On the up: Tsok pujas
On the down: Not doing the puja properly

Okay, so you all know I am aspiring to be enlightened by the time I'm 50 (no, not really, but a girl can always aspire).
So I'm trying to be holy.
So I go to tsok prayers every two weeks like a good little dakini.

Now I know you shouldn't be going into a temple for stupid little reasons like to check out the boys, and catch up on gossip, and show off my new clothes
but
I
can't
help
it.

I mean, I go there trying to get to enlightened, and then the minute I step through the temple doors, I'm all "HEY!" and "HI!" and hugs and flouncing around. Everybody looks so damn pretty and there's all these people I haven't seen in just ages, so can't be rude, right? Must go and say hello and catch up and flounce, right? Must be gracious when people compliment me on my new Marc-Jacobs-lookalikey-handbag right? Of couuuuurse!

Today, I decided I would make the extra effort of wearing my new Sephora eyeliner and Mac eyeshadow. Have been having allergy-ridden, painful, distressed eyes for days and days but we must suffer for our beauty, so I put on an ice pack, listened to Bono and then slashed on the makeup.

Lots of people noticed which isn't a surprise since the only thing I slosh on my face is invisible moisturiser. What was a surprise was that it was mostly the men who noticed. And not in a way you'd hope from a man when you're feeling particularly pretty; but in a way that was like, "Wow, that's really nice what you've done with your eyes. The colour really brightens up your whole face and gives your eyes definition," which just goes to prove once again, that there are no straight men in our centre.

Which is a shame really because there are some there that I am secretly really in love with and when you just can't figure out which way they swing it's frustrating enough to totally squash a girl's libido.

So there was Ben (the one I had weird dreams about) - I skipped up to him and said "You gotta shave your head. You look soooooooooooo good bald! Go bald! Go bald!" and he just looked at me startled, like "What? Really?" before I ran off because I was worried my big mouth would embarrass me (and I've been having weird dreams about him, so I can't look him in the eye properly yet).

Then there was Joe, who really really really really looked hot in this new white shirt (I don't know what happened, but he looks totally amazing now - what a difference one unbuttoned shirtbutton makes). So I told him very loudly, "You look really fabulous tonight!" I thought I was being splendid and nice and endearing with my compliments but he quipped back realquick doubletime fastfast, "So does that help to get work done?!"

*blink blink with his big eyes*

So smarmy me was all, "Well, actually, I've done heaps of work ppfffftt" (because I'd written four articles in six hours which is as near a magical attainment as I'm gonna get). But just because he looked so good and is so damn nice all the time, it still made me feel guilty for not having done more. Damnit he's the only person I know who people thank when he gives them work to do.

After all the pansying about, we finally did the puja and I think I may actually have concentrated and not had an evil thought for a few minutes. See, we do get better. I didn't fall asleep, I even took off my glasses so I couldn't see the boys clearly enough to perve and I really just loved the puja. (Yes, despite all the joking and pissing about, I do love tsok. It has its own special energy and makes you feel all peace and yellow light inside and you imagine all the Buddhas getting up from their lotuses to dance... but okay, I really sound like a hippie now so we'll get back to the nonsense, shall we).

As a reward after being lovely and angelic, we all trolleyed off to some fancy nasi kandar place round the corner that had airconditioning, marble table tops and a glass chandelier.

It was Milly birthday so they brought round loads of roti tissue and we bellowed Happy Birthday songs to her across the room (all 30 of us). The waiters got so scared they didn't want to take our order anymore and all the other customers left quickquick.

Jenny Wong (It's not "Jenny", okay. It's Jenny Wong) sat next to me and started saying all sorts of really strange things about Seng Piow and putting unsightly images of him in my head. She's normally quite scary, but after many weird conversations like that, I feel like maybe she actually considers me one of her friends now, which is a priviledged place to be if you know Jenny Wong.

Then Sharon started showing everyone these fabulous photos of her mother, who is 60 but looks about 40. All 30 of us were passing about photos perving at her mum. I got bored of looking at her mum so Susan started showing me photos of Sharon's brothers who are totally hot.

Ruby got excited and said, "Did you see her brothers?! Good looking huh? Okay, pick! Sharon's brother?
OR JOE?" loud enough for the whole of PJ (and Joe, sitting two seats away) to hear.

I screamed back across the roti tissue, "RUBY! COULD YOU HAVE SAID THAT ANY LOUDER?"

but she just laughed and screeched and laughed and screeched and when people asked what the commotion was, Ruby said again, "I just asked her to pick between Sharon's brother
OR JOE."

Aiyo really lah. Ruby is Reuters.

Okay so this is the longest post I've written in ages and I'm sure nobody really gives two shits reading stuff like this except me. But hurray, I've written over 900 words so I've filled my quota for today and now it's time for a Dolly to go to bed.

Bzzz.