The stirs from the newly-clothed duvet roused me to my first hint of consciousness.

I tossed lightly, and made a vague mental note that he was most probably having a brief moment of knowingness.

It was just split seconds, before I was impaired by sheer fatigue, and was mellowed back to the snoring state I was moments ago.

I doubt it was seconds before my senses started registering the messages the soft touches sent.

In a state of trance, eyes stubbornly shut, I could feel a firm arm scooping me closer, and a snug cuddle ensued.

A trickle of kisses trailed my forehead, nose and lips, as I heard him softly whisper a wisp of ‘Good morning..’.

I pried open the obstinate pair, the right heavier than the left, and took a bare glimpse of the affectionate one.

I couldn’t remember what I saw.

Back to the state of comatose.

I tossed once again, burrowing deeper into the warmth of the duvet and him combined.

I turned my back to him, the usual way I would cling on close to the corner of the bed.

Yet somehow, I tossed again. Perhaps sub-consciously wanting to inch closer for another dose of affections.

I felt watched.

Something within me jolted me awake, and I made an extra effort to part the lids somnolently.

There, lying detached from me some distance away, on 2 stacked pillows, was him, with his lively eyes fixed on me, as if observing the silliness of my sleeping state.

I gasped in absolute horror, and the drowsiness dissipated almost immediately. The rays of the day penetrated in from the window behind him, and were casting the limelight on my ghastly, pale face.

What an awful sight.

He leaned in for yet another morning-greeting kiss. Unusually energetic of him.

I snuggled up close to him as I hid in the solace of his neck, arm wrung round his slender body.

Not sure how long did the cuddle, snuggle, kissy routine went on, before he scurried off to brush his teeth.

A check with the handphone, showed that it was 8.33am.

The last I checked of the time before we both dozed off, was 6.38am.

I had this terrible struggle to open my eyes. My right eye felt extremely tiresome and I gave it a violent rub.

It eased up and I blamed in on the sleep deprivation.

He jumped onto the bed upon returning, and announced how he was unable to fall back to sleep.

I immediately pulled up the duvet to cover half of my face, and would allow my eyes to peek out at him.

Self-consciousness still ruled.

With the sunlight illuminating my flaws, everything became apparent, you see.

Before long, I was totally out of snooze mode, and was equally awake.

Good morning, sweetie, I chirped.

***

Introduction of the day was spent chatting for a few hours, and an action-charged sparring session.

Nothing kinky, alright.

Smacks, kicks, tickles, pinches, wrestles, grabs, grasps, restrains, struggles, throws.

We should be giving wrestling classes.

It was physically draining especially when he was pretty rough except for the time he paused to tenderly sweep off a speck of flecks from my eye.

Or the time I would pout concedingly and call truce with my pleading eyes, baby voice.

Only then, he would plant cheeky smooches to appease me that would sometime lead to more sensual, passionate kisses.

I giggled at the silliness of it, and how I wriggled my way through disadvantaging situations.

The despicable lowlife actually threatened to kidnap my baby pillow home, by stuffing it into his bag.

I swore I would hunt him down at his place and asked his parents for my lovely pillow.

And he further threatened that he would dangle my pillow from the window if I ever did that.

Such…. absurdity.

We even tried messing around with the OSIM ipamper which I had chucked aside since I got it for free.

Free massages! Whee.

We sat in the living room at the end of it, lazing.

Spent from the exhaustion, and the consequences of sleep deprivation.

It was noon, when he set foot out of my place after yet another round of cuddles and smooches.

***

It was a short talk on the phone before I headed back for my newest read.

The lids grew too heavy for me to take, and a 4-hour nap till 6pm followed.

***

How do you define gross misjudgment of character?

I don’t know.

But I am sure there is/was someone in your life who turned out to be the utter opposite of who you thought him/her is.

I have one more to throw into the pile.

SBB.

Did I mention something about him being intelligent and deep? Or that his wits make him engaging?

I think I did. But have no freaking idea why.

Classic quotes from the man. In a single day.

SBB: Hey sweetie, I’m at the petrol kiosk already, you want anything?
Ting: Hmm.. okay, I think I feel like having a croissant from Delifrance.
SBB: Okay, so what do you want to go with it?
Ting: Eh.. I want egg mayonaise then. Thank you sweetie!’
SBB: So.. what bread do you want?
Ting: ???!!!

The bewildered me took 1 second to regain my composure and broke into fits of giggles.

Ting: Ahem. Can I quote that on my blog?
SBB: ……

~”~

A bottle of Biotherm moisturiser sat by my moniter.

I reached out for it and squirted some onto my palm, before applying on his dry arms, and nagged that he should start using by himself before his skin cracks.

He held up the bottle, and studied it with great curiosity.

SBB: Sweetie, how do you cap the bottle?
Ting: *Slightly stunned* Erm, you twist it anticlockwise to open, and cap it, twist it clockwise to close. Er, just like a normal bottle cap?
SBB: Oh.

~”~

We were just walking around my house, looking at the mess scattered around the house and me rattling the significance of those items.

As we approached the sofa to sit down, he walked past the screen seated right in front of the couch, in the centre of the cabinet that held it.

SBB: Is that a television?

I turned to look at him with disbelief.

Obviously it gotta be since it was strategically placed right in front of the sofa, and that there ought to be a television in the hall, and nothing else would remotely resemble one.

My Aquos television suffered an ego-dent when he tried to come back with a lame defense, ‘Well, it looks like a computer flatscreen, and it’s such a small television for the hall, ya know?‘

Try harder, I say.

~”~

SBB: Sweetie, what month is it today?
Ting: August, 29th
SBB: August is 9 right?
SBB: Or is it 8?
Ting: *Confused* Ah?

It took me a while before I realised he meant the month in numeral terms.

Ting: 8. I can’t believe this is coming from you.

Woe is me.

And I thought I am bad. What have I gotten myself into?

I take back what I said about his intelligence previously.

***

Had wanted to blog last night, but was really not up to it despite the nap I had earlier tried to replenish.

FF dropped by last evening for another dinner meetup over at my place.

It perked me up since I had it rough over the weekend, plagued by the evil PMS.

It was yet another night of juicy talk with the PMSsy lady(gee, it’s hard turn now), and I am just so glad I am out of my PMS state.

But then again, only us girls can empathise with that, and we would always be lenient with our girlies cos we could totally apprehend the kind of torment they go through month after month.

Conclusion of the night? PMS is evil.

So is FF.

I tend to eat much more than I usually do when she’s around.

Discussions revolved around the same, old issues. *chuckles*

And we have a new bet! That would due in 2 weeks time.

I am so sure this 2 bucks will be in my pocket.

***

As the good times shared by FF came to a halt in the evening, I decided to make a trip to the clinic.

My pocket was sore after a 56 bucks deficit.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For less than 3 minutes of consultation.

The sting in my right eye was hard to ignore as the area around the entire eye felt the prick as well.

It felt as if someone had punched me in the eye.

Ouch.

I walked into the consultation room, and there sat my Dr Not-Too-Bad. He’s pretty cute, with a hunky build, and speaks in a soft, slow drawl.

Dr: Hi Ting, what’s wrong?
Ting: (In a grumpy, kiddish voice) My right eye is painful but I don’t know why. I think it’s sore eyes.

He did a check with the torchlight, and concluded in a matter of seconds.

Dr: Yeap! You’re down with sore eyes.
Ting: (Despite being the one who had earlier complained of sore eyes…) But it doesn’t look like sore eyes.. No swell, no redness, no difference, ya know? So it can’t be sore eyes.

*Cough* Who’s the doc here now?

Dr: -laughs- But it certainly looks like sore eyes to me.
Ting: (Still wanna get her way) Cannot be what.

The area about my dark eye circle ached, and I rubbed it forcefully.
Dr: Don’t rub!

For a moment, I thought he sounded like he gonna smack my hand.

I pouted slightly like a defiant child, and ceased.

Ting: I didn’t rub what.
Dr: You just did!
Ting: -eyes shifty- I never, hehe.
Dr: I will prescribe you with 2 eyedrops. One for the infection cos you were rubbing your eyes just now.
Ting: But I didn’t rub!
Dr: Yes you did! I saw you doing it!
Ting: I never.
Dr: You did it just now right before me.
Ting: No what. No have.. You see wrongly la. Must be. -sheepish laughs-

And yeap, that 3 minute banter costs me $56 cos I had gotten some pills for my gastric as well.

I forgot to mention to him I had a sore throat too.

Throat is pretty sore. Not sure why, but I guessed I had swallowed something too hard the night before.

I had an ulcer on my gum, and it’s darn sore too, after I had brushed my teeth a tad too hard and the toothbrush hit the gums.

And I shall not mention how my muscles are all aching after the chores, push-ups, sit-ups, and random exercises I had tried resorting to to fill up my mundane Sunday.

Speaking of Sunday, it was chore after chore, and a treat to a great game on the cable’s sports channel.

I tried exercising and realised my stamina had taken a great dip from my peak.

I could hardly manage the sit-ups and push-ups which I could muster with great ease in the past.

Gee. Such weakling.

Thighs, neck, shoulders, back, lower back, arms, calves, butt… everywhere’s aching.

So sore.

Worst part?

Doc says no to contact lens for the next 2 weeks.

*UTTER ABHORRENCE*

How can?

But I no longer feel the itch, pain now. I don’t have swells nor redness, so it should be alright, no?

Ah, heck it.

I am meeting the darlings tomorrow and I want to look good.

*Wails*

***

I retreated pretty early last night.

Around 3ish?

I couldn’t read and struggled to blog with my eye growing increasingly painful. It didn’t prick as much prior to the administering of eyedrops, ya know?

I slept on with great comfort, and it was noon time when I finally greeted the day.

Shortly after I washed up, SBB called, and it was another couple of hours on the phone which took my blogging time away.

I shall sneak back to blogging for a while whilst munching on pastries and chocolate, which would make my lunch today.

***

Whee. Rossi is getting really invincible on the track, doesn’t he?

I can’t wait.

It’s less than 4 weeks to go, and I am bursting with excitement.

And, back to the field, I am so freaking exhilarated to see my team getting back on form with the impeccable teaming of the Rs.

Glory, glory. Yippee.

Now I feel like kicking some balls.

And yes, I mean donning my soccer shoes for some running around the street-soccer court.

Any kind souls who wouldn’t mind my clumsiness and willing to coach, please leave a message.

***

Dad brought me out for dinner on Sunday evening.

Cold Soba, he likes.

And I shopped round for new bedsheets, which I eagerly clothed my duvet and bed into once I got home.

It was a quaint night spent with dad.

I was incredibly hyperactive throughout the day, but I mellowed with dad’s presence.

I suddenly felt a hue of dejection overwhelming me as I saw his aging looks.

We spoke about life, and his retirement plans.

He has no plans of doing so, cos he is afraid of being ostracised by the society, and slowly pushed to a corner of the forgotten elderly.

I looked at him, and my eyes were moist.

I love you daddy, I failed to say.

***

Know what is karma?

That is to laugh at people’s rocketing phone bill, and mock at their streak of bad luck to realise…

The numerals on your phone bill spelt ‘$226.56‘.

Which is much more obscene than your pal’s.

And my previous bill was tagged 60 bucks only you know?!?!

And I have free-incoming and free 700 minutes, you know that?!

I browsed through the 3-paged bill, and I realised why.

I spent a great deal of time back in JB last month, remember?

Ah, that explains.

Each SMS costs me 60 cents.

And, one distinct number shone through in the bill.

That one call that lasted more than an hour.

ONE FREAKING CALL FOR $50!!!

And the number didn’t appear once, but a few times.

*Ting glares menacingly at SBB*

The other numbers included were Vamp’s home number, handphone number and a few random numbers of my financial planner and such.

I don’t dare to check the Malaysia’s home bill for the phone call that lasted 7 and half hours…

I am gonna avoid meeting my parents at all costs for the next few days.

*SHEEPISH*

***

The roars from the familiar engine ceased, and as usual, the rider looked darn good in white.

I thought PMS had made be grown distantly detached from the figure right before me.

I flashed a smile, and gave a crisp, perked up ‘Hello.’

He swept me into his arms as he swaggered towards me, and I threw mine around his neck.

Quick peck on the lips, and a snug hug ensued.

I clutched onto him a tad tighter, and I felt the sturdy arms round my back constricted as I buried my face into the side of his neck.

Something ignited with that cuddle.

We allowed the embrace to linger for a brief moment longer than it should, and the grip took another contraction before we let go and smiled at each other.

We stood around at the corridor outside my doorway, near the lift landing, devouring the pastry and sandwich from Delifrance.

We decided it was a weak idea to be munching in my room cos my clumsiness would mean a mess would be cooked.

We grabbed our drinks from my desk, and ventured out to the open area, where he could have a fag or two.

The very same lift landing, that housed the parapet where one of the most dramatic moments of my life ever took place.

I graced him the details to my momentary hysteria that changed the events of my life, greatly.

I tried to sound light-hearted and detched from that surreal event, but I knew I was slightly traumatised within.

And I rattled on the hilarious events that followed thereafter.

As much as it was bizarre, it became something that fostered the relationship between me and my parents.

And come to think of it, it was partly PMS-triggered.

PMS is evil.

We fed each other our share of food, and stood around, though my mind was monopolised by the thoughts of the past event, which perhaps had scarred me in more ways than one.

I felt a cuddle from the back, as I stood around the area where everything once happened, and chuckled at that snippet of my memory.

I am strong, I told myself silently.

Not brittle, I insisted on my mental note.

He took a last drag from his last fag, and I pulled him close for a taste of his tongue, before going back into the house.

Man, this is getting addictive.

Known as PMS.

No, it’s not another coded name for a new guy in my life.

Not Pre-Marital Sex either.

It’s Pre-Menstrual Symptoms.

Yay.

I can’t say how glad I am that I am finally bleeding.

Not that I enjoy leakages and having something wedge between my you-know-where.

But yeah, I can list 1001 things on why I am glad that my monthly hassle is finally here.

Cast that dirty thought out of your evil mind, pregnancy is not included in the ’1000 things’.

In the first place, there’s remotely, or rather, no chance that I would be.

But, after being tormented by the fatigue PMS brought along for the past few days, I heave a loud sigh of great relief when I woke up today feeling charged, energised, and fresh.

I even contemplated to go jogging cos of the spare zest, but I didn’t think jogging with something bloody wedged between is a joy.

You have no idea what kind of monster PMS can turn me into.

And I really am awed by how this incredibly powerful thing called hormones can be more lethal than any weapons of mass destruction.

Wanna conquer the world? Saddam should look no further.

Lock an army of PMSing ladies together with the jerks and bitches they loathe, and within minutes, the entire galaxy will be his.

That is, if he could survive the blast as well.

I would morph into an absolute devil, barely with any hint of my usual self.

Snappish, easily agitated, extremely anti-social, grouchy until cannot grouchy(what a sentence structure), exceptionally whinny, heavy display of koala bear syndrome, perpetually angry with myself, a constant urge to bawl and feeling suicidal over the puniest thoughts.

I would stab anyone who comes within 2m of my radius with my piercing stares.

Bottomline?

An utter bitch.

Remedy?

Cuddles and given the grace to sulk. Endlessly, I might add.

Then, I would crumble into this needy baby, and just wanna snuggle up to some sense of affections.

My body is very sensitive to the hormonal change.

The constant fatigue would finally cease when I start to bleed.

I was almost dozing off when I was out last night, and I was spaced out most of the night when anyone tried to make a conversation with me.

I looked at this girl whom I just got newly acquainted like a hurt puppy, and whimpered, ‘I’ve got PMS… and am extremely drained and exhausted.‘ while she listened empathetically after asking if I was bored.

*PUUURRRRRRRRRRRR*

I punched my fist into the air victoriously when I got home past midnight yesterday to realise the time had came.

Thus, I feel as if I regain my zeal today.

I scurried around the house in full zest today, sweeping the long forgotten laundry off the floor, into the washing machine.

I skipped into the spare room which is obscenely littered with my clothes and scoured through them to rescue them out of the mess, before delicately folded them into neat rectangles.

Tops here, casuals there, jeans here, pants there, dresses on the hangers, panties here, bras there, skirts here, school uniforms for kinky keepsake purposes there…

Whee.

In the midst of it, I found stuffs that welcomed flashbacks from the past. Things that I would rather not remember.

Ouch.

I am glad I chance upon them after my PMS, and not entangled in the midst of it.

Or else who knows the hells it would unleash.

I whistled as I paired up the shoes and put them side by side.

I hummed some happy tunes as I dug into the twisted pile of damp laundry, spreaded them across the poles and watched them dance to the breeze.

The bright colours that adorned the poles perked me up.

Reds, pinks and all the girlie shades.

I never knew I was THAT girlie.

I even decided I shall blog!

I resolved to finish my new read by today.

Yippee.

I drew up a list of how I should systematically spread the chores over these 2 days.

Handwashing tomorrow. Scrub bathtub/sinks/toilet bowl and bathroom floor. Vacuum cleaning and mopping tomorrow. Light wash tomorrow!

Ironing.

I might not be able to wait and ended up doing them later.

Such push doesn’t come easily, you know?

Oh, and I can finally wash my freshly tinted hair later, and return to my usual curls.

How exciting.

I even felt upbeat enough to take a walk in the cheery sunny day, to the coffeeshop for lunch.

I was litted up by the fact that I no longer crave for lard-infested Char Kuey Tiao, but wheat biscuits.

See! Having menstruation finally means no sinful cravings, that would derive you into a bawling state cos of the immense guilt from obscene indulgence.

And! Best part? I looked into the mirror and thought I lost 5 kg from yesterday cos the water retention and bloatedness sept away with the blood.

Whee!

I thought I was fat, but I have an excuse.

PMS was the culprit.

Don’t tell me I am deluded, cos I know I still am quite a bit from my ideal weight.

Dammit.

And my complexion finally cleared up!

Yay.

And my favourite perfumes no longer nauseate me.

And! Throw me any jibe right now and I could retaliate without spacing out and making a bimbo out of myself cos of the slackened wits.

Oh oh oh. Did I mention how I slumped into bed at 2.30am yesterday and I managed to sleep on without coldsweating and feeling all uncomfortable?

Erm well, SBB did call at 4 plus and 5 plus, and Vamp called at almost 6 for a short call.

Yet, I was very alert and not feeling tired.

And! I could easily drift back into snoozeland after they hung up.

Such a bliss when I could sleep so comfortable without all the edginess PMS brings.

I woke at 12 plus today. Body clock is back to normal. All’s good, isn’t it?

Bleeding is good.

I sound like I am high on drugs or something. Gee.

Well, that’s the vast difference.

And considering that this is one of the mildest PMS streak I had in a long while, minus the backaches, swollen boobs, crying spells and prolonged moodiness(the moody part only lasted half of Friday!), I had it easier this month.

Just that all of the above were traded for extreme fatigue and I was spacing out for a good half of the week wherever I go.

The exhaustion was doubled.

Yet, quality sleep was deprived cos too much discomfort felt.

Such annoyance.

Now that it’s finally here, I could move on to some things on the agenda which I had delayed for the longest time.

Like the ‘appointment’ I set with Vamp.

Like getting myself started on some daily routine.

Like going for my gynae checkup which I had delayed and missed 4 times for the past 2 years.

For all I know, I might be getting cancer without even knowing it. Muahahaha.

The thought of going for the checkup scares me. *Shudder*

It is just something psychological I can’t seem to get over.

Maybe I will go next month, next year, next millenium or something.

Ah well.

