On the up: Heroic boyfriends
On the down: Conditional love

A tried to piggy back me, sort of, today, which is no small feat considering I'm not exactly Tinkerbell. My mother was screaming away in the background that he might break his back and I was screaming away in his ear because he'd yanked me into a funny angle and it was hurting.

"But but but, I might need to save you from a fire one day," he said.

"Okay! Let's practise some more then!"

My mother started screaming again. "DON'T! You could really injure his back!"

So I suggested that maybe he should just pick me up by my legs and drag me out of the fire.

He put one of my arms around his neck and tried me drag me, like they do with drunk, passed out people. But that didn't work either because I wasn't passed out and was helping along by shuffling my feet. Not a good dress rehearsal.

Eventually, we decided he would just have drag me by my hands.

"It might damage your head though" he said. "If I drag you down the stairs, it'll bang your head."

"And then, what happens if I turn into a zombie?" I asked (must exhaust all possibilities, just in case).

"Well then, I'd have to kill you! I'll have to beat you over the head with a shovel."

On the up: Being manja
On the down: Colds and coughs

Shouldn't have spoken to soon. Just as I was talking about how everything was on the up up up, I've caught this horrible cold and cough. Blarrrrggghhhh.

See, just when I was all inspired to take over the world, do work, have boys with beautiful eyes fall on their knees for me, I get all snotty and coughy and look like shit. Something really is conspiring to stop me from working. It's a sign. I'm not meant to do work. Ever! .... After all, every time I start off trying to do a whole heap of work, something evil takes over and stops me.

On the upside, being ill is great for getting attention and A is being so damn lovely about everything. He was even going to drive out to buy me doughnuts at midnight last night.

Also, being ill makes everything taste so damn good. Is it just me or does getting ill make all this food look extra good? I eat SO much when I'm sick and the huge pleasure I get out of eating something that's usually pretty gross is magnified about a thousand times.

Like, when I used to get colds at uni, I would eat big bowls of instant mash potato and pasta and instant pasta sauce. Sounds totally gross but it is the nicest thing ever when you're sick.

This time round I'm craving Malay kuih and kettle chips.... but it doesn't matter what you give me to eat, it'll all taste great.

Blaarrrggghhhh... Am crawling back to bed. Bye bye.

On the up: Happy days
On the down: Being ill on happy days

Just about everyone I know at the moment is having a shitty time.

That is, except for me. I'm having a big fat fabulous time and am happy happy happy all the time. I make myself sick thinking how happy I am.

Everything is just going super sassy. I woke up with a hard horrible sore throat this morning and even that solved itself. I went to the chiro and the receptionist (her mother) gave me some funny looking iodine drops in water and it made the sore throat go away. Now it's evolved into a mutant cough and I feel like shit but it's also lovely because is being extra nice to poor ill me.

And for a change, I don't feel gross or fat or ugly, which is a huuuuumongous change for a neurosis packet like me. So, best make the most of a happy spell.

I went out for lunch with mother and we went into Toys 'R Us. I got real excited about a whole big pile of My Little Ponies at the entrance so my mummy bought me a pink and yellow My Little Pony called Summer Bloom.

There's been two things I've been wanting to get for ages: A My Little Pony and a Care Bear so I'm real happy.

Anyway I took Summer Bloom over to Damekhang to do some Dharma work with World Peace and Sharon and everyone loved her. Even Seng Piow (who I'm convinced thinks I'm quite a stupid girl) picked her up and started to brush her hair with the little yellow brush that it comes with.

I tried real hard to get lots of work done too and got to see heaps of Seng Piow's very clever photographers. He is the most clever photographer I know! Pity he thinks I'm so daft cos then I never have anything to say to him that doesn't come out sounding really silly.

World Peace laughs at all my jokes though, even if they're totally shit, and he does a great job of making me feel like I'm very clever and fabulous... And he has the nicest eyes - I've never seen a Chinese person with such nice eyes.

And another weird thing about being all hippy and happy and deluded by my own good joy is the sudden strange urge to do work. I mean really, I'm actually looking forward to writing my articles and (even more freaky) I'm enjoying it too! Now I'm really starting to scare myself.

Maybe it's just a good spell and I'm only working because the stuff I'm doing has been fun... well, hopefully it's just that and not that I'm becoming more strange than I already feel I am.

On the up: Divinity
On the down: Distractions by worldly affairs

Okay I admit I do *try* to do a set of prayers, sadhana, every day. It's my little sad pitiful attempt to connect to something higher just in case they forget about me. I don't want to die and be banging on some cloud and they're like "Who the fuck's that?!" and send me back to earth again. Bleah.

I have faith. Really.

I just think I'm probably going about it all the wrong way.

Like how my sadhana is dependent on things being all designer and pretty. So my statues are all campy and beautiful and very expensive of course because I'm materialistic like that. And my mala is very designer, made of pink pearls.

I know, I know the whole point of spiritual practice is detachment from material things, right? Oh well. My reasoning is it's better to have a little bit of attachment in the search of detachment, than not to strive for detachment at all.

And I just can't do my sadhana if it's too hot. Optimal conditions are when it rains and there's a nice breeze coming through the front windows. So that means the whole basis of my practice is conditional and detached, again.

And then, while I'm doing the actual sadhana and reciting mantras I'm thinking of everything but.

Today, I spent a good half a mala of Manjushri mantra thinking about having sex. Not that we're ever told sex is a bad thing (cos it ain't!) but the point is not to be attached to it, and thinking about it during prayer is probably a good sign as any that I'm still massively attached.

Sometimes I sit in sadhana thinking about just how irritated I am with someone and how I'm gonna get them back. In fact, those days, I look forward to doing my sadhana because I have a whole half an hour of "quiet time" to bitch about events in my head and scheme new ways of revenge. Which errr of course is not in line with compassionloveforgiveness and all that.

And I
definitely
cannot
do
my sadhana when I'm hungry, because then it's all "Hurry up hurry up. I want food. I want food. Eat eat eat." Attached!

And let's face it. Apart from Happiness For All Living Beings (which I do think is great and more of us should wish for it), my biggest impetus for editing Dharma books at the moment is so World Peace will think I'm fabulous and fall in love with me.

Attachment!

On the up: Writing well
On the down: Bad Grammar

Ok so I'm biased. It was 7 years in an English school, then 5 years in a highly competitive international school. English for GCSEs, Higher English for IB, then 4 years in a very English university doing two degrees in English lit.

Yah, I'm biased and rather priviledged but I've become obsessive compulsive about grammar. Coming back to Malaysia has been a real challenge.

