Unproductive Day Off
It is husband’s day off today and I had noble aspirations about how we would spend the day. I thought we (Husband, me and baby) could grab a nice breakfast somewhere.
Then maybe we could go to somewhere far like Parkway Parade (somehow we enjoy going there, there’s just so many things to do and see). We could eat some kuih at the Oleh-Oleh stall right at the entrance of PP, then we could go look at books at MPH, we could have lunch at…I don’t know…Pizza Hut or something, we could shop around, have toast at Ya Kun…then we could look at all the cute animals at the pet shop, have our favourite teh halia at the market, and then go for a nice dinner or something.
Of course all that didn’t happen.
For a start, having slept only at 7am (I was surfing and watching TV), by which time Baby woke up and bawled her lungs out, I woke up real late. Husband too thought he would continue sleeping. Lazing around, it was about 3pm when we sat down and said, “What’s gonna happen today?”
Which was too late, of course, to go to Parkway Parade. After waiting for Baby to wake up from her nap and settle down from fussing, it was already evening. We decided we might as well leave after her dinnertime feed.
In the end, we found ourselves in Jurong Entertainment Centre. There is really NOTHING there, except the Zing-do outlet that has nice korean food. It was husband’s dream come true as everything is served on hotplate. He had beef bulgogi with rice and kimchi soup while I had a nice sirloin steak, sizzled to perfection. The meat came raw on the hotplate and after a few minutes of tossing it around, it was all juicy and tender. Even the vegetables were done nicely, not overcooked. We’ll definitely visit the eatery again for the tasty beef.
We then walked across to IMM which is about 10-15 minutes away. By the time I got to IMM, I was hungry again. We didn’t even get to go to a lot of shops as it was already 8.30pm when we got there. It was really quite an unproductive visit to IMM.
We reached home at about 10.30pm eventually and how do we intend to spend the luxurious Vesak Day holiday eve? Well for a start, husband is in the hall watching a horror flick ‘Pocong’ with his mom (I dare not watch as I must say, this particular ghost gives me the shivers. I do not want to be traumatised by images of it ‘bouncing’ around in the room late at night or something. Any other ghoul I can take, but not this particular one.) I’m in our room, blogging, and Baby is sound asleep.
Wow what an exciting night. I wonder what amazing adventures Baby is having in her dreams; she’s smiling from ear to ear…maybe I should join her in slumberland?
Vanity Fair
(No, I have not re-read Vanity Fair the novel during all this time that I haven’t been updating my blog. Not the novel. It’s about me, being vain. Can we get on with this?)
Ahem.
Once upon a long, long time ago, possibly early this year (that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?) I signed up for a make-up class conducted by the Community Centre across my house. I don’t know what in the bloody galaxies happened, but I must have been very free then. Well anyways, my two sisters and I decided to sign up for an 8-session, 2hr course which costs only $70.
If you know me, you’d know that I’m the last person you know who’ll be interested in such things. Beauty regimes, make-up, lotions, ’anti-aging’ bla bla bla-they’re just not my thang. You can ask the husband; I must have shattered his hopes of having a wife who has a million bottles of skincare products on the vanity table and spends half an hour every night applying lotions. (At least on TV that’s what all wives do before bed, right?) To me, skincare is having a tube of foaming facial wash, I don’t care what brand it is, and if you can’t give me that, a bar of soap will do just as well, thank you.
(I can envision some readers covering their gaping mouths in horror and surreptitiously looking over to their fully-decked vanity table and heaving a huge sigh of relief because they see half-empty jars of SKII emulsions and know that they have stocked up on new supplies stashed away in the bottom drawer. Phew.)
So the classes started sometime last month, every Tuesday at 7.30pm where I would take a leisurely walk across the road, say, 100 metres away from my room. Oklah I’m lying about the walking part. Actually my dad drives me over. Yes, I know, I’m too much.
I had a very enjoyable first lesson writing funny notes on the lesson because, well, my make-up teacher can’t exactly speak English. If we (my sisters and I) allow her to, she’d actually break out in Mandarin and forget that not all of her students are Chinese until one of us puts up a hand and say loudly “CHER, DON’T UNDERSTAND LEHHHH….”
For example, she got us stumped when she asked us to bring a “midder” for the second lesson. After asking around, we realized that she was asking for a “mirror”.
