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.