***

Someone tried hacking into my blog account.

I hope your genital is rotting, face infested with zits, body accumulating with excess lard, and your armpit hair will grow to a feet long.

***

I graced almost every corner of Singapore on a frustrating Friday.

Woke up to a blur, still feeling very much drained and sulkish.

It was one of those days I want to go to nowhere but stay under my duvet.

I got ready, packed my stuffs, before heading out of the door at late 3 in the afternoon.

It was something I couldn’t miss.

Had wanted to drop by Parkway Parade, and realised there is a direct bus from Jurong East to my destination.

Wrong move.

I took a bus to transit to 197 at the library.

15 minutes of wait didn’t kill me.

I read my book.

Spoke to SBB briefly on the bus, and I thought it would eat up enough time for the ride.

How wrong I was.

What I wasn’t prepared was the darn blardy long bus ride that took up 1 and half hour.

When I alighted, I thought I reached KL or something.

I mean, hello? A flight to KL would take only 45 minutes with more comfortable seats and snacks included okay?!

My legs nearly buckled underneath when I finally strolled onto the streets.

To fit into the theme of ‘PINK’, I was as pink as one could be.

Pink shirt with a pink camisole underneath. Pink bra. Pink minis.

With my dyed, straight hair, I feel like a Lian princess.

SBB tried to speak to me in Hokkien, and doubted my ability in Hokkien sprouting.

As much as he was laughing throughout, I did think I fare pretty well when I spoke Hokkien with my own unique accent.

That’s called individuality, alright?

I actually managed some decent sentences besides the fanciful nouns with nothing but references to genitals.

Parkway Parade brought back incessant memories of my childhood.

Going to Parkway Parade was a joy.

Whenever dad could squeeze me into his busy routine, going to Parkway Parade was a treat, since it was an obscene distance from Taman Jurong.

Of course, the countless disappointments from unfulfilled treats scarred me as a child.

When he was free, my instant reply to his ‘Where do you want to go?’ would be ‘Parkway Parade’.

The bare quality time I had with them, was there.

Bliss. No fights. No beatings.

It was there, where I felt I had a knitted family.

I remember how once I stubbornly wanted to go to Parkway Parade instead of those night fairs that I threw a tantrum despite it was dad’s intention to enjoy those park rides with me.

We didn’t even venture past the ticket booth, cos I was vastly disappointed that I didn’t get to Parkway Parade as promised.

I went home, and got a beating from dad.

I could remember the number of times my dad ever laid hands on me. They could be counted on my fingers.

That, was one of the rare moments.

As I grew up, I slowly regret not going into the fair with my parents, cos it would mean a whole new memory into the data bank, which I could look back and reminisce a different experience with the folks.

Another once, I was injured after falling off the bicycle. The wound was quite bad, and a huge area of scab was forming.

I still insisted on going to Parkway Parade with my healing wound.

When I fell down as a kid, I used to get a beating from my mum for my clumsiness.

Since I was, and very much am a clumsy person, I would not cry after I fall, cos all the crying would be left for the smacking that followed.

It was a lot of fear when I fell as a kid, which never went away.

I remember I did not get a beating from my mum after falling off my red bicycle, which came a surprise.

Perhaps so, I have very vivid memory of that fall, cos my fear was redundant.

But what happened was, I was diving into the sea of colourful plastic balls at Parkway Parade, when something happened, and my big chunk of scab fell off.

I left the place, turning pieces after pieces of tissues scarlet.

I went home, and got caned pretty badly.

Ah. Memories.

And so, I was saying, Parkway Parade.

It went through a major change.

I think I only been there twice or thrice since I was a kid.

I scurried round the mall for a gift, and finally settled for a tiara, and 2 fairytale story books — the known Disney princesses – Snow White and er… I can’t remember who, but that she was donning a pink gown.

Pink gown reminds me of her.

It was Faith’s 21st birthday chalet, and as usual, I am not good with gifts.

To me, she’s always a fragile lady putting on a strong front.

Perhaps that’s why, she’s always wanting to be a princess, cos all she wants, is to live happily ever after.

Which girl doesn’t want that?

Just that our ambition to be a princess is always tainted by the harsh reality, and became an outlet for a fantasy world.

My dear, I do wish you would find your deserving happily ever after ending.

Just thought the tiara would be sufficient enough to realise her dream of becoming a princess, and that the irony of giving her fairytales books(which are aptly sub-named ‘Friendships of the Fairies‘ and ‘Friends you can count on‘ ) meant that she doesn’t need to give up on her dreams simply because she has reached adulthood.

Happy 21st, and the years forth.

***

I strutted out of the mall, and asked for directions from the kind Old Chang Kee auntie who pointed me towards the direction of the underpass to East Coast.

I found the underpass with relative ease, and East Coast was a mere 5 minutes walk away.

Cool.

I enjoyed the dimming blue of the sky, and the enthusiastic breeze that greeted me as I exited from the other side of the road.

The buzz, the laughters, the Siberian husky jogging with its owner, the youths gathered, men with bulging musles in tiny shorts jogging(-whistles-), pretty boys blading, and families cycling.

Wheee. I like.

If I wasn’t in my slippers, I would be breaking into short sprints to jog my way down to the chalet.

If I wasn’t in my skirt, I would be heading straight into one of the shops to rent a bicycle to immerse myself into such laid back evening.

I walked, and walked.

I saw an empty bench, and sat down to enjoy the mesmerising atmosphere, slowing my pace, enjoying the relaxing breeze.

I adore park life, but it was too much a distance for me to cover to get there.

The dimmed blue darkened to a light shade of grey.

The chalet was still not in sight.

I didn’t know how far it was, until I finally got to the chalet.

And?

The chalet nearest to me was the last few chalets, when her chalet was A, furthest from where I was.

Blardy hell.

35 minutes by foot alright?!

And there was barely any hint of daylight when I reached.

So, an hour and half of bus ride plus 35 mins by foot, I think I could almost reach Thailand.

Surprisingly, I did not sweat a single drop like what someone had predicted.

‘Actually it’s within walkable distance, just that by the time you get there, you’ll be covered in nothing but sweat.‘

I spaced out most of the time cos the tired bug was slowly seeping in.

Then, the horror came.

Dad called to say he is in Malacca, so I had to make plans to endorse my passport by myself.

And, since I didn’t expect that, I only had 30 bucks with me to last till he comes back.

If I have to make my way back to Malaysia by myself, I would sure have to take a midnight cab back to Jurong, which would cost 15 bucks.

So, taking a cab to the causeway would be too much a luxury to handle.

And how the hell am I gonna get out of East Coast, to get to Woodlands?

Just then, my handphone was threatening to space out cos I forgot to feed it electricity.

And my bout of PMS was threatening to put me to sleep right there and then. Had wanted to sleep there, but decided not to.

I feel nauseated when I saw food. Unwell. Sickly.

I didn’t feel like speaking to anyone.

I finally tried breaking the ice since the girlies are all very fabulous characters.

I pulled through till the cake cutting(oh my, the cake is simply delicious but is hellava expensive cake), before one of her very kind friends, Alvin, offered to drop me off at the nearest MRT station.

I took up the offer.

But Alvin went the extra mile.

He knew I was pretty rushed and that I didn’t have enough cash on me.

Thus, he offered to share the cab to where he stays, and then I would continue on the journey to Woodlands with him paying for the full fare.

I was taken aback by the nice gesture and refused. He insisted.

Being in a rather desperate situation and feeling extremely unwell, I swallowed my pride and promised I would buy him a drink the next time round.

He’s one of those rare people who are genuinely nice, and do things without asking anything in return.

Nowadays, nice people I met are all cab-related.

Really, really heartfelt thanks to the darling.

***

I reached the checkpoint just in time, feeling absolutely lethargic. The fare of $21 pretty much explains why I was car-sick.

East to north. And west beckoned.

I made my way home after endorsing my passport, and it was a bus ride to Kranji MRT, a train ride to Jurong East MRT, and the maroon hue of the sky plus its howling wind scrapped the plans of me walking home.

I hopped on a cab for a short ride, feeling the pinch.

Wise move. The windscreen was slowly spotted with dots of droplets.

I heaved a sigh of relief when I finally stepped into the wrap of my home, ending the day.

Raf tried enticing me to Zouk where Feroz had a really cute pal in tow.

The babe even went as far as offering to pay for my cover to get me down to boogie with her.

Was darn tempted to as the boogie cells in me beckoned, but the fact that I might be stranded there and not able to afford a cab ride back put me off and I had to disappoint the darling.

*Sulk*

That is what happened when I didn’t check my bank account and splurge on a hairjob and senseless shopping.

*Double sulk*

So, another day of home-bound activities today.

Yeap.

Excuse me now, while I head straight to the waiting hoover.

Warning: Parental Guidance *cough* advised. If you might get offended, skip this, rather than bitch about the contents in your tiny, sad world.

I am tired.

I am so tired.

I am so freaking tired.

Despite sleeping for a fulfilling 12 hours for Tuesday, and almost 10 last night.

I swear it’s the PMS(Sheesh, thiis month, it doesn’t come with boobs).

I float around like a zombie, I feel lethargic all the time, my usually *ahem* swift wits slow down to a crawl, my appetite is unusually huge, and my favourite scents become unbearably nauseating.

And I shall not mention the erratic mood swings that make me the most anti-social creature around. *Grrr…*

Thus, there’s barely any zealous grey matter left for any pulse-accelerating entry.

Therefore, I indulged in some quiet time with myself, reading, surfing, emailing, watching CSI, and just lazing under the duvet, sulking away.

So, the entry was delayed, and delayed.

I have been too inconsistent with my updates, I know.

So, how should I start?

Ah well.

Am pretty upset that my Bubblemunche Hisreason left blogosphere again.

Please come back soon, alright? *hug*

Tuesday was an interesting day.

The 4 male-sluts wannabes had an scintillating meet-up arranged at 7pm.

But of course, when you meet up with a bunch of girls, it’s naturally that 7pm would inevitably become 7.30pm.

I would claim partial responsibility for being 7 minutes late cos SBB called when I was changing.

Brief chat.

‘Hey sweetie, can I call you back in 10 minutes time when I’m leaving?‘

In the most sickening endearing babyish-voice, he spoke like a child wanting his way, ‘No! Cannot. You must talk to me.‘

‘Hahaha, okay, but another 10 minutes only okay?‘

Ooooooooops.

That was why I was late in meeting Finicky Feline at Jurong East MRT. Supposed meeting time was 6.30pm.

*Sheepish smile*

We waited for VampTreSS right outside Swissotel, at the taxi stand.

She was supposed to pick us up by cab before heading down to Millenia Walk to meet Jane Doe.

It was yet another wait, and it was no surprise we were late to meet Jane Doe.

The biggest sacrifice the girls made, was to endure the sight of my naked face through the night. I even threw the thought of putting on concealer out of my head cos I was too lazy.

Waking up at 7am in the morning proved to be a bitch.

I could feel the drowsiness kicking in when I was at Millenia Walk, even before we moved off from there for dinner.

No one could suggest a brilliant place for dinner, and no one was decisive enough to make any plans.

Hence, Jane Doe ended up driving around aimlessly, and before we knew it, she hit up ECP, and we found ourselves in East Coast, Siglap area.

Still clueless over what we should be having, we drove in, and out of Cafe Cartel carpark, and drove on.

No one made any decisions.

I guess, we are just too used to letting guys do the planning for us.

Yes, I am one of those ladies who will let the guys do the decision-makings unless PMS takes over.

You see, guys are the ones who navigate around, and would have a more precise idea on where they wanna park, what budget they have, or whatever that’s more convenient to them, no?

Anyway, it was then, she announced that we would head to Changi Airport instead.

*Gasp in horror*

Miss Ting stays in Jurong, ya know?

I always thought they should have an internal flight from Changi to where I stay.

I love it there, but it’s blardy out of the way for me.

FF the genius thought of Changi Village, and finally, a goal was set for our destination.

Off we went.

I stared out of the window most of the time, with my mind wandered off elsewhere.

I was just too exhausted by the day’s event that it was hard to get my mind together.

It was on ECP that the conversation between the lasses warmed the night up, and we engaged in some really quality and exhilarating topics.

Erm, topics that could keep the space-out princess awake.

Like JaneDoe said, we should have had a podcast. The juicy, tender, spicy, kinky, silly talks would sure catapult us into super stardom.

The media companies should get us onto some talk shows or something and have a program of our own.

It almost felt like a scene out of Sex and the City.

In Vamp’s words, that was one of the most liberating talks we had in a long, long while.

It was in that Nissan sedan, where we realised, we are all aliens.

I felt like a freak.

I felt like a laughing stock.

Let’s take a look on what JaneDoe had blogged about:

Well… some of things we talked about. Out loud.

1. Rimming
2. Spooning.
3. Ass Fcuking.
4. Searching for your own G-spot.(As one of the ladies said… ” its the size of a pea)
5. Can’t understand how can one not cum by stimulating the clit, with a vibrator even.
6. There are always a couple of fakers amongst us.
7. We have done the office toilet ritual.
8. Bad experiences. OMM and tiny / thin / flaccid / short etc…

Yes, since I had admitted elsewhere that vibrator does no miracles on me, I shall admit I am alien specimen A who fulfilled point 5 — vibrator is redundant on me.

And erm yeah, I know how rare it is amongst females for that…

Alien specimen B, is *cough* pealess.

That’s all I am allowed to say.

The talk was later adjourned to the dinner table at Changi Village, Charlie’s.

The lightings and the cold, chilly night was putting me into hibernation mode.

I swear my eyelids weighed a ton each, and I was slowly dozing off at the table.

I was spacing out, unable to catch up with their topics, until…..

The juicy, and heated parts came up, again.

I sobered up almost instantaneously, and it’s no wonder they said I have slut-blood running in each and every vein within me.

To keep me awake, the night was filled with sleaze educational talks.

As dinner came to an end, Janice called for a short talk on the phone, and the poor girl was down with some ailments, when she was supposed to be joining us for the night.

Get well soon babe, and go easy on the alcohol.

Before I knew it, we were all ferried to Jalan Kayu for drinks, and continued on our hormone-charged talks over there, before dispersing home from there.

I started to space out really swiftly, and my speech was slurred and slow, just like the previous time I met up with the 3 of them for the bowling session.

(Yes, the bowling session where FF set a bet that SBB and I would smooch a week thereforth)

Delirious state, I was in.

I managed to lust last through the night with the fabulous company, and I have learnt things I never knew.

Like, say, face-into-pillow, eyes 3/4 shut, eyeballs rolled back, dug nails into the back, bedsheets-grabbing, high-pitch moan and does a quick glance at the television to keep yourself entertained while claiming the title to academy award’s best actress.

Muahahahahaha.

The classic look on JD’s face while she did a demostration, was priceless.

And gossips about a pretty famous local actor, Mr er, NoFear.

Told ya it was interesting.

Let’s see.

A recap of a number of things she mentioned.

Rimming. I still have no freaking idea what it is, cos I was spaced out, and could possibly miss it.

Tsk. Next time I MUST pay full attention.

Spooning. If I am not wrong, I was the one who had the topic started.

Hmmmmmm….. I like.

Ass-shag…. As proud as JD is, I can still proudly declare I am an ass-virgin too.

Muahahaha.

Searching for your own G. I have never tried so. Maybe cos I don’t need to.

As for point 5. Vibrator-does-no-wonders. Yes, I can’t say I am an alien enough.

That’s why I don’t even see much need for DIYs(thus, I don’t) and could survive O-less for the entire celibated period.

It seems almost impossible to people around me to believe I survived more than 16 months, with erotic stories and visually stimulating clips failed to rouse me.

Am I still human?

Hurhurhur.

Then again, not able to climax through that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it.

Adore it. Especially with the help of a probing tongue.

I don’t know who’s worse? Pealess woman or vibrator-is-useless me?

At least she has an easier task to solve. I need more to be satisfied, ya know?

And I could never be like her.

7?!

*Green-eyed*

Credits to the one who gave me 5 at one go. Shortchanged him one for that session though.

Hurhurhur.

For that I shall be nice for once and not mention his OMM‘s past. For once.

Fakers. Never was one. But now that I learnt the tricks and facial expressions needed to make it a convincing show…..

Hmm.. the voice control, the falsettos. *ahem*

Office toilet ritual? My ‘handicap‘ made it impossible. *sulk*

Bad experiences? OMMism? Hurhurhur.

I have my share, you know?

Especially dealing with OMMs. (Karma ah, karma)

I thought it was hilarious when one told of this incident involving measuring tape, length, shape and circumference.

Stamina, or the lack of.

Erm, what about reading a book while the deed takes place?

And the talks of SBB, GCB, SB, GSB, and other Bs.

They should be so very worried.

And, we talked about visits to the gynaecologist.

To all ladies out there, whether you are sexually active or not, do make a trip to the gynae for a pap smear.

I think there were even mentions of….

Just take it that I can’t remember.

And yes, all these in open area, unabashed, loud, not whispering and with tables filled with males around us.

In JD’s words: We continued immersing into our conversation (only way to keep that woman awake) giggling , blushing and mouth covering and eyes-wide open scenarios a-plenty.

***

I mentioned how I first watch the initial 2 episodes of Sex and the City back in London in 1999.

That’s it.

All the ladies gasped in surprise that I could miss such a great show.

As they launched into a talk of how the characters are like, I could almost imagine the 4 of us starring in a local version of the cult drama.

Though there were no distinction of who should take the part of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda, we all seem like a combination of all.

The silly me ended up trying to read up on the characters information after FF had mentioned that I seem to be a cross of Carrie and Samantha(*curse curse swear swear* Do I seem like a nympho to you?!), and Vamp thought I reminded her of Charlotte cos of my *cough* innocence.

Innocence, yes, I have.

Sometimes, I still struggle with finding myself, cos I have such conflicting traits in me that I could hardly deal with.

I had tried to fit them into the bare information I had read about, which might not be apt at all, and decided if I really have to come up with something…

JaneDoe would be Miranda. The crisp sense of sharp humour? Somehow, just so.
FF would be Charlotte. Must be the innocent, porn-star looks.
Vamp would be Samantha. Why do you think we wanna get dildo/vibrator for her birthday?

Ting shall be Carrie!

Simply because, I happened to read this quote:

Carrie: I’m not going to replace a man with some battery-operated device.
Miranda: You haven’t met ‘The Rabbit.’
Samantha: Oh come on, if you’re going to get a vibrator, at least get one called ‘The Horse.’

*Cough*

Girls, we shall do that again some time soon.

I promise I will nap enough to energise the night instead of spacing out time and again. *Flashes saccharine grin*

Maybe I shall bring a video camera or something.

***

I was pretty amused when FF suggested that I might one day succumb to a lesbian relationship.

Gee baby, how did I give you such vibes?

I seriously would shudder at the thought of making out with a lady as much as I appreciate the female species.

***

It was past midnight when the girls finally decided to call it a night.

VampTreSS and I adjourned to the prata shop nearby for more food and drink.

We indulged in more explicit talks.

It was pretty late by the time the night ended. She left for home in a cab.

I met up with SBB somewhere near his place thereafter.

***

The veil of mist dazed the night.

His gaze pierced the sheer fog, into the emptiness before.

The sharp, frigid air froze me a little.

It was a chilly night.

It was exceptionally icy.

I wasn’t sure if my exhaustion, or his cluttered mind had added on to the already freezing night.

He was evidently drained. Bugged by the difficulties at work too.

I tried to read if it was dejection, or fatigue that was written on his furrowed brows. Futile attempt.

