IYLIWQI - If You Love It, Why Question It.

If You Love It, Why Question It.

Recently, SHD has been buying Yakult again after a period of about 10 years. The last time I remembered drinking that, was when I was about thirteen. I would always go for the orange flavoured one first and even after so long, I still do. And it evokes the same childhood memory I get everytime I use my right index finger to poke a hole and then break the packet to pick the orange one out, leaving the apple flavoured one dangling at the end.

I adore the scent, Hugo Boss, Energise. It puzzles me as to why I would try a new scent and then leave it half full before I switch back to Energise. It must be by somewhat adventourous palate.

I like all sorts of chocolate and whenever I am in a chocolate store, I would spend a substantial amount of time looking through the various artisanal products neatly arranged on the store shelf, but I will always end up with a bar of dark chocolate. Undistinguished and regular when
compared to handmade chocolate, a piece of art in itself.

I take all sorts of alcohol (been trying to cut down on beer) I don't even know why I would bother the server for a menu when I usually would start with a glass of house white or sparkling or a Mojito. I don't even know why I would bother the server for a menu, (like it's my first time there) when I go to a bar I always frequent and order the same drink like I always do.

I love the cuff at first sight but I bought another bracelet (because it was half the price), having to buy the cuff 8 months later. And then losing the cuff in a cab 1 month after I bought it. I reported it to the lost and found department but I sincerely doubt, nobody will be THAT honest to report it, unless that person has had the same experience as I had.

I enjoy Moet & Chandon. However, I will always browse the rest of the bottles by the different champagne houses in a duty free store before leaving with a bottle of Moet & Chandon. I might be looking for something different, something better, something that will make me change my mind, but not yet.

When it comes to certain issues, I am by no means close to whatever I have written.
A battle which I am constantly inching to win but consistently seem to be retreating. This I accord to the culture in which we were brought up. The conformity, seeking of social acceptance. The irregularity, fearing of the unknown. The mentality, of being judgemental. However, I cannot be bothered anymore. In fact, over the past few weeks, I haven’t been bothering about a lot of things. And it doesn’t matter, really. I have got to stop struggling internally. I am not going to miss living my life entirely. I want out, I want to be free. My dear, I am coming out.

IJSTIANTBT - It Just Shows that I Am Not The Blogging Type.

It Just Shows that I Am Not The Blogging Type.

After a few months of what seemed like a dry spell. I decided to quickly just do another post. Well, the last post stopped at my anticipation of the England trip which went great! Two weeks flew by just like that. The two weeks were especially hectic now that my cousin and her hub has a 9 week old and a 2.5 year old.

Daily routine: Family of four wakes up at 0530, a two hourly feeding and sleeping cycle for the 9 week old starts, 2.5 yr old tears the living room apart with her toys, dad tries to do some work (he works from home) before he goes cycling at 8am, mum juggles feeding and playing and household chores, me wakes up between 1000-1100 and witness the war damaged living room and heads into the bathroom to washup and sits on the icy cold toilet seat as I take a poop, we have breakfast together if I get up at 0900, if it's a Monday and Wednesday, prep the 2.5 yr old for pre-school, if not I spend what's left of the morning to play with 2.5 yr old, then either mum or me makes lunch, we have lunch together in between feeding and trying to pacify both kids, clean up the living room, then we prep to head out to the beach/castle/island/zoo/caves/mall, car ride rocks both kids to sleep, 2.5yr old usually cranky and turns truly evil and Satanic if she doesnt get enough eye shut, we try to calm her down and in between 9 week old takes a poop and needs to be cleaned, we do whatever we are doing that day and in between feeding and cleaning the 9 week old, go back home and try desperately to to keep 2.5 yr old awake (so that she doesnt get Satanic again before bedtime) by singing, guessing games, playing "Where is the (insert whatever animal that comes our way)?", takeaway or make dinner with the 2.5 yr old tearing up the living room again, send the child of Satan to sleep, feeding the 9 week old and waits for him to sleep and then clean up the living room again, have our tea and chatting session in the living room with the tv on if anything interesting is on.

