Stockings vs leggings

Recently, I heard a rumour that someone up there wasn't too happy that I was wearing leggings on casual Friday. When I heard that rumour, I was taken aback. I was cognizant of the dress code that disallows leggings, but tolerates stockings (including black ones). I consciously avoided my black/denim leggings, and settled for what I identified as "stockings" instead. Granted, one could also argue that they were not really stockings as they were more opaque than the traditional sheer pantyhose.

Then I started thinking...what really is the difference between stockings and leggings anyway, or tights for that matter? These terms are used so loosely and interchangeably. Could the misunderstanding have arisen due to a differing opinion of what a legging/stocking is? Before I embarked on my research, this was my analysis:

Point 1 : Material
Stockings are made of nylon and are prone to getting runs and hooks in them, whereas leggings are made of thicker cloth.

Note: My "stockings" were overstretching to the point of translucence when I last wore them.

Point 2 : Crotch construction
Stockings cannot be worn on their own, i.e. without a skirt over it, whereas leggings are fine on their own if so desired (though unless one is really skinny, that is to be discouraged).

Note: I classified mine as "stockings" as the crotch construction was flimsy, just like those of a pantyhouse...and this definitely cannot be worn on its own.

Point 3 (a point of uncertainty) : Finishing
Stockings usually cover the feet, whereas leggings usually end off at the knee or ankle. But what about footless tights then - are they a form of stockings or leggings???

Note: Mine has a covered finishing.

I bitched about this incident to a friend. But not only was she unempathetic, she pronounced the wearing of leggings/tights madness in a hot, tropical country like Singapore. She added that the use of one is likely to promote wetness and bad odour in the nether regions. I wasn't certain if frustration or amusement was the right sentiment to feel, so I chose to ignore her instead.

When I got home, I scoured the web in search of a reasonable explanation. Found this from a yahoo Q&A website:

Leggings are generally opaque, footless, spandex pants. They can be cut like capris, too. They are thicker and can sometimes be used a substitute for pants with longer tops and shorter dresses. Usually made of a cotton/spandex or lycra blend.

Tights are sometimes opaque, but sometimes a little translucent. They usually have feet, unless denoted as "footless tights". These usually cannot be worn as a substitute for pants, due to translucent nature when stretched. Great for wearing under dresses/skirts in the winter. They make a lot of colors and patterns (like brights, argyle, lace, etc.) in tights.

Stockings are the most translucent, and usually have feet. These are commonly called "hose" or "nylons." The color variety is limited, usually to black, flesh tones, and white or ecru. Some have slight patterns, like fishnet and backseams. These are never a substitute for pants, and usually worn by professionals under suits. (Well, Hooter's girls wear them, too...) Also, some stockings don't have the panty attached, like thigh highs or stockings that are worn with garter belts.


So, I reckon tights come closest? If jeans and stockings are allowed, what's wrong with full-length covered tights?

These people need to take a chill pill, seriously.

Write offs

Some people just do not deserve the goodwill you extend to them. I have done nothing except to treat you as a good friend - supported your career when I could, include you in gatherings so that we could continue to keep in touch. But at crunch time, all I asked for is the truth and you chose to deny me of it. If you are as innocent as you claim to be, why hide? No one is going to thank you for it and I absolutely deserve to know. And don't even for a second of your sodden life think you are helping me by keeping silent - I AM NOT GOING TO THANK YOU FOR IT.

Surely, one has to be guilt-stricken to have some qualms about coming out in the open? Aren't you one of the perpetrators of the gossips and rumours? Indeed, I am disappointed that you were not more upfront at the beginning. But by withholding the truth now, especially after I've asked you to come clean, has convinced me that you are just plain bloody selfish. By taking this path, you have essentially forfeited whatever chance you had to redeem yourself. You most certainly do not deserve a friend in me.

So to hell with you. May your little "secret" haunt you at night while I sleep comfortably in my bed. And may you feel guilty for betraying me for the rest of your life. From now on, you are OUT OUT OUT of my life you fucking bitch.