A harsh day it had been for him, it seemed.

His thoughts wandered faraway.

I stayed silent.

Somehow, I always feel affected by people around. Am not sure if it is a gift, or curse.

His hand reached for mine, and provided some solace for the night.

We couldn’t warm each other’s hand, simply because our hands were gloved by a layer of iciness.

My fingers clenched a tad tighter, fully aware that there were limited things I could do to help, make things better, or even just to provide a little warmth.

‘Are you affected too?‘

Was pretty taken aback by the sudden question, and I giggled awkwardly as a response.

‘You don’t have to be..‘ he offered some form of assurance as he patted my thigh, stroking it a little.

I mustered a smile in return.

Chin up, sweets. Was just pretty worried for ya, that’s all.

***

We parted goodbye with a comforting, snug embrace, as I felt his arm snaking round my waist.

A quick kiss was pressed to round the night as the cab came to a halt.

That was the bare minimal comfort I could offer for a dear pal.

***

The ride home was easy.

SBB called to tide the ride over.

He sounded livelier.

The little doofus forgot to check with the cab driver if he accepts credit/debit card payment, and I just assumed he does simply cos of the signs on the window panel.

Apparently, his machine was down, and couldn’t accept my card.

I certainly didn’t have enough on me to afford the 20-odd bucks of cab fare.

My sweet cab driver #3 for the week actually apologised to me, instead of throwing insults at me for not checking with him.

Eventually, the panic me gave a look of helplessness, and he just asked for whatever I had on me.

I only had a $10 bill and $2 note.

I felt terribly awful that I was shortchanging such a sweetie.

I dug further and managed to locate lose coins that top up to another few bucks.

I emptied my bag for the last coin so I could give him whatever I could find.

God bless that kind soul.

***

Continued on the talk with SBB over the phone till it was time I should hit the showers.

I concussed straight after that.

I was THAT tired.

***

A home-bound Wednesday did good to me.

Recuperating, and reading my new read.

I have 3 books to finish, and Philip is pretty eager to lend me yet another.

Woops.

With the snail rate I am reading, I might not finish them anytime soon.

Apparently, I was told Philip’s mates are pretty nosey concerned with the recent development of my life.

Aww.. aren’t they sweet.

Kenneth had pressed for SBB‘s identity, and if he is good-looking or such. And that if he’s a biker, he should be someone the group knows.

Michael then added on to the gossip on how I had been meeting rich guys over the past months.

*Cough*

I not that mercenary, okay?

And, if what they say are of important factors, isn’t all that a tad shallow?

Oh yah, I am a bimbo, I should be shallow. *giggles*

What about a good heart, and a nice, soft side?

What about if I am happy or not?

What about if I had ‘upgraded’ somehow compared to the past?

Muahahaha.

Joke, okay, joke.

The day passed easily with scattered phone calls in between, filling up the day.

Whatever happened to the long phone calls, you ask?

Told ya someone is gonna get bored of me, sooner or later.

And yesh, I said that one week ago, didn’t I?

Muahahaha.

***

I woke up at 10 plus today after only 6 hours of sleep. SBB called for a brief chat, before I slipped back into snooze mode at 11 plus.

Woke up around 3ish, and it was yet another brief chat with him, while I was getting ready to leave the house.

Since the phone might get cut off, I scurried down the dark, desserted stairways instead of taking the lift.

Time for me to get into the groove of having some exercises.

I exited from where the rubbish chute is, and the nosey one over the phone probed, ‘So, does the recycling bin reminded you of how SBM nearly threw you into it?’

Hmm, yeah, it does, you know. *wink*

The cab stopped at Vamp’s carpark, as I waited for her at her pool.

It was sweet cab driver #4 for me as he realised I didn’t have any coins, so he waived the 60 cents to make it a whole number instead of giving me change.

Whee!

What’s with the cab drivers these days?

They are all so nice!

***

SBB‘s bike could be heard from a distance, and the lean figure became visible.

He swerved into the premises which he had sent me to before, and dismounted from the whimpering machine after he had shut it up with a twist of the key.

He passed the plastic bag with 2 bottles of drinks within, and we set it down next to the deckchairs.

A full-on wet snog followed briskly. Eager, and passionate.

She whipped out her camera, and set the modes, fidgeting around with it.

He pulled me up from the deck chair, which I had spreaded comfortably across, and flashed me a mischievous smile I could recognise, yet pretended not to.

‘Vamp, can I borrow her for a moment? I have something to settle with her. See ya in a while.‘

He pulled me forward forcefully, and we snuck into this little corner from her prying eyes, just behind the wall.

He pulled me closer, glued to his body, and we embraced in yet another sizzling kissing game.

(At this moment, SBB is on the phone. Although he has no idea what I am writing about at this point of the time, he said since I don’t know what to write, I might as well write… ‘As he swept me into his strong arms… and as I look into his lustfilled, compelling gaze, his mouth slowly parted and said..‘ How timely.)

So, I shall put what he said into good use.

As he swept me into his strong arms, and as I look into his lustfilled, compelling gaze, his mouth slowly parted and said..

‘I did say I am so gonna jump you, didn’t I?’

Okay, I have no idea how to complete the above sleazy statement. Or else, it might become a funny read more than anything else.

The burst of desire triggered a short-lived made out session, before we came into sight and joined Vamp again, giggling.

It was, intense.

The sensations from his touch was mind-boggling, tingling and exhilarating.

The nuzzlings to my neck were sensual.

I ran my hand down his back and wrung my arms round his neck. Sometimes caressing his cheeks along the way. Tasting his soft, lush lips between mine.

Gee, I wanna write something that seem sweet and romantic and it doesn’t seem like going that way.

We should have locked ourselves in the handicapped toilet or something.

Joke, okay, joke.

We joined Vamp at the deck chairs shortly after.

He sat at the deck chair opposite me, and dangled a bar of chocolate before me, like luring a bunny to a carrot.

I shifted over to the chair he was sitting on, and sat in the space in between his thighs, with him cuddling me from behind as we shared a bar of chocolate.

Vamp tried getting her camera to work, and took pictures of us, on and off.

Some pretty brilliant shots were taken.

Like the one he laid on my tummy, with his eyes closed, his arms scooping underneath my barely existent waist.

A few other nice shots, which you guys have no luxury of viewing.

We giggled as Vamp tried co-ordinating pictures that made us feel like muppets.

Interesting.

Phew.

***

Vamp brought me to this hairdresser in Telok Blangah, and SBB did not come along.

It was then a dye job, trimming, and such.

By the time it finished, it was already close to 9pm.

I have new hair colour, and smell of bleach.

The hairdresser even blew my hair straight, so I have straight hair for today!

But, the curls are slowly reclaiming their rights as the ends started to fray.

Interesting.

Vamp actually kinda like the style now, cos it gives a totally different, rebellious feel.

Er, I see.

Hmm.

Ah well.

Hung out for a while and went to Tiong Bahru market for dinner.

Rojak. Oyster Egg. Char Kuey Tiao. Duck Porridge.

All shared between the 2 of us.

And we walked away, still feeling hungry.

Wheee…

Ah.

Finally done with my recap.

And the phone call from SBB, who so much wanted to disrupt my sleeping pattern again.

It’s time for me to down some chips and KitKat Chunky.

I know how lethal the combination can be.

But, PMS ya know? What to do.

I have to give in to the needs of my body before it stages a riot much more than I can handle.

PMS is king. Or queen. Whatever.

The food was pretty much a disappointment, and they had taken quite a while to get us the bill.

My Japanese chicken curry, which was pretty mediocre, and a tad too salty.

Still, I would love to be back to try the other stuffs on the menu.

I can’t remember when was the last time the 2 of us had a single date, where we could do some quality catching up.

I guess I miss the babe, though we did grow distant over the past month or so since her school start.

Some things changed. But some things never did. Like how her bimbotic nature would infect me, and my clumsy nature would catch on to her.

Erm, then again, we were bimbotic AND clumsy prior knowing each other…. so.. what does that say?

We managed to have a heart-to-heart, though not as intimate and raw as I would had liked it to be.

I just want to know the lass is coping well.

My dear, you know I am worried about you all the time. I can be quite an irritating mother-hen fussing over you.

Yes, we do have all the loud, crazy fun when we are together, but are we trying to hide that fragile part of us that we are so well-acquainted with?

Or are we just trying to laugh at our own foolishness by making ourselves the butt of our jokes?

She, is one with intelligence.

I could have been one too, if I did not hit my head after falling head first from the height of the ceiling.

Muahahaha.

Come to think of it, I really did.

When I was younger in primary school, the tomboy climbed the grills of the windows, until one of them gave way when I was reaching the top and I fell backwards to the floor.

Back of my head first. Hard.

I blacked out for the slight moment, with 2 of my cousins gasping in shock.

No tears, no complaints, no sulks, no pouts.

For the fear of the tyrant(read: my mum), we 3 kept it hush hush.

It’s good. Her temper had trained me up with the tolerance of pain.

So, you see, I have a reason to be bimbotic.

Oh, as I was saying. The catch-up session was good.

Raw, indepth, juicy scandals to share.

Unabashed beliefs. Crude jokes. Serious talks.

We laughed, we giggled, and we had our moments of quietness.

I remember how we would use to indulge in total silence throughout, just as a form of communication.

We get rowdy around each other, cos that is how we laugh at our situations, and past hurts, so that whatever past of our lives would seem less harsh.

I can’t help but have this thought slipping into my mind.

Do we find ourselves in each other?

Or do we lose ourselves in each other?

***

We loitered around town for a while, with the vanity in me struck up, and I went to trim my brows.

We then had wanted to shop for a present for Vamp, and the 2 of us to a shy trip to…..

Our.. first ever trip. *BLUSH*

Well, I have been inside the shop before, but never for a ‘purpose’, you see.

So, what happened was.. we were thinking of getting Vamp a.. dildo.

You see, I messaged Elizabeth, JaneDoe and FF, and 2 out of 3 replied that a sex gadget would suit her best.

Well, well. Now we all wonder how Vamp had created such an impression.

We were browsing at this shelf, and I seriously have no idea what they were, until Janice alerted me that I was looking at vibrators, and not dildo.

I turned to the other shelf and saw some queer looking objects.

Then, I walked behind the shelf, and there hung, more queer looking objects.

But, of much more massive sizes. *Gasp in horror*

We saw this one, that made us go ‘WAH.‘

Huge and lengthy.

I joked we should get that for Vamp, though not sure if it would be *cough* BIG enough.

We were just having some private joke, when the male assistant came behind us and asked politely:

Hi, would you like to TRY?

*cough*

I widened my eyes in shock, turned, looked at him, raised my left brow, and broke out in girlish giggles, while blushing at the same time.

Janice, gave him a killer stare, and gave a firm ‘No.‘

Clearly embarrassed by his boo-boo, he tried to remedy it by saying that we could take a look if we wanted.

I should have thrown him a come-hither look and replied, ‘Yes please. Can you help me with it? Will here do?‘

***

We then chilled at Cafe Cartel, where *cough* one of the young, lesbian waitresses flirted with me us.

I can’t remember what was exactly said, but it went along the line that I joked she could sit down and join us if she wanted.

It had something to do with her spoon-feeding me the cakes we ordered or something.

She said she was going off work soon, and that she would be heading off for some barbecue.

Was that an invitation or something? Muahaha.

She’s adorable.

***

SBB and friends were in town, and Janice and I actually met up with him for a brief while for the evening.

So yup, though it wasn’t the first time Janice met SBB, but she had lotsa fun watching the exchange between SBB and I.

SBB was interestingly quite shy.

Janice was stifling her laughters while watching him, erm, shy.

Hurhur.

***

Had plans to club the night away since it had been a rather long while since we partied together.

Called Vamp and she was at this cafe near Mohammed Sultan, and since we were in the vicinity, I decided to buy some cakes for her(cos they didn’t have a whole cake. Tsk), since the dildo shopping trip traumatised us a tad too much to get anything from the shop.

Then again, we were too inexperienced to know what would rock her… boat.

For some strange reasons, my girlie pals seem to rouse my clumsiness well.

Things I wished I hadn’t done:

1) A Caucasian of enormous size was walking towards my direction when I suddenly tripped.

The floor is flat, glossy and harmless.

How in the world did I manage to twist my ankle and tripped?

I have blardy no idea.

I think he wanted to laugh. But he managed to mutter, ‘Are you alright there?’

To which I replied in a slight tinge of embarrassment, ‘Yeap, thanks, I’m fine.’

I am sure as hell he was sniggering about how a lady one-third of his size, is actually much more clumsy than he is.

2) Spilling iced tea over my chin, dress, bag(yes, the darn Gucci one) and chest.

How did I do it? I have absolutely no blardy idea. I was sipping it from the plastic cup and I just.. spilled.

3) Losing my way when looking for VampTreSS at this cafe opposite Gallery Hotel.

She had given me directions, but the doofus ventured off course and ended up in the middle of nowhere.

How did we manage to miss it? I have no blardy idea.

Still, we managed to find her there with her friends. Phew.

The Book Cafe is this nice little gem stacked away in a quiet corner, off the buzz of the vibrant clubbing street of Mohammed Sultan.

It’s a cosy little place. I like.

Janice and I had bought 4 pieces of cake for the birthday lass.

The original plan was probably dunking her head into 2 pieces of cake, and flourish her lard level with the other 2.

Evil pals, are we.

Her group of friends was pretty huge.

Some of whom, I had met before briefly, and some of whom, I met for the first time.

And thus, conscious of the *cough* demure and glamourous images we had to upkeep, we didn’t quite get to sabotage the birthday girl.

Roy, Nick and Vamp were already there, and with them was their friend Ah Tan was one of those whom I met for the very first time.

Nick’s girlfriend, Serene, arrived shortly after, and another of their hilarious and pretty cute friend, Jay, was next to arrive on a scrambler. Both of whom, I have never met before.

The guys kept us pretty entertained.

Nick was quick with his jibes, as usual. He was always the one with the goofiest expressions. Didn’t quite have an impression of Ah Tan(in white) cos he seemed the quiet sort.

But I did know that he is fearful of the sounds made by a pair of fighting utensils. The metal clangings just intimidate him, I guess.

But it’s interesting to see how the jibes ceased when the girlfriends were around to tame them. Hurhurhur.

The very interesting Jay with Nick.

They were trying to teach us how to ‘make love’ to the camera.

I am not sure if this is the way they ‘make love’ or else….. erm…

A kiss for the birthday girl.

So, don’t complain that I don’t show my lips. I do.

For a moment, there was a confusion on who was the birthday girl.

I was fed with nice chocolate cake. Somehow I felt the fudge on her fingertip made the picture exceptionally kinky.

Then, I was given kisses by the 2 girls whilst sitting in the middle.

Hmm, something’s not right!

Vamp should be in the centre instead.

So here. Janice, Ting and the very turned on birthday girl with her sleazy smile.

Brian came the latest with Mindy, after his acute sense of orientation led him the wrong way despite how everyone was giving him directions.

Who am I to say, right? I lost my way just prior to that. Wooops.

And yes people, despite the Evian sucking, he is not exactly gay.

Er, maybe bisexual? Muahaha.

The doofus Janice had forgotten that Vamp had introduced Mindy to her just 10 minutes before, and re-introduced herself again.

In which, when Mindy tried responding, the ciggie in her hand burnt Brian, and made him jump. Pretty violently, I might add.

I can’t believe how Janice had survived in the PR line with her pea-sized memory bank. *Sniggers*

Janice’s friend Weihan offered us a lift, and we were waiting for him at Book Cafe.

The lass then decided the night was pretty young and had wanted to hang out longer. Thus, when the group decided to adjourn to Prata Cafe near Botanical Gardens, and Vamp thought it would be ‘fun’ if we tagged along, Janice took up the offer.

We stopped by Vamp’s apartment first, and I was darn tempted to push her into the pool when we emerged from the toilet.

She should be counting her stars that I didn’t manage to catch up with her cos I was in dress and heels, and I really didn’t think embarrassing myself in front of her pals whom I barely know would be a good move.

Demure, Ting, demure.

Weihan and his friend met us up at Prata Cafe.

His friend bears an uncanny resemblance to Mr BR. Even his voice sounded exactly like his.

Had plans to wake up early for church the next day, but obviously my cranky sleeping pattern meant that I didn’t quite make it.

Vamp had brought along her cakes, and we had a rude shock when we saw the state the blueberry cheesecake was in.

She took it out, and put in on the plate which was previously used to hold Brian’s cheese pratas.

In Janice’s words, it looked like(skip this if you are under 21) cum with menses blood.

The curry… okay, let’s not go there, shall we?

With evian sucking, belt licking, and now, we can’t spare the birthday girl, can we?

We should have smeared it all over her face.

The very gentlemanly Weihan gave Janice a lift back to Woodlands, and a lift back to Jurong thereafter.

Interestingly, Weihan used to be from Chinese High, and was a band member.

So, it came as no surprise that he knows Zhiqiang, my first puppy love eons ago. It was a shortlived long-distance relationship though, back in 1998.

How small can the world be, eh?

Was in the car when I received an earlier message(phone darn cranky these days, the reception sucks and it delayed the message) from SBB when he was with his pals.

I giggled at the kinky mushy factor of the message. Interesting.

The night ended pretty early for us.

Got home and spoke briefly to SBB on the phone, after he called to check if I had reached home, and whether if I had fun on a Saturday night.

Quite a nice night, to be catching up with the 2 girlies.

Apparently, the gathering on his side was pretty exciting too.

***

21 August – Sunday

I could barely survive on 4 hours of sleep.

But I woke up in the morning, which was something that was pretty rare for the longest time.

As much as I tried to battle for more rest with my consciousness, I was obviously at the losing end when not one minute of the 2 hours of shut-eye time was quality rest.

I sat up in front of my computer, thinking of doing something for Vamp for her birthday.

I managed to get Raf’s help to help burn some files into a CD, and the babe had helped me to purchase a blank CD for that since my CD writer was down.

Since the babe was going to be in town, I thought I would meet her for a brief catch up and collect the CD from her.

The sleepybug acted up as I left home.

What great timing.

We met up for food at Takashimaya’s Coffee Club, and she dropped the bombshell that she had lost the CD on the bus.

Though it was a wasted trip to Orchard, I was glad to see the gorgeous one for a brief catch up session once again.

We chatted animatedly about how we look forward to the coming MotoGP in late September.

Seriously, I can’t wait. Who knows what are the surprises we might get this time round, eh?

With nowhere to go, I called up Vamp, who would only come to town later.

Since I was pretty tired, I made my way to her place instead.

I realised the powerful advantage of my sickening baby voice.

I had gotten onto a cab, and the cab driver had forgotten about setting the meter.

He had taken some short cut, and started to ask if I was comfortable with it cos he was afraid I might grow uncomfortable with the unfamiliar route.

I am fine with it, I said, while returning a mesmerisingly saccharine smile.

Seeing how sweet his passenger was, he started a conversation of nitty-gritties which I could hardly recall.

The cab reached Vamp’s place, which is somewhere in River Valley, it isn’t too much a distance from Cineleisure, but definitely not too near either.

The driver noticed his boo-boo, and apologised.

He said $2.50 will do.

Wow. That was nice, I thought. I again, smiled sweetly and said it should be more expensive than that, and it wouldn’t be nice in my sweetest tune.

I handed him a $10 bill, and as he was getting the change, he decided it would be more convenient to pass me 4 $2 notes, and he enthusiastically said, ‘It’s okay, $2 la, $2 can already.‘

Starting meter is $2.40, and it was 6 on a Sunday evening, when Orchard was packed with people, you know?