ALL of this x 2weeks = my preview of parenthood.

It doesnt seem that bad, really. I love kids. The 2.5 yr old (my god daughter) was wonderful when she decides not to worship Satan. An extremely happy child. My favourite photos of her are one with blood on her mouth with her still smiling (told you she's evil), the other with sauce from her spag bog all and the third one as Satan's child (throwing tantrums with her gigantic minnie mouse ears sticking out from her hairband).

YAY

YAY, I literally mean that and this is why.

Last thursday I decided to be ambitious to give the choux buns another shot after 2 unsuccessful attempts. The 1st attempt, I tried to pipe it out with a baking sheet piping bag, the mixture burst out of the sheet and fell on the kitchen floor! The 2nd, I used my reusable bag and decided to throw it away as it was WAY too much work to clean it. The mixture has a texture like very sticky play dough, imagine the hassle. The buns came out hard on the outside and undercooked inside. =s

So thursday was a success! Well, I used a different recipe and filled it with a chocolate chilli filling instead of custard which I intended to use for the 2 failed attempts but used it in another sweet treat instead.

Once they cooled, I immediately filled one up and devoured it. And once all were filled, I ate 2 more. Yum.
*****

Then on Sunday, we had steamboat over at a cousin's place and I made dessert, my 2nd attempt which I improved on. Well, I didn't have a name for it so my cousin named it Meringue Custard Blueberry Crumble. What a mouth full, let's just call it MCBC. That's.. so... me.

On the car ride home, I shared a story my cousin about her mum and I with our French cousin, his wife and kid. While we were going to our car at the SPH building, we walked past a security guard and he said to the 2yr old (in English) ,"Hello boy boy." We returned polite smiles. He continued with (in English still),"Where are you going boy boy?" We returned polite but awkward smiles and kept walking. Then my auntie (who 100% of the time doesnt remember where she parks her car or the destination that she is driving to) said,"The baby only understand French, he doesn't understand Chinese." I quickened my pace and smiled to myself.

CWTO - Conversations with the oldies.

Conversations with the oldies.

Part 1: Dinner conversation with Ah-Nag-Mum (ANM). We spoke about driving lessons and tests and the interesting part came when ANM spoke about her test. The conversation went something like this:

ANM: When I was waiting for the light to turn green, a bus pulled up beside me. I was rather afraid, I was shaking and the engine nearly stalled. I made some mistakes as well. Up till today, I am still wondering how I managed to pass it. You don't have to be afraid ok, just go ahead and do your best.
Me: But daddy said you bribed the guy to let you pass. (I was made to believe that. Even my aunties say that. Until this conversation. ANM hasn't drove after the test. And I begin to question myself why Stay-Home-Dad (SHD) married a princess who doesnt know how to cook and do household chores until they got together. Love is blind, they say. Or maybe my elder brother forced them to.)
ANM: NO!! I didnt bribe the guy. I think it was because of our conversation we had in the car. Last time I was working with PSA (Port of Singapore Authority) and the guy was a part time tester. So he was asking me what I did for a living and when he found out that I was with PSA, he seemed more and more interested as his other job involved searching for cargo space. He asked me for a discount and I said the next time he goes to PSA, he can come look for me and I'll give him a discount. All this time I was smiling when I was talking to him. But the truth is, I didn't work at the counter, I worked at the back office.
Me: So you lied to him?!
ANM: Ya. (very non-chalantly)
Me: And you didnt see him after that?
ANM: No. (same attitude)
Me: Huh. (ANM knows how to play the game. Man, she does)

I realised that in some ways, ANM and I are quite alike, although I hate to admit it. We use our charms to get things done our way. It's a gift, I would say. God knows how many aunties I have killed. Bigger scoops of ice cream, cutting queues subtly, freebies!, etc. Yeah, yeah, too bad for you.

Part2: Lunch conversation with SHD while watching the Olympic Games in the living room. He made soup and rice, and finished his portion first. Sounds unappetizing but the soup had everything in it! He makes good soups too.