Not to mention our wrinkled foreheads trying to figure out what she meant when she said “sum-kam” lotion. It sounded like a hokkien herbal concoction of sorts to us until we managed to grab the bottle. It’s sun calm lotion. Don’t ask me what that is because somehow I don’t need it.
Anyway, after about 2 sessions, her language imperfections didn’t matter to us anymore because she’s really quite good at what she does, that is, being a make-up and skincare instructor (not that I’ve been to any such demos by professionals, but I think she’s good, despite Husband’s snickering, saying it’s hilarious that an old Ah-Lien is teaching me how to make-up.)
So far, I’ve learnt that even if you don’t apply make daily, you need to have a cleansing regime. Oh. And a double cleansing regime, okay, to make sure that you have ‘transparent skin’ (I was this close to raising my hand and telling her that, no, miss, I wouldn’t like to have transparent skin because I’d look like Kevin Bacon in Invisible Man and that wouldn’t be too pretty, would it, with all the veins and blood but I thought I’d have to explain who Kevin Bacon is and all, so I decided not to.)
Not too sure if I’d keep up with this new skincare regime, I thought I’d just start off with products from Body Shop; maybe if this follows through I’d invest in a better brand like Kiehl’s or something (I don’t actually know if Kiehl’s is better, but their packaging is nice teehee.)
My skincare regime goes like this (allow me to show off what I know, please, even though I’m sure all of you have been caring for your skin since puberty). Ahem.
1 ) cleaning off applied make up with some cleanser on tissue and doing a circular-motion with the tip of your finger
2 ) applying a cream cleanser to 5 points on your face and spreading it all over in a systematic way
3 ) removing traces of cleanser with a face freshener applied on a cotton pad
4 ) washing your face with a foaming facial wash
5 ) applying massage lotion and massaging the skin in a systematic way (this you do once a week so that the skin is not over-stimulated and “later will breaks out and got pimpers”)
6 ) cleaning off excess massage lotion with skin freshener on cotton pad
7 ) wash off again with facial foam
8 ) applying a peel-off mask once or twice a week to nourish the skin
9 ) wash off again with facial foam
10) apply toner
11) apply night cream
12) apply eye-cream
13) get 8 hours beauty sleep. (This step I can’t help but overdo, sometimes up to 12 hours. But I say, more sleep more beautiful lah.)
Eversince the first lesson, I have been double cleansing my face and I must say, I think it has helped in making my skin transparent translucent. My skin feels softer yet firmer now. Husband agrees with me or at least he has to because I have convinced him that it IS okay, because I have spent close to $200 ON THE LESSON AND PRODUCTS ALRIGHT SO IF YOU TREASURE YOUR LIFE I ADVISE YOU TO JUST AGREE WITH ME.
Good.
Today we had our fifth session and we’re starting on the make-up bits. Oooh I’m so excited. Apparently, you need to put on make-up when you go out because it provides a layer of protection, so that your skin is not naked and exposed to the elements. These are all my words, okay. None of it is hers. I just sorta figured it out from “make-up protect your skin one, don’t kena the sun and dirts from the roadside”Eewww.
It looks like I’m going make up shopping, y’all! Actually, you know from my previous entry that I have lotsa lipstick and eyecolour and blusher and whatever, but hey, I think I neeeeeeeed to have a complete FULL set from ONE reputable brand, correct? I can’t possibly come to class with Bobbi’s liquid foundation, mismatched with mac’s loose powder, L’oreal’s mascara, maybelline’s blush, estee’s lipliner and dior’s lipstick right??? That would totally mess up my whole ‘make-up education’.
SO WE’RE GOING MAKE-UP SHOPPING!!! YAYYYY!!!!! Magic word for make-up brand of choice:
PACKAGING.
Ruffle my (Female) Feathers.
(This entry is partly written to RUB IT in the face of THAT spiteful, jealous, Dr-R obsessed individual in my class, who, until today, still questions how I got the A. Yes. YOU.)
I received an email from Dr R few weeks ago for us to collect our assignments. This is the same lecturer who gave me jaw-dropping marks for my essay last sem. This time round, I thought I wouldn’t fare as well as the last assignment, since I chose a BLOODY STUPID anthology of short stories by inept ‘writers’, if they can be called that! I MUST talk about ONE particular story in that anthology which totally ruffled my (female) feathers!!!!