So yeap, he returned me $8 and I was charged only 2 bucks for the fare.

Yay.

It pays to be nice to everyone, ya know?

And having a sweet baby voice, helps too.

Hurhurhur.

***

I couldn’t quite recall how the time at Vamp’s place passes by.

I noticed one thing after hanging out with her for the past few days.

She’s never on time.

Muahahahaha.

I was told that she would be meeting her friends around 7 plus.

Which then became 8 plus.

Which then became 9 plus.

My decision to go to her place to chill first? Good choice.

I reached around 6 plus, watched her pluck her brows.

She raised her arm, and plucked her armpit hair.

She gave me a change of clothes so that I could rest comfortably.

I slipped off my dress, and ducked under her duvet.

She handed me a tee but I forgone it.

Still uncomfortable.

I unhooked my bra and threw it out from beneath the blanket.

I looked on to the lady plucking her armpit hair. Within seconds, I dozed off, naked.

I was too tired to even think of the possibilities of her jumping me, or whipping out her professional camera to snap erotic shots of me.. drooling.

It was 9 plus when I was woken up by the ringings from her phone.

Apparently, she had dragged on till 9 plus, and her friends were already waiting for her at IntroBar at Swissotel.

I woke up, got dressed, and was still in a daze, unaware that I had slept for more than an hour or 2.

We met up with Elizabeth and David at IntroBar, and sat around to catch up.

David even got a mudpie with a candle on it for her, and we benefitted some excess lard from the tiny treat.

David asked about my SBB as he would like to meet him, but since I was supposed to meet my dad that night, I would have to meet SBB after meeting Dad instead.

Dad was supposed to pick me up at 11.20pm.

He called to tell me he had reached, and I realised he was at Mohammed Sultan instead.

Then, I told him it was at City Hall, Swissotel.

He told me he got it and when he called, he was at Suntec City instead.

!!!!!!!!!

Now, if I was EVER bad in directions, we all know it was all in the genes.

Then again, honestly speaking, I do feel I have a relatively good sense of directions.

Really.

I already know my way to SBB‘s place despite been there only once or twice.

See, I am good. *smirk*

***

Took a cab to meet up with SBB after meeting Dad.

Dad had dropped me off at Woodlands checkpoint since he was returning to JB.

Had supper near SBB‘s place, since it was near enough from Woodlands checkpoint.

Once again, the cab driver was kind enough to drive me a distance further even after I had paid for the fare and lingered on the cab, waiting for SBB‘s directions.

We took a long ride from his place to mine, in the chilly rain, on the expressway.

The raindrops were heavy, but weren’t dense enough to make a downpour.

We didn’t get drenched, but were pretty wet when we finally got back to Jurong.

It was the first proper chance for us to greet each other, as we were locked in each other’s embrace.

Yummy, was the fiery kiss.

Somehow, the basement carpark + pillar is just too tantalising a place for making out sessions.

For us, it seems.

***

We parted from our deep embrace.

‘Hmm, you lost weight.‘

He lifted his head after the once-over glance, and was greeted by my piercing stare.

‘You know, it could have been a compliment if your hand wasn’t on my boobs when you said that.‘

It was his unintentional move that garnered a sneer from me.

And yes, I did lose weight.

***

He was browsing through my resume and cover letter whilst I was in the shower.

We then browsed through some of the documents I had on my desktop.

There was a letter, written when I was at the most devastated part of my life.

Which I refused to open after first penning it a year ago.

Reading it could be quite painful, or otherwise, too hilarious.

My naivety tickles me at times.

There was a story, written in Chinese, penned almost a year ago, too.

SBB had fun trying out the Chinese software to type out chinese characters, in which he unwittingly let known that his Chinese skills and hanyu pinyin sucks.

Big time, I might add.

And I thought Mr Ex was bad enough. *Chuckles*

We got ready for bed, and kept it up with the usual routine of cuddling and smooching.

His soft, sensuous caresses tingled my senses.

That lingering touch.

He muttered a chain of whispers right into my ear, as his generous lips brushed my ear loops.

Utterly, absolutely sexy.

***

The kisses and cuddles seemed endless, when we finally looked into each other’s eyes, and dozed off.

The night was rounded off with pecks on the foreheads, noses, and lips.

Tucked cosily under the duvet.

My head on his shoulder.

Traces of mocked security was found.

Our arms intertwined.

A sense of warped affection was felt.

Fingers knitted.

A quaint sense of comfort.

Breathing synchronised.

An unique connection, somewhere.

***

Now, the spoilers.

I drooled.

I woke up and wiped the wet patches off the corners of my mouth.

I snored.

By now, he would have gotten used to them.

He snored, but I ignored.

Since I couldn’t quite complain with my more aggressive snores.

He edged me off the bed.

Maybe I am still not used to sharing my bed.

***

Surprisingly, he sprang up by himself the next day, and I didn’t have to go through the tedious routine to wake him.

We took some time to get ready to go for lunch, so that he could send me over to meet the birthday girl, whilst he would run some errands in town.

After some contemplating, I thought the place that was discovered on Saturday was a pretty cool place to hang out.

So, SBB and I rode down to River Valley area, for lunch.

Since he’s pretty camera shy, hand shots would pretty much suffice.

The Book Cafe.

Right opposite the Gallery Hotel.

Grilled chicken with cheese, bacon, corn and tomato rice.

Wasn’t too bad. I quite like the chicken topping off with the cheese and bacon, but I didn’t think the price was justified and the portion was pretty miserable in my humble opinion.

SBB had Aglio Olio which tasted nothing but, er, tobasco.

The day was breezy and slow-paced.

He tried feeding me his Aglio Olio, and I ended up struggling with the dangling strands of spaghetti hanging out of my mouth, to which he laughed and mocked, ‘So unglam.‘

HMPHHHHHHFFFFF.

It didn’t take long before he made a booboo for me to grin and use my sweetest voice to say, ‘so unglam‘ back to him.

Then again, a quick story to share.

Some time ago when I just knew him, I had a pretty ill impression of him cos we were out with some friends, and a female pal had wanted a napkin or some tissue cos she wanna wipe a spill.

When she had asked him if he could spare his napkin, he cruelly waved her off, and said, ‘Go get yourself.’

I stood up and took the napkins instead.

How gentlemanly, I thought.

Little did I know, that was the group’s way of communication.

Anyway.

So, right before me was a changed man.

I had something stuck between my teeth and he quietly stood up to walk into the eatery to get me some toothpicks.

Sweet.

I shall not mention how I pricked my finger when he passed me the toothpick.

He dropped me off at Vamp’s place thereafter, before heading off to town.

While I was getting off the bike, the jinx asked if I had dropped any items into his bag, in case my key or card would drop out of my bag, which I had put into his bag.

I checked and looked into the bag, and didn’t see anything was left behind, before I sashayed up to Vamp’s.

Moments later, my phone rang, and the jinx informed me that I had conveniently dropped my key behind.

Well done.

His mouth darn jinxed.

***

Had dinner with Vamp and her family at some Chinese restaurant which my dad adores too.

It somehow, triggered lots of past thoughts about those reunion dinners my family has every year.

It was a struggle for me to sit through as those memories came flooding back.

Still, it was somehow, interesting.

And I don’t mean the part when I dropped food onto the table, consistently.

***

After dinner, the both of us decided to hang out at Orchard’s NYDC to chill.

SBB joined us shortly after to pass my key back to me since he was in town as well.

The 3 of us seemed to be overwhelmed by fatigue.

I took the chance to excuse myself to the loo, when in fact, to get some cakes for the birthday girl.

It was the last hour of her *cough* 22nd birthday.

Darling, thanks a lot for being around, and generously taught me things I had never knew.

No, I don’t mean only the kinky stuffs.

Muahahaha.

Oh, and the banana cake was darn nice.

What wasn’t nice was when I spilled sugar all over the table, when the contents burst out of the pack I had opened with too much force.

We left right after we finished the cake, and I spent the night over at SBB‘s.

His room is a cosy haven, and somehow I was so blardy tired that I fell asleep in his embrace shortly after we had cuddled close under the smooth blanket, bidding each other goodnight with all the lovey-dovey stuffs.

As much as I am one who detests foreign space and solo bed, I kinda found great comfort last night.

Apparently, I spoke in my sleep.

Darn.

And, I snored again, too.

He took a short nap before he woke up to rush some work at his desk, whilst I slept blissfully on the comfortable bed.

Snoring, and sleep-talking away. Like a baby.

He laughed and mentioned that I mumbled some gibberish in my sleep.

Gee, so unglam.

He laughed and mentioned that I snored pretty loud.

Gee, so blardy unglam.

At least I didn’t drool last night. Hehe.

That aside.

Eh, where to buy your bedsheets huh?

Despite being all tired and totally conked out, I could vividly remember that he would turn over his back occasionally to check on me.

I would struggle to open the lazy eyes to see his gaze tower over me, and planting sweet smooches on me while I slept on, and him, returning to his work.

When he saw my eyes flickering, he would greet me with ‘hey sweetie’ before bending over to shower yet another smooch.

Occasionally, while he took breaks from his work, he would stand over his bed, and gave me a firm cuddle in my sleep.

I would respond naturally, and not feel an ounce of irritation for the disturbance in the midst of my sleep.

Very much welcomed, actually.

I would close my eyes, with the last memory of his smile and nearing face.

And the crisp sounds of ‘hey sweetie..‘ ringing.

***

I sat up when it was almost 5am.

He scooped me into his arms for yet another cuddle.

I tried to do some reading.

I couldn’t see with my contact lens drown in their container.

With -6.25 in one and -6.75 in another, I felt like a bat, no less.

He lent me his spare pair of glasses, which was fair enough.

I fell back to sleep.

He tried waking me up at 6, so that we could head out for breakfast.

Unfortunately, karma struck.

He was such a bitch to wake up, and this time, I was the ultimate bitch to wake.

It took him around half an hour before he finally pulled me up from his bed so that I could finally sober up a little.

Prior to that, I would wake up, look at him, smile, cuddle, and before I knew it, my consciousness would be sucked dry by his bed, and I would burrow deeper into his blanket, back into snoozeland, I went.

He would try again to get me up by giving me smothering cuddles, and a peck to round off ‘Hey sweetie, wake up.‘

I would. Sat up a little, smiled, whimpered a kiddish ‘good morning’, before lazing a little while more, and plonking right into the pillow, once again.

As my eyelids grew heavier, I could hear him giving relented chuckles and laughs, before the repeated calls of ‘sweetie..‘ grew softer and softer to my ears.

He gave me more than an hour of grace time, repeated the same routine, and resorted to the same ploy I had adopted the previous time when trying to wake him up.

He kept planting pecks on my lips, and with each peck, he would chant ‘wake up’ to follow up.

*Peck* Wake up. *Peck* Wake up. *Peck* Wake up. *Peck* Wake up. *Peck* Wake up. *Peck* Wake up. *Peck* Wake up. *Peck* Wake up. *Peck* Wake up.

Yeah, you get the idea.

Still, the stubborn lazy bone didn’t succumb.

When I finally did, his family was already up, too. *Gulps*

It was almost late 7, and his family prepared home-cooked breakfast for us.

We sat outside, as my head was rested on his shoulder.

There and then, I dozed off slightly, and was only awoken when I felt his face near to mine, scrutinising the awful sleepyhead look.

Yikes.

Worse?

Someone came to alert us that breakfast was ready and saw whatever that happened.

Breakfast was awkward, but nice.

Having a poor vision almost meant that I didn’t have to deal with raised brows or suspicious looks that were thrown my way.

I just had to imagine everyone was flashing me their most genuine and brightest smiles as I greeted them good morning.

He walked me down the street so I could grab a cab, and the journey was faster than I expected it to be.

Perhaps it helped that he called when he got back, and the phone call eased the ride in the morning traffic.

But the doofus forgot she had no small change, and the cab driver had to drive me to the petrol kiosk to get some change before sending me back again.

Which costs me another extra buck for the waiting and extra mile. *grumble*

Ah well.

Oh, am I finally done with the recaps?

Yay. I did.

Cool.

***

I just recalled that today is my primary school teacher’s birthday.

She was my primary 1, 2 and 3 form teacher.

Don’t tell me how I still manage to remember her birthdate, but I just have something about remembering people’s birthdates.

I adore this teacher of mine, who was such a great influence that I told myself that I would want to be a fabulous teacher, just because she was, and still is.

***

What is thrill to you peepz?

I have been toying with the idea of going skydive for the longest time.

I am a chicken, but I hope I would gather enough guts to bungee jump one day.

What about silent thrills?

Shaving my head is next on the agenda.

I don’t know what will get your adrenaline pumped though.

I know reading a book, will.

The primitive mind and physical games that genders play?

Interesting.

I don’t know.

Firstly, cross the comfort zone.

Secondly, take a plunge.

Whether you survive or not, depends on how you play it cool.

And you never know how much is enough, do you?

At the end of the day, we are just blardy good actors and actresses.

Surreal, it is.

As I mentioned before, and I shall do it again.

You will never know how to differentiate what is real, or what is unreal anymore.

Oh, was I talking about thrill, or something else?

Oh no, don’t get it the wrong way.

It’s definitely not fear I am talking about here.

Then again, thrill and fear… which is which?

Hmm, I don’t get what I am talking about anymore.

Hurhurhur.

Ooooo, thrill.

I never thought I would enjoy that, though.

I did, somewhat, somehow.

*Sly smile*

*Bites lower lip*

Meow.

CHANGES

Estimated a month ago, a very generous VampTreSS guided me through the basics of operating her Canon EOS 20D, and I spontaneously took some pictures on the spot whilst out with her and her pals.

Fast forward a month later, I did yet another series, which was included in my previous post.

I thought it was all that was, until she sent me some other pictures taken few nights ago, and I realised I did take quite a bit of shots that night too.

The very kind lady even went the extra mile of hosting the pictures I took, and forked out some cyber space to house that sub-standard collections of mine.

Here, I would like to express my immense gratitude to the darling, who guided the slow-learner patiently whilst fearing for the life of her precious tool within my butter fingers.

You can view the gallery of Everything’s Changing.. here.

And Changed. here.

(Yes, click on the above, you idiots.)

Guess what? You can vote for the pictures according to your preferences, too.

I guess it’s pretty ironic the people who happened to be my victims were the exact people I met the previous time, and it somehow became like a series or some sort.

Nice.

Unintentional, but, I like.

I had named the first album Everything’s changing.., simply because it was derived from a certain song from Keane.

Comparing the 2 galleries, there is some kind of mood-change too.

Hence, the latter, is named CHANGED.

There was a subtle change in everything, within the month.

Like I had mentioned, everyone in the picture gave me a different feeling from before.

All seemed to be more liberated and had a brighter side to them, though I might not know them well to know the changes.

No matter what it was, I sure hope it was all good.

Softer.

Even Vamp has a much more mellowed look of defiance.

The former is a tad dark and cold, the latter has more hidden energy.

What am I talking about?

I don’t know either.

Muahahahaha.

I have been waking up at 4 yesterday and 3 today.

Yay.

I am slowly overcoming the awkward sleeping pattern.

Spending 2 days at home with occasional phone calls with SBB pretty much suffice.

Rejoice people. That would mean no boring recaps to snap up your concentration.

By right, I shouldn’t be blogging right now, you know?

I should be having my shower and getting ready to be heading out to town.

Uh-oh.

And here, some of the snippets which I didn’t receive the previous time round.

Dimpled gayboy.

I have been screwing my system so much that I can’t be sure if it’s Monday or Tuesday today.

Then, I realised, it’s actually Wednesday. (It’s still Wednesday to me cos I have yet to sleep!)

Er, okay, fine. Thursday.

I can’t make out if it was day or night today either.

The fact that I woke up at 6 pm didn’t really help.

Let’s take a look at my sleeping pattern for the past few days.

Sunday, I slept at 10am, woke up at 5pm on Monday.

Monday, got home at 5am, yakked on the phone with SBB from 6am, to 11.30am.

Gee, it was 5 and half hours in all, even longer than how much I slept that day.

I tried to stay awake, but finally took a 2-hours nap at from 2pm-4.30pm.

Woke up, feeling dazed. I closed my eyes, and lazed in bed for a while.

Less than 5 minutes later, SBB called. He just woke up too.

I read a little, I stayed up a little.

Napped for an hour or so from 6pm-7pm.

Napped again from 10pm-11pm.

On the phone at 2am.

I had wanted to sleep at 3am prior to the phone call.

Since SBB had wanted to rest early too, we agreed to end the call at 4.30am.

I think the problem of our screwed up resting pattern is pretty severe. Our ’4.30am’ is when the sun rises and technically 0830 on the clock.

6 and a half.

Despite the sleep deprivation from the night before, I didn’t doze off in the midst of the call.

Amazing.

Ironically, the call caused more difficulties sleeping than making me more tired.

We thought we could have used all that time to meet up instead, since we were pretty much *cough* dying to meet each other.

I fell asleep as the call ended and woke up at 6pm.

I opened my eyes, and closed them.

It had been a rainy, cooling day.

Lazed in bed for less than 3 minutes.

The phone shrilled.

SBB just woke up too.

Good timing, he has.

Or else I would have murdered him for disturbing my peaceful sleep.

Dad, what’s the phone bill for this month, eh?

I am so blardy sure he’s gonna get bored of me really quick. Say, in a week?

***

I like today.

It’s not because SBB was with me.

Erm, well, that too.

But because I got to meet Finicky Feline for a quick dinner after her work.

It was a spontaneous meet up, after a brief chat on MSN.

I asked if she would want to come over, and I would meet her at the bus stop, dropped by the coffee shop to pack dinner, and we would chill at my place instead.

That reminded me of a conversation we had over MSN some days ago.

FF says:
eh remember that photo you took of GCB and I?
FF says:
i framed it up
FF says:
hehehe it’s so nice!!!
Tingism. says:
hahahhahahaha is itttttt
FF says:
the photographer was excellent
Tingism. says:
absolutely -smirk-
Tingism. says:
hahahahahahahaahahaha
Tingism. says:
i think the 2 of us .. if we are guys
Tingism. says:
we wud have killed all girls out there with our slick, glib tongue
Tingism. says:
ALL PUNS INTENDED
FF says:
hell yeah!!
FF says:
i’d fuck a different girl every week
FF says:

Tingism. says:
!
Tingism. says:
u … maleslut
Tingism. says:
I think i am the kind that can go on for at least 5 times each night kind if I am a guy
Tingism. says:
such a stud, i am.
Tingism. says:
And I definitely won’t be OMM.

I promised her how I won’t mention how she mocked moan to me on my bed.

Geee, if I am a guy, I would have jumped her there and then. 5 times, no less.

It was an interesting impromptu meetup with her, and I miss the darling a great deal.

I shall not mention how she asked to take a look of my vibrator, which is pretty redundant to me.

Yes, I meant the vibrator, not the request.

I shall not mention how she told me my tap is spoiled, when it was because she didn’t know how to lift the lever.

I might as well come clean about how I was using the computer, and was shuffling her phone around, thinking that it was my mouse, before she uses it against me.

With friends like me, I am your worst enemy. *Cough*

***

Oh gosh.

I just read VampTreSS‘ blog and I realised she and Jane Doe had been talking about being guys as well.

No, I didn’t pre-plan to be a copycat, I had save this as draft since 14th August okay?

What’s with the sleazy bitches trying to be malesluts 4 of us?

Such eerie coincidences. *Shudders*

Parents should be glad their daughters are safe, cos the 4 of us are not men.