* * * * *

To real friends whom I may have alarmed, do not worry. The unpleasant episode is behind me now but I just needed this space to vent my frustrations.

Haven't had an angsty post in a while

My gal pals and I went for drinks at the KPO bar at Somerset after work today. It's been around for a while, and seemed a rather good place to chill out, mainly due to its accessibility.

The place was nice, and thanks to the cool weather, it was no sweat being seated outside. We ate, drank, laughed and made merry. Everything was going pretty well, although the waiters did serve the wrong food and drinks a couple of times here and there. As we were all in a good mood, we did not make a fuss out of it.

The best part came when we asked for the bill. We had ordered 5 beers, 3 glasses of wine and some food. But the bill showed that we ordered 9 beers and 4 glasses of wine. We were like "WHAT?". A waiter came and ran through our ordering sequence and we patiently explained that we did not order the excess. The waiter went back, checked and came back insisting that we did order 9 beers and 4 wines. We held our ground, and he went back, consulted his colleague and the colleague came out to point out our "mistake" again. By then, we were all rather pissed as we've had to explain our story 3 times. And heck, if we really did order the drinks, why would we waste time saying we didn't?

Finally, after 3-4 ding dongs, the colleague came out with the right bill. But he had to "lecture" us about how their system works and continued to insist we did order the drinks we didn't. Seriously. The staff there was inept at taking orders and it wouldn't have been surprising if they had screwed up at their end. But instead of apologising to us, he kept pushing the blame to us. Totally unacceptable service.

Before we left, I told the manager, in no uncertain terms, that I was never coming back to this place again. And I mean it!

Damn that slipper thief

3 months or so ago, I had a pair of my favourite (green) Havaianas slippers stolen. In its heyday, it looked real groovy and cool but after 5 years of wear and tear, the last I remember of it, it looked dirty and disgusting. At that time, I was thinking who in their right mind would want a pair of old and crummy flip flops? To even pick up a pair that's not my own seems gross and unhygienic to me. Ugh. On the bright side, I had 2 pairs outside and I was thankful that the thief didn't steal the pair that I liked better (plain boring brown pair).

After the incident, I did my best to keep the brown pair in the house, but of course, I grew complacent and forgot now and then. 2 days ago, the worst happened - the brown pair got snitched! I bet it's the same thief and I hope that idiot trips and falls flat on his/her face in those lovely flip flops of mine.

It really makes me wonder if the thief is a worker or neighbour? I've got size 6 feet so it's probably a girl or teen? My very helpful landlord took the trouble to walk around our level and a few levels up and/or down to see if he could rescue my slippers, but his efforts were in vain.

So...the verdict is, if you live in a HDB flat, never ever leave your slippers outside and take it for granted that no one's gonna steal it coz it's just a pair of smelly slippers. The slipper thief obviously knew how to tell a branded pair from an ordinary pair. Just look at my neighbour's unharrassed ugly Batas?

So, 3 pairs stolen in total...one for each year in Queenstown. I am not beaten - I have a new pair stashed away for emergencies like this, and I'm gonna make sure this pair stays with me for a long, long time!

Another long wait

Visited the condo yesterday to check on its progress. 10 floors are completed now, but it was obvious that the expected TOP date of 31 December 2008 cannot be met.

I decided to call the developer to check on the status and was referred to this lady Catherine. She nearly caused my blood to reach boiling point, I tell ya. She replied "I think..." to every question I asked, and when I asked her if she could confirm or transfer me to someone who knew the answers, she told me to check with my lawyers. Erm hello? If I had heard from my lawyer, I wouldn't be calling you right? To make matters worse, she kept interrupting me throughout the conversation and verbally shoo-ed me off the phone by telling me "you check with your lawyers bye!" Notice no full-stop between "you check with your lawyers" and "bye". I was not even given the chance to talk!

