monet is delicious, though not nearly as much as the newly discovered rooibos tea. I never thought I'd live to see the day when tea could make me drool, but here it is.
Papa Cheng's friend talks to us about relationships. Marriage. Compromise. Consideration. He mentions some couples, some seemingly perfect girlfriends and wives. My insides squirm a little bit and I suddenly feel extremely uncomfortable sitting with Jez's family near midnight, intending to stay over for the second time within 48 hours, drinking their tea, using their toothpaste and loofah (to wash places they won't want to know about), stealing their son, whose bed I don't make.
Consumed by fears of being an awful wife, I dream stupid dreams but otherwise sleep extremely soundly.
Monday
Wake up at 9:50. Get out of bed at 11:00.
Today we're finally going swimming. It's been two months since we planned to do so but better late than never, right?
I have never been swimming with Jez. I panic a little. I'm self-conscious. He has never seen me in my swimmers, or wet. Well actually ...
For what little there is to do at the aquatic centre we have a lot of fun. I inadvertently flash my breasts and ass a number of times and Jez splashes the pool into my mouth while I laugh maniacally. We make immature jokes about chemical elements and I try not to think about what the water might be infested with.
After coming home for dinner, I walk Jez to the station and we sing shamelessly to my iPod.
I've completely rushed this post because I really can't wait to play Elite Beat Agents.
I walk into the pharmacy and bid good morning to Eugene, who is sitting behind the counter agonizing over something.
"Thank God." He promply plops himself down in the dispensary and falls asleep.
Jez is home with Michael and friends, either drunk or deliberately neglecting. I unwillingly call a couple of times to discuss papa Cheng's birthday cake. Red Mango doesn't open on Sundays, so I call La Renaissance and order a Monet.
I head to The Rocks after work. Worried about the chocolate melting in the heat I called 131 500 beforehand to find the quickest route there from Milson's Point. The operator said walk from Wynyard. Eugene said walk from Wynyard. Jez said Circular Quay.
Note to self: always trust hubby.
Jez's at 4:30 pm. While watching The Notebook, Blacky arrives. Blacky is some family friend who is staying with Jez's family until Wednesday. She is darker than Jez's top half and papa Cheng combined, tall, wears True Religion jeans and the current subject of my displeasure. I admit I'm an overprotective lunatic, and that any reasonably young woman (regardless of physical attractiveness or blood relation) in the vicinity of my handsome man I find a threat. Other than sharing a wall with Jez for the next 72 hours I have nearly no other objections to her.
An hour into the movie she enters the living room.
"Can you guys access the internet?" She asks. The only computer is in Jez's bedroom. I keep my eyes on the TV and dig my fingernails into his ribs. Jez mumbles something about there being only one computer and mumble-mumble-in-my-room-mumble-mumble. She looks inclined to ask whether she could use it. I dig my nails deeper.
Papa Cheng's work buddy Carlos joins us for dinner at the lamb skewer place in Ashfield. Flipping through the menu I find "stir fried rape". I show Jez and he laughs. We eat a bunch of greasy stuff while a little boy on the table behind us plays with my hair.
We come home at 10:00 pm. Another friend of papa Cheng and his family join us for cake and tea. Monet is delicious, though not nearly as much as the newly discovered rooibos tea. I never thought I'd live to see the day when tea could make me drool, but here it is.
Papa Cheng's friend talks to us about relationships. Marriage. Compromise. Consideration. He mentions some couples, some seemingly perfect girlfriends and wives. My insides squirm a little bit and I suddenly feel extremely uncomfortable sitting with Jez's family near midnight, intending to stay over for the second time within 48 hours, drinking their tea, using their toothpaste and loofah (to wash places they won't want to know about), stealing their son, whose bed I don't make.
Consumed by fears of being an awful wife, I dream stupid dreams but otherwise sleep extremely soundly.
Monday
Wake up at 9:50. Get out of bed at 11:00.
Today we're finally going swimming. It's been two months since we planned to do so but better late than never, right?
I have never been swimming with Jez. I panic a little. I'm self-conscious. He has never seen me in my swimmers, or wet. Well actually ...
For what little there is to do at the aquatic centre we have a lot of fun. I inadvertently flash my breasts and ass a number of times and Jez splashes the pool into my mouth while I laugh maniacally. We make immature jokes about chemical elements and I try not to think about what the water might be infested with.
After coming home for dinner, I walk Jez to the station and we sing shamelessly to my iPod.
I've completely rushed this post because I really can't wait to play Elite Beat Agents.
1.27.2008
Miggu Moggu
I hope the petals on our Monet cake don't melt in this revolting heat.
It's Jez's dad's 57th birthday today. I contemplated just dropping Monet off and going home, but I can't seem to figure out whether or not this is rude.
Oh yuck, but this here is a pretty cute goat. As cute as a goat can be, anyway.
It's Jez's dad's 57th birthday today. I contemplated just dropping Monet off and going home, but I can't seem to figure out whether or not this is rude.
Oh yuck, but this here is a pretty cute goat. As cute as a goat can be, anyway.
1.26.2008
10 Things I Hate About You
"I hate the way you talk to me
And the way you cut your hair
I hate the way you drive my car
I hate it when you stare
I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind
I hate you so much it makes me sick
It even makes me rhyme
I hate it, I hate the way you're always right
I hate it when you lie
I hate it when you make me laugh
Even worse when you make me cry
I hate it when you're not around
And the fact that you didn't call
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you
Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all"
I used to want that sort of love story. Oh well, I've got a better one now.
And the way you cut your hair
I hate the way you drive my car
I hate it when you stare
I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind
I hate you so much it makes me sick
It even makes me rhyme
I hate it, I hate the way you're always right
I hate it when you lie
I hate it when you make me laugh
Even worse when you make me cry
I hate it when you're not around
And the fact that you didn't call
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you
Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all"
I used to want that sort of love story. Oh well, I've got a better one now.
Hungry
The week passed quickly. Unfortunately the last 24 hours felt little more than three microseconds. Every Saturday afternoon I sit and think. About lying on our backs under Jez's white blanket as I pointed out that it had a nifty leaf pattern that can't be seen from the outside. About curling up on the couch to watch a 6-year-old Jez stumbling around at the ice rink. About his grin that never changed in 14 years. I have to stop talking or I'll start gushing. Gush gush gush. It's too late.
I'll be fine. Just give me a second. A minute. An hour.
I feel a little queasy. It's probably the heat.
Was talking about dinner etiquette with Mike. Mike went out to dinner with a female colleague last week. When they reached the register after the meal he took out a $5 note. Apparently it was misplaced inside his wad of $50s but neither the girl nor I believed him. Do you believe him? Didn't think so.
Should meals be split 50/50 from the beginning? Or should the man show some chivalry until he's within his comfort zone to be a little miserly? Should the higher earner pay?
I remember when Jez was all crazy-smitten with me during the first couple of months he used to ninja the bill when I was in the bathroom. I so could have taken advantage of this. Babe, I'm going to the toilet. I'll be gone for awhile. You've got plenty of time to do what you need to do.
The opportunity is definitely months past its expiry date. I can't imagine someone who makes a point of placing my hand on his butt before farting fighting to pay for dinner. I'd probably come back from the toilet to find him buried up to his nose in the DS. Go go Alph, magnum! Take that bitches ... Oh good, you're back. Get the bill while I level up, will you? Thanks baby, you're the best.
We don't have a system. I'm guessing it's roughly 50/50. Sometimes Jez accepts my half of the bill like a civil person. Sometimes he stubbornly pays the whole lot. Sometimes he half-arsedly offers, then steps aside and lets me at it before I even open my mouth to argue.
On the other hand, there have been plenty of occasions when I go to dinner with him knowing that only a lonely 50 cent piece lies in my wallet. Sometimes we plan to order pizza from his house and I "forget" to visit the ATM beforehand. Once it backfired on us when we both pulled the same stunt at an EFTPOS-free restaurant.
Last night's dinner was at Georges Cafe. The bill was nothing unexpected, but I still grumbled a little as I handed over my keycard. Then on our way back to the car Jez hugged me and said "thanks for dinner". Fifty bucks, what fifty bucks? :)
a n n i e says (10:45 PM):
i stay over at jez's every friday night
a n n i e says (10:45 PM):
then i come home on saturday afternoon
a n n i e says (10:45 PM):
then i'm all tired out
marty says (10:46 PM):
man, do u guys play like board games all nite or sumfin?
a n n i e says (10:46 PM):
of course. what else is there to do?!
I'll be fine. Just give me a second. A minute. An hour.
I feel a little queasy. It's probably the heat.
Was talking about dinner etiquette with Mike. Mike went out to dinner with a female colleague last week. When they reached the register after the meal he took out a $5 note. Apparently it was misplaced inside his wad of $50s but neither the girl nor I believed him. Do you believe him? Didn't think so.
Should meals be split 50/50 from the beginning? Or should the man show some chivalry until he's within his comfort zone to be a little miserly? Should the higher earner pay?