The world, is thus, a safer place.

*ROARRRRRRRR*

***

On MSN now:

VampTreSS says:
wah.. i just realised our ambition very simliar
Tingism. says:
what?
VampTreSS says:
WE WAN TO BE BASTARDS!!!
Tingism. says:
MUAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Tingism. says:
u all la, not me.
Tingism. says:
i will be lovers to girls out there
Tingism. says:
to shower them with love
Tingism. says:
and leave them high n dry
VampTreSS says:
shower them with love and leave them high and dry.. thats the most pro kind of bastard loh!
VampTreSS says:
thats the kind i wanna be
VampTreSS says:
and i understand now why ff, u, me and eli are friends
VampTreSS says:
cos we have same ambition
VampTreSS says:
tsk tsk tsk
VampTreSS says:
the world is a safer place cos we weren’t born guys (Ting: Wah, she even used the same expression as I did!)

Hell yeah.

***

I was too tired to go anywhere on Tuesday. ‘Cept for drifting in and out of sleep, and chatting to the above-mentioned names.

I don’t have to repeat how screwed my sleeping pattern is.

I did want to try reverting it back today.

But er, it’s 7.30am, I am still blogging.

SBB had set a cap for the call to end at 6am. But then, it became 6.15am. Then, it was 6.30am. Then, it was 7am.

And before we knew it, it was 7.30am. Finally.

2 hours. We are perimetering it well.

Still, blogging is pretty important, ya know?

So, er, I am doing it for you guys, alright?

***

I just got home from supper earlier on, browsing through my friendster, when I saw an interesting friend request from an unfamiliar name, Jianfa.

It was hellava shock when I saw the main picture in his friendster.

Holy Molly Moo Moo Cow.

It was a class photo of my kindergarten class!

I mean, who in the right mind would put a kindergarten class photo as friendster profile picture? And who would actually remember me from his kindergarten class?

But then again, I am not that surprised with how small the world is, cos the third guy from right, had went on to become my secondary 3 and 4 classmate, and we recognised each other when I brought this very class photograph to school one day for a show-and-tell presentation.

Chaohong, is a talented guy. The quiet one from my class. I didn’t expect that he would suddenly ask how I had his class photograph, and I realised he was the guy who fought for the 1st position with me in class.

Such is a small world.

Apparently Jianfa is connected to Chaohong, and possibly that Chaohong had told him I am the tallest girl in the picture(yes, I am the tallest. The slimmer one. The one beside me had a more explosive hair style, which probably made her look taller. But no, I am taller).

And funny thing is, I was talking to SBB yesterday(Tuesday) and I mentioned Chaohong in my conversation.

Isn’t it interesting how life connects?

***

The sky glowed 5 times, and the lagging growls followed shortly after each flash as we strolled on the pavement, between the open field and desolated road.

I flinched uncomfortably with each visual warning, as the sky tease.

The grip on my waist grew firmer as I jumped a little from the fright.

His right hand reached out for my left, and gave it a sturdy squeeze.

‘You alright?‘ he inquired, with a satin touch of assurance.

I giggled nervously.

Came the 2nd.

I bowed my head, and tightened my grasp as I winced, yet again.

He halted his steps, turned, gazed into my eyes, and dipped my head into his neck, indulging in his warm embrace.

Comfort.

The 3rd, and 4th was a breeze to deal with.

The secured grip on the shoulder.

The fastening grasp of his hand.

The stroke on the back.

The lift of the chin for a tranquilizing kiss.

One of my worst fears(thunders and lightnings) was seemingly a cosy companion instead.

It was all my fault.

Whilst walking out of my estate for supper, I made a joke of how strangely accurate my predictions had been these days.

Especially things that I jinxed.

It was a chilly night.

‘Who knows, it might rain when we are having supper, and we would get stuck in the rain.‘

It didn’t seem like it was going to rain, anyway.

‘Eh, you better don’t joke, considering the fact that you have been quite a jinx in my life recently… I still need to ride home one, alright?‘

*Cough* What jinx?! N… Not my fault. *Innocent look*

As we were strolling back to my apartment, the sky flashed incessantly.

I thought somebody was taking a picture somewhere, and he laughed at my stupidity naivety.

Then I heard the hollow grunt.

*Cringe uncomfortably*

Along the pavement we graced, we could feel the tapping from the heavy droplets, and I mouthed an apologetic ‘Uh-oh‘.

Our paces quickened, and scurried back as the sky warned us with its litted threats.

It’s pretty intimidating to be in an open space, without any buildings or shelters around you, and you could see the whites of the sky at such proximity.

Yet, it’s a pretty sight too. Especially when there is someone to sooth the raging hormones fears.

He walked me to the lobby, and the moment we entered the sheltered area, the swash of the sudden pouring rain alerted us enough to turn our heads to check.

What a difference, a second made.

Someone from above was looking after us, apparently.

He sent me up the lift, where we stole more time together by going up to the 20th floor, before heading back to my floor again.

He left, in the drencher.

Ride safe, sweets.

Other than that, I still love the rain. Very much.

***

SBB asked if I mention him in my blog this time round.

Just pretend I didn’t.

Just pretend I have not, in the later part, too.

So, what can I say about him?

Passionate, sexy, intelligent and sweet.

Same wavelength.

He sends cute SMSes that tickled me.

Though I don’t know if my bimboism would mean that the above statement is of more negative vibes than positive. *laughs*

I like the way he sprang on me and engulfed me with a passionate kiss when I met him at the basement today.

He had hid behind the pillar, an elaborated ambush. When I emerged from the basement door, he pounced on me, drew me close by the waist, pinned me to the doorframe for a tongue fight.

Yummy.

I like the way he was clad in a white shirt(Lesson learnt. Keep your weaknesses to yourself, so no one will exploit), sleekly dressed, with those working shoes on his feet.

The clacks from the shoes were music to the ears.

His shortcomings?

Short coming.

Muahahahahaha.

Er, lame joke.

But *curse curse swear swear*, he was saying over the phone just now, ‘You are really quite ‘teyh‘ you know?‘

‘And the ‘nahbeh’s on your blog sound cute to me, cos the way you say it in real life is more act-cute than rude.’

I AM NOT ‘TEYH‘. I DON’T HAVE A BABY VOICE.

Other than that, I shall keep the talks of his shortcomings to some other days, when he offends me or something.

*Evil laughs*

Why the secrecy of his identity, many asked.

First of all, he’s a private person.

Secondly, biking circle darn small.

Royston MSNed me to ask who is he exactly, cos since we used to be in a pretty prominent biking group, it’s likely that everyone knows everyone.

And not to mention that I used to date one, but thankfully, he is pretty obscure.

And another. Who is pretty notorious high profile.

And er… did I mention another rider was in the picture too? But he is of a different league, cos we didn’t exactly date.

Singapore and biking circle very small, he said.

Indeed, it is darn small.

2 people had already smartly found out who he is by chance, and I had sheepishly admitted to it, too.

Any professionals to recommend?

I want a clean job.

***

Sunday(14th) was pretty mundane, until VampTreSS asked me out for coffee.

We met at an atrocious timing.

2am, it was. Swensen’s in Orchard.

Going casual, I donned a scarlet mini, heels and a singlet Qiwei(yes darling, I still do think of you) gave me on my birthday last year.

Friend(who belongs to the blardy I-do-not-want-to-be-named group) was awake, and I asked him along, too.

And someone thought he was SBB!

*Gasp*

The short supper ended around 4, and the real McCoy picked me up from Orchard to send me home.

The only glitch was, I was in skirt, and it’s a blardy bitch to be straddling the bike in it.

SBB gave me an once-over when he first saw me, and I swear I saw a twinkle in his eyes as he greeted me with a smooch and hug.

He had only seen me in knee-length skirt once, and perhaps wasn’t used to seeing me wearing a short one, I supposed.

It was an interesting ride home.

He let me lean forward to control the throttle as we cruised along the expressway.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…

I should have wheelied the bike instead.

Yeah, right.

I gave up when my skirt threatened to flare up.

Got back to my place, where he took a huge chunk of time out to catch up with my blog.

Yes, the previous one, which has a huge bulk filled with my encounters with him.

He cuddled me as he was reading, and I fidgeted awkwardly, embarrassed by the fact that he was reading my thoughts.

Few sentences into the 2nd part, he muttered, ‘It’s as if I am reading a romance novel.’

I thought it was more of a comedy.

As long as it’s not a tragedy, all’s well.

Was pretty apprehensive that he might take it the wrong way, and there wasn’t any way to read his reactions cos he was cool, calm, and quiet after reading it.

I was sitting up when I banged my head hard into the desk, and I pouted miserably, while he tried remedying it by rubbing the sore spot and holding back his sniggers at the same time.

Why am I always so clumsy? HUH?! WHY HUH?!

Irritating.

We walked out to the coffeeshop opposite my estate for breakfast, and we downed 2 plates of carrot cake, before heading home feeling fatter than before.

‘I like the way you wrote the entry. The 2nd part. Have you ever thought of freelance writing?‘

The compliment that poured my way was way out of expectation.

Spent yet another great deal of time browsing through all the pictures we had taken, and other pictures lugged in my computer.

Ubin, wakeboarding, Attica, Rex & Creamy, Bloggers’ Convention, Kenny Sia’s visit, Bloggers’ outings, Hong Kong trip.. yadda yadda.

Sheesh. How many pictures do I actually have in my computer?

I am not surprised if there are more than 4, 000.

Finally fell asleep after exchanging ‘goodnight’s at 10am.

According to him, I fell asleep in his arms pretty swiftly.

Feeling utterly flabbergasted, I asked was it that I started my loud snores before he fell asleep, in which he gave a positive answer.

…………..

Great. I even snored before him.

We are indeed getting too comfortable with each other.

The benefits of being at ease with each other?

To be told: Sweety, I think you would be darn hot if you lose another 5 kg.

And not feeling the insecurity, ouch or inferiority complex acting up.

The only response I had given was…. ‘Nah…beh it’s okay‘

***

He got home around evening time, and we spent a couple of hours on the phone.

Then another couple hour after the first call.

Somehow the telephone conversation worked enough magic for us yearning to see each other.

Yet, we had to conclude the conversation at around 11 cos I was heading to town to meet VampTreSS, who was there with Roy.

***

I happily ventured to town, dressed really casually. In a singlet bought from Far East, and a pink A & F skirt, which Gracie has the exact same one too.

Gracie had called me that very day to ask how am I doing after reading my blog, so I thought of the skirt. What weird mind maps my brain could churn out.

I was darn excited over the meetup. Cos, I had this insatiable urge to… lay my hands on the Canon camera again.

Unfortunately, the lightings weren’t very helpful, and most of the shots turned out blur.

Coincidentally, the ‘models’ from my 1st shot were all present, exclusive of Nick.

VampTreSS‘ gay metrosexual friend with the neatly-plucked brows, Brian(yes, the cock Evian-bottle sucking one), came down to join us as well.

Let’s refresh our memory.

I didn’t quite want to post this picture up again, until someone rudely snatched the camera to delete one of my masterpieces of him from the camera on Monday night.

The audacity!

Well, the picture was of him sucking munching a chicken wing.

Which is again, a pretty gay side of him.

And yes, if you guys out there would like to shag befriend him, please send your fan mails to me.

I don’t know if he is my nemesis or something, or that he was really sore about the picture I took the previous time, he was picking on me with endless jibes throughout the night.

But of course, I, with immense intelligence, would not take that lying down.

That aside, the pictures taken that night, were really pathetic.

Except the pictures of Roy, which I like.

Everyone was somewhat different from the last time I shot them, and I kinda like the different feel of energy from them.

Brian was dressed like a Far East Kid, and the light colours seemed to complement him well.

More sunshine in a way, I supposed.

And there was a very liberated feel about Roy that night.

Click on pictures for larger images.

The guys grew bored and decided to entertain us with some of their amateurish lame brilliant magic skills.

It was then my turn, to be at the other side of the camera.

Roy took a few pictures for Vamp and I.

I am said to look like a vampire.

Mmmm.. yummy.

Apparently, Brian has a long…. belt, and to make up for the Evian-bottle shot, Roy put my lips to good use, as he choreographed this picture.

*Cough cough*

I bet all of you still find the Evian shot more enticing than this.

Yes, I know the way I hold the ciggie is not very professional.

I don’t fag, you see.

Then again, talking about fags, let me just drift off from the pictures for a while.

SBB‘s tobacco breath is pretty addictive and enticing.

I like this picture taken by Roy.

It captures my true essence – *cough* Innocence.

Roy left shortly after, and Vamp took control of the camera. And now, Vamp’s photography.

Brian.

Ting bites nail.

I really, really do like the curls and this picture.

Ah well.

I shall not mention how I walked into a road sign and hit my right shoulder when I was walking towards the restroom.

My name is NOT clumsy.

And whilst Vamp tried taking some picture of me at a dark corridor, we had to be disturbed by the silly security guards.

Bleah.

Chat was later adjourned to Vamp’s apartment’s poolside till 5am, before I finally took a cab home.

I am a woman trapped in a girl, AND a girl trapped in a woman, it was said.

Chatted on the phone with Vamp for a while, before SBB called to check if I was home safe.

And the ‘check’ call evolved into another marathon conversation.

Deep issues were discussed. Hurhurhur.

A friend messaged me to tell me she had printed out my previous post to read like a book whilst I was still on the phone with SBB.

And she, being acquainted with the people around me, and in the same community as I do, had successfully snooped enough to establish SBB‘s identity.

Over the conversation, an interesting statement was said by SBB.

‘Don’t take it the wrong way, I miss you.‘

Hmm. Cool. Interesting.

In a similar fashion, I said the exact same thing when we met up earlier on for supper, when we embraced.

With the don’t take it the wrong way thrown in too.

I miss you, too. He replied.

We sealed it with a light-hearted smacker, feeling glad and sweet that we were both understood, yet not pressurised.

And you guys, don’t take it the wrong way, too.

Ah well. Tonight, I shall switch my body clock to normal.

I will.

Long absence. Not my fault.

I have taken 3 days to complete this.

SBB’s.

I was in stitches when someone called me on the house phone, speaking in broken Mandarin, asking for Huiting.

If he needs Chinese tuition, he could pay me.

As I am typing this now, he’s on the phone working on his laptop, and there’s nothing much but silence.

However, I still can’t concentrate on blogging since my brain is not made out to multi-task.

And despite the lengthen silence, it wasn’t too much a boring talk or conversation as I could hear him focusing on his work.

Pensive, and all seriousness.

Ooooo, I like.

Sexy.

***

The problem with me is, whenever I can’t be totally honest on my blog, I would end up not blogging at all.

I will then feel frustrated, and have that constant constipated urge cos what needed to be purged, didn’t.

That rhymes. Cool.

So, today, I shall TRY to blog whatever that comes to my mind, without a care of who are reading(yeah, right), without meticulously sugar-coating my language, without precise planning of events according to chronological order, without fretting over the length of the entry would murder all readers with excess boredom…. blarblarblar.

You get the picture.

I know that some of you guys are reading this at your discreet without declaration. I will just pretend that I don’t know you guys are reading.

Simply because that you guys are people who matter, but are exactly the reason why I restrain my speech and words.

If it is too short, it would mean I got bored along the way, and chicken out.

If it is too long, it would mean you’re in for trouble.

Then again, I realise long entries put people off.

Good, I hope less people will read this.

***

First and foremost.

Happy birthday to Eileen, the soon-to-be mother of my god-daughter.

It’s not that the greetings come late, since I had drafted this post on 10th. It’s just a shame that I didn’t manage to finish it in time.

Darling, thanks for all the fabulous times you stood by me through the darkest days of my life.

They were fabulous, because I knew there is a friend I could count on despite all that were happening.

Her motherly ways back then will finally come to good use when the new girlie joins us in a couple of months.

Can’t wait.

*Hug*

I love you! And I am saying that not because of your new, fuller boobs.

And I really didn’t mean it when I ‘cursed’ that you wouldn’t be able to make it for MotoGP this year.

Muahaha.

***

I do like girls with skinheads.

I would love to shed those hair, and have a cleanly shaven top.

SBB had pleaded countless times, starting from the platonic days, ‘Promise me you won’t shave okay? I like your hair. Don’t shave please.’.

I would love to shed my tresses some time in October, but not yet.

But you darlings out there, if any one of you don’t mind shedding your hair for a good cause, please check this link out and contribute in any way you can.

http://www.ccf.org.sg/hfh/index.html

***

My darling Finicky Feline is having a tough time coping with the departure of GCB.

Painful to see her like that, you know.

Darling, will give you one hellava squeeze(read: cuddle) the next time I see you.

Sorry that I can’t share my vibrator.

Woops. Did I just mention someone gave me one recently?

I thought it was hilarious.

Do I look that desperate and horny to you?!?!?!

*Curse curse swear swear*

I don’t use it though.

Cos, no thrill?

I just don’t like it, somehow.

***
I forgot to mention one silly incident after Wala on Saturday(6th).

Darn freaking silly, I tell you.

Dad was driving me into JB for a short trip, and I was dead tired after few sips of Hoegaarden.

There I was, peacefully napping on the passenger seat of the car.

As we got to my country’s side of the custom, the officer took both our passports, and then I sat up briefly to match my face to the awkward picture plastered on the inner side of the hard cover.

In my daze, a sentence I heard spoken to my dad by the custom officer made me go hysteria, stormed out of the car, bit his neck off, and fled the country.

So now, I am a wanted woman.

Officer to dad: Your girlfriend ah?

Nahbe.. Nah.. I didn’t actually do anything to him(Ting is coward nice and kind), cos I was so tired that my eyes remained closed and I continued to nap.

HELLO!?! Can’t you see we are of same surname which is not even THAT common like Lee, Ong, Tan, Wong?

And 40 years difference, ya know?! Blind huh? Cannot verify the passports is it?

Or do I look that blardy freaking old to you?!

And by the way, you are paid to do custom clearance, not tabloid editor.

Most friends laughed, cos that kinda further illustrates the sex-goddess-cum-mistressy-look they thought of me.

With such friends, who needs enemies?

Then again. There is no denial that he is indeed my sugar daddy.

***

Couple of nights ago(9th), at midnight, I was in Dad’s car again when a puzzling message came in.

An unknown number.

黄先生你好。谢谢你还记得我。我在你眼中是什么样的女人已经不重要了。谢谢你给了我努力工作的信心。借着国庆的欢庆和喜悦， 在此祝你工作和身体好，财运更好。

Translation: Hi Mr Wang. Thanks for remembering me. It is no longer important what kind of woman you see me as. Thanks for giving me the confidence to strive hard in my work. I would like to take this chance, on a joyous National Day, to wish you well in your work, health and wealth.

The romantic nature within started spinning up bizarre love stories between the intended recipient, and the sender.

It was a quaint little message that had my mind lingered on it for a while.

I didn’t reply.

I kept the message so I could think of what to do with it. Somehow, I wondered how she would take it if I told her it was the wrong number she got, and didn’t want to be the one causing her embarrassment, or even, disappointment?

She might be waiting for some form of answers, a reply, SBB enlightened.

I picked up the phone and composed a reply.

I hesistated for a while.

What if she doesn’t understand English?

I fumbled with my phone and typed a reply in Chinese after struggling with the phone’s functions.

I had wanted to end off with some sort of ‘Take care, wish you are well.‘ kind of message to her, but I thought I might freak her out instead.

She apologised in the morning, and I held off the temptation to ask her to take care, yet again.

How strange.

My reaction, that is.

***

Janice is finally back from her holidays.

