2.29.2008
2.28.2008
Letter of Thanks
Dear Narelle Da Costa,
Thank you for saving my life. No really, you did. Every time I fluke a credit during the next two years I'll think of your kindness. I'm going to name one of my children after you. At least one.
Hugs,
Annie
Thank you for saving my life. No really, you did. Every time I fluke a credit during the next two years I'll think of your kindness. I'm going to name one of my children after you. At least one.
Hugs,
Annie
2.27.2008
Not On My Mind
Without realising it, it's already been something like one year since my ex and I split. Honestly it feels nowhere near as long. I suppose if you were young, naive, carefree and spent three years of your life with one person thinking "this is it", you might share my feelings of mild bewilderment to find not only how easy it was to move on, but how quick moving on can be.
I feel about the matter the same as I did two days after the break-up. Indifference with a splash of regret, a pinch of defiance (you break up with me? Please ...), and a dab of relief.
I remember a line from this Jon Foreman song I used to really like - "two years later you're still on my mind". At 2:30 am on whichever day of February it was in '07, after I randomly SMS'ed five people (my boss included) with the same message, I wondered dully whether the lyrics would hold true for me in two years' time. Two days later, however, I was already crushing on a guy from my course that my mother said resembled a middle-aged woman.
No, that wasn't the rebound.
Rebound was probably worse. I don't know. It's a tight draw.
Nobody had ever heard of anybody bouncing off a long-term relationship like I did. Even I can't explain it. I cried for a total of five minutes. I cry more during The Lion King.
So three months later I fell in love with Jez. Some think I fall in love too easily. They might be onto something.
I'm heading to my bed to call Jez so we could talk on the phone like we have done every night for the past 280 days. Twelve months ago this would probably have been the very last thing I would have guessed I'd be doing twelve months later.
I feel about the matter the same as I did two days after the break-up. Indifference with a splash of regret, a pinch of defiance (you break up with me? Please ...), and a dab of relief.
I remember a line from this Jon Foreman song I used to really like - "two years later you're still on my mind". At 2:30 am on whichever day of February it was in '07, after I randomly SMS'ed five people (my boss included) with the same message, I wondered dully whether the lyrics would hold true for me in two years' time. Two days later, however, I was already crushing on a guy from my course that my mother said resembled a middle-aged woman.
No, that wasn't the rebound.
Rebound was probably worse. I don't know. It's a tight draw.
Nobody had ever heard of anybody bouncing off a long-term relationship like I did. Even I can't explain it. I cried for a total of five minutes. I cry more during The Lion King.
So three months later I fell in love with Jez. Some think I fall in love too easily. They might be onto something.
I'm heading to my bed to call Jez so we could talk on the phone like we have done every night for the past 280 days. Twelve months ago this would probably have been the very last thing I would have guessed I'd be doing twelve months later.
2.25.2008
Cybersex
Has even sex been made obsolete by technology?
I don't remember the last time I opened a decent sealed section of Cosmopolitan. Granted, the frequency of my magazine purchases varies greatly, but during the past six months I've managed to collect around fifteen issues - a combination of Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, Harper's Bazaar, New Woman and Cleo.
On more than three occasions have I come across some hyped-up article about cybersex or online-sex or virtual sex. In fact, two magazines have featured in their sealed sections the online game Second Life. Hello? Have you monkeys forgotten the tradition of the famous sealed sections? Whatever happened to full-frontal photos of completely nude men and women acting out their twisted sexual fantasies? The bizarre sex tips? The detailed step-by-step instructions on how to achieve three different kinds of orgasms simultaneously? The juicy naughty stuff that make teenage girls giggle, and high school math teachers blush when caught out on knowing about the sacred pages hidden within the "SEX SECRETS INSIDE" tab?
Apparently it's a thing of the past.
From this month's Cleo,
"Cybersex Dos and Don'ts
Set ground rules if you have a partner. Cybersex may be fantasy, but it can ruin real-world relationships.
As in real life, the easiest way to break the ice with someone new is via small talk.
Lock the door. Online forums are full of stories about people whose partners, parents or flatmates walked in on them mid-session.
Once an erotic story starts, follow the script and avoid continuity problems.
Be careful with misspellings. It can really wreck the mood if a partner suddenly sends an "LOL" in the middle of a steamy session.
Try not to leave the computer until you've both climaxed."
It's like a fussy cooking recipe.
"Follow the instructions in sequential order. The steps may sound simple but mixing the steps could result in unsatisfactory souffle.
The easiest way to crack open an egg is to tap the middle on a sharp edge.
Close tightly the lid of the food processor. Our forums are full of stories about bits of fruit flying around the kitchen as the top wasn't sealed properly.
Once the flour has been sifted, stir in a single direction continuously until mixed.
Be careful with the type of baking pan used. It can really wreck a perfect muffin if the wrong type of metal results in burnt bases.
Try not to remove cake from the oven until the middle springs back when touched."
The next page is titled "Sex in Second Life". Surprise.
"Buying sex in Second Life
Straight sex: between $L1,200 and $L2,000 for one hour.
Fetishes or role play: An extra $L300 to $L1,000 an hour.
Threesomes: Up to $L4,000 an hour.
Oral sex: About $L250 to $L400 for 15 minutes.
Nude dance: $L400 for 10 minutes.
FYI: US$1 is worth about 250 Linden dollars."
So basically, you pay about eight bucks to have someone's avatar hump yours. Money well spent?
I don't remember the last time I opened a decent sealed section of Cosmopolitan. Granted, the frequency of my magazine purchases varies greatly, but during the past six months I've managed to collect around fifteen issues - a combination of Marie Claire, Cosmopolitan, Harper's Bazaar, New Woman and Cleo.
On more than three occasions have I come across some hyped-up article about cybersex or online-sex or virtual sex. In fact, two magazines have featured in their sealed sections the online game Second Life. Hello? Have you monkeys forgotten the tradition of the famous sealed sections? Whatever happened to full-frontal photos of completely nude men and women acting out their twisted sexual fantasies? The bizarre sex tips? The detailed step-by-step instructions on how to achieve three different kinds of orgasms simultaneously? The juicy naughty stuff that make teenage girls giggle, and high school math teachers blush when caught out on knowing about the sacred pages hidden within the "SEX SECRETS INSIDE" tab?
Apparently it's a thing of the past.
From this month's Cleo,
"Cybersex Dos and Don'ts
Set ground rules if you have a partner. Cybersex may be fantasy, but it can ruin real-world relationships.
As in real life, the easiest way to break the ice with someone new is via small talk.
Lock the door. Online forums are full of stories about people whose partners, parents or flatmates walked in on them mid-session.
Once an erotic story starts, follow the script and avoid continuity problems.
Be careful with misspellings. It can really wreck the mood if a partner suddenly sends an "LOL" in the middle of a steamy session.
Try not to leave the computer until you've both climaxed."
It's like a fussy cooking recipe.
"Follow the instructions in sequential order. The steps may sound simple but mixing the steps could result in unsatisfactory souffle.
The easiest way to crack open an egg is to tap the middle on a sharp edge.
Close tightly the lid of the food processor. Our forums are full of stories about bits of fruit flying around the kitchen as the top wasn't sealed properly.
Once the flour has been sifted, stir in a single direction continuously until mixed.
Be careful with the type of baking pan used. It can really wreck a perfect muffin if the wrong type of metal results in burnt bases.
Try not to remove cake from the oven until the middle springs back when touched."
The next page is titled "Sex in Second Life". Surprise.
"Buying sex in Second Life
Straight sex: between $L1,200 and $L2,000 for one hour.
Fetishes or role play: An extra $L300 to $L1,000 an hour.
Threesomes: Up to $L4,000 an hour.
Oral sex: About $L250 to $L400 for 15 minutes.
Nude dance: $L400 for 10 minutes.
FYI: US$1 is worth about 250 Linden dollars."
So basically, you pay about eight bucks to have someone's avatar hump yours. Money well spent?
There's a person who ...