Oklah so I know not everyone's first language isn't English and they haven't had an all-English education. It doesn't bother me so much when it's someone's second language and they are making the effort even if it's incomprehensible. And anyway, their English is usually a gazillion times better than my Cantonese and Malay anyway so I can't complain.

BUT

what
really
shits
me

is when people who have a pretty good 80-99% grasp of the language say stupid dumbass things like

stuffs instead of stuff (as in "I bought lots of stuffs today")
staffs instead of staff (as in "Our staffs are on leave today")
gossips instead of gossip (as in "I heard some gossips about her")
feedbacks instead of feedback (as in "I got lots of feedbacks")

It drives me totally insane. It's like one of those uncontrollable ticks that you can feel rising up from your belly, about to explode in a rage. "IT'S STUFFFFFFFFFFFFF NOT STUFFS! NO S! NO S! WHERE DID YOU GET THE S FROM?!"

GAHHHH

And and and

people who don't write emails properly. Fine if their English isn't good, but couldn't they just put in that tiny little effort to write "You" instead of "u" or "don't" instead of "dun" and spell properly instead of doing that lame 90s chatroom abbreviation thing??

It looks better and it's just common decency to write something legible instead of putting the other person out trying to figure out your heiroglyphics.

You know the sort. People who write like this:

"Hello. how ru? long time no c. wut u bin up2? sori i bin bz so dn hv time2rite. we shud mt up soon."

Actually, all the people who do write to me like that speak English as their first language, so there's no excuse.

GAAAHHHHH

On the up: Freelancing
On the down: The Corporate World

Mother dearest went to the hair salon today and bumped into a friend whose daughter, Joanna, went to the same primary school as me. Turns out Joanna's now working in one of those top consulting firms, very prestigious lah, you know - she now has the backing of big fat corporate name attached on her CV.

But she works until 3am every night and gets sent to fascinating places like Gombak.

Whe mother dearest told me all that I felt a ridiculous amount of gratitude that I'm not there, not doing that, not being a little pipsqueak accountant being worked like a sleigh-pulling Huskie in the Arctic.

I'd much rather do without the prestige, thank you very much.

They say gratitude is one of the key things for finding happiness. And when I think of all the little slaves in KPMG/Accenture/Ernst and Young etc (because everyone I know in those places are worked to the bone for not very much), I feel great gratitude and immense unrivalled happiness. HAH!

On the up: Nice dreams
On the down: Questioning the state of your mind

That's it, I've officially gone slightly bonkers. Was even dreaming about World Peace last night. I dreamt I kissed him in Nepal and then we had to go around acting like nothing had happened so the other people on the trip wouldn't find out.

I was telling Khandarohi all this silliness the other day and his only reply was "Ah Yo! WHAT are you smoking?!" like I had totally lost it.

I think he has a point. I'm not even on anything and I'm going bonkers. Imagine the added effect of stimulants.

On the up: Meeting old friends
On the down: The time it takes to see them

It takes about a month in advance to plan dinner or lunch with Shantini, Krystal and Lannie. For some reason, it's just so difficult to get four girls together. We must have the most complicated mismatched schedules ever to be found in a group of friends.

Shantini and I first met Krystal and Lannie at the gym many months back when we were thinking of doing some Nike challenge competition thing. We didn't do the competition in the end because none of the instructors wanted to head our team (gee!) so we decided to take off for cake and alcohol instead. Now our entire friendship revolves around eating fattening, unhealthy food and drinking martinis, which is quite ironic considering we'd all bonded over a step board where we'd been trying to get healthy.

We went to the new Alexis in BSC over the weekend and spent four hours gossiping about the silly things girls do (a large part of which obviously involves men bashing). And as is our newly-acquired tradition from dinners past, we crammed our faces together for photos we try to take ourselves. It's *ahem* character building and team working and lots of hard work trying not to cut anyone's nose out.

(PS notice how Shantini looks so glam in every shot, even when she's trying to make a funny face. Everyone else just looks distorted and ridiculous). She's been trained well by her mother.

On the up: Friends who care so much!
On the down: ~nil!~

Remember Project World Peace? The Three S’s have trulymadlydeeply taken it on as some kind new initiative. Every few minutes I get a funny little update by phone or MSN telling me something their every move in relation to PWP.

Chocolate-covered Shirley sent me a message yesterday: "FYI, I'm going to meet PWP at 7pm to discuss work. End of report." Hysterical!

After the meeting she came back with a faithful word-by-word report.

Today, Sharon cut and paste a conversation she’d had with him from MSN. It was nothing exceptional – something quite ordinary about what to eat for dinner. It was hysterical.

Then Shirley had another meeting today. As soon as she got back in her car, she rang to tell me all about it (without my even asking)

I’m starting to think they’re more excited about him than I am. But perhaps that's not such a bad thing? It's like they're planning marriage for me.

Then again, I would go barmy if they didn’t keep me updated because I’m controlling and obsessive like that. And anyway, it’s all the silly trivia that’s most fun.

On the up: Email
On the down: Inbox clutter

I just spent an hour clearing out my email inbox because I get totally terrible paranoid that my crappy little Yahoo quota will fill up and I won’t have any more space. It was only 26% and I was freaking out already (don’t ask lah, I am excessively paranoid).

Now it’s down to 20% and the panicking has subsided. This exercise has been strangely carthatic and yet probably totally useless especially if you consider the fact that I have a proper email account but insist on using web-based mail. I create my own problems, I know.

Then again, this whole thing could just be another of my wily self-deception tricks to avoid doing work.

Just like err.... incessantly writing in this blog even thought there's only about 3 people reading it.

On the up: High standards
On the down: A Cut Above

I have gotten myself into a routine of having my nails painted - if I leave them nude I chew at them and it's horrible. Sooo not nice to be seen gnawing on the end of a thumb. I can't paint my own nails because everything gets smudged and one hand always looks more crap than the other.

So I'm spoilt and I pay someone to do them for me.

Recently, I've been going to real nice places in Starhill which do an excellent job for not very much at all.

BUT It's dangerous to go to nice places because then your standards go up and it's hard to have them matched if you go anywhere else...

On Saturday I decided to get nails done and seeing as I'm not allowed to drive (orders by chiro) and couldn't be arsed to travel long distances ended up in Bangsar Shopping Centre. Grace Salon was full so I trolleyed my way up to A Cut Above.

Now after all that hype about how damn good it is, all the silly press, all those fancy awards, that big fat hugely marketed book about fabulous that damn hiau woman, Winnie Loo, is I thought it would be a pretty big f**king deal of a salon.

It wasn't.

It stank.

I couldn't wait to get out.

I suppose the big self-promoting posters of Winnie Loo plastered all over the reception should have been a deterrant enough but I am such a kind, lovely person and like to give people the benefit of the doubt so I braved it and went in.