It was a pity she couldn’t join me for Festival of Praise last Friday.

I can’t wait to meet up with her.

There are some issues, that we need to iron out.

Don’t take it the wrong way, it’s a good thing.

The fact that we are that intimate, is the precise reason why the tiny pieces of emotions will get involved, somehow.

It’s weird to say that we have an intense friendship, and we need our space from each other once in a while cos we are so similar, yet so different.

It’s no secret that I do adore her, but yet I get really anal when things that concern her wellbeing bother me.

No one likes a preachy friend. Especially one who is brutally honest, and may potential sting others with her words.

But darling, just to let you know I am still very much here with you.

Perhaps the difference is, I clammed up into my own hermit world when there is too much a crowd, and yet you are the social butterfly whom everyone loves to adore.

Hence, the meeting of new pals diverged us further, cos we hang out with groups we are more comfortable with, and we no longer behave as one, like how we did.

It’s again, the one-to-one, and one-to-a-group theory.

Suddenly, I feel as if I am talking about a lesbian relationship. *Gasp*

But no darling, we are still very much man-eaters.

*ROARRRRRRRRRRRRRR*

***

Yesterday is Wednesday(10th).

I spent the entire day lazing in bed.

Odd enough.

I haven’t been sleeping nor resting well since Saturday, and the zit on my right cheek is growing at an alarming rate.

Ouch.

Despite that I spent my days indoors for the past few days, the deprived sleep could hardly be accounted for.

Alright, it’s my fault for sleeping only at hours when people are awake.

I had really wanted to retreat early the night before.

4 plus, I took my last piss, and got ready for bed.

The shrills from the house phone pierced the otherwise quiet night.

SBB.

5 hours(I had wanted to use the time to blog this entry, really! Told ya it’s his fault).

At the end of it, he said, ‘You know it’s really tempting to ride down to look for you now?‘

Hm. Sweet.

But he didn’t.

It was almost 10am when I got off the phone.

And what did I do?

I dragged myself out of bed, closed in on the hoover.

Sucked the coat of dust off my room, and mopped it with a layer of dettol.

Feeling the adrenalin still very much pumping, I scrubbed the tub, basin, and the bathroom’s floor.

Then, I rewarded myself with a nice, soothing rinse for my hair.

Using Organics hair shampoo. The one with strawberry yoghurt, and would somehow ensure your hair will fall back in place.

I want to change to another brand of shampoo, since I usually use salon products.

It really wasn’t my intention to use Organics shampoo, really.

Still, it didn’t smell too bad.

By the time I gave my hair a heated blow job, I finally maxed myself out enough to crash at 11am.

Woke up at around late 4pm.

Better than the SBB who slept at 10 and woke at 6.

***

Sometime on 16th June, I received an MMS from Janice.

Weeks before that, I received an SMS from Philip that he recognised the darn Fox shirt I was wearing, and asked if it was me on a placard outside Far East Guardian.

I didn’t get to see it until much later, when I was out shopping.

And I saw it littered across the shelves, cos all the packaging came along with it.

Now you know why I have no choice but to use Organics. Cos I had wanted the wrapper that came along.

The horror came one day when I checked my tag board and realised a few anonymous people recognised me from it.

*GASP IN ABSOLUTE HORROR*

Then, one night, when I went to Attica, I walked past this:

Kenny Sia said he saw it all over when he was in town for a visit back then.

Truth is, it doesn’t look like me, since my eyes were closed. Still, I didn’t want people to see it.

So I can only blog about it after they were all taken down.

***

Spent my entire National Day at home, recuperating.

Reading, surfing, yet too tired to blog.

So whatever that I wanted to say, was left till now.

Tired, you know?

***

Monday. National Day’s eve(8th).

Spent my entire day at home.

SBB got home around late noon, and called. Whilst on the phone, the doorbell rang.

Philip dropped by to loan my pair of Alpinestars racing boots, with a pack of chicken rice(not from his stall though) in tow. He had gave in reluctantly when I pleaded with him to help me buy lunch before he came over.

He had wanted to wear the white, flashy boots to track the next day.

Hence, he left his shoes at my place, and strutted away in my boots.

No, we don’t wear shoes of the same size, but I had made do with the large size since it is almost impossible for me to find boots of my size.

4 and half.

***

I don’t know if it was a beautiful coincidence or haunting reminder when I was walking on the lonely streets on late Monday night.

It was 1.20am.

I realised I was donning the exact scarlet top I had slipped on for my baptism exactly a year ago.

Wasn’t planned, definitely.

Yes, Manchester United is THE team. Okay, the point of this post is not about Manchester United, so keep your rude comments within your pea brains.

It was the day of my baptism.

I walked on.

It was a pretty night. The air was cooling.

It didn’t chill. Nor was it dense with moisture.

I didn’t sweat a bit.

The only human soul I felt and saw, was that of my own for the 30 minutes walk, as I sashayed down the deserted stretch of road from Jurong East MRT, to Science Centre, down to Chinese Garden MRT.

The night was pretty mundane, but interesting for me.

I spent quite a bit of quality time with myself, and was set into a reflective mode.

Now, that explains the cryptic entry that came from me, doesn’t it?

There was invitation to chill over beer.

There was invitation to club the house down till dawn.

There was invitation for mahjong.

Somehow, I was too tired for any of them.

Yet, bored enough to venture out of the house at 11pm, to head to the theatre.

Bewitched, I watched.

Nicole Kidman is sparklingly ravishing.

The show is only okay in my opinion.

Not one I would rave about.

I should have gone for Willy Wonka instead.

I sat in one lonely corner of the cinema, and was the first to stand up when the credit rolled.

I like watching movies alone, actually.

It was something I had no choice, but grew to like.

It was my 3rd movie of the year.

***

I strutted down the cockroach infested pavement after the midnight screening was over, and I awed myself with my ability to cope with my fear.

I browsed the quiet neighbourhood, and felt not an ounce of intimidation.

Nevermind that it was supposed to be the spooky month or what so ever.

I felt light-hearted.

I thought about a lot of things.

I also gave a lot of people a thought.

Claris, Gracie, Lisha, Filicia, Janice, Wanyi, or even, Sandra.

People in church, too.

Or some of you people who read me.

I wondered if being honest, but yet putting myself under the risk of losing friends, is well worth it.

I have been to the stage that I compromised my beliefs, and created some form of immense disappointment in people whom I once held, and still hold closest to my heart.

I think if she is reading this, she knows I am talking about her.

Would it be better that I come clean, or that I hide a part of me that people will never get to see, and hence, never know what is my problem?

I don’t know, really.

And how do I club, bitch, speak my mind, blog provocatively without being judged, preached to, criticised, and hated?

Especially from people who share the same faith and look at me as the one who fallen badly?

I mean seriously, who can take that dark part of me that I hid away so some of you won’t feel scared, freaked out, and see me without a hint of disgust?

And not to mention that I knew many you youths out there are reading my blog.

I am not a good example, I concede.

Do not be like me, really.

I know there are many Christian youths reading me too. I am touched when I read how some of you teared recently over my past entries. The guilt overwhelmed me too.

Don’t ever compromise your faith like I did.

Many inner battles I fought, which I encrypted.

***

Remember this post here?

What I had really meant, was:

And I fell, when I got home.

No, I didn’t trip physically.

Spiritually, and perhaps, figuratively, I fell back into the black well of destruction, again.

Just this patch of loneliness that further sucked me into this surreal realm of emptiness, leading to the silly deeds.

I still couldn’t cry.

I still couldn’t release my emotions with a good bawl.

I was in a daze.

I vaguely remember how I felt like a hollow shell when I walked into the other bathroom.

Straight for the blade.

Painless.

Tried again.

Numbed.

Tried again.

Nothing.

Would it be scary to say I stared at the bottle of cough syrup and rows of leftover medication right in front of me, just wanting to finish them so I could sleep?

I didn’t.

I just wanted to stay up.

Staring at my monitor.

Finally, I could feel again.

I felt some spark reignited my system, and I could feel the pain within.

I started bawling.

It felt blardy good.

At if something that was built up for a long while is finally released.

2 times.

Great relief.

It was as if I came to terms to that soft side of me, after burying it deep down for the past 5 months.

How I had cruelly denied the rights for me to admit I am, still, weak.

Eileen commented she didn’t understand my post.

Yah, I didn’t want people to know, anyway.

The hyped up conversations, endless mentions of guys here and there, blogging of parties I didn’t enjoy are no doubt funny.

Taking a mockery of my life sometimes make me feel better.

It makes me feel like a 3rd party without any attachment to the subjects, and myself, in question.

She feels I am not happy.

Yah, when am I ever?

So sad, huh.

I am alright.

I am sorry Gracie, I know I broke 2 promises in a night.

Not to fag as a way for self-abuse. Not to hurt myself.

I struggled to blog this. Yet I thought I already avoided such topics in my blog, and I don’t know where else I could hide.

Funnily, I thought of you and Clar when I broke them.

I woke up, as if unaware of what happened last night.

Only with the grazes that reminded me of the temporary insanity before.

I hope this is not the only way to remind myself I am still alive.

I am alright, don’t worry.

Breathe.

That was May. Not now. So, don’t worry.

See?

I am not the wholesome, nice girl people perceive me to be.

I ain’t lovely.

But am ugly.

To the core.

***

Typing that out doesn’t mean that I am depressed right now.

Funny thing is, I don’t feel depressed.

I feel pretty good, in a way, like as if I came to terms this part of me I so long to deny.

Or afraid to show because of what people would take me as, or how people in church would raise their brows so much that I am a condemned sinner even before I could confess it, and the incessant guilt-inducing talks that would pour my way.

***

The walk was halted when I stopped by the coffeeshop for supper.

I tucked myself away into a comfortable corner, where I know the ah bengs and the auntie would not notice me.

I took a slow, short walk around the neighbourhood, cutting across the quiet lanes, lifeless shops and stopped by the ceaseless petrol kiosk for some chocolate to perk my solo holiday eve.

***

I lost a bet.

I won a bet.

Then I lost a bet again.

Then I won a bet again.

Lost to Finicky Feline over SBB. We bet nothing will happen between SBB and I.

Won Sandra, after she insisted on a bet on SBB. She had wanted to ‘challenge’ to see who would get snogged by a guy first.

And freak.

I lost to SBB too.

That I would not succumbed to his teasings.

Blardy hell.

Still lose 2 bucks.

But, SBB chickened out from leaving a tag/comment on my blog as SBB, and that levels out my loss.

*Smirk*

That coward.

***

SBB once declared how he would never date a blogger.

He is afraid that his puny *cough* inability to last OMM-ism unflattering pictures kinky quirks weird habits clumsiness privacy would be invaded, and information of himself would leak out to the public.

Especially after reading how I had splashed my ex-boyfriend’s pictures all over the site.

Hence, he firmly sneered when we discussed about the Bloggers’ Convention, and which blogger he would shag date.

‘Date a blogger? Don’t want! Wait she blog everything about me on her blog, I jia lut.‘

Really huh? *Throws dagger stares at SBB*

Shoot yourself in the foot? Pain or not? Maybe you should stuff your foot into your mouth.

*Evil laughs*

Now, he says he should consider becoming a blogger, too. I will be his gossip fodders.

I doubt he could string together a proper sentence though.

Then again, whatever happen to my ‘I want to date a man, not a boy’ policy?

Oops.

***

SBB protested over the entry written on Sunday.

Which I wrote, ‘Now, how many of you genuinely do think that there are people, who are non-malesluts, wanting to shag me?’

He went, ‘*Cough* What are you trying to say here, HUH?‘

He asked if I meant he is a maleslut.

*Cough*

I asked if he meant he had wanted to shag me.

Cannot be.

He told a mutual friend he would not want to.

No bloggers policy too, remember?

***

Sunday was, nice.

Was going out of home when Dad dropped by for a visit.

Hence, I got a free lift to town.

Was supposed to meet Sandra for some production thingy.

Dad picked her up from a nearby bus stop and sent both of us down to Mohammed Sultan, where the production was taking place.

My past outings with Sandra had caused some to ask me why the sudden closeness between the 2 of us, especially when it is no open secret that I had reservations about her right from the beginning.

‘Wah. You guys become buddies already huh?’

Not without a hint of mocked sarcasm wrapped within.

Actually, in my honest opinion, we both are not close pals who would hang out often together.

Not in a group, definitely.

These encounters were solely for the purpose of the production, and yes, that includes the party we attended the other day.

Am I being hypocritical here? Or am I hanging out with one of the most talked-about blogger so I could earn some fame myself?

Think whatever you want.

Seriously, we do talk a little and I feel she has some serious issues to deal with, which of course, I would love to tell her if there is a chance to.

She is someone a lot of people would love to bitch about with her attention seeking ways constant exposure.

Observations that I made for the few encounters we met.

There wasn’t hostility when we met in person, probably because it was one-to-one and I respond better that way.

In fact, I still am very much myself when I am with her.

Should she trust me as a friend?

I don’t deny that sometimes, I am pretty intrigued with the way she reacts to people and stuffs, and her certain idiosyncrasies were sometimes bitching fodders between me and closer friends.

Things I would tell to her face, too.

Who is she, really?

I have no idea.

Not that I think that she is unreal, but I feel she has yet to come to terms with who she really is, and doesn’t know what role she wants to take on.

I think she is somehow lost? Confused?

I may be wrong, really.

Don’t take it the wrong way.

I don’t mean to say that she is not a nice person.

In fact, let me illustrate a few incidents.

As she hopped on the car, she very generously offered me chocolates.

You guys may argue it was her ploy to get me fat, fair enough.

But then again, for my case, I would rather offer oily fastfood and lardy fried food, and keep the chocolate to myself.

I was told to choose 2 bars out of the 4 bars of sweets.

I then absent-mindedly left my handphone in my dad’s car.

When dad was dropping my handphone off, I was occupied and couldn’t leave to get my phone from him.

She ventured out of the lounge and get it for me instead.

Over dinner, when I clumsily(what’s new?) splashed gravy onto my face(duh!), she stood up immediately and went to the coffee shop’s counter to buy me a pack of tissues.

Whilst sitting around waiting in the cold lounge, she had a message which came in with a beep on her phone.

In the heat of her excitement, she leaned her head on my shoulder, and suddenly gave me a peck on the cheek to express her elation.

Erm, cool.

Quite interesting for an impulsive action.

I am not a lesbian and not exactly close to her, but I thought it was innocently sweet, and a very direct expression which wasn’t used for any kind of publicity or dare.

So, yup. Whole point to this?

Nothing. Just some thoughts that came to my mind, that’s all.

I did say I will try to blog without a care, and whatever that comes to mind, didn’t I?

***

Speaking of chocolate, I have been indulging in too much of the sinful snack.

4 x 3 Rochers, 4 Kit Kat Chunky bars, 2 Kit Kat x 4 sticks, 2 Milo bars.

In 4 days.

And that’s chocolate alone.

Did I mention I never quite like Kit Kats? Until they came up with the Chunky bars which totally blew me away.

I feel like stripping the giant bar of Cadbury’s Fruits and Nuts.

I can’t imagine the next week when PMS will come knocking.

Somebody stop me, please.

***

The production went on pretty okay.

I had people addressing me as ‘nurse’ after gaining the nickname from the silly costume I donned for the party.

Made a new pal out of… er.. Mr Anonymous, whom we shall address as Blueman for his role in the production.

Gee, all these people are making my blog filled with silly codenames.

Well Blueman has his reasons.

He is a to-be-doctor, and would like to remain low profile for the embarrassing role in the production.

Janice(no, not my Sassyjan) brought along her dog which is such a majestic beauty.

Alas, one of the crew accidentally deleted the picture I took with Prince, a huge golden retriever.

I emailed her some of the pictures we took at the theme party, and she gave a very interesting reply.

She asked if any sparks flew between me and Dr Blueman.

I think my fetish for doctors is very much visible on my face, eh?

No, SBB is not a doctor.

I wonder if he would mind dressing up as one though. *cough*

Coincidentally, Marcus was working, and he was there too.

The whole thing ended around 11pm, before we finally could make a move.

***

Know what’s funny?

I had more make up on me than on Saturday, and I was wearing a black sheer top and a skirt as contrast to the jeans and tank top I had on Saturday when I turned up for the gathering.

I was talking to Janice when she asked what I do in my free time.

I mentioned something along the line that I seldom club these days, and it was more frequent in the past.

She looked at me and told me she’s surprised that I party cos I don’t look the sort to party, and look more like the homely sort.

What a surprise!

Dr Blueman then thought I look like those stern and ultra-fierce teacher when he knew I used to be a teacher.

The normal reaction from people is generally that they could not imagine me to be a fierce teacher.

Truth is, I was a blardy freaking fierce teacher, alright?

Don’t doubt me.

So, he was right.

I think I am having an identity crisis here.

So who am I?

***

It is storming.

Again.

I don’t like.

Feeling snappish over the incessantly flashing skies. Thunders unnerve me.

SBB is now in the shower(it’s 4am) and when I went to the loo, the sturdy winds hit against the panels, making awful, eerie noises.

The down side of living solo is that loneliness seems more apparent when it rains.

Now, he’s calling as he stepped out of the shower, staying on the phone, trying to divert my attention away from the howling winds, flickering lightnings, and husky growls.

Now, it sounds like live commentary, doesn’t it?

***

Time is 9.30am, and I just got off the phone with SBB.

8 hours of conversation. And the equal amount of time is taken off from my blogging.

Argh.

Interesting conversation as we dreamt up several hypothesis.

We even called a friend at 6.30am to join in for a 3-way chat.

The last few lines are pretty cringe-worthy.

‘What are you gonna do? Under your duvet? Sleeping soon? You should get some rest.’

‘Okay, will do. You sleep well, too. So, anything else you would want me to know?’

‘I wish I am right beside you now. Then I can cuddle you to sleep.’

*Grins* ‘Wah. That’s a surprise. So sweet? Er, I mean, so sweet.‘

I wonder when he is gonna get bored of me.

I give it another 2 weeks.

Hurhurhur.

***

After the production thingy on Sunday, I went for a slow walk and made my way to Orchard by bus.

Stopped by the cybercafe as I waited for SBB to meet up in town.

I am such an addict, I needed to check my blog and email.

As I sashayed down the pretty, glittery streets, a companion with a cute voice was on the other line, keeping me company.

Her baby voice is tremendously…. erm, babyish.

Imagine the insult when she said, ‘Wah! I finally found someone with a cute baby voice like mine.‘

HELLO DARLING?!

Which part of me, or my voice appears babyish to you? HUH! *Glares*

That little darling stayed on the phone with me for a little while before I finally reached Coffee Club where I was supposed to meet SBB.

It was a quaint coincidence that Shivonne was right there at Coffee Club that very Sunday night, with a cute friend in tow whom I didn’t get to see.

I heard he’s tall, cute and has a nice dimple to decorate the already charming face.

Shivonne had messaged me on MSN, I think with the intention of introducing him to me.

Muahahaha.

***
The above that I typed was about self-mutilation, not suicide. I don’t believe in suicide, but I used to succumb to self abuse to feel alive. Anyone who is going through it, please seek professional help, and take note that it is an irresponsible thing to do. We tend to magnify our problems infinitely till it clouds our judgment, blocks our senses. Live on, well. I am still trying.

– Friday, 11.07am Aug 12 2005

***

Continuing on..

PART II – Things you might, or might not want to know.

It was a pretty weird Sunday for me.

I have no idea why, but a message from a pal from the past came in.

Mr BR.

He asked if it was a surprise, and indeed it was.