I remember when Jez was all crazy-smitten with me during the first couple of months he used to ninja the bill when I was in the bathroom. I so could have taken advantage of this. Babe, I'm going to the toilet. I'll be gone for awhile. You've got plenty of time to do what you need to do.
The opportunity is definitely months past its expiry date. I can't imagine someone who makes a point of placing my hand on his butt before farting fighting to pay for dinner. I'd probably come back from the toilet to find him buried up to his nose in the DS. Go go Alph, magnum! Take that bitches ... Oh good, you're back. Get the bill while I level up, will you? Thanks baby, you're the best.
We don't have a system. I'm guessing it's roughly 50/50. Sometimes Jez accepts my half of the bill like a civil person. Sometimes he stubbornly pays the whole lot. Sometimes he half-arsedly offers, then steps aside and lets me at it before I even open my mouth to argue.
On the other hand, there have been plenty of occasions when I go to dinner with him knowing that only a lonely 50 cent piece lies in my wallet. Sometimes we plan to order pizza from his house and I "forget" to visit the ATM beforehand. Once it backfired on us when we both pulled the same stunt at an EFTPOS-free restaurant.
Last night's dinner was at Georges Cafe. The bill was nothing unexpected, but I still grumbled a little as I handed over my keycard. Then on our way back to the car Jez hugged me and said "thanks for dinner". Fifty bucks, what fifty bucks? :)
a n n i e says (10:45 PM):
i stay over at jez's every friday night
a n n i e says (10:45 PM):
then i come home on saturday afternoon
a n n i e says (10:45 PM):
then i'm all tired out
marty says (10:46 PM):
man, do u guys play like board games all nite or sumfin?
a n n i e says (10:46 PM):
of course. what else is there to do?!
Red Mango = WIN <3
Mirjana and Ismat always bought their coffee from Red Mango, which is this cute patisserie a few shops down from our pharmacy that sells really fattening yet beautiful pastry, cakes and chocolate. I never had the urge to binge on 500-calorie snacks during work. Okay so I have, but sufficient self-restraint prevented me from succumbing.
Yesterday I walked past Red Mango and saw chocolates shaped like little hearts in a variety of flavours. For lame reasons I thought of Jez, and bought a box of them. His parents ate most of them and then I nibbled on one while he was in the shower. Might buy some more tomorrow.
I'm waiting for Jez to finish showering. I'm busting. I could easily soil his chair.
Every Friday night we sleep between 10:30 to 11:30. Last night I suggested we stay up for once, seeing as it only makes sense since when two friends are given the opportunity of a sleep-over there is usually no sleeping involved. Then again, when you're more than friends, the sex really tires you out.
Dearest left, so I'm going to post this for her. I love you :)
Yesterday I walked past Red Mango and saw chocolates shaped like little hearts in a variety of flavours. For lame reasons I thought of Jez, and bought a box of them. His parents ate most of them and then I nibbled on one while he was in the shower. Might buy some more tomorrow.
I'm waiting for Jez to finish showering. I'm busting. I could easily soil his chair.
Every Friday night we sleep between 10:30 to 11:30. Last night I suggested we stay up for once, seeing as it only makes sense since when two friends are given the opportunity of a sleep-over there is usually no sleeping involved. Then again, when you're more than friends, the sex really tires you out.
Dearest left, so I'm going to post this for her. I love you :)
1.24.2008
Bananananana!
It's awesome.
I had dinner at home today. Rather than me, it was my dad who whisked his noodles away to the living room to keep up with the courts.
Mum and I are experimenting with our culinary muse - the bread-maker. She had only baked two loaves so far, the second one receiving praise from the son of bread-maestros. I suggested we add bananas to her old recipe, and was sorely tempted to drink the blended banana-and-milk that we poured into the baker.
Was reading Chinese equivalent of Reader's Digest today. Some amusing true stories.
1. In Naples, there were so many robberies of tourists' watches at one stage that the city council provided free plastic watches sporting the council's logo.
2. A man in the US attempted to rob a convenience store with nothing but a gun that he mimed with his fingers. He failed when his "gun" slipped from his inside his jacket by accident.
3. During a line-up in California, suspects were told to say the line "give me all your money or I'll shoot". One of the men raised his hand and told the police "that's not what I said".
4. There was a reported crime where a man carjacked a stranger with a fake gun and told him to drive to two separate ATMs, where the man withdrew money from his own bank accounts.
In other news, we now have uniform. I'm very excited.
Update. My shirt is outrageously purple. However, the skirt is hot. I mean it's comfortable for what it looks like. Okay fine I'm just happy because I'm not feeling snug in size 6. Who am I kidding, Cue's probably a big make.
I don't know about the bread. I tried to sniff it but it remains mysterious. Failing to detect any trace of sweet aroma I'm guessing that my creation is going to result in some sort of unprecedented banananess.
I had dinner at home today. Rather than me, it was my dad who whisked his noodles away to the living room to keep up with the courts.
Mum and I are experimenting with our culinary muse - the bread-maker. She had only baked two loaves so far, the second one receiving praise from the son of bread-maestros. I suggested we add bananas to her old recipe, and was sorely tempted to drink the blended banana-and-milk that we poured into the baker.
Was reading Chinese equivalent of Reader's Digest today. Some amusing true stories.
1. In Naples, there were so many robberies of tourists' watches at one stage that the city council provided free plastic watches sporting the council's logo.
2. A man in the US attempted to rob a convenience store with nothing but a gun that he mimed with his fingers. He failed when his "gun" slipped from his inside his jacket by accident.
3. During a line-up in California, suspects were told to say the line "give me all your money or I'll shoot". One of the men raised his hand and told the police "that's not what I said".
4. There was a reported crime where a man carjacked a stranger with a fake gun and told him to drive to two separate ATMs, where the man withdrew money from his own bank accounts.
In other news, we now have uniform. I'm very excited.
Update. My shirt is outrageously purple. However, the skirt is hot. I mean it's comfortable for what it looks like. Okay fine I'm just happy because I'm not feeling snug in size 6. Who am I kidding, Cue's probably a big make.
I don't know about the bread. I tried to sniff it but it remains mysterious. Failing to detect any trace of sweet aroma I'm guessing that my creation is going to result in some sort of unprecedented banananess.
1.23.2008
Sexy Happy Rainbow Whore
Flipping through an Officeworks back-to-school catalogue, I found myself wondering which products I would buy my kids. I'm quite aware that I don't have any kids as of yet, so this blog-post might look like a joke, but it isn't.
Jez thinks I'm silly. Well in that case I hope our kids inherit their daddy's brains.
So here we go.
My favourite notebook. Ever.
I would be deeply disappointed if "I love mummy" isn't graffitied on Kei's desk or toilet seat.
Jez thinks I'm silly. Well in that case I hope our kids inherit their daddy's brains.
So here we go.
That's cute. I'd buy the boy the green one, and the girl the blue. Let's give them names. Girl will now be known as Vienna. Boy will be Kei.
I want Vienna to be artsy. Quite apart from everything else, art class provides an excellent opportunity for becoming acquainted with height-compromised boys. And I really like visual diaries. I used to have books full of my long-lost artistic creativity. It died with my musical talent.
My favourite notebook. Ever.
I would be deeply disappointed if "I love mummy" isn't graffitied on Kei's desk or toilet seat.
I'll make them banana bread. And sandwiches. And muffins. Sometimes if they're unfortunate they might find themselves trying to swap their best friend's apple for daddy's week-old stew.
I won't let my kids out the door with these fuglies.
My baby's lunch goes in this ... :)
And this ...
I'm tired.
I mean I'm always tired but this morning I'm two-inches-from-dropping-dead-kind-of-tired. I fell asleep standing in the shower.
How I'm going to make it through today's eight hours I have no fucking idea.
I'm a crybaby, right? Because this is life for Ismat (despite the fact that the usually leaves the more arduous tasks for somebody else, i.e. me) and Glenda works daily from 8:00 to 6:00 (despite the fact that the exhaustion probably hasn't hit her with this being only her second week).
I don't think any of them love the end of the week as much as I do. I had this awesome dream where I looked at my calendar and it went ...
DroooOooooOol.
I mean I'm always tired but this morning I'm two-inches-from-dropping-dead-kind-of-tired. I fell asleep standing in the shower.
How I'm going to make it through today's eight hours I have no fucking idea.
I'm a crybaby, right? Because this is life for Ismat (despite the fact that the usually leaves the more arduous tasks for somebody else, i.e. me) and Glenda works daily from 8:00 to 6:00 (despite the fact that the exhaustion probably hasn't hit her with this being only her second week).
I don't think any of them love the end of the week as much as I do. I had this awesome dream where I looked at my calendar and it went ...
DroooOooooOol.
1.22.2008
Superbowl
An odd sort of day it was.
I'm mourning over no longer being in possession of Lumarc. Like taking away a piece of my heart, you are. On the other hand I suppose the DS has been with me for a tad too long considering it isn't mine. QQ.