Has a pile of unused textbooks stacked below his desk. Dislikes Ne-yo for the claps. Reads Marie Claire with enthusiasm. Has eyes that are different from one another - the left is larger, rounder and lighter in colour. Always drinks bottled water, even at home. Has recently taken a liking to raw scallops. Doesn't know where apart from Maloney's to go for drinks. Has worn the same shoulder-bag for the larger part of the past year. Loves Milo cereal. Loves Milo in general. Dislikes Milo Ventimiglia. Has trouble getting up for work. Visits peculiar salons and emerges with peculiar haircuts. Knows how to fix peculiar haircuts. Wears boardies at home. Doesn't know what to wear to the pool. Watches little TV. Has a level 70 warlock. Lies about being willing to delete level 70 warlock. Washes his face with St Ives apricot scrub. Could probably survive on potatoes for the rest of his life. Thinks Kate Moss is ugly. Farts often. Laughs afterwards. Sometimes groans and complains of pain. Goes swimming but doesn't swim. Has a two-pack, maybe now four. Has no bath toys other than mini cars. Loves sleeping while it rains. Has a stockings fetish. Smokes occasionally, more often during exams. Has been pining after a Macbook for the past nine months. Is a semi-former Yongfook fan. Eats at a cafe he knows is shit. Browses Facebook photos. Teases his mother. Never eats tofu. Drives a silver Corolla. Was once fond of falafel kebabs. Keeps lubricant in a brown toiletries bag. Used to keep condoms in a blueberry yoghurt box. Can't have sex using condoms. Writes to-do lists on a blue notepad. Drinks Tsunamis at Ramen Kan. Has a Fight Club poster on his wall. Would marry Catherine Zeta Jones if he could. Laughs manically at fat people. Plays his DS at work. Pays hefty phone bills. Has short eyelashes. Uses Clinique eye revitaliser. Hates mango tuna. Keeps instant noodles in his filing cabinet. Wears a silver hoop on his left ear. Has a mole resembling a piercing on his right ear. Loves lamb massaman curry. Usually has dry lips but refuses lip balm. For some reason likes pizza but eats it without the ingredient that defines pizza. Is openly gay with Nathan. Pines after Felix. Has a voice that seems incapable of volume exceeding that of normal speech. Owns a tweed Pete Doherty hat. Has something like six bottles of cologne but only wears Kenneth Cole. Is fond of sashimi. Works at F&W. Wears tiny aspirin patches over blemishes. Owns a bottle of revolting cough suppressant. Almost never gets sick. Wears black chucks. Plays with his neighbour's cats. Has stinky underarms. Likes to keep his blanket and blanket cover separate. Makes turkey and cranberry sandwiches. Never changes his ringtone from the bomchikawahwah thing. Walks to Central station from work even though Town Hall is closer. Complains most about his belly, then nose. Has mini-fangs. Orders only mochas from GJ's. Keeps notes and cards in a money clip. Uses Optifree contact solution. Wears black emo Kitoya glasses, which aren't strong enough for his eyes. Window-shops online, a lot. Reads Naruto. Also reads some gay comic about tennis. Throws up on his bedroom floor after excessive drinking. Throws up all over his girlfriend's shoes. Doesn't own an iPod and lies about not wanting one. Has no hair on his upper arms. Has plenty of it on his legs. Spends his entire weekend in the company of one person. Is revoltingly lovey-dovey in public. Becomes extremely quiet when upset. Sometimes says things he doesn't mean. Always takes them back. Is mature. Is considerate. Is caring. Is in love. Is very much loved. <3
2.24.2008
Fixing a breaking heel with nail glue ...
This is mighty disturbing. Especially when he dances. I didn't finish watching because Eugene scolded me for expressing excessive interest in the embarassingly obscene. But on the plus side, it's a love story. He lost more than five times my body weight since falling in love. Kudos to him!
Today is not suited for work. Most of my energy was drained from dragging my lazy arse out of bed and the rest spent on waddling to work in a semi-broken heel.
I was so pissed off that when changing trains at Town Hall I headed for Nine West in QVB determined to buy the most expensive pair of stilettos. Halfway up the steps I came to my senses and realised that this would look pretty shoddy on my record of daily spendings. And shops weren't yet open, but that's hardly the point.
Bought a little bottle of nail glue and stuck the wobbling heel back onto the sole. Nail glue because I've had much experience firmly sticking my fingers together while trying to apply french fakes. I'm feeling supergirl.
Today is not suited for work. Most of my energy was drained from dragging my lazy arse out of bed and the rest spent on waddling to work in a semi-broken heel.
I was so pissed off that when changing trains at Town Hall I headed for Nine West in QVB determined to buy the most expensive pair of stilettos. Halfway up the steps I came to my senses and realised that this would look pretty shoddy on my record of daily spendings. And shops weren't yet open, but that's hardly the point.
Bought a little bottle of nail glue and stuck the wobbling heel back onto the sole. Nail glue because I've had much experience firmly sticking my fingers together while trying to apply french fakes. I'm feeling supergirl.
2.23.2008
Call me Cinnamon Buns!
Friday
After the usual lengthy debate over where and what to have for dinner, I suggested we trek to Ashfield to kill two birds with one stone, since we wanted to take a walk anyway.
There was a little Shang eatery next to the fruit market that opened recently. Last time we passed by it was packed. And now, after deciding to dine there, we really wonder why.
We ordered pumpkin pancakes, hot and sour soup and traditional Shanghainese mini pork buns.
The pumpkin pancakes, it seemed, were identical in appearance to another number off the menu - red bean buns. Stupid, really, that we forced down unnecessarily huge servings of revolting and presumably cheap red bean paste before realising that they probably served us the wrong dish. In fact, we pretty much polished off the whole plate (I managed one and Jez nomnom'd three), wrinkling our noses in distaste. Of course miserly Chinese restauranteers would sooner swallow their woks than refund an already-devoured meal.
The mini pork buns looked and tasted pre-packaged-pre-frozen. On top of that they were laughably small. Fail.
Soup was average. Contained a lot of tofu, of which I'm not particularly fond. Jez would probably rather eat a soiled band-aid.
For the past week I had a distinct feeling that whatever little warmness Jez's parents had felt for me had cooled down to Russian winter. It's almost completely out of my control, but I create such strong awkwardness that sometimes even Griffindor's sword would get owned trying to cut the tension.
This is what happens on a typical visit:
1. Walk down the hallway. Stick my head and just my head into the living room sheepishly. Say hello uncle. Hello auntie. Disappear into Jez's room.
2. Re-emerge for dinner, toilet.
3. Upon leaving, stick my head into the living room sheepishly. Say bye-bye uncle. Bye-bye auntie.
4. Leave.
Further interactions take place approximately once every fortnight.
I can't stand myself.
For someone who hardly has any D&Ms with her own parents, it isn't easy to gel well with the boyfriend's folks. I have little trouble with adults in general. It's not a matter of age. It's a matter of status. Say if there was a scale of comfort, from the most comfortable relationship to least, the list goes (and most of the following are from the pharmacy, as I rarely interact with adults outside of work):
1. Glenda, whose head and arse I have no qualms over hitting with a rolled-up magazine.
2. Eugene, for whom I have an inkling of respect, but little enough to feel perfectly comfortable with calling him mentally disabled for awful power-sliding.
3. Jason, who as a much more professional albeit young pharmacist ranks higher than Eugene.
4. Renata, who ranks higher than the above due mainly to her age and the fact that we communicate pretty much only on a weekly basis via the Kirribilli dispensary notepad.
5. Sally, who is incredibly pretty. I still don't know her age but she doesn't look a day over 30, though having graduated in '95 must be a fair few years past it.
6. Mirjana, who holds incredible authority over me by being able to summon me to the dispensary from pandemonium in the shop-front for just one script.
7. John, who though habitually and pointedly ignores all of us when in the wrong mood, is still easier to joke around than his fast-talking partner.
8. Jim, who I remember saying gave off the unmistakable air of the big piss-me-off-and-suffer-my-wrath boss initially, is still intimidating albeit professionally friendly. Still calls me "girl". Still fights with Harsha like a pair of old marrieds. Differs from John in that while I joke with John, my comfort zone only permits me to laugh at Jim's jokes. Extremely sycophantically.
9. To top even John and Jim are Mr and Mrs Cheng. The former pair are the bosses at work but the latter are the bosses of life.
My parents are, of course, not included. Because despite the little time we spend together, they're parents. Only parents give you hell for leaving your room in semi-chaos, pick you up from the station to save you a six-minute walk in the dark, and tells you to pee after sex to avoid urinary tract infections.
Anyway, I was amused to find myself desperately clinging to the faintest signs that Jez's parents don't disapprove of me. Oh look, she said hello to me. If she didn't like me she wouldn't have said hi. Right? Right? Hmm, he asked when I'm supposed to start uni. If he didn't like me he wouldn't have said that. Right? Right?
When I sheepishly stuck my head into the living room to say bye to Jez's dad, he asked whether Jez was driving me, and when I said no, told me to be careful on the way home. I took it as a somewhat positive sign. Desperate times call for desperate ways of thinking.
Saturday
I came home with ingredients for cinnamon buns. They were childishly easy to make, provided a bread machine is available. After observing the astronomical amounts of butter, margarine (yes, both!) and sugar that were used in this sweet and twirly creation, I swore to never snack on the seemingly innocent Baker's Delight cinnamon rolls again.
If I do say so myself, they aren't bad. My health-conscious parents found the richness a little unsettling but my grandparents loved them. Tomorrow Eugene and Jez will be subjected to my amateurism.