He just wished me well and everything would be okay for me.

As long as I am surviving, it would be okay, right?

Passably okay.

Still, something from the past, stirred me.

***

And, another rare message came in on the phone.

Let’s codename(aw, not again) him, AD.

AD is a nice, down-to-earth pal whom I forged some form of friendship with due to his amicable, soft nature.

His messages are rare.

Very rare.

And his quiet ways meant that he is someone who doesn’t quite write his emotions blatantly on his outer self.

AD asked how have I been doing, and it was a tirade of messages that came in swift.

Until the last message that came in, which is along the line of, ‘Long time never see you already. What are you busy with? Kinda miss you.‘

Erm. Hmm.

And I had a private message in my friendster, with those forwarded post from him that goes something along the line of ‘Missing you…’

From someone who is of such quiet nature, it’s odd.

And, his ‘In a Relationship‘ status, had became ‘Single‘.

Ah, I see.

It’s odd receiving from 2 unexpected people in a single night.

Oh, did I mention how I like their new option of ‘It’s complicated‘?

***

Sunday night.

I ended the call with April with a click of my thumb, as I heard the roars from a familiar bike model.

The street next to the pavement was blurred by a flash.

The rider’s threw me a glance, and I recognised it immediately. He swerved into the carpark, and indeed, it was him.

Yet, I almost didn’t recognise the figure who dismounted his machine.

Crisp long-sleeved, buttoned shirt clothed his lean body, his feet clad in sleek work-shoes, cropped hair neatly gelled, and, and, and… oh my freaking gosh, the metallic frame that boxed up his mesmerising eyes sat comfortably on his perky nose bridge.

*Slurp* *Bites lower lip* *Wipes sweat* *Fans myself furiously* *ROAR!*

Oooo, I like.

I giggled at the amusing sight, glued my gaze to the fresh image, as his arm wrung round my midriff, pulling me close to him.

‘Hello.‘ He grinned impishly, as he greeted me with that uplifting drawl.

‘Hello, there.‘ I gave a cryptic, sheepish smile in respond, locking his gaze, as my arms circled his waist.

The slight whiff of perfume tingled my senses. I lowered my focus for a quick browse.

‘Interesting, you’re in shirt. Look, glasses, too.‘

‘Interesting, you’re in skirt.‘

A different side of each other, we never quite seen. It was a pretty lustful endearing sight of the man right before me.

I had a silly grin of satisfaction as I inspected his sharp dress sense.

I had briefly mentioned about shirts and glasses, and certainly didn’t expect the *cough* fantasy to become a reality.

All these for just, erm, an hour of brief meet up.

It seemed only natural for us to indulge in a snug embrace.

Basking in the orangey street lights, he gave a light peck on my cheeks, then.. the lips.

The sweet, roasted taste of tobacco lingered.

I didn’t think I would like it, but strangely, I did.

It’s pretty addiction, actually.

Awww…

Sandra lost a bet to me, there and then.

SBB had to spoil the moment at the end of it with, ‘Darn, now I have red lips!‘ before rubbing the gloss off his lips.

*Roll eyes*

***

His hand made a grab, and enveloped mine.

I froze for a moment.

The centre of my palm felt his warm touch as we strolled pompously down the quiet streets, heading for Coffee Club.

We decided it was a tad too warm, and set our sights on Swensen’s which is further down the streets.

Or else we could have bumped into Shivonne and her cute friend instead.

Good, I still stand a chance. Phew.

His fingers intertwined with mine as we crossed 2 traffic lights to the street diagonally opposite us.

For a slight while, I was reluctant, or rather embarrassed to look up. A little flustered, I was.

Did I ever mention how knitted palms is much more pressurising to me than anything else?

Once, there was this guy who held my hand without permission and I never did dare to meet him again. *shudders*

It was a pretty awkward, but sweet and tender moment, though.

The broad street leading down to Swensen’s was soul-less as we sliced through it on a Sunday night, and it was the usual bickers, jibes and giggles that littered the conversation.

Nothing seemed to have changed, except that we are more intimate than before.

And that er, he is more *ahem* babyish and surprisingly, sweeter than before.

It was quite hilarious that 2 of us were meticulously dressed for.. supper.

I have an excuse. I was out prior to that.

What’s his?

As usual, he sat there quietly as he watched me down the waffle.

I feel like a glutton around him.

I stole a peek of his studious look once in a while, breaking into girlish giggles whenever I set my sight on him.

However finely dressed I was, my clumsy self still took over when food was falling out of my mouth, and all over the place.

Chocolate fudge on my chin? Erm, not very slick, I know.

We chit-chatted for a bit before leaving, taking a quiet path back to where we first came from.

As we halted right before the junction by the red lights again, it was green lights for a smooch, and a cuddle.

He took my hand, crossed it before me, and twirled me around.

Once, and twice. Like how you would, to a dance partner.

Passing traffic must have thought that was mad.

***

I am not sure if clumsiness is contagious.

SBB is becoming a doofus these days too.

I can’t remember the number of silly stuffs he did on Sunday.

He forgot to bring this, he forgot to bring that.

But I remember that he gave me…. one painful chipped toenail when he stomped on my left big toe.

I shall not mention how romantic it was when we were trying to smooch and we hit our heads against each other.

Oooooooops.

But, you know what is the definition of instant karma when you were laughing at someone over his clumsiness when you were opening the door, and the moment was continued by a loud ‘thud’.

I walked into something and kicked a bottle down.

What’s the story between the pot and kettle again?

I am glad I am not a man, cos I mock at OMM jokes ever so often.

I think SBB did laugh at OMM jokes before…. so does that mean something?

Hmmm..

*Raise brows*

***

Pillion riding on a bike in skirt is a bitch.

At least I have my jacket over me.

Pillion riding with the rider playing with your fingers is not.

Pillion riding with the rider patting your knee and thigh at the traffic light is not, either.

Quite sweet actually.

I realised how tempting it was to be pillioned by someone wearing shirt.

To resist the temptation to unbuttoning the shirt is a challenge.

What’s with shirt and skirt, really?

Buttons-playing seem pretty fun.

Must try next time.

Muahahaha.

***

There was a parked car in the basement carpark, with 2 girls sitting within, chatting.

We got off from the bike, and he pulled me closer by the waist, and we snogged.

Very affectionate, I thought.

Until he stepped me on my toes, that is.

So, it was cuddle, smooch, cuddle, smooch.

Then again, he twirled me around as if we were dancing.

He pinned me to the pillar, out of sight of the ladies, and we snogged.

Passionately, emotions raging.

His ran his hand over my ears, neck and down my back, embraced me close.

Darn. That felt blardy good.

***

I frowned slightly when the skies cracked up when I was showering.

It sounded distant, but near enough.

I could hear the sudden heavy downpour out there.

Heartbeat accelerated, discomfort grew, and I wore a constant sulk as I blew dry my shampoo-scented hair.

I grew snappish.

I realised how much I missed having someone close by my side when the skies tease me the way it did.

Thankfully, SBB was by my side that very morning, and the fear seemed easier to deal with.

A hug can do so much.

I ruffled his damp hair as I shared the heat from the hair-dryer.

***

How comfortable can you grow with a person?

I shed that self-consciousness and giggled nervously when I donned the nerdy pair of frames, freshed-face and slipped on my retainers(*gasp in horror*).

Did I mention the darn zit on my face?

Now that he had seen my worst, I must silence him and eliminate him from the surface of earth.

Wait a minute, I don’t have to.

He has more reasons to butcher me after seeing him equally dowdy and casual.

Dishevelled hair and glasses. No longer the sleek, polished him I met earlier.

Different ends of the spectrum in one single night.

Nice.

Both are equally sexy somehow.

To me, that is.

To 2 self-conscious individuals, to break out of the comfort zone, may not be a bad thing after all.

Letting our guards down.

I like it.

What I didn’t like is, how the glasses would engage in a war, before our tongues did.

***

I dwelled in the cosiness of his sweet embrace when I snuggled up close to him, burrowing my head into his neck.

I nestled snugly right between his shoulders and chin, basking in the traces of security within.

The arms around me tightened.

The soft touch of his bare skin next to mine was warm, creating a fuzzy feeling within.

I distant my face from him, enough for me to have a good focus on his smiling eyes.

We already spent a great deal of the night staring into each other’s eyes.

Animated bickerings, babyish banters, and witty jibes gave way to soft, gentle whispers of good night.

Pecks were planted on my forehead, nose and lips, before they were returned.

It is a bliss, to be cuddled to sleep.

Something I have been greatly deprived of, for a long, long while.

Such bliss that had absent from my life for a great deal of time.

Sheer indulgence.

***

He’s nice to hug.

And it’s nice to be hug by him.

Top 4 sentences he repeated that evening:

‘I like your skirt.‘

I am suspicious of what he was thinking.

‘I like your lips.‘

I really am suspicious of what he was thinking.

‘I like your eyes.‘

No, they are not to fuel the innocent doe-eyed look fetish.

‘You know, you’re really nice to hug.‘
Yes, I know. I am just fat. Top 4 sentences I repeated that evening:

‘I really like you in your glasses.’ ‘I really like you in shirt.’ ‘I really like you in your glasses.’ ‘I really like you in shirt.’

Darn kinky, I know.

I did not think of unbuttoning the shirt and pull him close to me by the shirt with brute force, really.

Really.

*cough*
Really.

I won’t swear on it though.

I did manage to get a couple of shots of him in glasses and shirt.

Yummy.

***

Waking up with bad breath, and seeing the one next to me deep in his sleep with his mouth gaping is a sweet thing.

I did forewarn him that I do snore, but I doubt that did much to disturb his seemingly deep slumber.

I did not stir enough to wake him completely, but the movements prompted him to slit open his eyes slightly, and he leaned in closer to peck me the lips.

I irritated the hell outta him by pecking him on the lips, and for every peck, I would attach ‘wake up’, and it became a tedious peck-wakeup-peck-wake up-peck-wake up morning call.

I wonder how he managed, but he cuddled the hyperactive mass and slept on in peace.

I spent an hour, before I finally managed to drag him out of bed.

***

He left in the noon, and it was a great deal of affectionate kisses and hugs before we finally bade goodbye.

We spent another couple of hours on the phone when he got home, and called.

Perhaps, that’s my Piscean trait acting up.

I am pretty much an affectionate person, as much as I am a stone-cold person to some.

I bet some of my closer girl pals would know how affectionate I could get… with girls.

Ooo.. closeted lesbian?

Having said that, who knows, SBB might be a girl and not a guy.

Er, he would murder me for that.

So, SBB is a 100% hot-blooded male.

***

FF is curious how ‘teyh‘ nad purr-ish I could get when SBB is around.

I have to rebutt that.

He is equally teyh and babyish, alright?

I never thought of him this way, and it is pretty odd to be saying this, but, he is blardy. freaking sweet.

How so?

I don’t know.

But it certainly is strange to think so, of someone who is a platonic good friend to start with.

***

Wednesday(10th) was pretty mundane, and we took a long rest after the intensive 5-hour phone conversation that very afternoon that disrupted my blogging plans.

Was feeling pretty hungry that night, and he fetched me down to Fong Seng for Nasi Lemak dinner.

It perked me up when I saw him at the lobby carpark, when he greeted me with a kiss and a firm cuddle.

Wheeeeeee. Nice.

Fong Seng. Once again, I was the glutton, whilst he watched.

Whilst we were chatting, he pulled my chair closer to his, and we spoke of tales of our own.

Our fingers twirled and swirled round each other’s.

I bumped into 2 familiar faces.

Those of Hwachong 99s22 guys. Xianhong and.. er… pal.

Surprisingly, they managed to recognise me, unlike Alex, who failed to when we were at Wenmei’s birthday chalet.

Okay, it took them a while to figure out who I really am, though.

It was a brief chat, and isn’t it swift?

They are all out of NS, back to hit the books and mug for a degree.

We headed back to Jurong, to Jurong Point where we met up with a friend of his who lives nearby.

It was what bikers always do, to hang out at coffeeshops, and we rode down to the coffee shop near my place.

When I realised my visor from the AGV helmet had came loose, I made the wrong decision of bearing with it for the rest of the journey since it wasn’t too much of a distance.

Wrong, wrong move!

SBB cheekily played pick-up with his friend on the straight stretches, and I was left one handed on the tank, while fixing my left hand on the visor that came loose.

The inertia from the accelerating bike was great and I clung on to my visor as I grabbed his midriff.

*Curse curse swear swear*

His friend is an interesting character.

Easy going, and seems like a really nice person.

It was the usual bike talks, while I watched on.

Finger-playing once in a while, or when SBB displayed splurts of affection here and there, right before his pal.

Like the time he decided to dip me into his bosom, cuddling me, planting a peck on the forehead or the lips occasionally.

Or the time he raised my hand to his lips, to plant smacker on it.

Or placing my head on his shoulders, with arms round my waist.

Or the occasional longing gazes and winks he threw my way.

Hmmm. Nice.

Got home pretty late after taking some pictures for his friend, and came back to load them the minute we reached back.

***

Was feeling slightly hungry.

We ventured out of the house for some breakfast at the nearby hawker centre.

The air was particularly fresh, and it was interesting to see how the day is picking up with people leaving for work, walking to school.

Wrong move.

It was the worst carrot cake either of us ever tried.

Still, I enjoyed the early morning stroll, with his hand holding on to mine.

***

We finally fell asleep together at 7, in the luxury of his cuddle, once again.

Woke up late in the afternoon, and despite waking earlier than he did, he would sit up groggily to drag me back in bed, and pin me in his arms for a cuddle once I sat up to use the computer.

It seemed easier to wake him up this time round.

Well, it could be pretty easy, once you know each other better, and know exactly what irritates him enough to get him out of bed.

*Evil laughs*

***

So that pretty much sums up what I had wanted to say.

Now, wait a minute.

Do you guys think I am attached or some sort?

Some said I sounded smitten, or rather, in love.

Pisceans are romantic creatures by nature, and they romanticise everything.

And I might be blogging it in a way that you might, or might not know what is real.

I may sound in love, but I might be basking in that identical feeling, without necessarily immerse in it.

I don’t know how many people are gonna arch your brows upon reading this, but no, SBB and I are not exactly together.

Dating, yes. And I mean, yeah, we are seeing a bit of each other.

Er, in a commited relationship, not really.

I know it sounds like a pretty warped friendship there, isn’t it?

Actually, I don’t know what’s my take on this entire episode either.

Hmm… I guess we are both pretty much commitment-phobes, and are pretty comfortable of having no expectations or whatsoever to each other.

I still can meet other people in my life, whom I can share very openly with him, and things we could be very honest with each other.

After the breakup, I spent many solitude days, and I clammed up to a lot of emotions.

Was wary of people, generally.

It was pretty nice to meet someone whom I can talk openly to.

He reminded me of a close friend, I lost last year.

Someone whom I can feel comfortable with, and let my guard down.

I am not sure if it’s a good thing that I could share my darkest secrets, without feeling too exposed, too naked.

Someone, who is tuned to the same frequency, same lame sense of humour, and dealing issues which I can empathise with.

It quaint, but sometimes he could complete my sentences.

Yet, we are very different people, too.

I see part of myself in him, and learn things absent from myself, from him.

Apparently, part of me which intrigues him, is the fact that he finds me similar to him.

‘So, why? Is it the fact that you lust for me?‘ I joked.

In all seriously, he frankly replied, ‘Partly yes, but it’s more of I like you as a person.‘

Or that I reminded him of someone from his past, like how he reminded me people(yes, even the very first puppy love in my late teens) from my past.

‘Actually come to think of it, seriously, I think the reason is….‘

Before he could complete, I retorted, ‘Wait. That’s an absolutely narcissistic reason. Oops. Sorry for interrupting. Was it something else?‘

‘Nope, yah, that was what I was going to say.‘

‘I can’t believe that. You must be gay.‘

So yup, he thought I was like him, and thus, so.

Which part, I wonder? Insecurity? Muahahahaha. Must be the intelligence. *Cough*

But no, I am not as narcissistic as he is.

‘I don’t know why, but I realise one thing. I feel very comfortable around you. It’s weird cos I don’t usually open up to people. Not someone I know so briefly.‘

‘Uh-huh. I don’t either. I can be very open with who I am, but people can never seem to grasp who I really am, cos I would appear to be very honest with them, yet there is a barrier they can’t cross.‘

It’s true that I barricade myself. It seems like a lot of people can know a lot of things about me, but yet they could feel as if they know me, yet at the same time, still very distant from me.

Some kind of connection is lacking.

‘I let down my guard when I am with you.‘

Does it really matter that a relationship is that I need to feel belong to, and having a person to claim territorial over?

I used to think so.

I would think so, too.

I had many MSN messages asking me ‘So how? Are you attached now?’ which tickled me, and yet unable to give a definite answer.

No, actually.

And not necessarily looking.

Oh talking about MSN, my list is approaching 250.

And some of which, I am not even sure who. Woops.

Ivan was trying to snoop for SBB‘s identity when he asked, ‘But doesn’t exclusiveness give you security?‘

To which I reply, ‘But doesn’t exclusiveness build more insecurity?’

Seriously, I had never thought of taking a take on relationships the way I do right now.

It is not my intention to blur a friendship with the intimacy, but things just seem comfortable enough for us to head this way.

SBB asked if I felt any difference or difficulty after taking the leap, and I could honestly say that yeah, indeed, there was a difference.

A slight difficulty, even.

That words might be taken the wrong way, and become a liability.

He admitted there’s a difference on his part, too.

He said he talks like a babychild now.

*Chokes*

Muahahahaha.

Apparently, Finicky Feline complained that she faces the same problem when talking to me.

She had inevitably picked up my ‘baby voice’ whenever I am around.

I do enjoy his company and conversation. Very much, I might add.

The way he makes me laugh with his goofiness and the tinge of depth.

Can I honestly say that I don’t feel anything for him?

No, I can’t.

Truth is(yes you SBB, don’t take it wrong way), I do fancy him, and I do like him.

Or that I yearn to see him when he is not around. Or in a politically correct way, I do miss him…

(Nahbeh, I am compromising my dignity here)

But at the same time, I can cope when he is not around.

That is after seeing another side of him that’s hard to penetrate(no sleazy thoughts, please).

Look at us individually, it doesn’t seem like he is the sort I would go for, and neither do I seem to fit into his harsh requirements of a partner.

Sheesh, and such things said here, are often left unspoken, so if he does read it, somehow, it would be the first time he will be reading it.

Thats why I said, it’s quaint.

And not many might take it well, cos they might think this is not right.

But all I can say, I am enjoying my moments with him, and I am happy.

Urm, yeah.

I am.

Since a long while.

I can be who I am.

Well, I mean I am still self-conscious with him around, and that I still have yet to fart right before him, but still…

You know what I mean right?

So that’s all that matters, for now.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I know no matter what, I will still be keen to keep him as a friend.

*Beams*

So what? Those who silently detest me, are you gonna call me a slut now?

Or are you shaking your head in disapproval?

Don’t stop recommending cute guys to me, alright?

Whee. What a dose of SBBism.

Almost 9, 500 words, ya know?

Make that a good one.

My biological system is going haywire, and I have yet to sleep for the night, yet.

Sometimes I can’t help but be blardy angry with myself.

I had to remind myself to constantly save my draft, cos the unreliable Firefox has the tendency to have bugs and end the program when I launch a java window.

I so much want to swear and curse cos I had stayed up till now to type a fresh new entry, which was eaten up just when I was supposed to post the last picture to end off the post.