In the essay, I wrote some condemning things about a local author (i use the initials I.K) whom i think is such a freaking wannabe. In that anthology, he wrote a chauvinistic story about a super-’religious’ guy who demands that the girl he’s interested in wears a jilbab (head-cover) ‘for the sake of Allah’, he says. Fine. But this character (whom I think is the author himself) who projects a holier-than-thou attitude has so many accidental shortomings: i say accidental because I think the author was trying too hard to make the character perfect, not realising that his novice attempt worked against him. His inability to delve into the character’s persona produced a flawed character who is so EXTREMIST and what I call-Abu Sayaff-ish. Really.
The Male-Chauvinit-Halal-Pig judges the girl and deems her to be a deviant, then lusts after her, gets jealous when she talks to other people, says that she’s not pretty, actually, it’s just that she’s bubbly and lincah (which he thinks will be the very trait that will get her burned in hell, so he’d better be the good Muslim that he is and prevent that from happening), so the whole story is about him trying to get her to wear the tudung. He’s so OBSESSED about it that even while praying, it’s all he thinks about.
If you ask me, I’ll jolly well tell you: this author has got a serious, debilitating tudung fetish (you should see how his wife in real life is), is a true perv (he wrote a book about ’sexual awakening and wayward practices’, but IN THE NAME OF ALLAH, mind you) , and it’s not surprising that the story ended with the gregarious and effervescent girl moved to tears for his kind gesture of saving her from the flames of hell that would sear her flesh. What a bloody subservient, mindless woman he portrays. Submissive. Brainless. Food for the chauvinist pig’s lust, that’s all she is.
The audacity of this character/author (I equate the two because it is clear to see they’re one) to impose such judgemental ideas on others! If the MCP is the girl’s husband, okay, fine. But it’s just a freaking hormonally-imbalanced teenage bloke who feels so pleased with himself for resisting the urge to bring the girl out and fondle her!
I feel outraged by the way IK portrays women in his works. It’s obvious that he is simply trying too hard by using big words which only serves to garble his stories. It is sad how he attempts to be so deep and intellectual. He fails miserably.
I can sense that my lecturers do not regard him highly as well because he really is, a bad writer. It’s just that the number of Malay writers (writing Malay) is really limited I suppose, which is why his works are (wrongfully) regarded as literature.
One more thing, I think the community is just so enthralled just because he is an architect and that he also dabbles in writing. Please. Can you please try to be good at ONE thing, and not be a jack of all trades, master of NONE??? For a start, you work with blardy LTA, not RSP or some prestigious architecture firm!
See how flustered I got just writing about HIM?!!!
Anyway, I wrote about this in my essay (a kamikaze attempt, really) but I didn’t care because I got so angry reading the story. I even wrote that I think IK, like his character, has a tudung fetish and that his portrayal of women is demeaning (I wrote it in a more, erm, academically proficient way lah…)
To that, Dr R wrote a ‘HA HA!’ and, surprisingly commended me for being able to delve into the masculine ‘phallocentric’ tendencies. Gee. I guess my kamikaze attempt was worth it!
2 marks short of the full 25 marks, yeah my guess is right. I didn’t do as well as I did last time. One mark lesser lor.
So, what are you gonna do about it huh, ’spiteful, jealous, Dr-R obsessed individual in my class, who, until today, still questions how I got the A’? Bingit tak dengan markah i? Pas tu your favourite author kena condemn pulak abis2 dengan i. March up to Dr R’s office and demand an explanation, why don’t you? That’s what you always do what…
Inactivity
It has been three weeks since my THREE MONTH HOLIDAY started (forgive me, but I really must rub it in), and I haven’t been very productive in the ‘enjoying myself’ bit. So far, I’ve only managed to go out with my friend Kak Kin to watch a movie at Suntec, window shopped and then ate ourselves crazy at Carousel. Went out with my family in the weekends, a trip to JB for Mom’s Day. That’s it. A rather sparse event-calendar, I must say.
I was supposed to meet another friend, Radiah, but the Batam trip sprung up out of nowhere, so that had to be postponed. Other than that, I’ve just been at home, sleeping at 5, waking at 11 or sometimes later, watching tv, played with Ooyah, eat dinner, surf the net with husband (yeah he surfs and I watch. Like parental supervision gitu.), watch rented dvds. That’s pretty much it.