I've never been a salon with so many tight squishy corners like a fucking maze. They lead me round and round and round, turn left, turn right, squeeze past a few chairs, step over somebody's feet, try to avoid a pair of scissors stabbing into my arm into some hot, squashed corner right at the back. It being Saturday, the salon was packed out of course and you were made to feel it.

Hairdryers blowing everywhere, people stepping all over each other, stylists that looked like they just really needed a holiday, screaming kids running all over the place, trolleys in the middle of everywhere you wanted to walk. It was a fucking nightmare - everything you don't want to experience when you go for a relaxing salon treatment.

It's like a fast-food salon. My manicure took all of 20 minutes and the girl looked highly strung like she couldn't wait to finish. Having been spoilt by Snip's @ Starhill's lovely manicure corner, having your nails done off a trolley in a hot stuffy salon is NOT what you want to be paying for.

The nail colours are all squeezed onto the top of a trolley so you can't see any of the colours properly and have to pick up every single bottle to check the shades. Everything looks chaotic. And of course, no slick machine thing to dry your nails. Just a hairdryer. Which just doesn't cut it anymore. Not when you're paying the same market rates (RM30) as the nice places

It was so NOT a nice salon experience and I am never going back. I'd much rather go all the way to town, sit in a traffic jam, pay expensive parking and pay RM2o more for a damn perfect manicure where the manicurist actually looks like she gives a shit.

Winnie Loo and her fancy advertising has a lot to answer for her not so fancy salon.

On the up: Laziness
On the down: Being housebound

I’ve discovered that driving aggravates my poor little legs the most. That whole move-leg-up-and-down from brake to accelerator wrecks havoc on the joints and the thigh muscles. Totally bizarre. And no matter what position I sit in, it hurts.

Time to change car?

Anyway I complained to the chiro so she’s said not to drive for a week.

And forget public transport. I don’t do public transport. Yuck.

So now, outwardly I’m like “Oh... poor me. I can’t drive, I can’t do anything, I’m stuck at home, no life, feel sorry for me.”

But secretly I’m all “Yay!!!! No need to go anywhere, can avoid all horrible appointments, can stay at home and be a vegetable.” The ultimate lazy me loves being housebound.

And believe it or not, I’ve actually been a good little girl today – sat at home and worked all day long!

See, there’s always something good that comes out of something bad.

On the up: All-you-can-eat Dim Sum at Eest
On the down: Over-eating

I persuaded the parents to go for Eest's all-you-can-eat dimsum today as a Sunday brunch thing. We made an afternoon of it and even invited family friends who were down from Penang.

The food took ages and everyone was getting antsy. In our hungry anticipation, we kept piling on orders of food even before anything had come. We got panicky and thought we should put in as many orders as we could before last orders... just in case the food didn't get to the table soon enough. We only had 1 1/2 hours!!!!!! *freak*

Okay, actually, when I say "we," I mean "me." I kept harrassing the poor waitress (who someone at the table had managed to find out was a trainee from Taylor's college - poor kid didn't know what she was in for when they stuck her in with waiting on us).

I gave her pained looks every time she came through the door like "Where's the food?!" and then ordered another few items. When the food came, we all ate like there was no tomorrow. These friends from Penang were telling us how people in Hong Kong order two things and take four hours to eat it.

I was all "WHAT?! Why????" Just couldn't be arsed with that pansying about of artistic eating and being social. Gobble gobble.

If I was that poor waitress and serving someone like me I'd be thinking "Geez woman, be patient. You can't be that hungry. No wonder you look like a har gau yourself."

Anyway, as things goes, we over ordered in our zeal and eventually reached a point where we had all over eaten and feel quite sick. Then we had to harrass the poor waitress again to stop bringing food.

Blearrggggh. Bloated.

On the up: Bubblegum scented shaving lotion
On the down: Shaving Gel famine

Is it just me or has anyone else noticed that you just can't get shaving gel for women in KL anymore? They only have their gross hair removal cream stuff that stinks to high heaven and gives me rashes, and men's shaving cream which smells so, well, butch and manly and gives me a headache.

What is everyone shaving their legs with?!

I've had to ask my nutty aunty from Singapore to bring some up for me when she next visits but because she's so nutty and scatty, I thought I'd better send her a photo. So I spent a sizeable amount of time this afternoon searching for Giltette Satin Care Shaving Gel images online to send her... Time that could have been spent writing articles.

Geez, the things we do to get rid of body hair. Yeech!

On the up: Mobility
On the down: Pained legs

The neverending saga of my legs continue. Now that I'm back in town and running around, the pain has reared up its ugly head again.

I've decided it's my damn car that's giving me the most problem. Because the brake is so much higher up than the accelerator, I have to move my whole bloody leg up and down and up and down just to get through traffic. It's like being on a bloody rowing machine and it's not even a manual car.

Anyway, went to the chiro today and she pressed a few points in my thighs and everything hurts double now, thanks a lot. I'm not allowed to drive for a week to stop aggravating the pain so the upside of all this is being chauffeured around. The downside is immobility and feeling like a bloody cripple whenever I want to just go out to the shops.

*grump*

On the up: Compassionate lust
On the down: Trying to convince people you have compassion

I’ve done it again – developed fantastical crushes one someone at the Dharma centre (You’d think a 25-year-old like me would have grown out of crushes by now but evidently I haven’t).

There was a giant crush last year then it turned out he was gay - story of my bloody life. But anyway, this one is straight. Definitely. We’ve checked it out. Unless he decides to switch teams now which could just happen knowing my luck with homosexuality.

The three S’s – Shirley, Susan and Sharon – are even conspiring with Ruby on how to matchmake the dolly. They’ve sent Ruby off to do research. Then somebody said, “But what about her boyfriend? A?” Everyone went “Errrr…” and then went on ahead with the planning anyway.

Today I was talking to Shirley:

Me: If I have babies with him, they are going to be SO beautiful
S: Oh, yes, and they will be Dharmic too (dunno where she gets that idea from cos I am so not Dharmic). You’ll have Dharmic faeries. It will be great for world peace.
Me: Yes, see. So I MUST get together with him – it’s for world peace.

I told Bibi about my newest infatuation.
He said: You must one of those evil spirits who aims to disrobe the scholars or practitioners by sucking their essence.
No no no no no. I told him my theory about the beautiful world-peace babies. “If we had kids, they would be beautiful and very Dharmic faeries. It would help to propogate world peace. And therefore it is essential i get together with him.”
He said: Oh yes! I so trust that you were thinking with your Dharma heart and not the lustful mind.... *blink blink*

Of course, always with compassion for all living beings!