And as you guys know I usually type quite an obscene amount, it meant the stupid browser ate up quite a considerable amount of my efforts.

I am thinking of all the fanciful swear words I have acquainted with recently and is holding back the urge to launch into a tirade of them.

*BREATHE*

WOOOOOOSAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

OOOOOOOMMMMMPPPPPPPHHHHH.

Nah b Nah.. I am cool. I shall retype again.

***

I am blardy angry now.

It ate the post for a blardy freaking 2nd time.

That means, my retyped post(almost to 100% perfection of the 1st one) was ate up too.

The audacity.

I hereby declare Firefox sucks big time.

And I am very, very, angry.

***

And woops, my bad.

The previous entry was offline for a little while cos I had absent-mindedly saved it as draft instead of publishing the entry after I edited it.

SBB had brought it to my attention after asking why had I taken it down.

Since I was out till 12 noon today, I didn’t have the chance to remedy it until I get back home just now.

So no, I didn’t remove it cos I deem it sensitive or whatsoever. I don’t think I would ever retract any posts I decided to post up.

And, am terribly sorry for the delayed update for my previous post too.

And yah, I still have yet to sleep.

The very sweet Joanne actually packed food for me for lunch today, cos she thought of doing some catching up with me.

But it was a pity that she caught me at a wrong time since I was pretty tired, so she left pretty early.

The darling had wanted to make sure I go straight to bed, and had wanted to tuck me in.

But I actually took time off to sneak in this troublesome entry that is not only short, but also took a blardy long time cos it got eaten up twice.

I finally greeted the day at late 4 in the noon yesterday, and while I was lazing in bed, the house phone screamt for my attention and it was SBB on the line.

If he had called 10 minutes earlier while I was still blissfully sleeping, I might have been a grouchy bitch and whine incessantly about my disturbed sleep.

I now very angry cos my post was eaten up. So I shall type everything in point form.

I went back to sleep after an hour on the phone with SBB.

Woke up at 9pm.

VampTreSS called to ask to meet up. I agreed.

I met dad, after an hour of blogging.

I went down to meet Vamp since we arranged to meet at 12.30pm.

But, there was a freaking jam.

Yes, jam at midnight.

Silly or what? That was why I was late.

So dangerous.

Jammed the expressway at 12.30am.

Supper at youth park.

Walked over to Cineleisure.

Saw someone whom FF would love to see.

The yucky and scrawny Sylvester Sim.

We sang for 4 hours.

2 of us only. So romantic.


We dressed to match the walls.

Crooned songs by Mandarin pop powerhouses.

Danced. Boogied. Jumped the couch. Yelled. Teased the part-timers. Vamp hit her head against the wall while checking guys out. Bitched. Gossiped. Whatever.

(As you can see, after typing 2 identical entries painstakingly, I have no more energy and mood left to elaborate.)

We fell short of asking if the servers do ‘special’. We joked with him when he asked why we have yet to leave when the session concluded that we were waiting for him to knock off.

We, equal, dirty old women.

Lock you sons at home, will ya?

Nymphos on the loose.

Session ended at 6am.

We walked out.

Walked to Killiney coffeeshop for breakfast.

Or was it supper?

SBB joined us shortly after.

I saw the love of my life when he strutted into the coffeeshop.

He was a picture of suaveness and droolsome charisma.

Isn’t he such a darling?

SBB and Vamp hit off pretty well, since they had met before the previous time I met up with Vamp.

I propped my back against his chest, leaned back and listened on to the conversation.

I grew bored and whipped out my camera and took pictures of them.

I awed myself with my brilliant photography skills.

I made Vamp look like a… erm, vamp.

So porn-starish.

Not choreographed somemore.

Darn sexy right?

No wonder Philip had asked for her online moniker after seeing her in the series of pictures I took of her and her chummies the previous time round.

The quality of picture is really bad after I switched to Blogger’s picture loading engine.

It would be nice if some nice souls out there are willing to donate generous to help my purchase for a digital professional camera.

Really.

I promise I will help all you guys who contribute to my camera fund to take nude pictures, for free!

Such good deal, isn’t it?

Artistically done, I promise!

Tastefully done, guaranteed!

*Doe-eyed look* Please? It was 11.30am when I finally succumbed to the temptation of passing empty cabs.

Vamp decided she would call it a ‘night’ and walked home, whilst SBB was off to run some errands. I chose to head home.

I had not wanted to compromise my integrity when I insisted I shall go public and walk to the MRT station to take a train back instead.

Until, the strong urge to be a brat was tickled by SBB.

‘So far, you know? Jurong very far from town. The weather so hot somemore. You haven’t rested for the night yet, and you must be tired. The walk to MRT is not near, ya know? Blarblarblar.’

I walked him to the bike, kissed and hugged him goodbye, before walking onto the main road, with 1% of me pulling me towards the MRT station.

It’s really not my fault.

It’s just a reflex reaction when my right arm shot up into the air, and an empty cab halted right before me.

It must be fate that brought it to me.

It was my destiny to hop on the cab.

So, that was pretty much how my Friday night went.

Yeap, it’s still Friday night for me despite it’s already 7 plus in the evening, since I still have yet to hit the sacks.

My body clock is so blardy screwed.

My biological system is so blardy screwed, too.

I am bleeding.

*Sulk*

Ah well.

I still have yet to account for my last Sunday – Thursday recap.

I have never ever lagged so much in my recaps, ya know?

Sheesh.

I now so very angry.

So angry I don’t know what to say.

Actually, I am not that angry, just that I want to say I am angry.

Cos I am supposed to be angry, no?

Hmm..

I am such a confused one.

8th August has always been a harsh day for me.

It is no surprise that it took on the same identity this year.

It could have been quite a beautiful day, actually.

Started off pretty brilliantly.

Somehow, the fatigue must have overwhelmed me a tad too much that all my thoughts are extremely jumbled and cluttered right now.

I shall take the load with me into snoozeland, before I calm my thoughts for an extensive entry tomorrow.

Or else, I might be blogging all the wrong stuffs just because of the spur of moment.

I nearly did.

I came home feeling the need to blog things that belong to the darkest realm.

Then again, if the thoughts don’t go away, I might still blog it out.

Just curious, who do you guys really think I am?

Leave a comment on who you perceive me to be, or any question about me(yeah, questions like ‘What’s FF’s number?’ is not applicable) you want to know.

If it doesn’t hurt anyone, I would try my best to respond in the most honest way I can.

I am cool. Don’t need to tell me to cheer up, nor there a need to shower me with attention.

Just in a pensive mood, that’s all.

Cheers all.

And happy birthday, Singapore. You know I love you.

Ah. 10 years since the day I took part in NDP.

Memories.

Ha.

There is a war between ‘need-to-blog’ Ting and ‘lazy-to-blog’ Ting.

I haven’t been consistent with my blogging these days, I know.

Occupied you see, darlings.

SBB wanna claim credits for contributing fodders to my recent posts.

If only he could contribute those that are as juicy as OMM‘s.

Then again, SBB‘s stamina couldn’t be doubted.

Conversational wise. What were you thinking?

Remember his 8 and half hours of phone-marathon with me from 3.40am-12.10pm some weeks ago?

Don’t you dare to smirk there. Got karma one, alright?

After reading through the comments, he jumped onto the bandwagon, interrogating me, ‘So, who do you prefer? SBB? Or SBM? HUH?!‘

Guess what? SBM asked the same question, too!

Shallow people, are of the same vibes.

Hurhurhur. *dry laughs*

Okay. Fine.

I do prefer the guy with the bigger….. heart.

It’s rare that guys nowadays have big, erm, hearts you know?

So, whose bigger?

*SHRUGS*

***

So, I guess everyone wants to hear about the date meetup with Mr Ex Philip on Friday.

It certainly wasn’t a date. Not when his very close female buddy and male buddy was right with us.

It wouldn’t have been without them, either. Muahaha.

I met up with Philip, Shivonne, Kenneth and Patrick at Philip’s chicken rice stall in early evening, to finally try their chicken rice.

The stall is located right opposite the bike accessories shop at Kelantan Lane, which most bikers would know about.

I fell for the evil ploy.

They were trying to make me fat.

The 4 of us(excluding Kenneth) didn’t manage to clear the gigantic plate of chicken meat.

So, he insisted that we should take a picture together right before the stall.

Tsk tsk, Philip, I know what’s on your mind! So I can post here and blog about it right?

I want 10% commission, okay?

It’s not too much considering how I accomodate to your height by bending down, you know? Hehe.

***

The 2 of us sat around and had some small talks, whilst the rest engaged in some conversations of other topics.

The baby blogger naturally brought up the recent hype of bloggers in the local media and such, and we discussed the influence of them.

The topic was then brought on to how recently bloggers were being approached to endorse campaigns and such.

And he added in with zest, and solemnly suggested, ‘Eh, why not you start to advocate for Anti Pre-Marital Sex in your blog?‘

I widened my pathetically small eyes, and before I could respond, he went on, ‘And you ah, the things you write on your blog ah, all the sex, sex, sex stuffs.. the contents…‘

Uh oh.

Someone then broke into the conversation, asking him some unrelated questions, and I spit out my tongue like a guilty child narrowly escaping an interrogation from his folks.

So er, for that, I shall make up for it.

So children, and people, please, please, please, refrain from pre-marital sex.

Gavin jokingly suggested that after the above caution, I should throw in this:

Yes people, abstinence is the way to go.

It doesn’t matter that I just had sex yesterday, and it was all good.

*Cough*

Hey wait, you sleazeballs! You don’t really think I had sex yesterday, do you?

I didn’t, alright? It was a joke.

It was the day before.

That was a joke, too, in case you didn’t notice.

Or was it the day before that?

I think it was Monday to be exact.

Okay, the joke is getting a bit too dry.

Now, how many of you genuinely do think that there are people, who are non-malesluts, wanting to shag me?

Erm, the answer is of no importance.

Back to the main point.

I mean seriously, it is wise to hold on to that faith and carry your virginity into marriage.

It’s not a bad thing, really.

I know some of you might find this a tad hypocritical, but I did regret some choices I made in life.

Some of which, became a vicious cycle that I couldn’t get myself out of.

I don’t know, really.

Of course I am sure there are some of you who find it of no absolute importance, and that it is only natural for your bodies to respond the way they do when desires kick in.

So, I can only say, be safe, be wise.

And, I am terribly sorry if my blog has been too provocative for your likings.

***

Left his stall, and got myself soaked in the disgusting, awful smoke from the burning candles and incense as I stepped out into the main road, crossed it, and hopped into the waiting van.

I didn’t even bother to walk round the offerings, and had gathered quite a bit of hostile stares from those causing the air pollution as I cut across.

I wished I had brought my perfume out with me.

I shall remember to, for the next 27 days.

Philip then pillioned Shivonne, while I hitched a ride on Kenneth’s van to make our way to Indoor Stadium.

And yes, we were there, for the Festival of Praise 2005, featuring Hillsong and Delirious.

After last year’s incredible experience, I didn’t really want to miss this year’s.

Suddenly, the thought of an old friend who had never once left my mind, crept back in.

I hope she is well.

And then, yet another thought of an old, old friend sept in, too.

Hmm.

Oh well.

Anyway, we reached at around 6.30pm.

The obscene crowd scared us.

Shivonne, the real nurse, and me waiting in the queue.

The queue snaked around the staircase behind us, and it moved a bit to under the bridge.

Me and Philip, with the extended queue behind us.

To which, we cheekily joked we should start praying.

Muahahahaha.

Lord, please make the queue move faster!

Erm, okay.

But the queue did move pretty swiftly.

See! We moved further away from the staircase!

Oh yes, that is a prim and proper holy Ting with that doe-eyed look.

Kenneth and act cute Ting.

Wait, I don’t need to act. Truth is, the unmasked picture looks absolutely demure and adorable.

So tempted to post it up without the effects, you know? So unlike me.

Yeay! We were further away from the stairs already.

I shall not mention how humid the evening was.

And I tarnished the tai-tai image when I asked for tissues from Philip, and started wiping my *cough* armpit in the public.

Muahahahaha.

So much poise, right?

I had wanted to make use of the chance to take pictures for the One Singapore Minute meme since Singapore is all about queueing for free things, isn’t it?

The guys cracked too much corny jokes that time passed with ease.

I shan’t mention how my corn-factor would rise in their presence.

Finally, we managed to venture up the stairs to the entrance!

On my way up the stairs, I saw an old friend, King Huei, whom I knew many years back, from Hwachong.

It is nice to see old friends under such circumstances, really.

By the time we finally got into the stadium, we were ushered to this staircase, and there, we waited, and queued, yet again.

Superstar in the house.

Am I freaking cool, or what?

No, those shades belong to Philip, cos I don’t have the habit of acting cool.

We waited.

And waited.

Until someone told us we were waiting at the wrong stairs, and tried to chase us away from there.

Of course, we were all too lazy to move, cos a long queue had already formed at the stairs.

Then, someone else appeared and very sweetly told us they would open the gate for us.

Erm, the arrangements were pretty screwed and inefficient, really.

Seriously, I preferred last year’s organisers.

Philip and Kenneth then joked that I might erupt some ‘gang fight’ with my insensitive comments.

Woops.

Finally, we got our seats!

Don’t ask me why I became the gooseberry in between Shivonne and Philip.

I totally loathe the stairs in the stadium. My phobia of heights and stairs gave me endless jitters and incredibly wet palms.

Victor, my cell group mate, joined us shortly after.

I remember how everyone would gush to the front of the stage, and everyone seemed to be rather subdued this year, rooted to their seats instead.

Still, Delirious was a breath of fresh air, and the lead singer was darn freaking good.

I guess lotsa guilt caught up with me over my relationship with God(yes, it’s gonna get religious, darlings), and I was reminded of the darkest days ever, in the same period last year, and how He had pulled me through all these poo.

Guess what?

8th August, would be a year, from the day of my baptism.

And I think back of how awful I had felt throughout the event last year, and how great it is to be released of all those hurt and sorrow a year forth.

The constant inner battles…

Gee.. what quaint timing, eh?

It was nice. Refreshingly so. Touchingly so.

***

At the end of the event, I saw a familiar figure.

An old acquaintance, who used to be from Hwachong.

Jiada, is he.

We stopped for a chat, and caught up a little.

We exchanged numbers and am looking forward to a catch-up dinner some time soon.

Funny thing is, we were never close, and I only remember him as the hostel-mate of my primary school classmates in secondary school days.

It was nice.

***

Did I mention SBB PROMISED he would attend church with me?

Muahahahaha.

We shall see.

Now it’s recorded on the sheets, we shall see.

Yes, we shall.

***

Adjourned to Old Airport Road for food, and those evil ones refused to eat.

It is not surprise that I ended up as the only one succumbing to the temptation.

And the oily, lardy Hokkien Mee was just too tempting for me to say no to.

Neither could Victor, who pinched from my plate.

Yes, I can multi-task well.

Talking when your mouth is full is rude, I know.

But it didn’t stop me from yakking away for a good half hour.

SBB what.

The very kind Victor drove me home, after we bade goodbye to the rest of the clique, since they decided to call it a day despite initial plans of staying out.

***

It was on the car, when Victor threw in a couple of suggestions.

‘Have you ever thought of serving in the ministry, or becoming a cell group leader/pastor? I think you should.‘

I widened my small eyes in disbelief yet again.

Erm, me?

Lemme ask again.

Erm, ME?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

I will end up leading everyone astray without setting a correct example.

*Bows head in shame*

***

My Saturday was a pretty nostalgic one.

Met up with my NPCC mates from secondary school.

The last time we met up, was a year ago.

Why am I doing things I did a year ago repetitively these days?

Hmmm.. *ponders*

The turn up was great.

We had almost 20 out of 23 turning up.

I felt… erm.. out of place?

But as usual, enjoyed drifting faraway, watching the buzz.

Felt that warm and fuzzy feeling seeing some people who matter to me.

And strangely, I only took a couple of pictures, and didn’t take any group pictures at all.

Xiaozhuang, and me.

It was nice catching up with them again, really.

I am amazed that I could only come up with this little about this bunch of old friends.

***

Perhaps the only thing that etched a deeper impression was the word I heard twice in the evening, describing me.

I guess, I was the only girl in the group who is still pathetically single.

One of the guys said in jest that Xiaozhuang looks so demure, working in a bank, and me, the wild one.

Wild.

Hm.

I raised my left brow slightly at the word.

What followed was a little frown and a bewildered smile.

Really?

The tactless one went on, ‘Yah la, see you know already, sure wild one.’

Coming from the sleazeball more wolf-like one in the group, it certainly wasn’t a compliment.

Later in the kitchen, Felicia and I engaged in a small chat.

And she asked why am I still single.

I shrugged and said that no guys seem to fancy me in that sense.

She thought to herself for a while, before suggesting that perhaps I should go for an image-makeover, to tone down my looks.

It gives people the impression that I am wild.

Wild, again?

Coming from her, it was something that intrigued me.

Is it the curls?

Or is it the foxy eyes?

Or the bee-stung lips?

Apparently, I don’t have a co-ordinated image.

I look different from the way I sound and behave.

I am kooky, clumsy by nature.

My voice is squeakishly sweet and cute.

But I look cold, icy and sharp.

My thoughts are innocent but I talk dirty.

Total clash, you know.

So which 2 should I change to accomodate to the one quality?

Unless I make an effort to smile, which I do, cos I had too many people telling me how snobbish and bitchy I look when I don’t, in the past.

Think I should start acting cute, and have some surgery done so I would look sugary cute and sweet.

Seriously, I don’t think I am that wild.

I certainly ain’t a wholesome innocent chick, but I doubt I am the wild lass people perceive me to be.

Somewhat innocent. Somewhat wild.

I seriously don’t know who I am, really.

It doesn’t help that I have the intention to dye my hair blonde.

***

Left Felicia’s place to meet Finicky Feline and Gavin at Wala to do some catching up over some drinks.

Benson messaged to ask where I would be heading, and then said he might drop by.

And 1.84m giant did.

In glasses.

Whee. Another vain guy who waxes his brows.

Tsk tsk.

What’s with guys these days? So gay So metrosexual.

VampTreSS‘ guy friend whom I photographed does this too, I recently blogged.

EEEEEE YERRR..

The only reason why I don’t like is because of jealousy.

They have neater brows than I do.

Other than that, I thought it’s pretty cool for guys to groom themselves.

Quite nice, actually.

Anyway, his friend, the very sweet Marcus, had emailed me, telling me how it took him hours to finally locate my blog online.

Darn.

He didn’t even know I am a blogger to begin with.

Kudos for the patience and the efforts.

Darn. I should start hiding my site away from prying eyes. I didn’t know it’s THAT easy to be located online.

Me and my darling FF.

I jealous she gets all the saccharine affections from her guy, whilst I looked on with jealousy.

Get a room, darlings.

They left early for God-knows-what reason, and I called it an early night too cos I arranged to meet Dad at 11.25pm.

The very nice Benson gave me a lift back home since he’s staying just a few blocks away, and I hopped onto the waiting car right after I alighted from his.

Dad had thought he was SBM, the evil one who doused me in Soya Bean Milk, cos he came home the other day when SBM was over at mine.

Dad, wrong person.

Dad is usually a silent observer, and it was pretty unlike him to be so nosey over SBM.

Even in the past, when I was dating, he never quite ask. I think it must be the silly coffee-shop auntie’s influence.

Whee.

Finally, I can end off this entry.

Will be pretty busy tomorrow, I supposed.

Will try to update, soon.

Till then, people, refrain from having pre-marital sex, alright?