At 6:00 pm I was tired beyond belief. Maybe it's a build-up of two months' worth of full-time; or the renovations that seem to stretch into Futurama; or the fact that I was, under Mirjana's orders, obliged to write out "This is a true copy of the document presented as the original.(Signature), (02) 9925 0903, 35 Blue St, North Sydney, 22/01/08" thirty times.
I may have been a little snappy. A little despondent. Quiet. Maybe. It doesn't take someone who knows me to notice.
So it was an odd kind of evening. I can't explain it. It's the second time tonight that I've struggled to find some descriptor, any descriptor at all, for something so important yet so baffling. I won't push myself, because it'll end up sounding every bit as pathetic as the first time.
There's definitely something about tonight.
Something great.
Something very peanut-buttery.
I'm mourning over no longer being in possession of Lumarc. Like taking away a piece of my heart, you are. On the other hand I suppose the DS has been with me for a tad too long considering it isn't mine. QQ.
At 6:00 pm I was tired beyond belief. Maybe it's a build-up of two months' worth of full-time; or the renovations that seem to stretch into Futurama; or the fact that I was, under Mirjana's orders, obliged to write out "This is a true copy of the document presented as the original.(Signature), (02) 9925 0903, 35 Blue St, North Sydney, 22/01/08" thirty times.
I may have been a little snappy. A little despondent. Quiet. Maybe. It doesn't take someone who knows me to notice.
So it was an odd kind of evening. I can't explain it. It's the second time tonight that I've struggled to find some descriptor, any descriptor at all, for something so important yet so baffling. I won't push myself, because it'll end up sounding every bit as pathetic as the first time.
There's definitely something about tonight.
Something great.
Something very peanut-buttery.
1.21.2008
Eat up!
Was very premenstrual today. Cried on the train. Cried at work. Cried on the way to the bank. Cried at the bank. When asked was wrong I said "my boyfriend thinks I'm fat".
Wasn't in the mood for customer service. Instead I volunteered all the crap I usually avoided with overboard enthusiasm. Vacuuming. Mopping. Refilling stock. Finding excuses to go to IGA to buy some cleaning product or other to add to our already-sizeable collection of random cleaning products I bought out of having nothing better to do.
Almost cried again before lunch for different reasons. I can't begin to describe how many hours John and I (mostly I) spent moving hundreds of items across the store, discussing how to align categories and planning sections according to the Pharmacy Choice planogram. This morning we hired a few girls from Symbion to help with displays. In less than 40 minutes just about every piece of labour from the past three weeks had been undone. Looking at the empty wall that once held Codral and Sudafed I remembered leaving the pharmacy one night almost tripping over myself with exhaustion after painstakingly setting up the entire cold & flu section according to John's orders. What the hell for?
At least I'm paid for effort-consumingly contributing absolutely nothing at all.
This afternoon Ismat instructed me to eucalyptus-oil one of our extremely old and dirty-sticky-tape-clad stands which currently holds reduced-price make-up. I'd bet Jez's DS that within the next two weeks the stand will be sitting in a landfill, but nevertheless I was grateful for something to excuse myself from the umbrella-purchasing, never-ending-questions-asking, plastic-bag-requesting customers. After one hour, half a bottle of eucalyptus, five ripped pairs of rubber gloves and two cleaning sponges, I finished cleaning one out of four sides of the dirty old thing. It looked brand new.
Rmyb.
Wasn't in the mood for customer service. Instead I volunteered all the crap I usually avoided with overboard enthusiasm. Vacuuming. Mopping. Refilling stock. Finding excuses to go to IGA to buy some cleaning product or other to add to our already-sizeable collection of random cleaning products I bought out of having nothing better to do.
Almost cried again before lunch for different reasons. I can't begin to describe how many hours John and I (mostly I) spent moving hundreds of items across the store, discussing how to align categories and planning sections according to the Pharmacy Choice planogram. This morning we hired a few girls from Symbion to help with displays. In less than 40 minutes just about every piece of labour from the past three weeks had been undone. Looking at the empty wall that once held Codral and Sudafed I remembered leaving the pharmacy one night almost tripping over myself with exhaustion after painstakingly setting up the entire cold & flu section according to John's orders. What the hell for?
At least I'm paid for effort-consumingly contributing absolutely nothing at all.
This afternoon Ismat instructed me to eucalyptus-oil one of our extremely old and dirty-sticky-tape-clad stands which currently holds reduced-price make-up. I'd bet Jez's DS that within the next two weeks the stand will be sitting in a landfill, but nevertheless I was grateful for something to excuse myself from the umbrella-purchasing, never-ending-questions-asking, plastic-bag-requesting customers. After one hour, half a bottle of eucalyptus, five ripped pairs of rubber gloves and two cleaning sponges, I finished cleaning one out of four sides of the dirty old thing. It looked brand new.
Rmyb.
1.20.2008
Rainbow
My grandma passed away at 10 pm last night.
My dad's three brothers lived close to my grandparents in Jinan. My uncles, aunties, cousins and grandparents spent a lot of time together, while I lived further away with my grandparents on my mother's side. We visited sometimes, but mostly I was busy with school and music and being self-absorbed.
In a nutshell, I never had a lot of contact with her. After moving to Australia we spoke only briefly on the phone during Chinese New Year, just to say things like "I miss you" and "how's this, how's that".
We didn't stay long in Jinan on our trip to China in '05. There were so many nights when we called to tell them that we won't be home for dinner due to arrangements with some colleague of my parents or an old professor. My grandma asked us time and time again but we refused, returning home way past her bedtime and barely seeing her at all.
I guess my parents might have been under the same false impression that family will always be there, reassuring and immovable. There are only so many hours in a day. Family can wait, right? Well, it sometimes can't.
The last time I saw my grandma was on the day we left for Shanghai. We sat inside the train while my grandparents, uncles, aunties and cousins stood outside our window. My grandma placed her hand on the window. I did the same from inside the carriage. She cried.
I was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. I promised that I'd come back as soon as I could. I really had no idea that only a couple of years later it's already too late.
Such is life, right?
Jez, thanks again for being the best. <3
My dad's three brothers lived close to my grandparents in Jinan. My uncles, aunties, cousins and grandparents spent a lot of time together, while I lived further away with my grandparents on my mother's side. We visited sometimes, but mostly I was busy with school and music and being self-absorbed.
In a nutshell, I never had a lot of contact with her. After moving to Australia we spoke only briefly on the phone during Chinese New Year, just to say things like "I miss you" and "how's this, how's that".
We didn't stay long in Jinan on our trip to China in '05. There were so many nights when we called to tell them that we won't be home for dinner due to arrangements with some colleague of my parents or an old professor. My grandma asked us time and time again but we refused, returning home way past her bedtime and barely seeing her at all.
I guess my parents might have been under the same false impression that family will always be there, reassuring and immovable. There are only so many hours in a day. Family can wait, right? Well, it sometimes can't.
The last time I saw my grandma was on the day we left for Shanghai. We sat inside the train while my grandparents, uncles, aunties and cousins stood outside our window. My grandma placed her hand on the window. I did the same from inside the carriage. She cried.
I was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. I promised that I'd come back as soon as I could. I really had no idea that only a couple of years later it's already too late.
Such is life, right?
Jez, thanks again for being the best. <3
1.19.2008
Pianissimo Semplice
Another week starts as quickly as the previous ends. It's Saturday afternoon and I'm deciding whether I should stay in.
It's like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when Willy Wonka tells the kids about how the Oompa Loompas crave cocoa beans. "An Oompa Loompa was lucky if he found three or four cocoa beans in one year. But, oh, how they craved them. All they'd ever think about is cocoa beans." Then they show you a scene of Oompa Loompas dancing around a bushfire wearing giant cocoa bean hats on their heads.
If I am to Oompa Loompa then cocoa bean is to Friday. Oh how I crave Fridays. All I'd ever think about is Friday. I even have my own little bushfire in the storage room, made of empty Sportsgirl bags and Leona Edmiston wrappings.
Friday marks two very important events.
1. It is the only day which preceeds a morning on which I'm not required to wake up at a pre-determined time.
2. Waking up usually takes place next to Jez.
This Friday we went straight to Jez's house and ordered pizza. Then the next thing I knew I'm sitting here thinking about where the fuck the time has gone.
Unfortunately I forgot to bring About a Boy as intended, so we did everything that I missed dearly during the week. Jez made breakfast in the morning. The milk makes a huge difference and it was delicious.
It's funny how every one of my mother's beach plans are thwarted by rain. Not even her 50th birthday deserved any mercy from the weather. We went to Balmoral as planned, where after lengthy periods of standing around we settled for picnicking under a gazebo while the rain continued to fall outside.
Jez finally met Katherine and Chris, and got along with them well. Admittedly I was a little worried because the two of them had taken such a liking to Sivan and spent much more time with him that they would with Jez, but I was amused when Katherine told me she didn't like either. Because they're boys. With boy-germs. Yuk.