SHD: The vegetables are at the bottom of the bowl.
Me: The rice is cold. (blatantly and mercilessly. But it was more of my fault, I woke up at 130pm. I adopted the rice on spoon, dunk in soup method.)
SHD: Put the rice in your soup.
Me: Okay.
SHD: The vegetables are at the bottom of the bowl. Eat your rice with your soup, then it won't be cold.
Me: Yessss...
SHD: Don't you want some soy sauce in your soup? Earlier on, I put all my rice into the soup.
Me: Nooooo. (By then, i was wearing this expression. -_________-)
SHD: You sure you don't want any sauce?
Me: Noooooooooooooooooo.. Would you like to repeat anything else? (coldly but jokingly)

Well, I was very much annoyed by his second "rice in soup" statement. SHD says that,"They say as people get older, they tend to repeat their sentences." By that much?! In that case, SHD is aging rather quickly. At the rate he is repeating stuff, he must be 238yrs old!

Part3: Television conversation with ANM in her room. My cousin from England called to check on my flight details. Shortly before that, she spoke to ANM. I was in her room still when my cousin hung up, wanting to spend some time with her while blogging. SHD was dozing off already.

ANM: What do you think she'll want from Singapore?
Me: Mooncakes and instant porridge.
ANM: Hmm.. Maybe I should go with you to England in September.
Me: huh (keeping my voice low, while SHD rescues me)
SHD: Go for what?! (sounding irritated, because she had so many holidays this year)
Me (hoping to add more firepower): Ya loh, you went for so many holidays already. You have alot of money meh?
ANM to SHD: I want to go without you la! Want to go with my son!
Me: HUH! But I want to go alone! Why dont you go next time?
ANM: WWWHhhhHHhyyyyyYyyYyy (incredibly irksome tone, like some bimbo. The type that I truly loathe.)
Me: Ok, end of conversation. (picking up my laptop and exiting her room with lightning speed)
ANM: WWWaaaaaAaAAAiiittttt.. (arrrrrghghghghghghghg)
Me: What.
ANM: But I want to go and see her newborn.
Me: Another time la, when he's older. My ticket's free, yours isn't. Got to go. Good night. (quick escape.)

I just want a long holiday without my parents, especially not with ANM! One month more to England!

WACM - What a cryptic message.

What a cryptic message.

We celebrated a friend's birthday last friday at a decent Japanese-French fusion restaurant. Set dinner of 7-courses were pretty good, though we all unanimously agreed that the mains could do with more greens. 3 out of 4 of us had beef, the other, myself, had cod. The beef came in slices with a fan of tempura spaghetti (imagine the skeleton of a chinese fan with long thin "bones"), set on a leave and on a piece of hot stone granite on a bed of pebbles on a plate.

When we asked the waiter what the fan was (it wasn't stated on the menu, ok.), he swiftly but surely replied, "Oh, that's spaghetti tempura, you can either eat it or use it." His answer definitely left us puzzled. Use it? What did he mean? You surely can't fan yourself with it. You can't pick your teeth either. You can try to dig the dirt out of your fingernails and risk breaking the "bones" and them getting stuck there. We thought nothing of it anymore as we eagerly started on our mains, with our room cloaked in silence.

More about the beef when we got interuppted. The hot stone granite allows you to cook the beef slices to your desired doneness. However, there is one small flaw. The moment the beef slices reached the individual's desired doneness, they had no where to put it. They had 2 choices, either risk putting it on the shady looking pebbles or leave it on the still-cooking-hot granite, thus ensuring your beef is nicely overcooked. I prefer my beef to be medium-rare, at most medium. Anyway, so a friend decided to put her slices on top of the fan of spaghetti.

"Ah, i know where to put it"
Me: Wah lau eh, that's how you use it, like the waiter said. What the hell, why his message so cryptic?!"

Dessert pretty much sums up the overall experience. Nicely done, well-plated, good decor, knowledgeable and slightly humorous service staff.