I called my lawyer and he confirmed that he had not received any letter. He also (quite sarcastically, in my opinion) asked, "Why? So eager to get the keys ah?". Hello? I'm not some rich girl buying the condo to host parties or for my tiny pooch to live in? Of course I am waiting to get my keys and move in so that I can stop paying rent! Moreover, if you are expecting something you bought to be delivered to you on a stipulated date but it doesn't arrive, surely the right is yours to enquire the next delivery date? I then asked him whether he can call the developer to find out, and he said that it was not necessary, "we will hear from them once the keys are ready". What the ?!?!@?#@?$@%?$

I refused to give up and called that Catherine woman again. She obviously wasn't too pleased to hear from me again, but at least, she had bothered to recall some files, done her homework and was able to give me some decent answers in a civilised manner. God! Professionalism is almost non-existent in customer service these days.

So the million dollar question: When's the new expected TOP? It's freaking JUNE 2009! I'm definitely expecting to be compensated for this huge delay man...oh well, on the bright side, it'll coincide with the Great Singapore Sale so hopefully, I'd be able to get my furniture and electronics at a huge discount.

Is that me?

For the past two days, I've stared at myself in the mirror not recognising the reflection staring back. What stares back at me is a tired and resigned face. The eyes are sunken and dark, the hair unruly and the skin lacklustre. It is a face that does not smile.

People often say that when you give yourself less pressure and expect less of others, you tend to live life a happier being. Admittedly, the former is a nagging issue that I've been trying to come to terms with. All my closest buddies tell me that I should quit having such high expectations of myself, and that sometimes, I should let things slide a notch or two. Never mind if things don't go the way I want as long as I've tried my best. Unfortunately, what differentiates me from most people is not a question of whether I've put in my best or not but whether the effort was the best I could muster.

The thought weighs heavy on me, especially when I am at work. Adding to this pressure are real, physical demands that I am having trouble coping with. There were occasions when my eyes would just fill up with tears because I felt so helpless. I am tired, my resources are stretched and there are at least three urgent things at any one time that require my attention. To exacerbate matters, I expect myself to deliver all three tasks at a level of perfection that I set for myself.

In real life, I am hardly that strict with myself. I am silly and happy on most days, I couldn't care less even if I made a fool of myself, I can't be bothered with what others think of me and most importantly, I find lots of things to laugh about. I chuck that serious and no-nonsense mask that I have to wear to the office everyday.

From tomorrow onwards, I resolve to inject a bit of the real me into the office environment. I will try my best but I will not berate myself when things go awry. I will lower the expectations I set for myself. I will shed that stiff mask and be silly once in a while. I will find things to laugh about, even if no one else sees the humour. I will set aside personal time for myself everyday. I will remind myself that the world does not stop revolving just because of something I did. I will not take sole responsibility for something that is meant to be a team effort. I will not be so uptight at work and will instead take things as they come. I shall not be afraid of voicing my opinions and being the motor mouth that I am in real life. I will not be afraid of making mistakes or looking stupid in front of others. I shall be the same exuberant and colourful me whether at work or play.

There, I feel better already!

Mr Antagonistic strikes (again)

Me: What's the employer CPF contribution rate?
Mr A: 14.5%.
Me: OK.
Mr A (being super informative): It was 20%, 10%, 13% then 14.5%.
Me (in broken English): Don't have 10% la.
Mr A (slightly agitated): That's where you're wrong. You want to bet?
Me: Nope.
Mr A (tauntingly): You don't want to bet because you have no confidence in what you said.
Mr A: (sends me the URL of the CPF relevant webpage.)
Mr A (intent on picking up a fight): I am a Singaporean and I've been around for a long time. You are only a PR and you dare challenge me?
Me (cautiously): You don't have to be so antagonistic.
Mr A: That's because you dunno what you are talking about yet you made it sound like I'm wrong by saying "don't have LA" (note key word: "la"). That's what made me pissed.
Me: Don't be so sensitive la. I use "la" all the time.