It's so quiet. My computer decided out of the blue to blank out and hum vaguely out of the tower. I'm on my dad's newer but much slower one and wishing that I had a guitar to muck around with. I'd play the piano, but it's becoming ridiculously out of tune. Still debating on whether or not I should spend the money on tuning, when I use it so rarely. Then again, maybe if it didn't sound so dilapidated I might feel a little more enthusiastic.
Tomorrow is the 20th, 8 months since Jez and me. Years ago, I put 8 months on a pedestle. In relationships I didn't even aim for 8 months. 8 months was beyond the infinity of forever. I aimed for 6. Because that's like, half a year. Ohmygawd.
But if you think about it, 8 months with one person is enough time to:
1. Know them
2. Be comfortable around them
3. Be a complete twat around them
4. Discover their faults and identify possibly causes for future conflict
5. Develop some idea about the level of seriousness of the relationship
6. Fight, argue, cold-war, silent-treatment, phony break-ups
7. Fall in love (aww? gag?)
It doesn't matter how long it has been if you know it'll end. It doesn't matter how short it has been if you're a silly old bat already deciding on names for non-existent children and pets.
I notice that while Jez is becoming increasingly un-funny, I'm becoming decreasingly mature. Not that he's any better. I was looking outside at the rain and was reminded of a conversation we shared yesterday afternoon.
Jez: You know why I'd hate to be a bird?
Me: Why?
Jez: When it hails.
Me: They could just hide under a tree or under anywhere.
Jez: What if there was nowhere to hide?
Me: Under other birds?
Jez: ...
Me: So I'd be a pretty bird. Then all the boy birds would be like "Ooh, hide under me! Hide under me!"
You never know. Out of those mushes of feathers and meat lying on the lawn after every hailstorm, who can say how many pretty little birdies flew out from under them before you passed by?
Anyway, on one of the rare occasions when we weren't talking crap or sweet nothings and Jez wasn't farting (very rare), I asked him a serious question. I know I'm a sickeningly sentimental person, so if you're not, skip it and save me some embarrassment.
So I asked, if somebody asked you if I was the one, what would you say? His answer kept me grinning even until now.
Right, so people are going to Vbar tonight. Considering I haven't showered and Mylinh is staying home, I think I'll pass. Besides, I'm scared that I don't have enough funds in my bank account for a packet of gum at the supermarket.
I'm having money trouble. When money is in my bank account, I spend it like there's no tomorrow, then when tomorrow arrives I'm like "oh shit". When it's in my savings account, I don't touch it. However, on those rare occasions when I do touch, it's the touch of death. For example, I transferred 0.5k of my last paycheque to savings. When my bank balance reached $20 and money was required for dinner that night, I dipped into savings. Not knowing exactly how much I'll need and wanting to avoid potential embarrassment, I thought I'd transfer more than enough, just to be safe. So I took $500. Dinner was about $30. $490 left in account. Go back a few lines and read "when money is in my bank account, I spend it like there's no tomorrow". Pwned.
I thought I'd learn from it. 80% of this week's pay is safely in savings. I have next to nothing left in the bank but I'd rather starve than contemplate the touch of death. The thing is, surviving for a week on less than $20 is very possible. Awhile ago when I was so poor that both accounts were empty, I found a million little thrifty ways to stay fed, and more importantly in posession of valid train tickets at all times. You'd have to threaten me with complete bankrupcy for my thrift-neurons to be activated, but I'm trying.
Every line of this song except for one reminds me of Frig. That one line, however, makes me think of Jez. I love it, it's so sad. I can sit here and mope but not really mope for the rest of the afternoon.
哪里有彩虹告诉我
能不能把我的愿望还给我
为什么天这么安静
所有的云都跑到我这里
有没有口罩一个给我
释怀说了太多就成真不了
也许时间是一种解药
也是我现在正服下的毒药
看不见你的笑 我怎么睡得着
你的声音这么近我却抱不到
没有地球太阳还是会绕
没有理由我也能自己走
你要离开 我知道很简单
你说依赖 是我们的阻碍
就算放开 但能不能别没收我的爱
当作我最后才明白
I love depressingly sad songs. Somehow they make me happier in the long run than happy songs do. Probably because I listen to the singer QQ and then realise that compared to them, I'm one lucky duck. So I rarely listen to happy songs. The only one I really like is Catch My Disease, and only in the car. Otherwise, I can listen to Uffie on the train if you count her songs as happy.
It's like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when Willy Wonka tells the kids about how the Oompa Loompas crave cocoa beans. "An Oompa Loompa was lucky if he found three or four cocoa beans in one year. But, oh, how they craved them. All they'd ever think about is cocoa beans." Then they show you a scene of Oompa Loompas dancing around a bushfire wearing giant cocoa bean hats on their heads.
If I am to Oompa Loompa then cocoa bean is to Friday. Oh how I crave Fridays. All I'd ever think about is Friday. I even have my own little bushfire in the storage room, made of empty Sportsgirl bags and Leona Edmiston wrappings.
Friday marks two very important events.
1. It is the only day which preceeds a morning on which I'm not required to wake up at a pre-determined time.
2. Waking up usually takes place next to Jez.
This Friday we went straight to Jez's house and ordered pizza. Then the next thing I knew I'm sitting here thinking about where the fuck the time has gone.
Unfortunately I forgot to bring About a Boy as intended, so we did everything that I missed dearly during the week. Jez made breakfast in the morning. The milk makes a huge difference and it was delicious.
It's funny how every one of my mother's beach plans are thwarted by rain. Not even her 50th birthday deserved any mercy from the weather. We went to Balmoral as planned, where after lengthy periods of standing around we settled for picnicking under a gazebo while the rain continued to fall outside.
Jez finally met Katherine and Chris, and got along with them well. Admittedly I was a little worried because the two of them had taken such a liking to Sivan and spent much more time with him that they would with Jez, but I was amused when Katherine told me she didn't like either. Because they're boys. With boy-germs. Yuk.
It's so quiet. My computer decided out of the blue to blank out and hum vaguely out of the tower. I'm on my dad's newer but much slower one and wishing that I had a guitar to muck around with. I'd play the piano, but it's becoming ridiculously out of tune. Still debating on whether or not I should spend the money on tuning, when I use it so rarely. Then again, maybe if it didn't sound so dilapidated I might feel a little more enthusiastic.
Tomorrow is the 20th, 8 months since Jez and me. Years ago, I put 8 months on a pedestle. In relationships I didn't even aim for 8 months. 8 months was beyond the infinity of forever. I aimed for 6. Because that's like, half a year. Ohmygawd.
But if you think about it, 8 months with one person is enough time to:
1. Know them
2. Be comfortable around them
3. Be a complete twat around them
4. Discover their faults and identify possibly causes for future conflict
5. Develop some idea about the level of seriousness of the relationship
6. Fight, argue, cold-war, silent-treatment, phony break-ups
7. Fall in love (aww? gag?)
It doesn't matter how long it has been if you know it'll end. It doesn't matter how short it has been if you're a silly old bat already deciding on names for non-existent children and pets.
I notice that while Jez is becoming increasingly un-funny, I'm becoming decreasingly mature. Not that he's any better. I was looking outside at the rain and was reminded of a conversation we shared yesterday afternoon.
Jez: You know why I'd hate to be a bird?
Me: Why?
Jez: When it hails.
Me: They could just hide under a tree or under anywhere.
Jez: What if there was nowhere to hide?
Me: Under other birds?
Jez: ...
Me: So I'd be a pretty bird. Then all the boy birds would be like "Ooh, hide under me! Hide under me!"
You never know. Out of those mushes of feathers and meat lying on the lawn after every hailstorm, who can say how many pretty little birdies flew out from under them before you passed by?
Anyway, on one of the rare occasions when we weren't talking crap or sweet nothings and Jez wasn't farting (very rare), I asked him a serious question. I know I'm a sickeningly sentimental person, so if you're not, skip it and save me some embarrassment.
So I asked, if somebody asked you if I was the one, what would you say? His answer kept me grinning even until now.
Right, so people are going to Vbar tonight. Considering I haven't showered and Mylinh is staying home, I think I'll pass. Besides, I'm scared that I don't have enough funds in my bank account for a packet of gum at the supermarket.
I'm having money trouble. When money is in my bank account, I spend it like there's no tomorrow, then when tomorrow arrives I'm like "oh shit". When it's in my savings account, I don't touch it. However, on those rare occasions when I do touch, it's the touch of death. For example, I transferred 0.5k of my last paycheque to savings. When my bank balance reached $20 and money was required for dinner that night, I dipped into savings. Not knowing exactly how much I'll need and wanting to avoid potential embarrassment, I thought I'd transfer more than enough, just to be safe. So I took $500. Dinner was about $30. $490 left in account. Go back a few lines and read "when money is in my bank account, I spend it like there's no tomorrow". Pwned.