I was speaking to Victor earlier. The guy is completely in love with Jen and asked me for gift ideas. I thought the two of us were quite similar, but quite apart from coming up with stuff that Jen likes I couldn't even think of what I like. I said Miu Miu. He said what's Miu Miu. I said don't worry, she's so smitted with you I'm sure she'll like anything you buy. He said what's smitten. I said ... .
After the usual lengthy debate over where and what to have for dinner, I suggested we trek to Ashfield to kill two birds with one stone, since we wanted to take a walk anyway.
There was a little Shang eatery next to the fruit market that opened recently. Last time we passed by it was packed. And now, after deciding to dine there, we really wonder why.
We ordered pumpkin pancakes, hot and sour soup and traditional Shanghainese mini pork buns.
The pumpkin pancakes, it seemed, were identical in appearance to another number off the menu - red bean buns. Stupid, really, that we forced down unnecessarily huge servings of revolting and presumably cheap red bean paste before realising that they probably served us the wrong dish. In fact, we pretty much polished off the whole plate (I managed one and Jez nomnom'd three), wrinkling our noses in distaste. Of course miserly Chinese restauranteers would sooner swallow their woks than refund an already-devoured meal.
The mini pork buns looked and tasted pre-packaged-pre-frozen. On top of that they were laughably small. Fail.
Soup was average. Contained a lot of tofu, of which I'm not particularly fond. Jez would probably rather eat a soiled band-aid.
For the past week I had a distinct feeling that whatever little warmness Jez's parents had felt for me had cooled down to Russian winter. It's almost completely out of my control, but I create such strong awkwardness that sometimes even Griffindor's sword would get owned trying to cut the tension.
This is what happens on a typical visit:
1. Walk down the hallway. Stick my head and just my head into the living room sheepishly. Say hello uncle. Hello auntie. Disappear into Jez's room.
2. Re-emerge for dinner, toilet.
3. Upon leaving, stick my head into the living room sheepishly. Say bye-bye uncle. Bye-bye auntie.
4. Leave.
Further interactions take place approximately once every fortnight.
I can't stand myself.
For someone who hardly has any D&Ms with her own parents, it isn't easy to gel well with the boyfriend's folks. I have little trouble with adults in general. It's not a matter of age. It's a matter of status. Say if there was a scale of comfort, from the most comfortable relationship to least, the list goes (and most of the following are from the pharmacy, as I rarely interact with adults outside of work):
1. Glenda, whose head and arse I have no qualms over hitting with a rolled-up magazine.
2. Eugene, for whom I have an inkling of respect, but little enough to feel perfectly comfortable with calling him mentally disabled for awful power-sliding.
3. Jason, who as a much more professional albeit young pharmacist ranks higher than Eugene.
4. Renata, who ranks higher than the above due mainly to her age and the fact that we communicate pretty much only on a weekly basis via the Kirribilli dispensary notepad.
5. Sally, who is incredibly pretty. I still don't know her age but she doesn't look a day over 30, though having graduated in '95 must be a fair few years past it.
6. Mirjana, who holds incredible authority over me by being able to summon me to the dispensary from pandemonium in the shop-front for just one script.
7. John, who though habitually and pointedly ignores all of us when in the wrong mood, is still easier to joke around than his fast-talking partner.
8. Jim, who I remember saying gave off the unmistakable air of the big piss-me-off-and-suffer-my-wrath boss initially, is still intimidating albeit professionally friendly. Still calls me "girl". Still fights with Harsha like a pair of old marrieds. Differs from John in that while I joke with John, my comfort zone only permits me to laugh at Jim's jokes. Extremely sycophantically.
9. To top even John and Jim are Mr and Mrs Cheng. The former pair are the bosses at work but the latter are the bosses of life.
My parents are, of course, not included. Because despite the little time we spend together, they're parents. Only parents give you hell for leaving your room in semi-chaos, pick you up from the station to save you a six-minute walk in the dark, and tells you to pee after sex to avoid urinary tract infections.
Anyway, I was amused to find myself desperately clinging to the faintest signs that Jez's parents don't disapprove of me. Oh look, she said hello to me. If she didn't like me she wouldn't have said hi. Right? Right? Hmm, he asked when I'm supposed to start uni. If he didn't like me he wouldn't have said that. Right? Right?
When I sheepishly stuck my head into the living room to say bye to Jez's dad, he asked whether Jez was driving me, and when I said no, told me to be careful on the way home. I took it as a somewhat positive sign. Desperate times call for desperate ways of thinking.
Saturday
I came home with ingredients for cinnamon buns. They were childishly easy to make, provided a bread machine is available. After observing the astronomical amounts of butter, margarine (yes, both!) and sugar that were used in this sweet and twirly creation, I swore to never snack on the seemingly innocent Baker's Delight cinnamon rolls again.
If I do say so myself, they aren't bad. My health-conscious parents found the richness a little unsettling but my grandparents loved them. Tomorrow Eugene and Jez will be subjected to my amateurism.
I was speaking to Victor earlier. The guy is completely in love with Jen and asked me for gift ideas. I thought the two of us were quite similar, but quite apart from coming up with stuff that Jen likes I couldn't even think of what I like. I said Miu Miu. He said what's Miu Miu. I said don't worry, she's so smitted with you I'm sure she'll like anything you buy. He said what's smitten. I said ... .
2.21.2008
I've just had a sudden realisation ...
L'Occitane's Amande range smells delicious.
More importantly, I'm shallow.
Yes, I already knew that. Yes, I know you already knew it too. However it's to a much more significant extent than I previously thought.
So I've been friends with this guy for awhile. Let's call him Clancy, only because it's the most homosexual name that sprang to mind.
Anyway, Clancy and I are dota friends. Meaning we have rarely spent any, if at all, time together in person. Much like Gaylord and Sergio, my other dota friends, both of whom I have (briefly) met no more than twice. Ever.
I was following a train of thought a few minutes ago and thought of Clancy, who is currently single. I know for a fact that never in a hundred years would I consider taking our relationship a quarter of an inch above "platonic friends". It's an unquestionably, solid fact.
Then I wondered why. Clancy is all of the following:
More importantly, I'm shallow.
Yes, I already knew that. Yes, I know you already knew it too. However it's to a much more significant extent than I previously thought.
So I've been friends with this guy for awhile. Let's call him Clancy, only because it's the most homosexual name that sprang to mind.
Anyway, Clancy and I are dota friends. Meaning we have rarely spent any, if at all, time together in person. Much like Gaylord and Sergio, my other dota friends, both of whom I have (briefly) met no more than twice. Ever.
I was following a train of thought a few minutes ago and thought of Clancy, who is currently single. I know for a fact that never in a hundred years would I consider taking our relationship a quarter of an inch above "platonic friends". It's an unquestionably, solid fact.
Then I wondered why. Clancy is all of the following:
- Intelligent
- Financially stable
- Worldly
- Funny
- Well-spoken
- Quick-witted
On top of that, he was practically made from the top-boyfriend mould. Or at least had left that impression.
However, Clancy is eye-liquorice.
Yawn
Judging by the warnings I received yesterday, I set off for work with an air of entering war.
Centre Management has cooked up another one of their little evil shopping schemes that cleverly and very effectively brainwashes shoppers to blow their week's pay in a Greenwood store.
Last month they introduced their spend-$100-or-more-at-any-store-and-receive-a-$25-voucher scheme, which we took great advantage of by printing duplicate receipts for every voucher-eligible sale.
Days after that offer ended, another one started - spend $25 or more at any store and receive a box of Fardoulis chocolates free. We weren't as interested in cheating this one as it will lead to nothing more than a plethora of confectionery. I did end up claiming one box though. Jez and I nomnom'd it all whilst cooking dinner.
Anyway, today's was slightly more complicated. Centre Management staff stood around the plaza hanging out little pamphlets with $5 vouchers attached. Most shops had their own specials (which seeing as it was a 1-day sale were quite massive) but often the discounts could not be given in the absence of a voucher. So the sensible thing to do was to wander around the plaza for an hour or so and collect as many pamphlets as you can before shopping.
What was I saying?
It was a pleasant sort of busy. Nowhere as hectic as Mirjana and John predicted.
Jez had a man-date with Nathan tonight. The latter came to visit me at lunchtime for a favour of passing on the message of where the two of them were to meet, as he had left his phone at home. I was visited by an urge to give Jez the wrong time and place.
I'm totally kidding. Why would I be jealous of Nathan? I'm twice the woman he is.
Centre Management has cooked up another one of their little evil shopping schemes that cleverly and very effectively brainwashes shoppers to blow their week's pay in a Greenwood store.
Last month they introduced their spend-$100-or-more-at-any-store-and-receive-a-$25-voucher scheme, which we took great advantage of by printing duplicate receipts for every voucher-eligible sale.
Days after that offer ended, another one started - spend $25 or more at any store and receive a box of Fardoulis chocolates free. We weren't as interested in cheating this one as it will lead to nothing more than a plethora of confectionery. I did end up claiming one box though. Jez and I nomnom'd it all whilst cooking dinner.