When I was cramming for the exams I had such noble aspirations about what to do during the hols. I’m really disappointed with myself for not savouring the hols the way I intended to and being so unproductive.
This week onwards, I shall ensure that my days are filled with more interesting activities. I have come up with a list previously, but I think this one will be more directed and feasible.
1) Meet up with Radiah and, what else, eat and gossip. And eat again.
2) Meet up with Kak Kin (I hear another buffet meal coming, eh Kak?)
3) Go out with Ibu and Ooyah more often, especially to look-see at Arab Street for Hari Raya textiles. We used to do that all the time; have lunch at Al Majlis we so affectionately call Arab Poser Place, walk around Arab Street till we can’t walk no more, then drag ourselves to Ya Kun @ Raffles Hospital. After replenishing our energy with kaya toasts and coffee, we’d proceed to Bugis Junction for more retail therapy. I can’t remember the last time I did that. Probably before Ooyah was born.
4) Buy nice cotton textiles from spotlight and get the sewing machine buzzing again. Maybe sew bedlinen for ooyah.
5) Make my fave kek kukus and brownies. Oh and make some ondeh-ondeh today/tomorrow (this depends on whether the near-extinct kelapa parut can be procured. It’s impossible to find it in my vicinity. )Must get my ass to Jurong West and hoard up cake-making ingredients.
6) Go on a shopping spree. I’ve yet to splurge on a silly item using my promotion and bonus moolah.
7) Go to teban one of these days and cook the aglio olio that my sis loves so much (she’s been disappointed by the ones ordered elsewhere, the poor girl)
8) Read the books I borrowed from the library: Peter Carey’s ‘True History of the Kelly Gang’ and ‘My Life as A Fake’. Oh wait- I think they’re due today. Teehee.
9) (SO if that’s the case,) Go to the library and borrow more books.
10) Meet up with husband more often after work. And not at Jurong Point, please?
Drawer of Doom
Today I cleaned out the drawers and realized that I’ve got enough lipsticks to open up a make-up counter. And to think I only stick to ONE, my favourite MAC Captive. Some haven’t even been used.
I also found many many dangling earrings and brooches and necklaces. And yet I only use ONE set of jewellery.
Not to mention, about 6 million tubes of body lotion/ shower foam that usually comes along with the perfumes that I buy. Body lotion is just too greasy for me.
Oh, and about 9-months’ supply of folic acid pills which I was crazily stocking up on before and while I was pregnant.
So, anyone out there planning to get pregnant again?
Sim Smile
I’ve been sleeping late every night since I reinstalled my sims 2 games, plus added 2 more expansion packs: Nightlife and the latest EP, Seasons. Now many of you must think The Sims is ‘just a game’, but for me, it’s way more than that. It’s where I get to build dream houses, make millions of imaginary money (simoleons, they’re called) and of course, spend them on things like a jacuzzi, a brand new car, and a spankingly stylish bar counter.
Lots of people fail to understand the beauty of this game. Husband too, fails at this. The joy of ‘playing God’ to these simulated creatures is indescribable. Pinky, you know what I mean.
By the way, my favourite way these days to kill my Sims is to to get them struck by lightning teeheehee. The new expansion, Seasons, has created a new way for me to ‘control the population’. Teehee.
When I was surfing, I found a video of Lily Allen’s hit song, Smile, which is on the game soundtrack but in Simlish (the incomprehensible language used by the sims). Well a sim Lily Allen is singing this song, of course.
Watch the video and you can only imagine the amazing (sick) things you (I) can do with these creatures. Muahahahha.
And then check out how similar the real Lily Allen and her sim version are. I’m in the process of creating a Ramli-sim and an Ooyah-sim. Muahahahha.
Back from Batam and Parenting Guilt
I don’t remember ever doing a ‘pack and go’ trip- but this is one to remember. Suddenly we found ourselves packing and taking a taxi to Harbourfront, lugging some bags and a baby onto a boat, and before we knew it, we were in Indonesia.
My MIL came along as well, thought we’d give her a nice break from being cooped up at home, taking care of baby and becoming a tv3-junkie. And I thought it would be a way to thank her for these last few weeks she took care of Baby while I burnt the midnight oil. If she hadn’t come along, it would have been our first trip with the baby, and truth is, we were quite nervous about it, knowing full well how difficult she can be. The baby, I mean. 