I thought I'd learn from it. 80% of this week's pay is safely in savings. I have next to nothing left in the bank but I'd rather starve than contemplate the touch of death. The thing is, surviving for a week on less than $20 is very possible. Awhile ago when I was so poor that both accounts were empty, I found a million little thrifty ways to stay fed, and more importantly in posession of valid train tickets at all times. You'd have to threaten me with complete bankrupcy for my thrift-neurons to be activated, but I'm trying.
Every line of this song except for one reminds me of Frig. That one line, however, makes me think of Jez. I love it, it's so sad. I can sit here and mope but not really mope for the rest of the afternoon.
哪里有彩虹告诉我
能不能把我的愿望还给我
为什么天这么安静
所有的云都跑到我这里
有没有口罩一个给我
释怀说了太多就成真不了
也许时间是一种解药
也是我现在正服下的毒药
看不见你的笑 我怎么睡得着
你的声音这么近我却抱不到
没有地球太阳还是会绕
没有理由我也能自己走
你要离开 我知道很简单
你说依赖 是我们的阻碍
就算放开 但能不能别没收我的爱
当作我最后才明白
I love depressingly sad songs. Somehow they make me happier in the long run than happy songs do. Probably because I listen to the singer QQ and then realise that compared to them, I'm one lucky duck. So I rarely listen to happy songs. The only one I really like is Catch My Disease, and only in the car. Otherwise, I can listen to Uffie on the train if you count her songs as happy.
1.16.2008
Die!
"I'll remember to love, you taught how." ❤
Garnier really outdoes itself.
Nutrisse Original. Nutrisse Day Cream. Nutrisse Day Cream for Dry to Combination Skin. Nutrisse Day Cream for Oily Skin. Nutrisse Night Cream.
What's the bet that they have identical ingredients?
Anyway, Jez called in sick today because he has a sore throat. Crybaby. No no, I'm just bitter because he didn't take my little piece of medical advice to heart.
He actually sounded quite unwell on the phone. Croak croak.
Croak.
Hope you get well soon baby. :)
Anyway, something amusing. Sivan's last ex, whose I homewrecked in '03, somehow Facebooked me through one extended network or other a couple of months ago - without knowing who I was.
She was crazy-protective of him back when they were dating. I logged on to MSN once to find her snooping around in his account. She didn't know who I was. I was into the "yooh and meeh" baby-talk back then and she told me I was cute. Well her boy agreed.
He told me a lot of embarrassing shit about her. I think she'd kill me if she knew.
Ex's are just so messy.
Garnier really outdoes itself.
Nutrisse Original. Nutrisse Day Cream. Nutrisse Day Cream for Dry to Combination Skin. Nutrisse Day Cream for Oily Skin. Nutrisse Night Cream.
What's the bet that they have identical ingredients?
Anyway, Jez called in sick today because he has a sore throat. Crybaby. No no, I'm just bitter because he didn't take my little piece of medical advice to heart.
He actually sounded quite unwell on the phone. Croak croak.
Croak.
Hope you get well soon baby. :)
Anyway, something amusing. Sivan's last ex, whose I homewrecked in '03, somehow Facebooked me through one extended network or other a couple of months ago - without knowing who I was.
She was crazy-protective of him back when they were dating. I logged on to MSN once to find her snooping around in his account. She didn't know who I was. I was into the "yooh and meeh" baby-talk back then and she told me I was cute. Well her boy agreed.
He told me a lot of embarrassing shit about her. I think she'd kill me if she knew.
Ex's are just so messy.
1.15.2008
Fail
Mirjana was horrified when she caught me checking up the nutritional content of a cape seed roll on bakersdelight.com.au. I was horrified that she was horrified. She needs to visit Kirribilli and watch certain individuals play certain games that score in 4's and 6's.
Met up with my boy for dinner at whatsits ... Urugy? Urghy? Ulguy?
It was an interesting mix of God-knows-what. Chinese and Middle Eastern?
Well, it was at Chinatown, sort of. Outside Chinatown, near Darling Harbour but not.
Looks like I won't be able to recommend this restaurant to anyone.
We ordered:
Lamb skewers - delicious 'cause of the spices. One complaint - there were like five pieces I found impossible to chew. This is saying something because I don't think I ate more than ten. Out of politeness I only spat out two and ended up swallowing the rest whole. The waiters will probably find soggy bits of semi-chewed-up meat inside napkins thinking that I'm one of those anorexic chew-and-spit freaks.
Hot and sour vegetable soup - When Jez ladled some into my bowl I amused myself for a moment imagining eating here with Abhi, who being a vegetarian would probably have ordered this - only to discover (possibly after consuming half the content) that at the bottom of it were several giant fatty pieces of meat. I ordered the soup expecting the typical Chinese 酸辣汤 but was very unpleasantly surprised. It was extremely watery with a dull spiciness that exacerbated the chili from the lamb by too many times to contemplate.
Hand-made noodles - I could definitely detect the handmadeness from the uneven thickness, but other than that it's pretty much a plateful of unseasoned, plain-boiled, chock-full-of-refined-carbohydrate noodles. It served the purpose of temporary relief from the other two spicy dishes but nothing further.
Jez was sweaty sweaty. This couldn't have been a less appropriate meal for someone with a sore throat, but at least he has Cepacol to get him through the night. Twitch.
We fought a bit on the train. Jez is such a jerk. Yes you are. You really are. Really. Uh huh.
Met up with my boy for dinner at whatsits ... Urugy? Urghy? Ulguy?
It was an interesting mix of God-knows-what. Chinese and Middle Eastern?
Well, it was at Chinatown, sort of. Outside Chinatown, near Darling Harbour but not.
Looks like I won't be able to recommend this restaurant to anyone.
We ordered:
Lamb skewers - delicious 'cause of the spices. One complaint - there were like five pieces I found impossible to chew. This is saying something because I don't think I ate more than ten. Out of politeness I only spat out two and ended up swallowing the rest whole. The waiters will probably find soggy bits of semi-chewed-up meat inside napkins thinking that I'm one of those anorexic chew-and-spit freaks.
Hot and sour vegetable soup - When Jez ladled some into my bowl I amused myself for a moment imagining eating here with Abhi, who being a vegetarian would probably have ordered this - only to discover (possibly after consuming half the content) that at the bottom of it were several giant fatty pieces of meat. I ordered the soup expecting the typical Chinese 酸辣汤 but was very unpleasantly surprised. It was extremely watery with a dull spiciness that exacerbated the chili from the lamb by too many times to contemplate.
Hand-made noodles - I could definitely detect the handmadeness from the uneven thickness, but other than that it's pretty much a plateful of unseasoned, plain-boiled, chock-full-of-refined-carbohydrate noodles. It served the purpose of temporary relief from the other two spicy dishes but nothing further.
Jez was sweaty sweaty. This couldn't have been a less appropriate meal for someone with a sore throat, but at least he has Cepacol to get him through the night. Twitch.
We fought a bit on the train. Jez is such a jerk. Yes you are. You really are. Really. Uh huh.
1.14.2008
Bleh
My new mascara, despite being totally awesome in every other way, is clinging onto my eyelashes for dear life. I've been washing my face for ten minutes and they're still unnaturally black.
New staff. Glenda looks to be 45 years old and did not meet my expectations of the "new girl" Ismat told me about last week. It was a bit awkward bossing her around when despite the fact that she isn't a pharmacist she probably has about two decades' worth of pharmacy experience on me. Nevertheless, I took her to the bank, PO boxes and rubbish dump; after which I realised how much more natural it was to be telling someone like Georgia how to dispose of cardboard.
The rest of the day was spent moving stock, as per usual. My back is becoming a little sore from repeatedly bending down to the boxes and up to the shelves. The shop still looks a mess and I had to tread carefully to avoid the sharp objects protruding from various random places that threatened to snag my stockings. Despite my efforts I still manage at least one graze per shift.
It was a surprisingly tiring day. I squeezed in about 20 minutes of Luminous Arc during lunch.
Caught the train home with Jez. Every one of those twenty minutes was worth the eight hours that preceeded it.
New staff. Glenda looks to be 45 years old and did not meet my expectations of the "new girl" Ismat told me about last week. It was a bit awkward bossing her around when despite the fact that she isn't a pharmacist she probably has about two decades' worth of pharmacy experience on me. Nevertheless, I took her to the bank, PO boxes and rubbish dump; after which I realised how much more natural it was to be telling someone like Georgia how to dispose of cardboard.
The rest of the day was spent moving stock, as per usual. My back is becoming a little sore from repeatedly bending down to the boxes and up to the shelves. The shop still looks a mess and I had to tread carefully to avoid the sharp objects protruding from various random places that threatened to snag my stockings. Despite my efforts I still manage at least one graze per shift.
It was a surprisingly tiring day. I squeezed in about 20 minutes of Luminous Arc during lunch.
Caught the train home with Jez. Every one of those twenty minutes was worth the eight hours that preceeded it.