Anyway, today's was slightly more complicated. Centre Management staff stood around the plaza hanging out little pamphlets with $5 vouchers attached. Most shops had their own specials (which seeing as it was a 1-day sale were quite massive) but often the discounts could not be given in the absence of a voucher. So the sensible thing to do was to wander around the plaza for an hour or so and collect as many pamphlets as you can before shopping.
What was I saying?
It was a pleasant sort of busy. Nowhere as hectic as Mirjana and John predicted.
Jez had a man-date with Nathan tonight. The latter came to visit me at lunchtime for a favour of passing on the message of where the two of them were to meet, as he had left his phone at home. I was visited by an urge to give Jez the wrong time and place.
I'm totally kidding. Why would I be jealous of Nathan? I'm twice the woman he is.
2.20.2008
Jez.
I love you too <3 And you have my roobois tea. Maybe you should post. Do you want to post? I think you do. I think you should. I miss your old blog. Not the pretentious free-yourself one. The other one. It was like junk food for the brain. I know you need to vent too. About how fat those chocolates are making you. How sweaty your sheets are. Come on. I'm so bored I'm blogging three times in one night. I've also read Tyler Durden twice. Even the story about Jennifah Yopez.
Mmm, Morrison
I would turn lesbian for Jennifer Morrison.
It hasn't been a great day for us. We bickered constantly and intermittently until Jez crossed the line by chewing on a large bite of mince wrap for five minutes and forcing the soggy product of salivary amylase digestion into my mouth.
Thinking back, I'm amazed that I had decided to swallow it in consideration for his bed linen. Neither did I want to return the muck to his mouth. Not that he would have let me if I tried.
I was amused that today, out of all the days, the pharmacists picked on me for being so head-over-heels in love. I don't suppose they caught a glance of me sending Jez almost-threatening SMS's or practically throwing his chocolates into the gift box. I suppose the mere gesture of messaging him at all or intending to give him chocolates is enough for them to assume that I'm smitten out of my mind.
"Are you inviting us to your wedding?" John asked.
"Why, would you guys come?"
"Of course. We'd go anywhere for free food."
"Well there won't be any. You're paying for it."
"Don't worry Annie," said Mirjana. "You're going to be a well-paid pharmacist."
John nodded in agreement.
I stopped attending to the dispensary bin and stood up.
"Can I have one of your pharmacies then?"
"For how much?"
"For nothing. Just give it to me."
John summoned Harsha to the dispensary and scolded her for her negative influence. Earlier today when the Homy Ped rep was training us for the winter range, Harsha demanded that we each receive a free pair of shoes.
I feel almost obliged to write "happy 9 months babe" before ending the post. But it hasn't been happy. Who cares. We made it this far. You must realise that somebody who half-willingly ingests your processed mush must love you beyond words.
So go nom nom on your chocolates.
It hasn't been a great day for us. We bickered constantly and intermittently until Jez crossed the line by chewing on a large bite of mince wrap for five minutes and forcing the soggy product of salivary amylase digestion into my mouth.
Thinking back, I'm amazed that I had decided to swallow it in consideration for his bed linen. Neither did I want to return the muck to his mouth. Not that he would have let me if I tried.
I was amused that today, out of all the days, the pharmacists picked on me for being so head-over-heels in love. I don't suppose they caught a glance of me sending Jez almost-threatening SMS's or practically throwing his chocolates into the gift box. I suppose the mere gesture of messaging him at all or intending to give him chocolates is enough for them to assume that I'm smitten out of my mind.
"Are you inviting us to your wedding?" John asked.
"Why, would you guys come?"
"Of course. We'd go anywhere for free food."
"Well there won't be any. You're paying for it."
"Don't worry Annie," said Mirjana. "You're going to be a well-paid pharmacist."
John nodded in agreement.
I stopped attending to the dispensary bin and stood up.
"Can I have one of your pharmacies then?"
"For how much?"
"For nothing. Just give it to me."
John summoned Harsha to the dispensary and scolded her for her negative influence. Earlier today when the Homy Ped rep was training us for the winter range, Harsha demanded that we each receive a free pair of shoes.
I feel almost obliged to write "happy 9 months babe" before ending the post. But it hasn't been happy. Who cares. We made it this far. You must realise that somebody who half-willingly ingests your processed mush must love you beyond words.
So go nom nom on your chocolates.
2.19.2008
Moleh Moleh Moleh
Yesterday a girl who looked pretty much identical to this came to our Medibank Private counter to make a payment.
My attention only briefly caught by her pink plastic sandals and astonishing familiarity in appearance, I returned to whatever task I was delegated at the time.
After a few minutes I looked up to see her stomp away. I can't put it into words, but it was most hilarious. I mean I've seen some exits in my time, but this ... this is just something else.
I feel sort of mean. But come on, she looked like Moleman. Jez would have laughed. I get my mean streak from him. He constantly pokes fun at fat people. That's worse, right? Right?
For someone who thought she was the least-liked person in the workplace, I was on the receiving end of what I took as a major compliment when Mirjana complained after I helped her process about fifteen scripts during a particularly busy lunch-hour.
"What am I going to do when you're gone?"
I laughed and told her she has Ismat. She sighed. "But nobody types as fast as you."
And nobody forgets to give change as often as me. Neither does anybody accidentally process one person's script under another's name. But that aside, I do type rather speedily.
Jez is annoyed with me. I make him twitch (with jealousy) too often and rack my brains as I might but aside from befriending Yongfook (whose website he visits far more often than I do) on Facebook I can't think of what horrible deeds I've done to cause this.
I might be a nut for feeling an unexpected rush of affection for him. Why? Because possibly due to being on the other side of a closed vault, he's actually talking to me.
For somebody else I might shrug say "so what", but this is Jez. Jez is dumb when upset. Dumb in the medical sense. I never would have thought myself the type to see the brighter side, the silver lining, the good in people, yada yada yada, but I'm more appreciative of the fact that my boy is opening up to me about his sooking than upset or angry that he's sooking in the first place.
I've laughed at people who were so over-their-heads in love that they were almost another entire species. Now I'm afraid I've become one of them.
My attention only briefly caught by her pink plastic sandals and astonishing familiarity in appearance, I returned to whatever task I was delegated at the time.
After a few minutes I looked up to see her stomp away. I can't put it into words, but it was most hilarious. I mean I've seen some exits in my time, but this ... this is just something else.
I feel sort of mean. But come on, she looked like Moleman. Jez would have laughed. I get my mean streak from him. He constantly pokes fun at fat people. That's worse, right? Right?
For someone who thought she was the least-liked person in the workplace, I was on the receiving end of what I took as a major compliment when Mirjana complained after I helped her process about fifteen scripts during a particularly busy lunch-hour.
"What am I going to do when you're gone?"
I laughed and told her she has Ismat. She sighed. "But nobody types as fast as you."
And nobody forgets to give change as often as me. Neither does anybody accidentally process one person's script under another's name. But that aside, I do type rather speedily.
Jez is annoyed with me. I make him twitch (with jealousy) too often and rack my brains as I might but aside from befriending Yongfook (whose website he visits far more often than I do) on Facebook I can't think of what horrible deeds I've done to cause this.
I might be a nut for feeling an unexpected rush of affection for him. Why? Because possibly due to being on the other side of a closed vault, he's actually talking to me.
For somebody else I might shrug say "so what", but this is Jez. Jez is dumb when upset. Dumb in the medical sense. I never would have thought myself the type to see the brighter side, the silver lining, the good in people, yada yada yada, but I'm more appreciative of the fact that my boy is opening up to me about his sooking than upset or angry that he's sooking in the first place.
I've laughed at people who were so over-their-heads in love that they were almost another entire species. Now I'm afraid I've become one of them.
2.18.2008
Cupid Can Be Stupid
When I was a little kid my grandma bought me a pretty pair of shoes. For days I refused to wear them out in fear of getting them dirty, but instead wore them to bed every night.
I'm a sucker for novelties.
I wear my cream dress whenever I'm out of uniform. I've neglected all other handbags in favour of the Witchery poppy tote. I've just spent the last half hour writing down every last thing I could think of into the new '08 diary I bought this afternoon, including Labour Day, which is eight months away.
I've also planned ahead and made a note on Jez's birthday. When he told me last April to leave 19th, July free, I thought he was thinking rather far ahead, and was somewhat flattered that he planned to be with me for a lengthy ... three months. Probation period. Where's my pay-rise? :(
I think further ahead. If I had already bought my 2010 diary, the 20th of May box would have scrawled inside it "GETTING MARRIED!".
We were stressed at the pharmacy today, swimming in copious amounts of Vicks products and enough ibuprofen to fight Cruciatus.