We told ourselves we’d handle the baby on our own, and would only ask my MIL to help if necessary. And I can safely say that we are ready to go on more adventures together, just the three of us. I think I am brave enough. I think.
It was a pleasant trip and we stayed at a nice place, had lots of fun at the pool, went shopping till we nearly dropped, and of course ate like there’s no tomorrow. Did I tell you we bought 4 dozens of donuts that were so bloody delicious we bought all 18 varieties that they had, about 4 times over? Yes. We lugged back 48 donuts from J.Co, famous for their heavenly heavenly donuts (apparently they taste even better than the donut chain in Singapore with the killer queues.) Move over, Dunkin’. I ain’t eatin’ you no more.
We had a donut eating marathon on the last night. I could only eat 8 donuts in all. A lame attempt, I know, but was I sick after that or WHAT?
So, 40 more to go.
As we watched the video of the trip with my family, I was amazed at how I seem to be chomping on something almost all the time. And I issued a warning to husband who went trigger-happy with his camera: STOP taking pictures of me showing my rear-end!!! It eventually became “STOP TAKING PICTURES OF ME!!!” Husband, husband. Always snapping me in my most indiscriminate moments.
We handled the baby, who was angelic throughout the whole trip (surprisingly!!!!) all on our own. Because it was meant to be a break for my MIL from the baby, and for us to see if we can solely handle her on our own for future trips, we didn’t even make her carry baby, not one bit. Baby was either in the bjorn or in the stroller. We bathed her, fed her, put her to bed, played with her- everything. We were full-time parents during the holiday, the irony of it all.
And it was such a good opportunity to bond with her, the little one. Spending time with her after school and work certainly wasn’t enough and it is such a pity that we can’t spend more full days with her. I feel like I’ve totally missed out some bits of her daytime life, and I’m sure husband feels worse because he sees her even less. I believe all working parents feel this way; one day you’re feeling THANK GOD i have a job so I don’t go crazy taking care of baby all day!, but another day it hits you-where have I been all this while? Am I spending enough time with my child? Well, for me, that’s how I feel anyway. These few days I’ve been home, the guilt is creeping up on me, as I see her being so different and capable of doing so many new things.
She is so affectionate and manja with me nowadays, probably missing me so much like I have ‘missed’ her, not sleeping with her at night for about 2 weeks. Well basically because I wasn’t getting any sleep at night for those 2 weeks. Now she’s always asking for MA-MAAA! in her whining voice whenever she’s upset or needs to be comforted. It just melts my heart and tugs hard at my guilt. I really hope to ‘make up’ for the lost ‘daytime’ bonding in these 3 months that I’m home. Since things were in control, I cannot wait to go on another trip with husband and baby, just the three of us for some serious family bonding.
Okay all this typing and feeling guilty is making me crave for more donuts. I need to make up for the lost calories.
Goodbye my friend.
At first there were four.
These feet belong to these four.
Then one got married and moved to Melbourne, this picture taken on the day that one got married,
…so then there were three. In a more decent pose.
It was three for a very long time after that…
..and they had lots of fun together…
…but then another one got married, and about 7 months after her first baby, moved to the U.S.
…So now, there’s just two.
…who knows, when the only single one left gets married, that one might just leave the country as well (probably to her homeland, Thailand…)
…in a prettier pose….
…if that happens, there’ll be just one then.
Goodbye to our dear friend, Bav and her family, who left for Idaho in the wee hours this morning. It’s been great fun to have you around. Looks like the Triple F groupie is really falling apart. But maybe it’s not falling apart. Let’s take it that we’re globalising, covering different areas of the globe, spreading the love of food and merriment to the world, heh?
We’ll still do our ‘hanging’, ‘piggin’, and maybe ‘dancin’ sessions when you return, okay?
In the meantime, the last two left will still live the legacy that you left in Singapore.
We’ll still pig out.
Sick man’s food
Since husband is suffering from his teeth-extraction, it was a good reason for me to cook. Well so he says. I decided to make one of his favourite Fadelinah-cooked dishes, chicken porridge. I don’t mind making it cos it’s real simple, though you have to wait quite a while to savour it till the rice is all soft and ‘porridgey’.
It tastes better than it looks.
Now that my THREE MONTH HOLIDAY has commenced (smiles coyly), I am set to spend some nights cooking for husband. I repeat: SOME.
Tomorrow’s menu: macaroni soup. Maybe.
I repeat: MAYBE.