1.13.2008
Packing Really Hurts
Frig 开始用中文在他的网页上谈他的经验。我觉的他写的非常好，他词汇丰富，我真的差远了。所以为了提高我的语言技术，我也写写中文试一试。
好难噢。
OK, 今天早晨我在药店打工。星期天的客户少得可怜，所以我们在药房里坐了四个钟头，聊天，玩游戏。Eugene 昨晚又喝多了，只睡了三小时就来上班。 倒霉的是我， 每一小会儿为他出去买吃的。刚给他买回午饭，又叫我回到饭店拿筷子，虽然我们有刀叉。
好难噢。
OK, 今天早晨我在药店打工。星期天的客户少得可怜，所以我们在药房里坐了四个钟头，聊天，玩游戏。Eugene 昨晚又喝多了，只睡了三小时就来上班。 倒霉的是我， 每一小会儿为他出去买吃的。刚给他买回午饭，又叫我回到饭店拿筷子，虽然我们有刀叉。
1.12.2008
Swim or Quest
I realise why Jez isn't a screamer. I mean in arguments, not in sex.
He and his girlfriends (twitch) have cold wars instead because he isn't vocally equipped to drown out noise. This also explains why his parents never hear his reply when they call for him from outside the bedroom.
You discover something new everyday.
I'm quite the opposite. Mother and I have had concerned neighbours knocking on our door during past shouting matches. The ex and I had a near-accident screaming at each other in the car. I even shout at my dad, who only very rarely loses his temper, though his voice is rather loud when he wants it to be.
The parents and I are getting along surprisingly well tonight considering the last time I saw my mum was when she slammed the front door on Friday morning; and the last time I spoke to my dad was to tell him that I had smashed a dent in our freshly-repaired plaster (repaired because I had previously done the same thing). I maintain that while it's a horribly immature thing to do, at least I haven't inherited my mother's habit of aiming at the other party's head.
See, I make myself out to be a hot-tempered grouch, but I usually keep my calm. Honest. It's just that she sometimes says such terribly mean things ... :(
Jez and I ate at Laziko tonight. It's that place on Parramatta Road that everybody drives past at least once a week wondering to themselves whether it's any good. Well it is. We shared a lamb kebab plate and chili con carne. I liked it for the rice. It's a shame that Chinese rice is the least impressive when their food is known for it. Or maybe the same rice just loses it's appeal after 20 years. Unfortunately Lebanese rice is delicious because it's oily.
I have rekindled my insane urges to buy a kitten. I missed out on three weeks of Cookie and Fanta at their cutest and would really like to make up for it. We were at Pets Paradise at Ashfield and saw this adorable little kitty who stuck its paws out from between the bars to grab at our drink. I miss sitting at the computer with Fanta snoozing away on my lap, or jumping onto the table trying to catch the fly on the monitor.
And to change the topic completely (again), I discovered a new mascara. When the Maxfactor rep came in a few weeks ago, I had an interesting chat with her about eyelashes. She recommended the Lash Lift, which I didn't think of testing until Thursday. I thought it was full of awesome, but when I asked Jez whether my lashes looked any different today he observed them and said "shorter".
I've a whole list of quests on WoW that I can't wait to resume. I'm twitching in anticipation. 18 hours to go. 17 hours, 59 minutes and 50 seconds. 17 hours, 59 minutes and 40 seconds ...
He and his girlfriends (twitch) have cold wars instead because he isn't vocally equipped to drown out noise. This also explains why his parents never hear his reply when they call for him from outside the bedroom.
You discover something new everyday.
I'm quite the opposite. Mother and I have had concerned neighbours knocking on our door during past shouting matches. The ex and I had a near-accident screaming at each other in the car. I even shout at my dad, who only very rarely loses his temper, though his voice is rather loud when he wants it to be.
The parents and I are getting along surprisingly well tonight considering the last time I saw my mum was when she slammed the front door on Friday morning; and the last time I spoke to my dad was to tell him that I had smashed a dent in our freshly-repaired plaster (repaired because I had previously done the same thing). I maintain that while it's a horribly immature thing to do, at least I haven't inherited my mother's habit of aiming at the other party's head.
See, I make myself out to be a hot-tempered grouch, but I usually keep my calm. Honest. It's just that she sometimes says such terribly mean things ... :(
Jez and I ate at Laziko tonight. It's that place on Parramatta Road that everybody drives past at least once a week wondering to themselves whether it's any good. Well it is. We shared a lamb kebab plate and chili con carne. I liked it for the rice. It's a shame that Chinese rice is the least impressive when their food is known for it. Or maybe the same rice just loses it's appeal after 20 years. Unfortunately Lebanese rice is delicious because it's oily.
I have rekindled my insane urges to buy a kitten. I missed out on three weeks of Cookie and Fanta at their cutest and would really like to make up for it. We were at Pets Paradise at Ashfield and saw this adorable little kitty who stuck its paws out from between the bars to grab at our drink. I miss sitting at the computer with Fanta snoozing away on my lap, or jumping onto the table trying to catch the fly on the monitor.
And to change the topic completely (again), I discovered a new mascara. When the Maxfactor rep came in a few weeks ago, I had an interesting chat with her about eyelashes. She recommended the Lash Lift, which I didn't think of testing until Thursday. I thought it was full of awesome, but when I asked Jez whether my lashes looked any different today he observed them and said "shorter".
I've a whole list of quests on WoW that I can't wait to resume. I'm twitching in anticipation. 18 hours to go. 17 hours, 59 minutes and 50 seconds. 17 hours, 59 minutes and 40 seconds ...
1.10.2008
A for Azzie
It seems my boy has taste. Harsha and Ismat at work were all "oooooh". Mother at home was all "aaaaah".
But I know now to rely on nobody but myself to wake up on time in the morning.
Meow.
1.08.2008
But She Knows It
I love having Christian around.
Christian is Jim's 11-year-old son. He follows me around, wearing a cardboard box over his head and making penis jokes. In fact, this kid is pretty obsessed with penises, possibly because of having just discovered that he owns one.
So Ismat had a blast in Melbourne. Sally had a blast in Byron Bay. Renata had a blast god-knows-where but this was her second holiday of the month. I had a blast filling in for all of them.
Some time today Jim found Christian running around with a mini Christmas-stocking between his legs.
"Christian what are you doing?"
"It's a condom, dad."
"Stop that or I'm calling your mother."
Ismat told me that the Westpac man and a couple of boys from IGA have been asking about me while I was away at Kirribilli. Westpac man has my (fake) number but I've never served or spoken to a single IGA employee except for the portly lady who serves me whenever I buy melon salad.
The IGA guys haven't any balls and the IGA girls haven't any life, so as a result the women have been grilling Ismat and Harsha about the "new girl". They've started talking to me too. Actually that was a bit of an understatement. When one of them happened to find me in the toilet she actually talked to me from inside her cubicle. There's an unspoken rule that the toilet cubicle is a private sanctuary. A totally separate world. You don't cross that line. You don't ask me what I'm studying at uni if I'm concentrating on taking a massive dump.
Then I came out to find Harsha and her IGA friend talking about me.
And Christian, who on the way to Easyway with me said in a low tone that dripped seriousness, "there are two men from the supermarket who are always perving at you. You have to be very careful."
It turns out that Indian men love me. Because one of the guys is Indian. The other one that one of the IGA girls tried to introduce me to was a scrawny little Asian guy with a dirty mullet. I'd probably rather date Harsha.
And that's saying something because the woman is driving me mad.
To escape from her endless requests I spent some time sitting by the deodrant section sniffing the products that made me feel nostalgic. Then I bought some time by staging a yawn-studded discussion with Jason about why antihistamines should not be taken by asthmatics. In the end we decided to accept it as fact.
Christian is Jim's 11-year-old son. He follows me around, wearing a cardboard box over his head and making penis jokes. In fact, this kid is pretty obsessed with penises, possibly because of having just discovered that he owns one.
So Ismat had a blast in Melbourne. Sally had a blast in Byron Bay. Renata had a blast god-knows-where but this was her second holiday of the month. I had a blast filling in for all of them.
Some time today Jim found Christian running around with a mini Christmas-stocking between his legs.
"Christian what are you doing?"
"It's a condom, dad."
"Stop that or I'm calling your mother."
Ismat told me that the Westpac man and a couple of boys from IGA have been asking about me while I was away at Kirribilli. Westpac man has my (fake) number but I've never served or spoken to a single IGA employee except for the portly lady who serves me whenever I buy melon salad.
The IGA guys haven't any balls and the IGA girls haven't any life, so as a result the women have been grilling Ismat and Harsha about the "new girl". They've started talking to me too. Actually that was a bit of an understatement. When one of them happened to find me in the toilet she actually talked to me from inside her cubicle. There's an unspoken rule that the toilet cubicle is a private sanctuary. A totally separate world. You don't cross that line. You don't ask me what I'm studying at uni if I'm concentrating on taking a massive dump.
Then I came out to find Harsha and her IGA friend talking about me.
And Christian, who on the way to Easyway with me said in a low tone that dripped seriousness, "there are two men from the supermarket who are always perving at you. You have to be very careful."