On the up: Feeling inspired
On the down: Not knowing what to do with the inspiration

I’ve been feeling all restless since coming back from Gaden, and at the same time feeling so rubbishy about being back on earth that I just can’t be fucked to do anything except mong around the house in pyjamas and feel crap about how much work I still have to do.

So I’ve been reading blogs to waste time. Found this stuff on
Jean Ai's so decided to knick it and spend a few more minutes being self obsessed. Here goes!

Seven dreams before death
1. Travel to Marrakech
2. Get Chod initiation
3. Writing a Booker-prize-winning novel
4. Be featured in Vogue or on Oprah
5. Get bigger boobies
6. Drive a Z4
7. Fit into a size 8

Seven things I can't do in this lifetime
1. Touch a frog
2. Get thin
3. Eat something that’s still alive
4. Understand accounting
5. Be tidy
6. Learn Mandarin
7. Be a 100% lesbian

Seven things that attract me
1. Anything pink
2. Chocolate covered anything
3. Candle lights
4. Big blocks of colour
5. Anything kitsch
6. BOYS BOYS BOYS
7. Glossy magazines

Seven things I say
1. ohmygoditssofabulous
2. moop moop
3. I’m sooo hungry
4. ohmygod I’m soooo full
5. I’m soooo irritated!
6. What the fuck?
7. Sure or not?!

Seven books that I love (seven? I’m only allowed seven? Am going to up it to 10 :P)
1. The Ground beneath her feet – Salman Rushdie
2. The Satanic Verses – Salman Rushdie
3. At Swim, Two Boys – Jamie O’Neill
4. The Line of Beauty – Alan Hollinghurst
5. The Passion – Jeanette Winterson
6. Sexing the Cherry – Jeanette Winterson
7. American Psycho – Bret Easton Ellis
8. The God of Small Things – Arundhati Roy
9. Norwegian Wood – Haruki Murakami
10. The Forsyte Saga – John Galloway

Seven movies that I've loved
1. The Big Blue
2. Betty Blue
3. Dolls
4. Amor Es Perros
5. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
6. Mary Poppins
7. My Fair Lady

Oh god that was just so much fun! Then again, anything is fun when you’re procrastinating, no?….

On the up: Nirvana
On the down: Samsara

Wheeeee! The four days in India were magical (even if 3 of the four days were spent sitting in a bus).

We flew KL to Bangalore, then took an 8 hour bus ride down to Hubli, an hour away from Gaden monastery. Spent a day at Gaden and then did the trip all the way back in reverse.

Of course, things being the way they are, the bus trip down to Hubli wasn't 8 hours, it was 14. We got into the hotel at midnight, had dinner, sorted out the offerings to present to the monks, and were off again on the bus at 3am to make it to the monastery by 5am for their morning prayers. But we were surprisingly full of energy and it was all very exciting.

People who think Enlightenment doesn't exist haven't been to Gaden. The air is magical, alive with the joyous still energy of over 2000 monks and extremely precious teachers who made that dangerous escape from Tibet so many years ago to reestablish themselves in south India. Seeing them in prayer made me cry like a baby but it was a feeling of homecoming, I've never felt so comfortable.

Afterwards, we had the fortune to meet some of the high lamas of Gaden, including one of our own Rinpoche's Gurus, Zong Rinpoche. You see the serenity on these lamas' faces, the way they are totally in the present and full of happiness and you wonder why the hell you're still bothering with samsara. All that clubbing/drinking/sex/drugs/shopping/boys/money/fame/fortune can never ever give you that same energy that these lamas have.

They got it sorted, man. The rest of us who think we've got it sorted here with our piddly little crap businesses and temporary highs are just bullshitting ourselves. We must look like fools to them - wonder they thought of all of us crappy ridiculous monkeys trooping in and out of their rooms?

And all that feverish chanting Om Make The Pain Subside Hum Phet please everyone in the sky make the bloody ache in my legs go away worked. For the whole 20 hours we were out and about in the monastery
there
was
no
pain

After 2 1/2 months of insufferable pain all down my legs, there was nothing that whole day. And mind, this was after 2 days of travelling and while at the monastery it was 20 straight hours of walking, going up stairs, up down up down up down, kneeling down to make offerings to monks, getting up again, kneeling down, prostrations, walking round and round and round, up down, up down, up down, standing on foot waiting for everyone else to catch up, kneeling down again, sitting squashed up with 70 people into a tiny a room and
there
was
no
pain

Compare it to 2 hours in 1Utama a few days ago which gave me endless incredible stinging pings all the way up the thigh.

Magical? Just so fabulous!

Came back, got in my car today to drive to 1 Utama and the pain is back. See, samsara really is good for nothing.

Photos!!!! (Mine are crap because I don't ever know what I'm doing. Am waiting to steal our in house photographer, Seng Piow's photos which are good enough to give Nat Geo a run for their money).

Tsem Tulku Rinpoche with the reincarnation of his Guru Zong Rinpoche looking at photographs.

Tsem Rinpoche with two cute little local Tibetan ladies. I love this photo because it encompasses the whole lovely simplicity and happiness of Tibetan Buddhist culture.

On the up: Travelling!
On the down: Packing

Am off to India tomorrow, wheeeeeee! And everybody who is fabulous is going too. Am worried crazy that the legs are going to start causing trouble again so have been reciting mantras out of my ears that they don't get worse: Om Let The Pain Subside Hung Phet (!) not that the divine are going to bother with a squiffy little request like that. "Suffer out your karma, you silly girl!"

Trying to pack has been difficult. We're going to visit Gaden, and 2000 monks so err... no mini skirts and revealing tops.... which sort of leaves me with not very much.

Everyone says to pack "decent" tshirts which is also hard because I don't actually own anything that doesn't show my belly button. The only ones that do fit are black (not good for 40degree Indian heat) or have I'm a Virgin scrawled on the front (I didn't buy that one, Ruby did). I had to dig real hard to find suitable clothes that won't scare off the monks or attract unnecessary attention from the local Indian people.

And then the underwear thing. I have this real thing about wearing underwear that doesn't match. Black bra, white knickers - yeech! But ok, have to pack light so can't be carrying round five perfectly matched sets. So it's back to blacks, whites, cottons and granny pants for comfort. I threw in a lime green bra anyway just for fun. Hope nobody knicks it.

People who'd been before scared us off with stories about Indian heat, Indian water, Indian mosquitos so packing also has to include a whole inventory stuff to ward off those problems too. And of course biscuits because we're bound to get hungry.