Prior to dinner, we had a pretty late lunch at around 3pm at a Japanese joint as well. Then we had this hilarious conversation with C and D about D's mum.

Me: What time did you wake up today?

D: 11am. My mum came into my room (gesturing with her hands, her mum shaking her shoulder),"D, aren't you going out today?" Then I was like," YAAA!! But not so early laaaaa."

Then I recall the numerous times D had related a story about her mum waking her up in the past. As described by D, her mum would enter her room, off the a/c, open the windows, throw a blanket on her to warm her, I mean, wake her and start chatting with the still fast asleep D. How cruel is that?! But it's damn funny when you listen to it. I hate that heat generating feeling.

C: Lock your room door?
D: No use, she'd probably think that something happenned.

Me: Stick a note to tell her what time you want to be woken up?

D: Tried that. The other time I stuck a note that says, "Slept late, do not wake me up before lunch." She came in BEFORE lunch (gesturing again) and gently said,"D, what time do you want to have lunch ah?"

Cute.
*****

Saw this yesterday in a toilet cubicle in some industrial area. I cannot resist not taking a picture of it. Nice doors, bad paper quality and very much below average English. I mean, when was this put up? In the 1980s?!

IAAOM - I am ashamed of myself.

I am ashamed of myself.

Indeed I truly am, to let people know that I cook. A silly mistake, which I related to my childhood friend who came by for lunch today.

Stay-Home-Dad (SHD) made his signature porridge today, knowing that we will be expecting a guest. So while my friend and I were catching up over porridge, I told her the main event that happenned yesterday which will scar me for life.

Here's why.

Before SHD went for his routine workout yesterday, he left a set of instructions for me to carry out (cut up garlic, onions, potatoes, carrots and wash and cut greens). Having finished those tasks, I noticed a small bowl of uncut chilli padi willing me to cut them up, which I did, hypnotized and obligated to do so. Hence, without hesitation and with a paper kitchen towel (to reduce the amount of essence that'll stay on my fingers), I proceeded to seed them and chop them up, throwing the paper towel 1/3 way through (damn troublesome). THEN, I felt a tsunami approaching, I rushed to the toilet to relieve myself with my water-rinsed chilli hands!! At that point in time, relieving myself seemed more important. Until, I felt a burning sensation with dickie. OMFG! What a himbo! With that, I heard the doors unlocked and SHD's warning,

"After you cut up the chilli padi, don't touch your eyes with your hands."
Me: Err, okaaayy..*my voice trails off* muttering: My fucking dick is burning, but thanks for the warning, at least I know one place less to touch.
SHD: What's that?
Me: *mustering up my best normal voice* "Nothing, thanks for the warning. Why don't you go shower?" As colloquially as possible.

Better than dripping wax, I would say.

Oh well.

*****

Which reminds me of another no less humiliating story which happenned to me in the toilet when I was warded in hospital. Yep, that's right, all good things happen in the toilet.

During the car ride after having coffee with 2 friends, I recalled a certain comedic moment I had in the hospital toilet when my friend spoke about some toilet issues.

Here's what's comedic.

Day1 evening, the nurse put me on a portable drip stand. Before that, we had this short conversation. *Spoiler: If you can't handle sexual innuendos, I suggest you stop reading here*

Sickeningly Sweet Nurse (SSN): Which hand do you want me to insert your drip?
Me: Err...
SSN: Which is your master hand?
Me: Err.....
SSN: Huh..
Me: Well, I write with my right hand but I play tennis and other sports with my left. However, I don't think that I am ambidextrous. (While saying that, I was simultaneously thinking if I should tell her,"My masturbation hand can?" But then, what if I alternate between Miss Left and Miss Right? And what if I.. Okay, way too many details.)
SSN: Okaaaaaaay.. So... Which hand?
Me: Err.. Since the drawer (with my non-sexual entertainment materials) is on the right, then my left hand loh.
SSN: You sure?
Me: Yep, please go ahead.