(silence)

Mr A: Hello you there? Don't like that hor, otherwise I won't sametime you next time.
Me (resignedly): I should be telling you this.
Mr A: Oh ya hor. Haha.
Me (vulgarities at the tip of my tongue): OK got to go for lunch. Bye!
Mr A: Bye Bye! Talk to you later!

Note to readers: This was a conversation that took place via Sametime, office equivalent of MSN. The exact wording may not have been used (unlike some, I don't memorise lines and jump at the chance to spit it back into people's face to prove them wrong) and where required, I have tweaked mine/Mr A's dialogue to preserve the gist of the conversation.

Yea, wording is very important as the same Mr A has in the past accused me of distorting something he said, after which he proceeded to bombard my handphone with cruel messages such as "You have the guts to talk behind my back but no guts to pick up my call" etc etc...you get the drift.

MR A, YOU LISTEN HERE! I SAY WHATEVER I WANT ON MY BLOG AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE WHAT I SAY, YOU CAN KISS MY ASS! @%#^!*@&#^%$@^&$&$*@*@!

I'm king on my blog but such a coward in real life...bah! PEACE OUT!

The Insolent Maid

This morning, I woke up earlier than usual. Hoping to get into work early, I turned off my internal snooze button and stumbled my way groggily to the toilet. Unfortunately, the maid was inside, washing her clothes. I waited for 5 minutes, and decided to knock.

Sleepy CY: Liz, can you let me use the toilet first, I need to get to work earlier today.

10 seconds later, the maid emerged, carrying her pail of wet laundry.

Irritated maid (in her Indonesian-accented English): Next time you want to use the toilet, tell me earlier!

CY (slightly miffed): What do you mean? Didn't I just knock on the door to tell you?

Angry and insistent maid (complete with flaring nostrils): Next time tell me earlier!!!

Agitated CY: I've already told you. What's your problem anyway? Stop giving me that attitude! (slams door)

This incident was reminiscent of the Forever 21 fitting-room incident that happened last year. Yea, remember the rude salesgirl who retorted "whatever" in my face? Do you also remember the fate that befell that unsuspecting salesgirl? Well, of course, yours truly reported her to the supervisor. Bad service is something that I could never quite stand.

Given my track record, no points for guessing what I did after this unpleasant incident. Yes smarty pants, I reported her to her boss, i.e. my landlady. My landlady replied me with this SMS message:-

"We also know she has an attitude problem. Bear with it for a few more days as we are going to send her back this weekend......"

Oh boy...no wonder the maid was in a foul mood!!!!

Jostling Singaporeans

P and I were at the Corrinne May Showcase earlier. Thanks to Mr Choo, we were the cool dudes who didn't have to queue! We non-chalantly walked straight into Barfly whilst the people queueing threw invisible daggers at us! It felt divine :o)

Inside, the place was packed and there was no way we could ever get ourselves close enough to the stage. We trailed behind people making their way in, but didn't get very far. Moreover, the further we moved in, the stuffier it got. In the end, we decided to stay where we were, get some drinks and just chill out. But even that was an impossible feat, as people kept jostling past us. What really irked me were:-

1. People who jostle their way inwards, and 15 minutes later, they jostle their way outwards again. You'd think jostling was their favourite past time. And hey, don't think I can't remember your face!
   
2. People who squeeze their way in, despite the apparent lack of space. Worse, people who push to get their fat bodies past you. "Hey buster, no space means no space OK, don't keep pushing!"
   
3. People who jostle and decide the best spot is that small space directly in front of you. Or people who stand right in front of you whilst they decide whether they are in or out. These people know nothing about gratitude.
   
4. Sweaty bodies (enough said).

What is wrong with all these people anyway? Granted, the place was freaking crowded and if you really had to go to the toilet (which is right at the back), that's fine. Or if you were late and all your banner-carrying friends have lined themselves along the stage, I'll be happy to let you pass too. But please please please don't move around more than you have to, alright?

I need a holiday!

I know, I know, so do you. And him. And her. Everyone needs a holiday.