And after all that driving around KL with Tips from the FlyFM's Travel Files (you can hear that girl saying it now, can't you?), I've actually bothered to remember a few. This is the first trip out since I started listening to Fly a few weeks ago so am pretending I'm being a very clever traveller this time round (even though it's nothing new, really, and mostly common sense!)

So hurray, off to faraway lands. There'll be stories when I get home :P And fingers crossed no diarrhea.

On the up: Food Colouring
On the down: Chemicals that make you sick

Oh I just love food colouring! Today I bought a huge bag of marshmallows just because they were pink, green, orange and yellow. They're just the same as the plain white ones but I'm convinced the colour makes it taste better.

I think they only use that sort of cheap trick to con kids into buying heaps of junk food, but evidently, it also works for 25-year-olds who don't like bland food.

It makes me believe that those Cherry flavoured ChupaChups really are made with red cherries; that sour cream and chive crisps really are made with fresh, green chives; and that neon orange Super Rings are made with real good cheese.

It helps to have a vivid imagination, no? It almost wills away the bad bad side effects of chemically altered foods.

On the up: Shopping!
On the down: Not having enough money to shop

Can you believe it? I went into La Senza today and didn't buy anything.

But there were wonderful things ON SALE at TopShop and Warehouse so I bought lots of stuff not with my money (which is always more fun).

I am addicted to buying mini skirts but because I have such short (chunky, clunky) legs have to wear high heels with them to create that deceptive illusion that they're longer. And I'm banned from wearing heels because of my horrible leg injuries. I'm going to have to swear off BodyStep - it's just not worth the extreme pain.

So now, two new miniskirts and no chance to wear em. But 50% off! Yay!

On the up: Christianity
On the down: People who screw with it

Ok I have to get on my soapbox about something: Bible bashes and their constant, incessant need to be all high and mighty and quash every other religion in the world.

Don't get me wrong - I think Christianity is great. Its messages of compassion and love are overwhelmingly beautiful and there are plenty of fabulous Christians who embody this and make you want to cry. But it all falls apart when the over-zealous Bible-Bashing born-again sector of the religion decide to take over and start their little high-ho preaching on the world.

Cases in point:

1) My Aunt Joyce (on my father's side) decided about 12 years ago she wanted to be Christian. Fine. No problem. But when my grandfather died a few years later, she absolutely refused to get involved with any wake or funeral proceedings, which was Buddhist/Taoist as carried out by tradition.

She went on and on "I'm not allowed to hold joss sticks, I'm not allowed to hold joss sticks, I'm not allowed to hold joss sticks." Okay, we understand, we respect your religion but could you respect your dead father-in-law? Maybe sit together with the family in a moment of prayer for a him? You could do your own Christian prayers or just make it a sort of rememberance for him? Oh no! No no no no no no no no no. "It's against my religion" (as if Jesus and God would give you demerit points for paying your last respects to someone who just died). Instead, she sat in the back and made a gigantic show of sobbing her eyes out, wailing away, surrounded by tissues.

She also refused to let her children pay their last respects to their dead grandfather. They weren't even allowed to fold their hands together as a last gesture.

Grandmother died recently, and then the whole big show was repeated again. Ad nauseum.

If that's what it means to be a Christian, then no thanks.

2) Another Aunt Caroline (from my mom's side) also converted to Christianity. A few years before he died, before her conversion, my other grandfather (her father) had given her and the other siblings a sort of family present, something like an amulet with a slight religious background.

When she'd suddenly decided she was now a Christian, she rang up my mother and fixed a time to come over to give her back this present. She had put it in a ziplock back and as she handed it back to my mother, held only the corner of the plastic, refusing to touch the amulet in any way.

She pulled a disgusted face and said, "Yah and now that I'm Christian, I can't have this... this... thing. I don't know what it is lah. Eewwww."

If that's what it means to be Christian, then no thanks.

3) A dear friend Philip who's studying in Australia recently came back to KL with one of his new Australian friends, Ben who's been a Christian for the past 5 years.

While back in KL, Philip took Ben to another friend, Helena's house. Helena and Philip are both Catholic, and so, as in that tradition, have small altars in their homes. When Ben saw the altar in Helena's home, he proceeded to make a big show of taking photos of it.

So Philip asked him what he was doing.

He answered, "Oh, you know. It's something to laugh at with the guys when I get home."

Apparently, it's even okay to put down other traditions within the Christian/Catholic traditions. Like, hello, aren't you all praying to the same people up there?!

If that's what it means to be Christian, then it's a big hideous joke.

4) A distant relative (cousin's uncle, or something) converted and at the time was still living with his elderly mother, who was Buddhist and had had an altar with some Buddha statues. He came home one day, pick up all her statues, told her just how wrong it was and threw them out.

Yeah, great. I'm sure the Father, Son, Holy Spirit, Virgin Mary, all the Apostles, Saints and ArchAngels and Angels were real proud of you for upsetting your mother like that. They were all there with pompoms as you threw out that totally heathen Buddha statue.

It drives me insane when I hear stories like this. Not just because I'm a wannabe Buddhist but because it's such an awful shame that supposedly practising Christians are acting in such hypocritical, often hurtful ways, while they maintain this great holier-than-thou, super-religious attitude.

They say you must "Accept Jesus." Sure, I accept Jesus. In fact, if you ask any serious spiritual practitioner, they'll tell you they accept Jesus - his wonderful messages of compassion, forgiveness; the way he was a living example of what it meant to show humility, to sacrifice for others, to really practise and embody compassion.

(Because in case you did'nt know, that's what it's about, d'uh. Not just getting to heaven!)

But if you really did accept all this about Jesus, you'd also accept the teachings of Mohammad, Buddha, the Hindus, the Jews, the Jains, even the Wiccans and Pagans who only ever talk about compassion and being mindful of others.

But no no no no no no no no no no no. For these crazy Bible Bashes, you have to accept Jesus, exclusively. The little kind monks in Tibet who practise kindness all their lives but pray to a Tara statue: "Oh no! What heathens! Worshipping false idols! They don't accept Jesus, they're going to hell!"

It's like little sororities up there, you know and they're all competing in a popularity contest. There's the Buddha sorority and the Jesus sorority and the Mohammad sorority and the Virgin Mary sorority and you're only allowed to join one at a time! (And PS I hear the Jesus one is the only one that will get you to heaven). They all get real angry if you join other clubs, you know, so better be careful which one you pick.

Oh give.
me.
a.
break.

If these are representations of what it means to "be saved," then no thank you, I'd much rather hang around samsara a bit longer.

Why don't bible bashers THINK for just two seconds:

Do you really think Jesus is going to ban you from heaven if you pay respects to your dead grandfather?