With that, she proceeded to mercilessly carry out the step by step procedure which ended with a satisfied smile and nod from her.

Forward to next morning, standard procedure: brush teeth, wash face, bake cake. All these done while pushing the stand with me. After baking, I needed to clean up and I was astounded by a shocking truth, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO CLEAN THE OVEN WITH MY RIGHT HAND! I was in a half squat position, thinking whether to go in between my legs or from outside my right thigh. I tried both and it felt extremely idiotic and mildly amusing. I sat back down and laughed as silently as possible, hoping that my wardmates did not have super sensory hearing. Now, that felt damn weird but I couldn't help but laugh. In the end, I managed to clean the oven and exited the toilet pretending nothing interesting happenned inside.

"You never cease to amaze me!", my friend said. "First the armpits, then now this!" Laughing hysterically.

*Cue for armpit story*
Ok, I'll make the armpit story short. Went for a cousin's wedding overseas this June. Went to pick up bride on wedding day.Then, saw alot of people. Then, saw very little food. THEN, saw many flies hovering around food. THEN, saw the bridesmaid. Then, realised she was quite pleasant looking with her nicely done up hair and her decent dress. THEN, saw the bridesmaid's armpit hair!! I disconnected my gaze without going down further. -_______________-

Felt like doing this to her.

Then, I couldn't help it but took a second look (something that you just want to look a few times, to... u know.. be sure) It cannot be categorized as hair! It's... So.. Dense. Come on man, I mean, woman, don't wear something sleeveless, if you dont have the habit of shaving. I dont think it is even considered slightly sexy in the country we were in. Grooming check babe, grooming check.

But then again, this speeds up the process.

10,20,50

10cents, 20cents, 50cents, that is.

My Medical Leave got extended till the 16th of August! Oh well. I'm just going to make good use of the time. With that, I decided to pack my room yesterday, sorting out the writing table first, moving on to the cluttered floor and my lazy chair (I've dethroned all my stuff, which has been reigning king for several months now) and finishing up with my display cabinet.

I impatiently dug out my FORTUNE from the piggy banks to only come to.. a.. disappointing.. sum.. of $63.60. Gee, I think I have piglet banks.

Already having slight OCD when I was in my geeky days, wearing my 2inch thick glasses, I had 3 piggy banks, one each for 10,20 and 50cents, in that order, in a straight line, from left to right in my display cabinet. Mum wanted to keep 50cents, but I advised her against it since 50cents doesn't have a butt plug, instead she's using a stick on pad that prevents side leakage (made of unopened packet of alcohol swipe and tape) and her skull's cracked. In the end, she unwillingly got rid of it. Hopefully, my friend will accept 10 and 20cents which are still in pristine condition to give to the kids at the home where she works.

My prized possessions in the cabinet with the collection of Chocolate Liqueur, Moets, etc. Gold bottle of Prosseco, Greek Citrus Liqueur (green peeping out), vintage Chocolate Raspberry Cabernet sauce, Canadian Dream Catcher, Venetian Mask, Greek Chess Set and finally, the limited bottle of Grappa from Cathay Pacific, a birthday gift. More bottles of "Too-Large-To-Fit" alcohol in a box! Anyway, what makes the Grappa even more unique is the glass figure in the bottle! A model of the Airbus 330! All hand blown! Close-up shot on the right.

Some stuff still needs to be done, frame up some artwork, pack my wardrobe and secretly exercising. Haven't done so in months, just started my routine today, hoping against Hope, that Stay-Home-Dad and Ah-Nag-Mum never will find out. According to Ah-Nag-Mum, I can't carry heavy stuff and exert any force after my operation.

I don't promise that I will not try. Stealth.

NEND - No expectations, no disappointments.

No expectations, no disappointments.