I'm at the stage where I can't stand going to work. Can't bear thinking of work. Afraid. Alone.

Perhaps the stress is too much for me to bear. I find myself crumbling under its sheer weight.

I am not happy. I thought my new job could motivate me, instill some drive in me. But it didn't / hasn't / never will.

I grapple, I grope. I am trapped in the tunnel of despair, desperation. Longing to get out.

I start questioning my ability. Feel small. Expectations loom high. My superior says things that put me down. I cry. Feel discouraged. Asshole.

I resolve to try my best. Not to put too much pressure on myself. To take harsh words with a pinch of salt. Not to be afraid of admitting that I don't know. To speak up. To learn from my peers. To shout out when the going gets too tough. To take pride in my work. To learn from mistakes and failures. To face uncertainties with an open mind and see it as a learning opportunity.

Yes I can do it. Nothing is impossible.

Nightmares, flab and demons

I'm exhausted. This week, I found myself speaking, thinking and reacting slower than usual. I was either losing my train of thought and going errrr.....or I couldn't stop repeating myself over and over. Though I knew exactly what I wanted to say, I could not say it the way I wanted to.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm losing focus. A couple of mornings, I find myself not remembering how I made my way to the bus-stop. Or how I made it across the road.

I slip into deep, knock-me-out type of sleep. I don't even dream anymore, except for that morbid nightmare I had recently. That was one of those rare occasions where I was actually thankful for waking up.

I don't go out on weekdays anymore. Gone are the cosy tête-à-tête sessions with friends after work, going shopping and indulging in a sumptious dinner or clubbing through the night and going to work blurry-eyed and in a zombified state the next morning!

Perhaps the lethargy is caused by a lack of exercise. My wound from the operation last year is hurting and the doctor forbade me to exercise. Ironically, it could be the exercise that caused the pain, since I have been pushing myself a bit harder to lose that flab.

Why won't the flab go away? I try so hard but my body refuses to co-operate. I'm sick of wishing for that slim and beautiful body. I don't even eat that much okay, so flab flab go away, and don't think of coming again another day! If I have to upgrade into the next size, so be it. I will boycott Bangkok, the land of skinny girls and tiny tees!

So many dissatisfactions and you must be thinking I'm a very unhappy girl. But I'm not. I'm still that little silly girl who goes a bit bonkers on weekends. Who persists in spoiling herself with waffles for breakfast (thanks poppy!), fast food for lunch, ice-cream in between and a huge bowl of soup for dinner.

Don't expect to see the ditzy girl on weekdays though. She has been sold to a sullen, angsty and tired demon who possesses her every Monday, sucks the life out of her for the rest of the week and releases her on Fridays.

We all know who that demon is.

Someone release the angst in me!!!

What a horrible day at work! Got told off twice by the same person (let's call him XXX) in the same day over some work that I did not deliver early enough. First time was through e-mail. I calmly rationalised why XXX was so hopping mad and dropped an e-mail back to explain myself (+ apologize...geez) nicely. But that obviously wasn't enough, because XXX summoned me into his untidy chambers to tick me off a second time in person.

I was told LOUDLY in my face that:-

(a) I should have done XXX and YYY, eventhough I had already acknowledged this in my e-mail reply.

(b) The work I produced was not based on the discussion we had (i.e. I am stupid and do not take instructions well). *Swallows* This death sentence was reduced when XXX, after going through my work, said "On hindsight, what you did was pretty good to go".

(On hindsight...BAH...I scorn at his grudging admission that there was nothing wrong with my work.)

(c) I don't need any experience to do a certain job (i.e. any idiot can do the same thing, at a cheaper charge-out rate).

Oh well, little incidents like that remind me that shit happens. And I'm that tiny fly stuck smack in the middle of the mess.