Do you think people like Gandhi and the Dalai Lama are big bad people and SINNERS because, OH MY GOD they've got statues!!!!!! And and and they pray to them!!!!?

Do you honestly think Jesus is proud of you for representing his spiritual lineage by going around knocking down every other religion in the world, disrupting harmony within your own family, acting so mightily superior?

I'm not knocking Christianity or people's faith... but I am knocking how people pervert the faith and turn it into some kind of power thing about being totally righteous. The examples I've given sound like gross exaggerations but you'd be surprised how many people out there do think like that and act out of that (Trust me, I've met 'em).

Sad thing is, these bible bashers are the minority... who spoil it for all the other fabulous wonderful kind beautiful Christian people out there in the world. And I've also met fabulous wonderful kind beautiful Christians who are open, accepting, love to talk to me about my practice and even applaud what I'm doing (or trying to).

Perhaps these bible bashes should take a leaf out of the real Christians' bible and start by practising humility and plain old simple kindness, worry about their own practise first before trying to save everyone else.

Or maybe, just exercise some intelligence?!

(Oh but wait, I'm supposed to be practising Dharma aren't I. So I should be more compassionate and patient. Thank you everyone up in heaven for sending trying people to help us develop patience. Ommmmmmmmm.............................)

On the up: Childhood ambitions
On the down: Realising how unambitious I was

I just remembered today that when I was a kid, I thought it would be soooo glamourous to work in a bank. Not as something fancy like a consultant or investment banker but as a bank teller. I thought it would be just so cool to sit behind a counter and do important things for people.

Thank god I grew up and developed other ambitious. I'm so shit with money, imagine if I was sitting behind a counter dealing with yours. And having to hear that "Ding. One. Zero. Zero. Five" talking machine thing calling out queue numbers all day long.

JUST SO MUCH CHOCOLATE.

And the fountain, of course:

And a cute geeky boy who makes you fresh hot chocolate with big fat pieces of chocolate.

We spent most of the night talking about weirdos where they work (which is where I used to work too)... including stories about how one of their bosses had started to tell them about how he'd wanted to donate sperm to a sperm bank... eewwwww. It made us feel more sick than we already were on the excess of chocolate.

To make ourselves feel better, we drank plenty of martinis and thought it would be fun to take lots of photos of us feeling glamourous on a Friday night.

Usha looking coy and shy...

...which is absolute bollocks cos she's anything BUT, and we'd spent 50% of the time talking about her rather strange infatuation with some guy. It went:
"Aiyoh, just admit it. You're in love with him."
"No, I'm not!"
"Yes you are. Just sleep with him and get it over with."
"I'm not in love with him lar."
"No wait, I don't think she should sleep with him because then she'll really fall in love with him."
"Oh yah, that's right. If you sleep with him you better make sure you don't fall in love with him. Don't you dare come crying to us afterwards."
"But I'm not in love with him!"
(She really is in love with him lah. Has been for 15 years. Why can't the silly girl admit it to herself)

Shantini really does think she's still 6 (but in a nice way)

See, I told you her face looks like chocolate. It's so fricking smooth and you always feel like taking a bite out of her face, expecting it to taste like cadbury.

Being the kind of pathetic Chinese girl I am with zit tolerance for alcohol, it was probably a crap idea to go drinking with two Indian girls who can just keep on drinking and drinking and drinking and still look like they're straight enough to go off for an interview. I was laughing all over the place like an infant after my two fat vodkas and they were looking at me with that kind of pitiful look like, "Aiyo these poor Chinese people".

"Awww, you are drunk!" said Shantini, half amused.

Arg! We're just so cute!

Next day, Saturday, I did the very-good-girl thing by going to a meeting with writers from Dharma and we talked about all the work I was supposed to be doing but hadn't. Joe, the head of media and publications has this wonderful way of making you feel like you want to do work because he's so nice and he talks to you so nicely and has this cute smile. Then when you go home, you forget all about it.

I even went to Tsok in the evening. Oh god, I'm so holy I make myself sick. I figured I'd better do some Dharma to strike a balance with samsara. So I turned up at the puja all dressed to go party (with a very decent top over it so everyone thought I was being angelic). The minute we finished, I put away my pillow and legged it out the door..

... to Zeta bar where Shirley was throwing a champagne party. Yay!

It's full of ugly old white men there, yeech, but the band was good (they could actually sing) and heaps and heaps of champagne, and being fed strawberries by an adorable funny- looking waiter.

It's most fun taking photos with people you just met 2 minutes ago.

Shirley pointed out this girl in the bar who apparently goes there every week, sliding herself up and down men and licking men's ears. I was all, "Ewwwww?!" and thought maybe she'd just been exaggerating. Half an hour later, there she was sliding herself up and down some big old gross guai lo. It was like roadkill - you don't want to look at it but you have to.

But despite all the strange old people, it was fab fab fab and we had our own little sombong corner with all the big bottles of champagne and cosy sofas (absolutely necessary for my fucked up legs). Everyone was dancing all night long but thanks to my bad leg injuries (from all that evil evil evil step), I had to sit out most of it and find refuge in the sofas. Everyone was all, "Geez! You're younger than us, what's wrong with you?"

So I found my own fun by taking photos.

The obligatory group shot - amazing how we all look like we're so together after all that bubbly? (I look so chunky, yuck, but I blame it on the white!)

Chocolate Shirley and sister Evelyn, whose husband was the only good looking guy in the whole place. I was SO gutted when I found out he was already hers. Good thing I didn't do the siddle-up-and-start-flirting thing too early on in the evening.

I was so incapacitated, all I could do was take photos of myself. One of the girls at the party came up to me later and said, "So have you finished taking photos of yourself yet?" which err... made me feel totally silly.

Well, damnit, I couldn't dance so the next best thing was to look at other people dancing. hmph!

But it was all good. Everyone (like Susan) felt sorry for a poor undancing Dolly, and would take turns to come sit with me.

So there it was, a big happy weekend. And now it's Sunday night and there's a whole week full of work up ahead :(

Tomorrow morning, I have to send my mother and her friend who's visiting from England to Starhill for uber luxurious massages and pampering at the spa while I get to go tend to three photo shoots in the area. Well, I guess we have to do some work in our lives - it funds the martinis, after all.

There's another side to the identity crisis - it has to do with specific names and personalities.

First I was Dolly in the other blog.

I got bored, and upon rediscovering an old Brian Froud book on Faeries, decided I wanted to be one too. Hence the MSN nick. It caught on quick and soon nobody was calling me by my real name anymore; it was all "Faery this" and "Faery that" and "Miss Faery." Geraldine even went out and bought me a big ass pair of wings for Christmas.