It turns out that Indian men love me. Because one of the guys is Indian. The other one that one of the IGA girls tried to introduce me to was a scrawny little Asian guy with a dirty mullet. I'd probably rather date Harsha.
And that's saying something because the woman is driving me mad.
To escape from her endless requests I spent some time sitting by the deodrant section sniffing the products that made me feel nostalgic. Then I bought some time by staging a yawn-studded discussion with Jason about why antihistamines should not be taken by asthmatics. In the end we decided to accept it as fact.
Maroon 5
M5 tickets have finally arrived in the mail. :)
I found a few full-length concerts on ninemsn.com. Except they kind of sucked in Montreal, and during some other performance Adam forgot the words to This Love.
Going back to Greenwood now. It seems that after losing Janet to Kirribilli Mirjana is trying to drag me under her reign in exchange. My loyalty lies firmly with the pharmacy that lets me contemplate Thai menus during work.
Besides, I disapprove of Greenwood's attitude. I was amused by Sally's reaction when I told her that Mirjana called last Friday to confirm that she has me working at North Sydney every day of this week while she knew perfectly well that I was still at Kirribilli on Monday.
"Is it just me?" Sally says. "Or do they just not ... LISTEN??"
Andie expressed some intention of returning to work after her wedding. I wish she'd hurry up and come back, because despite the fact that on the only day I worked with her was the day I was single by Jez's choice, she made it fun.
Harsha complained of her obsession with flavoured lubricants and Ismat warned me that she tends to treat herself to five-fingered discounts from the Revlon stands, she sure as hell kicks the shit out of everybody else who has no interest beyond arranging shelf products in alphabetical order.
I found a few full-length concerts on ninemsn.com. Except they kind of sucked in Montreal, and during some other performance Adam forgot the words to This Love.
Going back to Greenwood now. It seems that after losing Janet to Kirribilli Mirjana is trying to drag me under her reign in exchange. My loyalty lies firmly with the pharmacy that lets me contemplate Thai menus during work.
Besides, I disapprove of Greenwood's attitude. I was amused by Sally's reaction when I told her that Mirjana called last Friday to confirm that she has me working at North Sydney every day of this week while she knew perfectly well that I was still at Kirribilli on Monday.
"Is it just me?" Sally says. "Or do they just not ... LISTEN??"
Andie expressed some intention of returning to work after her wedding. I wish she'd hurry up and come back, because despite the fact that on the only day I worked with her was the day I was single by Jez's choice, she made it fun.
Harsha complained of her obsession with flavoured lubricants and Ismat warned me that she tends to treat herself to five-fingered discounts from the Revlon stands, she sure as hell kicks the shit out of everybody else who has no interest beyond arranging shelf products in alphabetical order.
1.07.2008
Juno
I admit I was quite touched, although I didn't cry. I decided that from now on I won't cry during movies, although this like Eugene's abstinence from fish-and-chips is probably a tad too ambitious.
1.06.2008
Drugs
I spent a good two hours of today's shift on explosm.net. Hence above. It's not as funny for the umpteenth time but we laughed ourselves stupid initially.
Becoming tired of stick cricket shouldn't take as long as Eugene took, considering it's a "cricket game" in which you can only play the role of the batsman by pressing one of the four arrow keys and scoring depending mostly on luck. He asked whether I knew any interesting websites. I recommended askmen.com. We were disappointed that their jokes weren't even remotely funny.
It was actually sort of busy today. At one stage, a couple came in for methadone, which must be dispensed by the pharmacist. There were a few other customers in the store. I glanced at the dispensary and saw a bit of Eugene sitting behind the computer. Assuming that he was looking up information for one of the other patients, I asked the couple to wait for him to finish. Ten minutes passed and Eugene hasn't resurfaced. The husband asked me whether Eugene knew they were waiting. I didn't want to bother him when he was busy, but at the man's request I went to inform Eugene of his presence. I walked up to the computer to find Eugene sitting in front of it, arms crossed, head slumped, fast asleep.
We ordered a marinara pizza for lunch. Disliking the crusts that have minimum taste and maximum calories, I nibbled the topping off the edge and threw the remains back into the box. Are you going to eat that crust? Eugene asked. No, I replied. Then he said, can I have them?
So far the only person that has cleaned up after my pizzas is my grandmother. I was very surprised that somebody I see for four hours every week didn't mind putting something with my teeth marks all over into his mouth.
I initially decided to kill off the afternoon hours by shopping at Wynyard, The Strand, Pitt St, Myer, Market City and Burwood respectively. However, as it always happens, I found something in the first shop I stepped into. Which happened to be Kaviar. Which happens to be the store that about 95% of my recent acquisitions originated. It was a blue shirt dress. I don't own any shirt dresses or anything so blue. Now that I look at myself I'm not entirely sure I could pull it off. My mother likes it, which might not be a good sign.
1.05.2008
Now this is just an idle afternoon's worth of rambling madness ...
Karen was drunk off her little butt last night. This doesn't surprise us as this's the girl who gets tipsy just thinking about drinking.
I called home this morning to ask whether Port Stephen was still on considering uncertain weather. My dad had decided that he would rather dedicate the last 48 hours of his holiday burning my childhood videos onto DVDs. I walked into the house looking deprived of a week's worth of showers to find Danny's mother sitting in the dining room. For some reason my parents exposed to her all my embarrassing kiddie quirks.
Danny's mother says exactly the same things in exactly the same order on every visit. She'd gush about my prettiness despite the fact that I looked like arse. Then about how lucky my parents are to have a daughter despite the fact that I came home this morning with the distinct air of excessive bedroom activities. Then a subtle sigh to lament the misfortune of having Danny for a son. Don't tell anyone, but I don't blame her.
Anyway, when my mum was leaving China for Germany, my dad was already working there and I was four-years-old. She wanted to record a video of me to bring to him, but it was 1991 and home-owned camcorders were unheard of. Luckily, my late auntie was a newsreader who provided us with a little recording room at the studio. The result was about half an hour of a little girl in a pink dress prancing around singing Chinese nursery rhymes in front of a rather revolting lime-green backdrop.
They've also archived videos of the numerous piano competitions in which I participated in Brisbane and the Gold Coast. Most of the competitions were the everybody-wins kind, but I did receive third prize in one event in which every participant was 15-20 except the 10-year-old me; and a duet with a tall girl called Rebecca won us second place in Tropicana.
Admittedly I felt twinges of pride looking back at the happy little piano-playing, ice-cream-eating kid. Then I was kind of disappointed. The date at the bottom-right corner of the screen read "24/o8/1997" during the Forte music festival. Somebody should have warned the girl with the large pink ribbon in her hair about what trash she would become in ten years' time.
Because really, even I thought I was likeable. If I could I would go back and try to hold on to some of the attributes that ended up lost.
Jez's aunties left for Taiwan this morning. I don't know why but I was a little sad to see them go. Jez suggested it might be because this would mean the return of his cousin, but that's not it. I enjoyed their visit though I'm not part of the family. I'm not sure whether they liked me, but despite thinking me a hoochie for vulgar displays of my breasts they were extremely nice.
As we helped them with their luggage this morning, Jez's 大姨妈 asked me to visit Taiwan some time. It was probably taraf, but I grinned.
Jez is at Terrigal with his friends for the weekend.
I feel unsettled. It's magnificently stupid and I said I wouldn't worry but this is ridiculous. There's a Chinese saying - and I may be paraphrasing - 做贼心虚. It means thieves are unnaturally paranoid. Which I'm not sure even applies to what I'm about to say. I guess it can be roughly analogous to the way that people who are trustworthy themselves have more faith in others. Which is to say I represent 贼. So am I saying that I can't be trusted? I don't know. It's sort of hard to explain.
I have complete trust in Jez. Yet I'm worried. Does that mean I don't trust him? Would he be worried in my position? If I could reassure him on my nights out that he has nothing to be anxious about then why can't I be reassured myself? Does this even make sense?
I have my insecurities. Though we've overcome a lot, I have some unfortunate memories that on one hand have taught me some rather important lessons in life but on the other hand haunts me to no end. I expect I'll have my 95-year-old arse parked in a wheelchair one day and still ravage a box of tissues when my Alzheimers permits me to reminisce about the 6th of December three quarters of a century ago.
I bet I remember details that Jez has already forgotten.
Like what charity we donated money to ... actually I don't remember that one either.
Like the fact that he was carrying the same blue umbrella that is now hanging in his hallway two hooks from my Oroton one, and wearing the same blue shirt he wore on our first date.
Like when he opened the Georg Jensen case and said "it's a piece of metal".
Most of all I remember his face before I left. Somehow I thought it looked just as sad as I feel when I think about it. He brought me his Fantale the next day. I don't think I remembered to eat it.
Anyway, I feel somewhat pathetic. So I'm going out tonight.