/end

An excerpt of the conversation I had today with XX, a colleague who joined the company the same time I did. Before you proceed, "family care" is defined as one of the following:-

• Leave you take to care for your family (duh)
• An excuse for fakers who are too lazy to get a MC
• Annual leave in disguise

xxx

XX: Hey, have you taken family care leave before?
Me: Yep!
XX: Did you have to submit a MC or anything at all?
Me: Nope!
XX: Do you know whether our family care leave is prorated?
Me: I dunno, I'm not HR. Why don't you call them to check?
XX: (presumably pissed) You just have to tell me you don't know, there's no need to say you're not HR.
Me: It's just that you've been asking me so many admin questions, but we joined the same time, so I'm actually just as clueless as you are.
XX: Anyway, next time I won't ask you anything.
XX: /end
Me: (Feeling bad) Hey sorry, I didn't mean to offend you.
XX: I said /end
Me: Okay okay /end

xxx

Admittedly, I was in a pretty foul mood and he chose the wrong time to talk to me but hey, at least I bothered to apologize okay? And this /end thing? It was reminiscent of the childish quarrels I used to have in my P-school days. My friends and I would hurl abuse like "You are stupid, full stop!" just to get the last word in. HAHAHAHA

My life

aI've been with my new job for a month now. I have to admit that I was pretty overwhelmed by the changes in environment, work scope and new colleagues at the onset. I left office everyday feeling slightly short of breath and anxious about the following day. Expectations of me loomed high, and I strived hard to handle the tasks that were bestowed on me.

Things have improved since then. I am learning a little bit of something everyday. I am getting to know my colleagues and discovering the quirks and eccentricities of my superiors one by one. I knock off on average at 7pm and am almost always in time to catch "The Amazing Race" (Monday), "The Arena" (Tuesday) and "The DanceFloor" (Wednesday). Leaving office early sure took a bit of getting used to. Afterall, I came from a job that provides dinner to its staff as an "incentive" to stay back late. So hey, I'm not complaining here!

Work aside, the situation at my rented home has taken a turn for the worse. My landlord seems to have forgotten our agreement that he shall use the toilet only after I leave the house at 8.30am every morning. Last week, I had a sudden urge that could not wait but as luck would have it, dear landlord was taking a shower. I spent a gruelling 5 minutes jumping around in my room and going green in the face. I bet the question running through your head right now is "why doesn't he use his own attached bathroom?" Good question, my friend, that's what I'll like to find out myself.

He has also started smoking big time in the toilet we share. Such that everytime I enter the toilet after him, my lungs turn ashy from all the 2nd hand smoke I inhale. If I were to contract any smoking-related diseases in future, he will be guilty as charged.

All these unpleasantries really make me wonder if I should renew my lease come April. Or maybe I should re-negotiate the terms and conditions with the landlord again. Or maybe I should just get the hell out of that house. But the hassle of packing, moving and unpacking sure ain't a fun thought. And I'll have to start searching for a new place, and who knows? The new landlord may be 100 times worse than the current one! Why, oh why, do I have to be at the mercy of landlords?!!!!!

On a happier note, go catch "Music & Lyrics" if you're looking for a good laugh. Hugh Grant was hilarious! In fact, I was laughing and snorting so much (and loud) that P was pretty embarrased!

Mundane days

Boring the days have been! I've not been doing much except work, work and work. It's strange how nothing else seems to happen when you're working. No rude salesgirls to make your blood boil or nasty incidents to bitch about. Took a reprieve over the weekend by paying my good friend Zara a visit. Donated my entire savings to help build her empire. Can't believe that I'm helping her get richer at my own expense.

The new office still sucks. You would have thought they would have gotten their act together by now and rectified the hundred and one faults and flaws. Why were there so many to begin with anyway?! Offhand, I can already identify a couple:-

• Leaky floor pipes. The workers had to remove the floor tiles to blow dry the dampness on Monday. Did I mention the pipes are located right next to where I'm sitting. Yea, I'm still outside the darn photocopy room.
• A corrider still horribly littered with discarded boxes.
  