Then I realised there were about a million other faeries out there already both in the real world and in the blog world, and I felt a bit bad about copycatting their identities. Anyway Shirley said I should be a pixie instead because of the hair (and probably because I'm short!)

So I decided to became dolly again... which is probably a bit perverse because dolls scare the shit out of me. Rinpoche gave me one of those porcelain ones from Japan. He passed a message on to the person who gave it to me: "Tell her it's just like her. Cute, fat and adorable." I am absolutely convinced she's going to come alive one night and stab me in the heart while I'm sleeping.

Okay, so since I'd rather not be associated with one of those scary white china dolls that stab people in their sleep, I metamorphosed into DollyGirl as inspired by Anna Sui and that fantastic perfume with the funny pink face:

And then of course, there are a dozen other names that A calls me (but those are sacred and secret).

I feel terribly confused and schizophrenic.

And I have no idea why I'm writing all this. I think I drank too many martinis tonight.

On the up: Fabulous sex dreams
On the down: Waking up

The only thing that kept me sane throughout today was the fabulous sex dream I had just before waking up. It was with this guy, JP, who I've known only about 6 months. He would come along to Dharma talks and ask millions of questions so all of us were kept sitting there until 2 in the morning. We all wanted to slap him into Enlightenment - get there quick so you can leave us alone!

Anyway, there was this fabulous, fantastic raunchy dream where I was devouring him and he was loving it. Yay for being a sex goddess in an alter-reality. Then I got down to taking his pants off and he was wearing light blue boxers (which actually fits him because he always wears pastels).

And then... UGH! I felt around and found he had a really small thin one. It was horrible horrible horrible and after a few minutes I got fed up.

I looked away from him thought to myself, "No this can't be right. Let's re-do the scene here. Let's make it bigger."

And then when I turned back, it was just the right size, totally just-right, all the better for more fabulous sex!

Oh god, if only it were that easy in real life.

When I woke up I forgave him for all the pesky questions.

On the up: Beautiful photographs
On the down: Negligent photographers

Remember this? The hassle of product loans and photo shoots? Just as I had thought it was all over, it all came back to slap me in the face. After all the faffing about of:

faxing companies
chasing them for loan approval letters
doing the loan
arranging the products into separate bags (to be shot differently for different features)
sending it to the photographers in bloody Kepong
picking it back up from the photographers
repacking all the items into their original carrier bags
and returning all the items to the stores
(in the process, fucking up my legs and knees even more so I have to spend even more money at the chiro)

I find out today that a bunch of stuff
had
not
been
photographed.

And we need photos of those items for the next 4 issues for a regular feature we always run.

Next week.

*flip out*

I rang up the photographers and threw as much of a fit as I could in my shitty Cantonese, which of course doesn't sound bitchy and threatening at all but comes out sounding totally stupid. Everyone in that small office (who speak Cantonese totally fluently) tried very hard to keep a straight face behind my back.

Maybe they had taken the photos but forgot to burn them onto the disc for us?

No, they couldn't find the photos. I was flipping out, editor was flipping out (though very calmly because she is always calm), the nice-nice soft-spoken photographer who I was flipping out to on the phone was also flipping out.

No photos.

So I have to do the whole process all over again. I calculated that it'll take me 5 to 6 hours to get this round of stuff done - all for only about 10 items to be photographed by someone who should have done them in the first place.

10 photographed items for 4 issues. That's less than 3 items an issue.

And since I'm not writing anything earthshattering, readers will only look at these damn items for about 5 minutes, if I'm lucky. What a waste of a nice 5 hours for something which should already have been done.

Then I thought I should have checked the disc the minute they handed it to me. I didn't because they're usually perfect and get it all right. Damn them. Damn me. I got very depressed and agitated at myself and wanted to cry. I kept sending crying emoticons to my editor who was sitting two tables away.

Yen Tyng, the advertising manager, came through the door so I told her my whole new drama. "Oh my god! I must tell you what happened to me today...!"

She listened to me wailing away, flipping out, ranting and raving and then said, "Err..... have some fried stuff! The oil will make you feel better" and pointed at the big bag of keropok she'd bought back.

Arg.

On the up: Variety is the spice of life
On the down: How my head screws with me

I have this real identity problem - I saw this shrink when I was 14 who told my parents, in no less words, that I was a bit screwed up in the identity area. My mother freaked out a bit, wondered what had happened since I had always been the golden child.

The teenage-angst stage passed but I'm still neurotic and the identity thing is still an issue. This usually means:

On Monday, I'll see one of them super slim Chinese girls with super long straight hair with legs the length of the KL tower wearing some teeny tiny skirt and I'll think, "Oh, I wish I was more Asian and had GongLi hair."

On Tuesday, I'll see some really anorexic looking girl who's calves are smaller than my wrists and I think, "Oh thank God I don't look emaciated like that!" and feel incredibly healthy and boootiful.

On Wednesday, A will say he thinks Devon Aoki is totally hot and I'll totally paranoid that I don't look anything like her and think, "Why can't I be flipping half German and been scouted as a supermodel by the time I was 18!"

On Thursday, I bung together one of my strange (but fun!) fashion combos and think, "Hey, I look pretty damn cool. I'm fabulous!"

On Friday, I'll be having lunch with Shantini and we'll start talking about Natalie Portman and I think, "Damn, I wish I was tiny and could go bald and run around looking like a pixie."

On Saturday, I'll see a girl who is larger than me, with real sexy curves, who looks just fabulous and think, "Oh heck! I don't need to lose any weight. Maybe I should put on weight and look like her!"

On Sunday, I see some totally bogus advert in Vogue or something where the model is like 6foot3, a perfect size 6 and great tits and fabulolus big hair and can wear green eyeshadow without looking like a dragon I think, "Damn, I'm too short, I'm too fat, my tits are too small, my hair is a mess and I can't wear make up like that cos I don't have double eyelids" and get really depressed about my mediocrity.

Ad infinitum.

On the up: Funny kid toys
On the down: Damaging them

About a week ago, I bought one of those slimy green blobby toys which you throw on walls and watch how it sticks. Bought endless hours of entertainment for me and A - it just doesn't stop being funny. It even had a face so we gave it a personality and named it (him) Gerard.

Then a few days later, A threw Gerard up on the ceiling. He stayed up there for ages because we thought he'd just drop off on his own but it started to get silly and I wanted to get him down tonight.

So we set out on a little task to pry him off. Of course, typically, A threw Gerard up in one of the rooms with the highest ceilings so you couldn't just stand on a chair and dig him out with your fingernails.

"I think you're gonna need to get a broomstick or something," I said, so he went downstairs to find one.