I'm still semi-amusedly puzzled at what Frig gets out of confiding in me. Feeling like no advice is better than contrived advice, I've offered little more than non-committal e-grunts. I suppose at troubled times, one needs nothing more than a listening ear, and though the lengthiness of it all irks me when I'm trying to watch Jerry O'Connell's Tom Cruise impression, my curiosity compels me to read every word.
Extract from the latest and self-proclaimed emo post:
"... and you know what? I won't be waiting for you. I don't expect/want you to wait for me. We're heading for different directions, towards different happinesses. Pain is the first step in healing"
I like that. I like it a lot. Fuck waiting. I'm so sick hearing about ex-couples who insinuate or state straight out that they hold hopes for reconciling in the future (cough Jez, re: 24th August). What exactly are you banking that on? Things don't fall into place on their own accord. We have to make them.
I feel that I should stop before I become too passionate.
I'm a sucker for novelties.
I wear my cream dress whenever I'm out of uniform. I've neglected all other handbags in favour of the Witchery poppy tote. I've just spent the last half hour writing down every last thing I could think of into the new '08 diary I bought this afternoon, including Labour Day, which is eight months away.
I've also planned ahead and made a note on Jez's birthday. When he told me last April to leave 19th, July free, I thought he was thinking rather far ahead, and was somewhat flattered that he planned to be with me for a lengthy ... three months. Probation period. Where's my pay-rise? :(
I think further ahead. If I had already bought my 2010 diary, the 20th of May box would have scrawled inside it "GETTING MARRIED!".
We were stressed at the pharmacy today, swimming in copious amounts of Vicks products and enough ibuprofen to fight Cruciatus.
I'm still semi-amusedly puzzled at what Frig gets out of confiding in me. Feeling like no advice is better than contrived advice, I've offered little more than non-committal e-grunts. I suppose at troubled times, one needs nothing more than a listening ear, and though the lengthiness of it all irks me when I'm trying to watch Jerry O'Connell's Tom Cruise impression, my curiosity compels me to read every word.
Extract from the latest and self-proclaimed emo post:
"... and you know what? I won't be waiting for you. I don't expect/want you to wait for me. We're heading for different directions, towards different happinesses. Pain is the first step in healing"
I like that. I like it a lot. Fuck waiting. I'm so sick hearing about ex-couples who insinuate or state straight out that they hold hopes for reconciling in the future (cough Jez, re: 24th August). What exactly are you banking that on? Things don't fall into place on their own accord. We have to make them.
I feel that I should stop before I become too passionate.
2.17.2008
Liquid Chocolate
I have a shrewd feeling that Eugene's girlfriend is either lacking his affection or non-existant.
When getting acquainted during our first couple of shifts together, I asked about his special someone and learnt that the two of them have been together for three years.
Then I asked whether he thought he was going to marry her, to which he responded with a sigh and "I think I might have to".
Last week's trip to Korea was the first time he saw her in seven months. I asked how the trip was when I walked into work this morning.
"Great! It was really fun." He said.
"And how's your girlfriend?"
He laughed nervously. "Yeah. Good. I mean, what else am I supposed to say." Shrug shrug. Sigh sigh.
I boasted to Jez that I served eight customers within seven minutes today. This was because Eugene was on the phone for about an hour. He was speaking Korean, so it couldn't have been related to work. Secret lover, I say.
Jez and I had dinner at George's. The bruchetta was heavenly. I don't mean to be all mushy mushy about my food, but I fell in love. I really did. If you asked me who I'd save if Jez and a piece of bruchetta were drowning, I'd have to get back to you.
In other news, Jenny has hooked up with Victor. I'm jealous because they're so cute together.
Almost as cute as Jez and me. Almost.
When getting acquainted during our first couple of shifts together, I asked about his special someone and learnt that the two of them have been together for three years.
Then I asked whether he thought he was going to marry her, to which he responded with a sigh and "I think I might have to".
Last week's trip to Korea was the first time he saw her in seven months. I asked how the trip was when I walked into work this morning.
"Great! It was really fun." He said.
"And how's your girlfriend?"
He laughed nervously. "Yeah. Good. I mean, what else am I supposed to say." Shrug shrug. Sigh sigh.
I boasted to Jez that I served eight customers within seven minutes today. This was because Eugene was on the phone for about an hour. He was speaking Korean, so it couldn't have been related to work. Secret lover, I say.
Jez and I had dinner at George's. The bruchetta was heavenly. I don't mean to be all mushy mushy about my food, but I fell in love. I really did. If you asked me who I'd save if Jez and a piece of bruchetta were drowning, I'd have to get back to you.
In other news, Jenny has hooked up with Victor. I'm jealous because they're so cute together.
Almost as cute as Jez and me. Almost.
2.16.2008
10 Ways In Which I'm Silly
Everyone realises at some stage that they're a bit of an idiot. As if the previous post wasn't enough to prove that of me, I've realised that there are little things I do that make me intolerable. So why are you still bothering with me if I ...
1. Regularly injure myself
2. Spend a fortune on a dress only to throw it away with the tag still attached
3. Steal the blanket
4. Laugh when people fall over
5. Honestly believe that a new piece of clothing will solve everything
6. Hold grudges
7. Lie about missing the train and being late to work while in reality sit inside a toilet cubicle waiting for my toenails to dry
8. Fish for compliments
9. Promise to save money but miraculously blow $150 within one afternoon without knowing how
10. Habitually skip the most important meal of the day
1. Regularly injure myself
2. Spend a fortune on a dress only to throw it away with the tag still attached
3. Steal the blanket
4. Laugh when people fall over
5. Honestly believe that a new piece of clothing will solve everything
6. Hold grudges
7. Lie about missing the train and being late to work while in reality sit inside a toilet cubicle waiting for my toenails to dry
8. Fish for compliments
9. Promise to save money but miraculously blow $150 within one afternoon without knowing how
10. Habitually skip the most important meal of the day
Sick
After staying up all night doing PVP with Kevin, Jez wasn't likely to wake up in the forseeable future.
In the end, my persistent whinging and guilt-tripping dragged the boy out of bed.
Jez's dad came home from work while I was in the bathroom. The door was open as I was only applying make-up, but I wasn't seen from the outside.
The two of them were talking. I eavesdropped unintentionally and heard from Jez's dad an angry list of irresponsible things I've done during recent weeks. I really can't explain the shock. There wasn't much for me to do apart from remain standing rooted to the spot, scared of what he was going to say next, ashamed of my stupidity and anxious about what would happen when papa Cheng walks into the bathroom to take a shower like he always did after work, to find me standing there soaking up every single word.
Inevitably that happened. Awkward pause. I grabbed my ghd and unplugged it like my life depended on it and said "sorryI'mdoneyoucantakeyourshower". He was quicker with "noit'sokaytakeyourtime" and left.
After a minute I came out to find him in the kitchen. We discussed the problems briefly and I went into Jez's room feeling terrible. Jez was sitting at the computer and stood up quickly as I entered. Awkward pause. I grabbed the ghd again and plugged it into the socket like my life depended on it and in my haste painfully burnt my thumb on its 220°C slab of ceramic.
We sat on the bed. Jez put his arm around me and asked if I was okay. I hate it when people do that. If you're with some poor person on the verge of tears the seemingly-appropriate but absolute-worst thing you could do is showing that you care. Assuming that they want to avoid sobbing hysterically, which was the sensible thing to do if you're wearing freshly-applied mascara.
I held my thumb in my right hand and burst into tears, insisting stubbornly that I was crying about the burn. Considering I scraped off half the skin on my knee just last week and got up without a wince I guess that lie wasn't going to be bought.
Never in a million years did I think I shared Jez's habit of closing up like a vault when upset. But I do. And while Jez now understands how frustrating it is to be the other person, I understand how difficult it could be to tell the truth when overwhelmed with embarrassment and shame.
After much dwindling and re-application of make-up we left for North Sydney. Plan A was to lunch at Ryo's, watch Definitely, Maybe and finish in time for dinner with Marcus and Hugo, Jez's work buddies. Plan B involved walking for 20 minutes to Falcon St to find the restaurant closed, running for an approaching bus in the completely wrong direction, having no time for any movie that runs for longer than 30 minutes, and eating rather revolting chili fettucine at a cafe we swore we'd never again visit.
I would have said the day was absolutely disastrous, but dinner was delicious. I would have said that the day took an upturn at this point, but unfortunately just about every morsel of the delicious dinner found its way back out of our mouths.
We woke up in the morning laughing about it until our stomachs hurt, but at the time there was absolutely nothing funny about what I'm about to recount next.
I forget how many hurricanes we had at dinner, but it was enough for me to drop Hugo's iPhone, blurt out that my ex and I lasted 3.5 years by accident, and stumble down the stairs leading to the toilets feeling like I was flying.
We should have said no to K, but by that time we were too out of it to refuse and obediently handed over $100 to Hugo. $50 each? What the hell for?