• Overhead cabinets built directly above the sink. Imagine having to stoop over to fit your head under the cabinet and risking a neck sprain or getting your painstakingly gelled hair all messed up. Or having an unnaturally erect posture whilst you wash your cup. Definitely designed by a shortie for shorties!
  
• Vacuum cleaning during office hours.
  
• Fire alarm that goes off at least once a week, halting all lift services and creating unnecessary alarm! (Haha. You will not believe this, but nobody ever budges when the fire alarm goes off. I'm serious.)
  

In less than 2 weeks, I will no longer be part of this mayhem. Trust me, I will not miss my lousy seat! P thinks that my seat is not fit for even the lowest ranking employee in the office. What does that make me?

Ironies

IRONY 1 : The new, swanky office

Looks darn cool, right? Did I mention that we have a karaoke room and a pool table? Alrite, stop drooling with envy, 'coz despite the cool amenities, I still think our office sucks. 'Coz they gave me a FREAKING LOUSY seat in the office. It's right outside the photocopy room and next to a door. So I get the hear the photocopier warm-up every morning and the shredder ravage pieces of paper fed into it. And rude, noisy people banging around looking for paper or see the photocopier room as a nice, cosy place to chit-chat and giggle.

And if that's not enough disturbances, the movers and workers hammer on my door constantly. Excuse me, I'm not your personal butler but the noise affects me badly, so out of the goodness of my heart I open the door for you and leave it ajar 'coz I know you have a job to do. But instead of gratitude, these people reward me by singing in the corridor outside at the top of their voices. And mind you, they don't exactly sound like nightingales! Hey misters, the karaoke room is just downstairs, so why don't you bring your melodious voices there instead?!?!?!

I haven't gotten past a day since I moved to the new office without a splitting headache. My partner has "kindly" offered to relocate me but gave me 2 less-than-pleasant alternatives (I shall not elaborate on this one, ask me if you really want to know).

So I chose to remain where I am.

IRONY 2 : View from my office

On the right.....

On the left.....

xxxxx

On a happier note, I caught Charlotte's Web on Friday and enjoyed it tremendously. It was a sweet and touching portrayal of friendship between a pink pig and an ugly-looking spider. It reduced my guy friend to tears, so it must be good, ya?

Christmas is finally here!! 2nd Christmas with Mr. P and still counting! :)

Service standard in Singapore

Poor, I must say, after this incident that happened to me @ Forever21 in Wisma Atria.

Rude Salesgirl ("RS"): (knocks on fitting room door)
Me ("ME"): Yes?
RS: Did you get a number tag?
ME: Yes.
RS: Please hang it outside.

(As I was in the midst of changing and had only 1 item left to try, I decided to ignore RS' order. I was almost done putting on my own clothes when......)

RS: (hammers on door)
ME: (opens door and walks out, slightly irritated) Yes?
RS: Please hang the tag outside the door in future.
ME: (blood starts to boil) If you had wanted that tag outside, you should have informed me right from the start.
RS: But I knocked on your door!
ME: (smoking at the ears) Yes, and I was changing! (turns to leave)
RS: Whatever!
ME: (loud mutter) Bitch!

After hurling an insult at her, I was all ready to leave the store and never come back. But I also wondered why I had to suffer such bad service when I was the paying customer. Isn't customer always king? Appalled by RS' attitude and rudeness, I requested to speak to the supervisor and related the story to her. She, being a matronly and kindly lady, apologized and chided RS, telling her that the job of hanging the tag on the door is hers, not the customer's. Feeling slightly appeased, I decided to drop the matter.

Trust me, I'm not proud that I lost my cool. But faced with a rude salesgirl like RS, anyone would be fuming mad! Why can't our sales people be warm and friendly like in the US? That would make shopping a whole lot more pleasurable!

Special day gone awry

Every morning, I drag my tired body and unwilling mind to work. Though time hardly stands still when I'm in the office, I am counting down every minute of it, waiting for time-to-go-home to strike.