I met a friend in the evening to get some stuff from her. We talked for a bit before she let out a,"You didnt tell me about your op, but some of your friends knew! Do you even treat me as your friend?!" I paused for a while. Recalling some issues she had with her partner, I calmly told her,"I think you expect too much sometimes, from your friends, even from your partner. And if they don't live up to your expectations as how they should behave, you will begin to question their actions and be disappointed. Don't you think you'll be happier if you didn't expect so much?" And then we completely avoided the topic altogether. Having known her for almost 2 years now, I deduce that she's the type of person who will give her all in a friendship and a relationship and she expects the same from the other party. A naive, wide-eyed princess who I truly appreciate as a friend. The first friend, I have made since starting my job.

I am rather particularly private even though I might seem to have a pretty exuberant personality at times. I get extremely uncomfortable when people, especially strangers whom I have met for a few hours start probing about my personal life. Making conversation is not an excuse. There are a trillion and one things to talk about.

Therefore, starting this blog has been and is a GIANT step for me but I don't count on myself to release everything. I live life with many mantras, one of which,"No expectations, no disappointments." This, which I have learnt in the critical years of my adolescence where I can get quite disturbed when my friends do not behave in a way I expect them to. One day, it just hit me. I have no right to expect them to behave how I think they should, we are all individuals. Hang on, I DO have a right to expect and they do have a right NOT to conform as well. I respect their decision makings and require no need for explanation. You do not have to explain to anybody, because people who like you, do not need it and people who do not like you, would not belive you anyway. The only time when I want to listen to an explanation is when I am in the mood for stories. My mood comes in very regular intervals.

Who doesn't like a bit of gossip. Come on.

*****

Looking forward to having a break in September when I have 2 weeks of leave, Holiday Leave! Going off to England to see my precious god daughter. Charming, a darling, really. I saw her last year when all she could say was,"No way!" I spoke to my cousin a few days ago and heard from her that kiddo here has started asking her mummy repeatedly if she knows when I am dropping by for a visit and what I am currently doing. Usually leaves my cousin stunned with a "How the f*** would I know what he's doing now?" kind of look. Can't wait to see you too babe.

IHALBFW - I'm having a long break from work.

I'm having a long break from work.

Sounds ideal but understanding my present situation, NOT so ideal. I am on Medical Leave till the 1st of August from the 7th of July, which makes it almost a month! Cut the story short, went for operation, therefore Hospitalization Leave.

However, this break came at a good time too. Of finding several things to occupy my mind, I decided to start a blog today, after much protests from myself when my friends initially urged me to start one. I finished several books in the past 2 weeks, including one which I am re-reading now, having finished it 2 days ago, The Sharper Your Knife, The Less You Cry by Kathleen Flinn. The book is about her finally realising her dream to attend the world renowned culinary school, Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. (I did not make it to the top of the Tower, it was WAYYYY too cold, just took some quick shots)

http://www.kathleenflinn.com/

http://www.cordonbleu.edu/

This book was on loan to me by my dear cousin and these are her shoes of the moment, Varina, by Salvatore Ferragamo. Well, she owns one pair, this picture was just sent to her for her to decide on colour. Anyway, let's not digress.

I thank her for doing so (loaning me the book, not buying the shoes). It not only relieved me of boredom but also revived my passion for cooking and churning out baked goods (my virgin experience). I love working in the kitchen, with no help from my mum (not that I would ask for any). We have contrasting methods and we (more so I) usually end up snapping at one another (more so me snap her than her snap me. Try saying that 10 times faster, 10 times. It's fun to do).

With this relighted flame, I realised that there's only one answer, no doubt about it, to save and work towards a culinary school. Ever since I completed my Diploma in Hospitality Management with Temasek Polytechnic, I knew that cooking will definitely be on top of my list. Right now, I am still enjoying my job tremendously, though not in the kitchen. I will have enough fun, I will save enough money, I will go to a culinary school.

I quote, "Pastry is like people. Some dough needs a lot of kneading, some requires much less. Some dough is satisfied to rise just a little, while other dough needs to double in size. All dough needs warmth to rise." Unquote. Taken from The Sharper Your Knife, The Less You Cry - Memoirs of a Quiche.

With this, ends today's entry.