My memory of K was blurry, but it did involve me belting out Jay Chou, Jez and I singing Slide to each other - it might have been cute if VB wasn't threatening to cross our blood-brain barrier, and something quite embarrassing on Jez's behalf that I won't mention. Although what I did already mention are probably embarrassing enough, anyway.
Neither of us remembered how we walked out of K, because the next thing we knew we were on George St and I pointed out that our bus was conveniently waiting for me. How I managed to recognise the route number or in fact distinguish between a bus and monkey riding a unicycle I'll never know.
On the bus, Jez tilted his head back and slept while I sobbed uncontrollably into his lap, crying about my grandmother and murmering "come back" between my sniffles. A couple of lunatics.
I didn't sleep at all. Every twenty minutes or so my stomach would give the familiar grumble and I was forced to sprint to the toilet and vomit out what was after awhile absolutely nothing at all. I drank water in desperation for substance to replace empty retching, and remember saying more than just a few times "I really just want to die".
Jez, however, didn't think before puking. As a result I threw away my pair of Scooter flats in the morning while he rinsed orange gunk from his mobile and DS chargers.
I knew I should have listened to that little curry voice inside my head.
"I don't think you should do it."
In the end, my persistent whinging and guilt-tripping dragged the boy out of bed.
Jez's dad came home from work while I was in the bathroom. The door was open as I was only applying make-up, but I wasn't seen from the outside.
The two of them were talking. I eavesdropped unintentionally and heard from Jez's dad an angry list of irresponsible things I've done during recent weeks. I really can't explain the shock. There wasn't much for me to do apart from remain standing rooted to the spot, scared of what he was going to say next, ashamed of my stupidity and anxious about what would happen when papa Cheng walks into the bathroom to take a shower like he always did after work, to find me standing there soaking up every single word.
Inevitably that happened. Awkward pause. I grabbed my ghd and unplugged it like my life depended on it and said "sorryI'mdoneyoucantakeyourshower". He was quicker with "noit'sokaytakeyourtime" and left.
After a minute I came out to find him in the kitchen. We discussed the problems briefly and I went into Jez's room feeling terrible. Jez was sitting at the computer and stood up quickly as I entered. Awkward pause. I grabbed the ghd again and plugged it into the socket like my life depended on it and in my haste painfully burnt my thumb on its 220°C slab of ceramic.
We sat on the bed. Jez put his arm around me and asked if I was okay. I hate it when people do that. If you're with some poor person on the verge of tears the seemingly-appropriate but absolute-worst thing you could do is showing that you care. Assuming that they want to avoid sobbing hysterically, which was the sensible thing to do if you're wearing freshly-applied mascara.
I held my thumb in my right hand and burst into tears, insisting stubbornly that I was crying about the burn. Considering I scraped off half the skin on my knee just last week and got up without a wince I guess that lie wasn't going to be bought.
Never in a million years did I think I shared Jez's habit of closing up like a vault when upset. But I do. And while Jez now understands how frustrating it is to be the other person, I understand how difficult it could be to tell the truth when overwhelmed with embarrassment and shame.
After much dwindling and re-application of make-up we left for North Sydney. Plan A was to lunch at Ryo's, watch Definitely, Maybe and finish in time for dinner with Marcus and Hugo, Jez's work buddies. Plan B involved walking for 20 minutes to Falcon St to find the restaurant closed, running for an approaching bus in the completely wrong direction, having no time for any movie that runs for longer than 30 minutes, and eating rather revolting chili fettucine at a cafe we swore we'd never again visit.
I would have said the day was absolutely disastrous, but dinner was delicious. I would have said that the day took an upturn at this point, but unfortunately just about every morsel of the delicious dinner found its way back out of our mouths.
We woke up in the morning laughing about it until our stomachs hurt, but at the time there was absolutely nothing funny about what I'm about to recount next.
I forget how many hurricanes we had at dinner, but it was enough for me to drop Hugo's iPhone, blurt out that my ex and I lasted 3.5 years by accident, and stumble down the stairs leading to the toilets feeling like I was flying.
We should have said no to K, but by that time we were too out of it to refuse and obediently handed over $100 to Hugo. $50 each? What the hell for?
My memory of K was blurry, but it did involve me belting out Jay Chou, Jez and I singing Slide to each other - it might have been cute if VB wasn't threatening to cross our blood-brain barrier, and something quite embarrassing on Jez's behalf that I won't mention. Although what I did already mention are probably embarrassing enough, anyway.
Neither of us remembered how we walked out of K, because the next thing we knew we were on George St and I pointed out that our bus was conveniently waiting for me. How I managed to recognise the route number or in fact distinguish between a bus and monkey riding a unicycle I'll never know.
On the bus, Jez tilted his head back and slept while I sobbed uncontrollably into his lap, crying about my grandmother and murmering "come back" between my sniffles. A couple of lunatics.
I didn't sleep at all. Every twenty minutes or so my stomach would give the familiar grumble and I was forced to sprint to the toilet and vomit out what was after awhile absolutely nothing at all. I drank water in desperation for substance to replace empty retching, and remember saying more than just a few times "I really just want to die".
Jez, however, didn't think before puking. As a result I threw away my pair of Scooter flats in the morning while he rinsed orange gunk from his mobile and DS chargers.
I knew I should have listened to that little curry voice inside my head.
"I don't think you should do it."
2.14.2008
Just a Quick Update
Things have totally flipped 180° at work. Harsha and Mirjana are now unbelievably nice to me (presumably after I started really helping out) and dumping all the unwanted little mundane tasks to Meryl.
Apparently my cookies are really good.
And I've just had the best Valentine's Day (or rather, night) in my whole fucking life.
Apparently my cookies are really good.
And I've just had the best Valentine's Day (or rather, night) in my whole fucking life.
2.11.2008
Instant Noodle Soup
I've always found that while instant noodles are often a blast of super flavoursome, about 99% of the flavour lies within the soup. The noodles themselves are disappointing both because they have little taste compared to what they're swimming in and are also kind of limp, especially after they've soaked for awhile.
So I tried something. I took out the seasoning packets and made soup. It left me thirsty ... for more! No, not really. Just thirsty. For something else, anything else, anything at all.
So I tried something. I took out the seasoning packets and made soup. It left me thirsty ... for more! No, not really. Just thirsty. For something else, anything else, anything at all.
2.10.2008
Ouchless
This morning I broke my fifteen-year absence of semi-serious falling-related accidents and fell flat on my arse, only after having my left knee being caught underneath me, resulting in an excruciating graze. I hope nobody slipped on all the skin I left behind on the pavement.
I waddled into work to find John M. Thank God Eugene wasn't back yet, because he'd probably be hung over and try to disinfect my wound with a bottle of Agrum.
Met Jez after work to eat at Makoto and Passionflower. When he handed me my new pink DS I tried to open the box and instead flung it onto the floor.
I couldn't really think about anything else other than how much I wanted to cut my entire left leg off so I could escape the mindboggling pain that radiated from my patella. Even the sex was painful, especially when Jez, without noticing, pressed his arm against my knee (hard) at what was probably the most inappropriate time of all.
We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the backyard playing EBA and Mariokart, and taking a nap after which I wanted to tie myself to the bed in protest of not wanting to leave.
I waddled into work to find John M. Thank God Eugene wasn't back yet, because he'd probably be hung over and try to disinfect my wound with a bottle of Agrum.
Met Jez after work to eat at Makoto and Passionflower. When he handed me my new pink DS I tried to open the box and instead flung it onto the floor.
I couldn't really think about anything else other than how much I wanted to cut my entire left leg off so I could escape the mindboggling pain that radiated from my patella. Even the sex was painful, especially when Jez, without noticing, pressed his arm against my knee (hard) at what was probably the most inappropriate time of all.
We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the backyard playing EBA and Mariokart, and taking a nap after which I wanted to tie myself to the bed in protest of not wanting to leave.
Sunday Bloody Sunday
I look at my knee and can't recognise it. Knees aren't supposed to be a gooey mess of flesh and skin, are they?
I'm working with John today. Not John who calls me Ann, but John who sings along to Timbaland.
He dressed my hideous wound with some gauze and micropore. I bought a support bandage to wear on top.
I'm working with John today. Not John who calls me Ann, but John who sings along to Timbaland.
He dressed my hideous wound with some gauze and micropore. I bought a support bandage to wear on top.
2.09.2008
Raarrrr!
I realised something. I'm attracted to fangs. Not like this, but the little regular-sized pointies that some people are blessed with on each side of their upper jaw. Such as those seen on James King and my ex. And this is why I go cuckoobanananuts for Jez's smile.
Friday
Ever since Harsha presumably overheard my complaint about her to Meryl, she has been unusually nice to me. Apart from sending me out for drinks and offering to pay for mine, she has relieved me of her usual incessant list of tedious duties and letting me work at my own pace. She has also taken to smiling at me about 900% times more often, which is a little creepy.
