tell me about it

Recently I’ve been holding my pee in until it’s absolutely necessary for me to empty my bladder; then I make a run for the loo. Because it’s just so troublesome to go to the toilet nowadays.

First I have to find the access card which is probably in the pocket of the last pair of pants I wore. Where are the last pair of pants I wore? Which pair of pants did I wear last in the first place? Arrgh.

Then I have to tap the access card on the gate that bars the staircase, open the gate, walk up the stairs, and enter the access code on the girls’ bathroom door before I can open the door to the little girls’ room.

It’s like entering a military zone or something. All because too many idiot men insist on sneaking into the girl’s loo to listen to us pee and take under-door shots of naked women.

Urgh.

The farther I fall I’m beside you
as lost as I get I will find you
the deeper the wound I’m inside you
for ever and ever I’m a part of

You and me
we’re in this together now
none of them can stop us now
we will make it through somehow
You and me
if the world should break in two
until the very end of me
until the very end of you

I’m not being zhuai. I simply believe with all my heart that I am the best person for the job; that no one else will be able to do the job to the standard that I can do it. And because I tend to perfectionism, I’ll do the job myself because I’m the only one I trust to handle it. I might complain because it gives me extra work to do that I could plausibly delegate out, but no one’s stepped up to the plate to offer their help in this area, so I’m alone in it anyway.

And I’m not being arrogant. I mean it when I say that the day I see proof that someone else can do the job better than I can, I’ll gladly give it up to that person. And I’m not saying that things will crumble and die without me. Of course they won’t. But it just won’t be as good as I can do it.

That’s all I’m saying.

It bites when simple confidence is misconstrued as arrogance.

I don’t know why it’s so difficult for you to understand me. Am I that unfathomable?

We lost the match but ah well silver’s prettier than gold anyway, is what the losers tell themselves :D Seriously though, I’m just so thrilled we made it to the finals. Even if we were this close to making it all the way, Hall 3 really was a good team and I guess we can still hold our heads up because we lost to a good team. Would have liked to take them down a peg or two though :)

Hopped over to Ikea for meatballs on Sunday after the match and spied with my little eye…

A little girl sleeping on an Ikea bed. She moved just as I snapped the picture though.

And Ikea sells APPLE CIDER. *BEAMS* I have been looking for apple cider everywhere. I’d prefer Strongbow but hey beggars can’t be choosers, and this Koppenberg Swedish cider is pretty good, albeit a bit too gassy. They’ve got pear cider too, and I’m going to buy that next. It’s a little more than $5 per can.

Took 198 back to JP and we got onto a new bus! Which is large and roomy at the back of the top deck!

Observe!

Indeed!

:D

Photos out!

I’m gonna make banana smoothies tomorrow – playing Hall 3.

We’ve waited for this for four years – and we’ve moved into the finals today! Softball finals – what a dream.

Batted well today even though I missed an easy pop fly…sigh. It was a super wet field and the third base seemed to be floating in a pond rather than sitting on the ground; the batter’s box was completely flooded. My boots proved rather waterproof – until I slid to steal third base and landed with my feet totally soaked and my butt a soggy squishy mess. Hur.

It’s quite fun to play in the rain though.

Yeaterday I learned that most Singaporeans are nice enough to go out of their way to help people in wheelchairs.

I also learnt that some aren’t.

Some people were lovely enough to help me push open heavy glass doors, to lift the chair over kerbs. They’d reroute their walk to pass me by and take a leaflet.

Some people soldiered by – with a quick flick of their eyes towards me they proceeded on with their gaze carefully vacant and fixed on some point on the horizon. Oh come on – I know you saw me. I’m in a wheelchair, I’m not bloody invisible.

I have a whole new respect for people in wheelchairs. Those buggers are tiring to operate, and I’m left with aching arms.

Using the wheelchairs – we don’t mean to cheat people’s feelings or what – it’s meant as a publicity effort. I apologize for giving anyone the wrong impression; but does it matter whether I’m really disabled or not? Your first instinct should still be to reach out and help.

I need a favor!

I need you all to give me as many hits as possible for my FYP website.

The link is: www.treasure8awwa.blogspot.com.

Just click, let the page load, and close if you like. I just need big numbers!

THANK YOU!

Tromped down to Yum Cha Restaurant in Chinatown today for a languid dim sum high tea.

Yummers. Had my favorite black bean pork ribs, as well as absolutely delish fried bean curd rolls with prawns. Oh and prawn and mango rolls, and lovely goose liver xiao long bao, and ‘Three Treasure Bundle’, and double-boiled lotus root and wintermelon soup. Et cetera et cetera munch munch burrrp.

The fried bean curd rolls were to die for. I do recall posting an entry about the ones my mother made awhile back.

The har gow weren’t that fantastic, the skin was a bit too thick for my liking. But the chee cheong fun with char siew was quite good and I loved the mango pudding. I’m just a sucker for mangoes and mango pudding.

Not bad for $16.80++ high tea buffet.

Got back in time to watch cheerleading! I love the annual cheerleading competition. It’s the only competitive hall event that gets better every year because the standard just goes up and up. Costumes this year also reached a new level of creativity. We had bunny waitress outfits, S&M outfits, disco queens and arrrr, thar be pirates.

The best hall, I thought, was Hall 7 (above) whom I think were defending champions and who also performed last. They were the ones in the pirate costumes – white ruffled shirts, red cummerbunds for the guys, and piratey wenchey tops with ruffled skirts for the girls. I’d thought the skirts were rather strange at first but lo! They could be unravelled to make long skirts! which they did a Latin dance in. And then! it detached! And the guys used the long wraparound skirts as matador capes! The brilliance! The innovation! Plus I think they had the best choreography and stunts. Still, they only finished third. Shrug.

Pictures out!

OMGZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzz YESSSSS LIVERPOOL ROCKS, HA MOURINHO TAKE THAT *SPASM*

TEEHEE TWO NIL TEEHEE GORGEOUS BEAUTIFUL GOALS KUYT AND PENNANT ROCK ON!

Yesterday I discovered that my the soles of my shoes lack friction and that the front metal step of the pub is extremely slippery when wet.

I discovered these two facts when they synergized to form an event which resulted in extreme embarrassment and pain (and large painful lumps and bruises on my leg and foot), both of which were experienced by myself.

My lower body swung into the air, propelling my upper body to swing toward the ground, and while I was able to break my fall with a well-placed arm, my left leg slammed back into the metal step.

This hurt.

My manager was right behind me and with a cry of distress he rushed to my aid.

“Ah moi, be careful! Are you okay?”

I pulled myself painfully to my feet and discovered a customer standing in front of me looking similarly horrified at my spectacular plunge.

“You don’t have to fall for me, you know, I don’t think that’s part of your job description,” the man joked, reaching out his arm to steady me.

With great calm and composure, I managed to find it within me to forgive his attempt at humor and dredged out a weak laugh.

“I’m all right,” I assured them, rubbing my knee simultaneously. “Ow.”

Relieved that the crisis was over, my manager looked at me with amusement in his eyes.

“Pain or not?”

“Of course lah!”

“You must be very heavy,” he grinned.

“Shut up.”