What happened to my sense of motivation? Truly and honestly, I used to enjoy most aspects of my work. I am certainly not a bum or couch potato who can stay home all day watching drama serials or playing computer games.

I was chatting to a colleague about how ironical things can be on hindsight. For example, when I first joined the company, I truly and sincerely believed that everyone in the office had a kind heart. The percentage of likeable colleagues stood at an all-time high of 95%. At this very moment, it has plunged to an all-time low of 50%.

In particular, I am put-off by so-called friends who gossip about you behind your back. If you people happen to be reading this, you can cut out the pretence now. Feel free to put on that double-headed snake mask of yours as often as you like in front of the bosses, cause some of these creatures are really depraved and screaming for attention, but I don't need you, so get off my back, won't you? If you wanna gossip about me, go ahead, I don't give a shit, but it shows on your ugly, hypocritical face and I know what you did, ok? So don't try to chummy up to me after that, 'coz I'll hate you even more.

Right now, I've never felt lonelier and I regret not accepting my friend's invitation for drinks at the bar. You don't know what a blardee bad week I've had and how long I've waited for today to come so that I can spend the most of tomorrow in the company that I enjoy. You think I'm wallowing in self-pity, but why can't you be there for me when I need you? Why are your friends so important when I could possibly be the one who'll be there for you for the rest of your life?

Hello fats!

I stare at my naked reflection. A sense of discontentment sweeps past me. I no longer see the quite-toned body I used to have. My dimpled skin appears to be smirking at the unsightly appearance. I pull on my clothes and find difficulty in buttoning my pants. I take a deep breath, fingers working frantically at the button. I thank god I am wearing a black knit (read: stretchable) top today.

The indulgent pleasure of eating plus lax exercise regime has finally found its way to my tum-tum.

My 30-something classmates console me (and themselves), saying this is just natural progression. Everybody gets fat as they grow older, 'coz the fats retain better. They have long given up on their own bodies. Even the skinniest one has something to complain about.

I refuse to accept the new, rotund me and resolve to visit the gym 3 times a week to whisk myself back into shape. You wait and see!

P/S: It does seem kind of bimbotic complaining about being fat etc etc but wait till you realise your clothes don't fit anymore and you have to "upgrade" into another size. And you can forget about the brand new ready-to-wear-as-soon-as-I-lose-weight dress you bought in anticipation of slimmer days (yes, there are actually people who buy clothes which do not fit).

Missed me?

The week has flown by so quickly...it's quite scary how time has this tendency of catching up with you, no matter how fast or slow you run. It's like your shadow, always tagging along no matter where you go. And paradoxically, the older you get, the faster time runs. I can still remember vividly what I was doing around this time last year, and last year certainly doesn't feel that long ago.

Here's a low-down of my activities for the past week:-

THE GOOD

1. Caught "A Good Year" on Tuesday. I must admit that Russell Crowe, being the male lead, was quite a put-off initially, and I briefly contemplated giving the movie a miss since I got the tickets free. But I must applaud Mr Crowe this time, for he was un-stereotypical in his role and very fun to watch. I might even add that this movie is my favourite for year 2006! It fulfiled my criteria of a good movie: it was simple, witty and classy. The romantic setting in a French vineyard, of course, was a plus point. So if you're in a quandary over what movie to watch this weekend, go catch "A Good Year"!

P/S: I noticed that P drifted off to sleep less this time, which speaks loads for the movie! :)

2. The long awaited musical, Notre Dame! I give it 4.5 stars. The cast was amazing, singing and dancing were top-notch! Bravo! Bravo! The only flaw was the ultra loud music (my ears are still ringing!) and the erratic subtitles which "hanged" or changed too quickly. Also, having to split my attention between the stage and subtitle screen strained my eyes and gave me a slight headache. I vow to brush up on my French so that I can appreciate and understand a French musical without having to rely on the lousy subtitles next time!

THE BAD

1. I hate my job!

2. I hate my job!

3. I hate my job!

You know it's time to move on when your good friend reminds you to buy the Saturday papers tomorrow.