Unfortunately for Meryl, this change of attitude had only applied to me. Returning from lunch, I found her fuming and muttering under her breath. The rest of the day passed uneventfully with Meryl repeating time and time again that it wasn't wise to get on her bad side. I suppose she takes some pleasure watching me bounce around testing make-up and forgetting to give change.
Speaking of me, I think I kick some serious butt. Everyday ...
10:00 am
Arrive at work
10:00 - 11:00 am
Dust products and shelves, bring stock forward
11:00 am
Morning delivery from Symbion
11:00 - 12:00 pm
Mark off delivery stock and refill shelves, refill dispensary stock
12:00 - 1:30 pm
Serve massive influx of lunch-time customers
1:30 - 2:00 pm
Lunch
2:00 - 4:00 pm
Vacuuming or bins, often both
4:00 pm
Afternoon delivery from Symbion
4:00 - 5:00 pm
Mark off delivery stock and refill shelves, refill dispensary stock
5:00 - 5:30 pm
Serve minor influx of after-work customers
5:30 - 6:00 pm
Count tills, close up
6:00 pm
Finish work
Realising that lazing about was definitely not going to be accepted here, I now have barely ten minutes' rest. Most peculiarly, it suits me better, always having something to do.
Straight to Jezzybear's place after work. The boy does this every week - the second we set foot in his room he runs to the computer and loads WoW. While usually I'm not bothered by it, I threw a right little tantrum as I watched him go at it again as if I wasn't there. Half-naked. In his bed.
The thing about my anger is that it dissipates as quickly as it emanates. Sometimes it transforms into a thirst for guilt. I watched Jez apologise and express self-hate with a blank face, but inside my head there was a little kid with a lollipop bouncing on a trampoline and laughing hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee HA HA HA HAR HAR HARRRGHHHHRHRHGHGH!!!
One of the things I love most about Jez is the way we sleep together. I have a peculiar habit of rolling away from him into the corner while asleep. Whenever it happens, Jez would wrap his arms around me and pull me back. Or cling to my waist if I'm facing the other way. I promised myself I'll never take this cute little quirk of his for granted, although there have been a number of times when I consciously moved away. As a test, you know.
Saturday
When I mentioned that my mum wasn't in the mood to cook Chinese New Year dinner as she was anxious about her throat biopsy, Jez suggested that we take over the kitchen.
We browsed recipes before leaving Jez's house, and decided on rosemary and potato pizza and seafood longevity noodles. While I thought the latter average, the pizza was excellent, and I could tell from the expression on Jez's face at the dinner table that he, like me, wasn't satisfied with only one slice.
Sunday
It isn't Sunday yet, but it will be soon, and when it is, I'll be the proud owner of a pink DS, and we'll be snuggled up in bed nibbling on a rosemary and potato pizza all to ourselves. Something this great is worth writing about in advance, surely?
Friday
Ever since Harsha presumably overheard my complaint about her to Meryl, she has been unusually nice to me. Apart from sending me out for drinks and offering to pay for mine, she has relieved me of her usual incessant list of tedious duties and letting me work at my own pace. She has also taken to smiling at me about 900% times more often, which is a little creepy.
Unfortunately for Meryl, this change of attitude had only applied to me. Returning from lunch, I found her fuming and muttering under her breath. The rest of the day passed uneventfully with Meryl repeating time and time again that it wasn't wise to get on her bad side. I suppose she takes some pleasure watching me bounce around testing make-up and forgetting to give change.
Speaking of me, I think I kick some serious butt. Everyday ...
10:00 am
Arrive at work
10:00 - 11:00 am
Dust products and shelves, bring stock forward
11:00 am
Morning delivery from Symbion
11:00 - 12:00 pm
Mark off delivery stock and refill shelves, refill dispensary stock
12:00 - 1:30 pm
Serve massive influx of lunch-time customers
1:30 - 2:00 pm
Lunch
2:00 - 4:00 pm
Vacuuming or bins, often both
4:00 pm
Afternoon delivery from Symbion
4:00 - 5:00 pm
Mark off delivery stock and refill shelves, refill dispensary stock
5:00 - 5:30 pm
Serve minor influx of after-work customers
5:30 - 6:00 pm
Count tills, close up
6:00 pm
Finish work
Realising that lazing about was definitely not going to be accepted here, I now have barely ten minutes' rest. Most peculiarly, it suits me better, always having something to do.
Straight to Jezzybear's place after work. The boy does this every week - the second we set foot in his room he runs to the computer and loads WoW. While usually I'm not bothered by it, I threw a right little tantrum as I watched him go at it again as if I wasn't there. Half-naked. In his bed.
The thing about my anger is that it dissipates as quickly as it emanates. Sometimes it transforms into a thirst for guilt. I watched Jez apologise and express self-hate with a blank face, but inside my head there was a little kid with a lollipop bouncing on a trampoline and laughing hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee hee HA HA HA HAR HAR HARRRGHHHHRHRHGHGH!!!
One of the things I love most about Jez is the way we sleep together. I have a peculiar habit of rolling away from him into the corner while asleep. Whenever it happens, Jez would wrap his arms around me and pull me back. Or cling to my waist if I'm facing the other way. I promised myself I'll never take this cute little quirk of his for granted, although there have been a number of times when I consciously moved away. As a test, you know.
Saturday
When I mentioned that my mum wasn't in the mood to cook Chinese New Year dinner as she was anxious about her throat biopsy, Jez suggested that we take over the kitchen.
We browsed recipes before leaving Jez's house, and decided on rosemary and potato pizza and seafood longevity noodles. While I thought the latter average, the pizza was excellent, and I could tell from the expression on Jez's face at the dinner table that he, like me, wasn't satisfied with only one slice.
Sunday
It isn't Sunday yet, but it will be soon, and when it is, I'll be the proud owner of a pink DS, and we'll be snuggled up in bed nibbling on a rosemary and potato pizza all to ourselves. Something this great is worth writing about in advance, surely?
2.07.2008
Frisky Much
I'm not sure why, but lately I have been craving a lot of sex.
Unfortunately timing is inopportune. I have antibiotics interfering with the efficacy of my pills, and as tomorrow will be the last active tablet, I'm fertile myrtle. D:
Speaking of sex, I've come to notice that approximately one in every four purchases is a pregnancy test. People around here must do a lot of spontaneous fucking, I remarked. Meryl said it sounded more like something she would say.
As pleasant as Mirjana can be when in the right mood, I was relieved that it was her day off. Jim works at Greenwood on Thursdays and unlike Mirjana does not summon me to the dispensary for the most petty tasks, like processing a script while she's busy with a mouthful of butter chicken.
I also find it mildly amusing that Jim addresses me as "girl". Girl, when do you start uni? We're out of $10 notes, girl.
At the end of the day I did something agonizingly stupid. Unable to budge the heavy stands near the doorway, I pushed with my whole body and crushed my left hand between the stand and the wall. The force was great enough to crush my ring. Flattened, it was cutting off the circulation to my increasingly purple ring finger. After lathering my hand with soap continuously for ten minutes to no avail, I grit my teeth and pulled at it with all my strength. I'm pretty sure I damaged my joint. :(
I thought Jez would be so mad. Maybe he is on the inside. I am. I'm furious with myself. I didn't realise how often I played with the ring until now, when I would reach for it every few minutes to find that it's no longer there.
Unfortunately timing is inopportune. I have antibiotics interfering with the efficacy of my pills, and as tomorrow will be the last active tablet, I'm fertile myrtle. D:
Speaking of sex, I've come to notice that approximately one in every four purchases is a pregnancy test. People around here must do a lot of spontaneous fucking, I remarked. Meryl said it sounded more like something she would say.
As pleasant as Mirjana can be when in the right mood, I was relieved that it was her day off. Jim works at Greenwood on Thursdays and unlike Mirjana does not summon me to the dispensary for the most petty tasks, like processing a script while she's busy with a mouthful of butter chicken.
I also find it mildly amusing that Jim addresses me as "girl". Girl, when do you start uni? We're out of $10 notes, girl.
At the end of the day I did something agonizingly stupid. Unable to budge the heavy stands near the doorway, I pushed with my whole body and crushed my left hand between the stand and the wall. The force was great enough to crush my ring. Flattened, it was cutting off the circulation to my increasingly purple ring finger. After lathering my hand with soap continuously for ten minutes to no avail, I grit my teeth and pulled at it with all my strength. I'm pretty sure I damaged my joint. :(
I thought Jez would be so mad. Maybe he is on the inside. I am. I'm furious with myself. I didn't realise how often I played with the ring until now, when I would reach for it every few minutes to find that it's no longer there.
2.06.2008
Harsha Harsha Harsha
Meryl and I are feeling rather repressed after the unwelcome return of the tragically irritable woman known as Harsha.
The effort it costs me to complain isn't worth ten times the excuse of a colleague she is.