I called home this morning to ask whether Port Stephen was still on considering uncertain weather. My dad had decided that he would rather dedicate the last 48 hours of his holiday burning my childhood videos onto DVDs. I walked into the house looking deprived of a week's worth of showers to find Danny's mother sitting in the dining room. For some reason my parents exposed to her all my embarrassing kiddie quirks.
Danny's mother says exactly the same things in exactly the same order on every visit. She'd gush about my prettiness despite the fact that I looked like arse. Then about how lucky my parents are to have a daughter despite the fact that I came home this morning with the distinct air of excessive bedroom activities. Then a subtle sigh to lament the misfortune of having Danny for a son. Don't tell anyone, but I don't blame her.
Anyway, when my mum was leaving China for Germany, my dad was already working there and I was four-years-old. She wanted to record a video of me to bring to him, but it was 1991 and home-owned camcorders were unheard of. Luckily, my late auntie was a newsreader who provided us with a little recording room at the studio. The result was about half an hour of a little girl in a pink dress prancing around singing Chinese nursery rhymes in front of a rather revolting lime-green backdrop.
They've also archived videos of the numerous piano competitions in which I participated in Brisbane and the Gold Coast. Most of the competitions were the everybody-wins kind, but I did receive third prize in one event in which every participant was 15-20 except the 10-year-old me; and a duet with a tall girl called Rebecca won us second place in Tropicana.
Admittedly I felt twinges of pride looking back at the happy little piano-playing, ice-cream-eating kid. Then I was kind of disappointed. The date at the bottom-right corner of the screen read "24/o8/1997" during the Forte music festival. Somebody should have warned the girl with the large pink ribbon in her hair about what trash she would become in ten years' time.
Because really, even I thought I was likeable. If I could I would go back and try to hold on to some of the attributes that ended up lost.
Jez's aunties left for Taiwan this morning. I don't know why but I was a little sad to see them go. Jez suggested it might be because this would mean the return of his cousin, but that's not it. I enjoyed their visit though I'm not part of the family. I'm not sure whether they liked me, but despite thinking me a hoochie for vulgar displays of my breasts they were extremely nice.
As we helped them with their luggage this morning, Jez's 大姨妈 asked me to visit Taiwan some time. It was probably taraf, but I grinned.
Jez is at Terrigal with his friends for the weekend.
I feel unsettled. It's magnificently stupid and I said I wouldn't worry but this is ridiculous. There's a Chinese saying - and I may be paraphrasing - 做贼心虚. It means thieves are unnaturally paranoid. Which I'm not sure even applies to what I'm about to say. I guess it can be roughly analogous to the way that people who are trustworthy themselves have more faith in others. Which is to say I represent 贼. So am I saying that I can't be trusted? I don't know. It's sort of hard to explain.
I have complete trust in Jez. Yet I'm worried. Does that mean I don't trust him? Would he be worried in my position? If I could reassure him on my nights out that he has nothing to be anxious about then why can't I be reassured myself? Does this even make sense?
I have my insecurities. Though we've overcome a lot, I have some unfortunate memories that on one hand have taught me some rather important lessons in life but on the other hand haunts me to no end. I expect I'll have my 95-year-old arse parked in a wheelchair one day and still ravage a box of tissues when my Alzheimers permits me to reminisce about the 6th of December three quarters of a century ago.
I bet I remember details that Jez has already forgotten.
Like what charity we donated money to ... actually I don't remember that one either.
Like the fact that he was carrying the same blue umbrella that is now hanging in his hallway two hooks from my Oroton one, and wearing the same blue shirt he wore on our first date.
Like when he opened the Georg Jensen case and said "it's a piece of metal".
Most of all I remember his face before I left. Somehow I thought it looked just as sad as I feel when I think about it. He brought me his Fantale the next day. I don't think I remembered to eat it.
Anyway, I feel somewhat pathetic. So I'm going out tonight.
1.03.2008
Azzie's Top Two Men
When I first suggested that Adam Levine looks like Milo Ventimiglia, they thought I was crazy.
Now who's laughing.
Now who's laughing.
Pepsi
It's hot today.
I walked in expecting Jason but instead saw a white-haired man inside the dispensary. His name is John. I don't know how old he is but his kid is 35 and he knows every song on the radio and I know this because he has been humming since 8:00 am.
I wonder what I'll be like when I'm old and near-invalid. We deal with the elderly quite often and every encounter screams "THIS IS YOU IN 60 YEARS". Me in 60 years. Will I be pompous and demanding? Will I indulge in writing in ugly $1.00 birthday cards? Will I keep my repeats on file and expect my medication ready the minute I set foot into the store? Will I flirt shamelessly with the younger Sunday pharmacist? Will I still hold my hubby's hand when I walk down the street? :)
I really don't want to grow old. An Esprit magazine lay on the couch and I flipped through it. Pro-xylane. Glycoaminoglycans. Nobody wants to grow old. And this is another reason why I want to be forever young - I don't want to blow $500 on Dior Capture R 60/80 products. Or be fat and ugly, which I'm sure I will be. And then either we won't have any sex at all or we'll have fat ugly sex. Or worse, one-sided fat ugly sex. Or maybe that wouldn't happen in the first place because my hubby will be chasing something young and fluffy down a rabbit hole.
And must I pay hundreds of dollars in tax every week?
God, life is depressing.
No I'm totally kidding. I'm just very bored.
I walked in expecting Jason but instead saw a white-haired man inside the dispensary. His name is John. I don't know how old he is but his kid is 35 and he knows every song on the radio and I know this because he has been humming since 8:00 am.
I wonder what I'll be like when I'm old and near-invalid. We deal with the elderly quite often and every encounter screams "THIS IS YOU IN 60 YEARS". Me in 60 years. Will I be pompous and demanding? Will I indulge in writing in ugly $1.00 birthday cards? Will I keep my repeats on file and expect my medication ready the minute I set foot into the store? Will I flirt shamelessly with the younger Sunday pharmacist? Will I still hold my hubby's hand when I walk down the street? :)
I really don't want to grow old. An Esprit magazine lay on the couch and I flipped through it. Pro-xylane. Glycoaminoglycans. Nobody wants to grow old. And this is another reason why I want to be forever young - I don't want to blow $500 on Dior Capture R 60/80 products. Or be fat and ugly, which I'm sure I will be. And then either we won't have any sex at all or we'll have fat ugly sex. Or worse, one-sided fat ugly sex. Or maybe that wouldn't happen in the first place because my hubby will be chasing something young and fluffy down a rabbit hole.
And must I pay hundreds of dollars in tax every week?
God, life is depressing.
No I'm totally kidding. I'm just very bored.
1.02.2008
Jez is Gay
No, really. For the following reasons I can prove that my boyfriend has higher homosexual tendencies than the average man.
- He once dreamt about being part of an all-male threesome
- Last night he dreamt about Eugene and Jason, although he and Eugene have never met
- He plucks "under"
- He had a crush on his cute gay hairdresser
- He often makes suggestive comments about his male friends, especially Felix
- And how did I manage to forget the fact that he spent one particular night in the distant past making out with Yoza when I was right there
I'm not worried. I'm sexier than Felix. I'm hot. I'm spicy. I'm not your girl next door. I'm the girl on the next block in your hood, nigger.
Edit: As for Yoza. Well, I can't live up to that.
Early Morning
I was thinking about bed linen, in which my mother has revolting taste and which I never really cared for. Until now. You know how randomness pokes at your brain every once in awhile. Anyway, I think white sheets are sexy.
So I was straightening out products on the shelf when I came across an old heat pack. It looked like a rotten log from a humid rainforest. Beats me where the moss and fungi came from if there was no moisture. I found a number of bugs on the shelf. Possibly they have been gnawing away at the wheat. Not that this would explain the mould. This is the most interesting thing that has happened so far.
I'm gay.
So I was straightening out products on the shelf when I came across an old heat pack. It looked like a rotten log from a humid rainforest. Beats me where the moss and fungi came from if there was no moisture. I found a number of bugs on the shelf. Possibly they have been gnawing away at the wheat. Not that this would explain the mould. This is the most interesting thing that has happened so far.
I'm gay.
1.01.2008
Marriage Rules
Extracted from 青年文摘.
- Avoid being moody at the same time
- Except when it's absolutely necessary, don't scream or shout
- When bickering, let the other party win
- Resolve arguments on the same day
- When walking out of the house during an argument, do not stay out for over 8 hours
- Criticisms should stem from love
- Be ready to apologise
- Be able to take a joke
- Every now and then give him or her a night to themselves
- Never go to bed mad
- Be home when he or she comes home
- Don't disturb when they don't want to be disturbed
- Be willing to let the other part answer your calls
- Be honest about money
- Leave your money-deprived days behind
- Give more money to your parents than he or she gives to theirs
1. is ridiculous because it's sometimes inevitable. 10. is old-fashioned. Sleeping-on-it is more now. I laughed at 11. Unless you plan to meet at the front porch it's an ultimate fail. 15. sort of puzzles me, and 16. is yet another contest that only one person can win.
I conclude that people who follow advice from Chinese magazines will fail in love.
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