He came back with a super long brush thing (after pestering the maid, who seemed to think it was all very strange) and we proceeded to try to dig out Gerard. The bastard was stuck with a vengeance and digging him out was impossible. Here's how it started:

Then we tried to prod him out with the broomstick:

It got worse.

"I think he likes it up there," said A.

"I think he's pissed off at you for throwing him up there," I said.

So A tried even harder to get him out:

But it just wouldn't work and poor Gerard was disintegrating all over my ceiling. We finally gave up whe one of his legs broke off:

Poor Gerard.

On the up: Money
On the down: Fucking up the way I spend it

First, I spent heaps of money for the gym. Then of course, everyone knows my nutty obsession with going to step classes almost every day and doing all the high options. I thought it was an excellent investment of my money since: money = looking fabulously fit. And well worth it too since I was going to soooo many classes all over the place for the same price (the hokkien in me knows a bargain!)

Then I totally fucked up my knees and legs.

And now I'm spending lots of money at the chiro to fix my legs.

Round and round we go.

Ooops, I only realised afterwards that um... like, all my friends have long hair. D'uh. So now they're all throwing their hair brushes at me.

Ok, a clarification: there is a distinction between people with long hair and those-Chinese-girls with long hair and what I am talking about is more the sort of boring attitude that plagues uniformity.

The former have long hair but are original enough to still look different - they balance the hair with attitude or outrageous fashion or a huge sense of humour so that you start laughing or gawk even if you see them from afar.

The latter are a specific (though significantly larger) portion of Chinese girls who really do all look the same. They haven't caught on to the idea that rebonding thin hair with no volume does not look good so they keep on straightening and straightening and straightening. They all wear black all the time and all carry the same handbags (whatever's in at the time) and all straighten their hair (did I say that already?) Hence, boring!

You know the kind I'm talking about. It's just like how all the Hong Kong female celebs look the same and have the same hair. And since those-Chinese-Girls look up to these-Honky-stars, they all end up looking the same.

But of course none of my darling friends are like that because even if they do have long hair, they understand the meaning of originality which obviously, most of those-Chinese-Girls don't. Then again, perhaps I'm just biased cos my friends are all just so lovely :)

On the up: Short hair
On the down: Long flat rebonded hair (it's out! Out out out!)

I think kinkybluefairy and I are probably the only Chinese girls in Malaysia with real-short-hair. Have you seen any other Chinese girls with really short hair? No, I didn't think so.

The only other girl I know with hair shorter than me is Angie from uni but she's in London so it doesn't count. And even in London, she's one of very few Chinese girls with short hair.

The rest of them Chinese girls are all walking around all over the world with that boring old long ironed out hair. It's so boring! And they all look the same from the back. Ok lah, maybe sometimes they're adventurous and perm it or put tired highlights in but that makes it all dry and frizzed out. Yuck.

Then again, maybe that's a good thing since it makes girls like me (of which there are only like, three, remember) stand out and look more fabulous... and we get second looks from all the boys because we're something different, yay!

On the up: Nail polish
On the down: Waiting for the damn thing to dry

The only way to stop myself from chewing into my nailbeds is to put pretty colours all over them. I remembered I used to paint my fingers five candy colours when I was in school but I'm too clumsy now and my fingers getting real chunky so it's all just too much effort to do it myself.

So I took off to one of those schmany nail salons in Starhill and entertained the poor manicurist with my crap cantonese while she painted my fingers yellow, orange, pink, purple and green. They serve this great ginger-lemon tea too while you're getting your digits done - how you're supposed to drink it while you're having a manicure is a bit of a puzzle but hey, thought that counts. You can drink it after everything's been buffed, painted and drief.

Anyway, the nails were looking fabulous as they were, but the mani girl came up with the idea of putting polka dots on the tips. It was just all too exciting. Here they are!

On the up: Good food / not having to starve
On the down: Incontrollable greed

I just can't stop shovelling food into my mouth. I'd like to think maybe it's only because it's hormones wracking their monthly round of havoc but am slightly concerned that it might just be because I'm greedy and out of control.

I started to notice that I'm currently not looking in shape and fit anymore - it's shifted to looking "not-that-fat" which could just spiral downhill into looking like Mr Blobby soon.

But I can't stop the obsession with sugar! (This includes sugar that is disguised in evil carbohydrates like big bowls of pasta).

Then again, I still think I'm lovely :) I even told Bibi the other day I thought I was fabulous:

When I'd been complaining about getting supersized fat, he said, "Well I guess we can't all be supermodels" or something like that, something almost discouraging but not quite.

I sent him back an SMS: "Well I have inner beauty mah. My heart is as beautiful as a supermodel."

He said, "Try going to Ford Agency, demand for the show-stopper runway spot, saying they can't reject cos u have a supermodel heart, otherwise threaten to sue! Discrimination!"

I was all errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr............. So bloody smitchy! I get the point already! pfft! haha...

On the up: Chocolate orgies
On the down: The inability to eat excessive amounts of chocolate without feeling sick

Shirley and I were having mumma-sized chocolate cravings so she suggested we go stand under the chocolate fountain at Hilton. We took off to gorge ourselves stupid on the chocolate buffet. I'd never heard of it before - I had thought it was only part of a buffet, something like the Shang's chocolate fountain.

BUT BUT BUT, it really was just a whole big fat-ass buffet filled with chocolate:

Chocolate cheesecake
Chocolate bread and butter pudding
Chocolate pralines
Hot chocolate (white, dark, milk)
Chocolate fountain fondue thing
Chocolate mud cake
Chocolate peanut butter biscuits
White chocolate mousse
Milk chocolate mousse
Dark chocolate mousse
Chocolate cake
Chocolate mousse cake
Chocolate creme brulee
Fried chocolate dough balls
Chocolate pecan tart

ETC

(They do fabulous martinis too - and there's fruit for the chocolate fountain so it's not all unhealthy. You get your fresh dose of vitamins, minerals and fibre too).

Yay! We attacked it like we hadn't eaten chocolate before. We thought we were invincible! "I'm going to eat everything" I told Shirley "But I think I'll be sick."

"Yah, that's why you only take a bite out of everything then leave it, stupid. Then you can eat everything!"

We were wrong. We weren't invincible. We felt very sick, very soon.

Then again the nausea that would last well through the weekend was well worth it and I'm going back soon for a second round of sick-inducing chocolate heaven. Gives a whole new meaning to S&M. Great intense pleasure arising out of making yourself totally ill.

Anyway, then GL came along and had some really sickly looking affogato on top of chocolate. "This is nice but something's missing," she said. We agreed. There had to be something to counter the excess of sugar.

So we went for Hokkien mee and cleared a giant plate between the three of us.

It was the height of eating.