I was slightly amused by Ismat's new enthusiasm for the dispensary. Two days ago I saw her watching me process a script from the corner of my eye. Yesterday Mirjana was seen teaching her how to dispense, and the eager beaver took over.
Whatever. Being mostly likely to spend the rest of my life behind the counter I'm not exactly treasuring the experience. What I thought took a lot of nerve, however, was for Ismat to call me to the dispensary for the more mundane task of putting away stock. I suppose she has become too accustomed to delegating the less pleasant aspects of her job to doormats like me. Of course I ended up doing it. You can't fight the workplace food-web. Nom-nom.
The effort it costs me to complain isn't worth ten times the excuse of a colleague she is.
I was slightly amused by Ismat's new enthusiasm for the dispensary. Two days ago I saw her watching me process a script from the corner of my eye. Yesterday Mirjana was seen teaching her how to dispense, and the eager beaver took over.
Whatever. Being mostly likely to spend the rest of my life behind the counter I'm not exactly treasuring the experience. What I thought took a lot of nerve, however, was for Ismat to call me to the dispensary for the more mundane task of putting away stock. I suppose she has become too accustomed to delegating the less pleasant aspects of her job to doormats like me. Of course I ended up doing it. You can't fight the workplace food-web. Nom-nom.
Sweeney Todd
It's so unusual for me not to post everyday, but at the moment there's nothing worthwhile to say.
I could whinge about my UTI, I could describe in intricate detail why Harsha is a hypocritical twat, I could just not say anything at all.
Jez and I watched Sweeney Todd last night. Was very gruesome indeed, but nevertheless gripping. Even though Johnny Depp looks like complete different people in all of his films due to massive amounts of make-up, there was too much resemblance between Sweeney and (oddly) Willy Wonka. I wondered if there were any children in the cinema staring at the screen with their mouths open. "What happened to Willy Wonka? :(" Wonka gone bad. :D
I could whinge about my UTI, I could describe in intricate detail why Harsha is a hypocritical twat, I could just not say anything at all.
Jez and I watched Sweeney Todd last night. Was very gruesome indeed, but nevertheless gripping. Even though Johnny Depp looks like complete different people in all of his films due to massive amounts of make-up, there was too much resemblance between Sweeney and (oddly) Willy Wonka. I wondered if there were any children in the cinema staring at the screen with their mouths open. "What happened to Willy Wonka? :(" Wonka gone bad. :D
2.02.2008
❤
"Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm, change the weather, still together when it ends"
Amg. Get Dreaming Out Loud. I had to stop listening because I'm orgasming too much.
Yes I know that the above lyrics aren't OneRepublic.
I'm totally smitten with my new poppy bag. $250 well spent, I know. Could have come in helpful when I'm stuck outside UN at 2 am trying to find my way home, right? Right? Giggle. Fuck off tickle army!
Turns out my frigid friend has run into new troubles. Over Lily now, he now has more than just a little crush on his friend Carmen, who incidentally is smitten with his high-school buddy James, who supposedly absolutely gorgeous but dating an ugly duck. Drama drama drama.
I'm tired of it. Once upon a time I found it somewhat exhilarating to be up and down in relationships. Chasing boys that detested me and ... actually nevermind.
I love that we haven't lost the spark.
And we won't. :)
Amg. Get Dreaming Out Loud. I had to stop listening because I'm orgasming too much.
Yes I know that the above lyrics aren't OneRepublic.
I'm totally smitten with my new poppy bag. $250 well spent, I know. Could have come in helpful when I'm stuck outside UN at 2 am trying to find my way home, right? Right? Giggle. Fuck off tickle army!
Turns out my frigid friend has run into new troubles. Over Lily now, he now has more than just a little crush on his friend Carmen, who incidentally is smitten with his high-school buddy James, who supposedly absolutely gorgeous but dating an ugly duck. Drama drama drama.
I'm tired of it. Once upon a time I found it somewhat exhilarating to be up and down in relationships. Chasing boys that detested me and ... actually nevermind.
I love that we haven't lost the spark.
And we won't. :)
Hurt
My latest in my series of minor but frequent injuries is a small piece of glass embedded in my wrist. Subconscious suicide attempt? Gasp.
No, well, really. It's a little chip of black glass. When I rested my wrist on the desk I realised that it was painful and bleeding. And black. There was a teensy bit poking out from under my skin and the rest was sitting snugly inside, raising a little bump. The tweezers couldn't grip the exposed part so I dug in and pucked it out. Unfortunately it broke and I spent five minutes scavenging all the pieces.
Other than that I have two cuts on my arm - both as a result of moving past piles of sharp construction materials in the shop; a cut on my leg from the edge of a plasterboard; and a scratch on my knuckle from God knows what.
It's not that I'm not careful, but raising my guard probably won't hurt. Hurt. Get it? Haha.
Friday
Jez messaged me five minutes before I finish work. Getting a haircut at Chinatown.
He emerged from the salon looking peculiar. I didn't like the way they left a little sweeping fringe when the sides were trimmed so short. Say no more to Asian hairdressers. Please, I beg you.
We had sushi at the place across from Capitol Square. Mango salmon. Fried fish skins. Mmm. Mmm ... Mmm?
Maloney's for drinks with mostly-Jez's friends. Though Jez vehemently denies this, I think he would have enjoyed himself immensely if not for my presence. To be honest Maloney's was high on my list of last-places-I-wanted-to-be. Mainly because when placed on a chair in a stuffy room with a glass of alcohol after a week's worth of work, staying awake is out of the question without periodically sticking pins into my nipples.
This was evident when I tried to take a photo with Becca and was puzzled over why it would not work when she pointed out that I was in fact holding the camera back-to-front.
Jez caught my eye every few minutes, wrinkled his nose at me and mouthed "I love you". I considered going home to save him the burden of looking after me. Of course he didn't allow it.
By the time we were home, Jez was drunk. There's a bright side though.
I slept comfortably.
Saturday
Was visited by the familiar lower-abdominal burning. After some agony Jez decided to take me to the doctor.
His hair was excellent this morning. I found it highly irritating that he chooses to look sexier than I've ever seen him while I'm a frizzy little ball of mess in my soiled dress.
As it happens, not only did the burning disappear before we arrived, Dr M. was off and the waiting time was estimated to be one hour. There were like twenty patients before me. What's that, like 3 minutes each? My kitty cat needs more than 3 minutes.
With me muttering lame sorries, we ate lunch at Sahara and walked through Westfield like a couple of high-school kids. When Jez left a little bit of me died.
No, well, really. It's a little chip of black glass. When I rested my wrist on the desk I realised that it was painful and bleeding. And black. There was a teensy bit poking out from under my skin and the rest was sitting snugly inside, raising a little bump. The tweezers couldn't grip the exposed part so I dug in and pucked it out. Unfortunately it broke and I spent five minutes scavenging all the pieces.
Other than that I have two cuts on my arm - both as a result of moving past piles of sharp construction materials in the shop; a cut on my leg from the edge of a plasterboard; and a scratch on my knuckle from God knows what.
It's not that I'm not careful, but raising my guard probably won't hurt. Hurt. Get it? Haha.
Friday
Jez messaged me five minutes before I finish work. Getting a haircut at Chinatown.
He emerged from the salon looking peculiar. I didn't like the way they left a little sweeping fringe when the sides were trimmed so short. Say no more to Asian hairdressers. Please, I beg you.
We had sushi at the place across from Capitol Square. Mango salmon. Fried fish skins. Mmm. Mmm ... Mmm?
Maloney's for drinks with mostly-Jez's friends. Though Jez vehemently denies this, I think he would have enjoyed himself immensely if not for my presence. To be honest Maloney's was high on my list of last-places-I-wanted-to-be. Mainly because when placed on a chair in a stuffy room with a glass of alcohol after a week's worth of work, staying awake is out of the question without periodically sticking pins into my nipples.
This was evident when I tried to take a photo with Becca and was puzzled over why it would not work when she pointed out that I was in fact holding the camera back-to-front.
Jez caught my eye every few minutes, wrinkled his nose at me and mouthed "I love you". I considered going home to save him the burden of looking after me. Of course he didn't allow it.
By the time we were home, Jez was drunk. There's a bright side though.
I slept comfortably.
Saturday
Was visited by the familiar lower-abdominal burning. After some agony Jez decided to take me to the doctor.
His hair was excellent this morning. I found it highly irritating that he chooses to look sexier than I've ever seen him while I'm a frizzy little ball of mess in my soiled dress.
As it happens, not only did the burning disappear before we arrived, Dr M. was off and the waiting time was estimated to be one hour. There were like twenty patients before me. What's that, like 3 minutes each? My kitty cat needs more than 3 minutes.
With me muttering lame sorries, we ate lunch at Sahara and walked through Westfield like a couple of high-school kids. When Jez left a little bit of me died.
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