Hell

I strolled languidly past the large mirror on the wall and from the corner of my eye, noticed my reflection in profile. It was hard to miss - I reminded me of Demi Moore, on the cover of a magazine.

You know, the one where she was naked and pregnant. Very pregnant.

Except that this picture exuded less prettiness, less glamour, and more body hair.

Oh well, I, at least, can say that this (punctuating with that Afro-American woman finger waving thing) is all natural wholesome goodness, honey.

Hallelujah!

Heaven

It's like the memory of childhood,
when all was right with the world.

It's like that moment you first fell in love,
when love was ecstasy and grace.

It's like a spoonful of heaven,
and heaven could be tasted there, right there,
on the tip of your tongue.

Sweet.

Delightful.

Very. Nearly. Orgasmic.

...

Snowie's Panna Cotta. NOT available in stores.

Hungeram

So. There I was in my ratty, dusty, stale "I just spent a day packing files, moving boxes and visting site" work clothes. Not the best state to go shopping in.

But I was craving for some real sausages from Fogel's and a tub of Umpqua peanut butter and chocolate ice cream for Cold Storage, so stop I did on the way home at The Gardens (a rare occasion indeed).

What did I find there?

1. Fogel's Meat Market at The Gardens had closed down.

2. Cold Storage thankfully still sells Umpqua... but there was not even a single miserable tub in the freezer.

Heejyer...

On the plus side, there was plenty of eye candy roaming about The Gardens.

But there I was in my ratty, dusty, stale "I just spent a day packing files, moving boxes and visting site" work clothes.

Damn! Damn! Triple damn!

Hope

Like, if you're following ANTM10 (like, why do they use the word 'cycle'? Because it's the same thing over and over again?), and you haven't watched the seas... oops... CYCLE finale, and you wanna be surprised by the results, well then, like, maybe you don't wanna read any further?

But if you already know, or wanna know, or don't really care anyway, well, do carry on then.

Anyway, the last three standing are kinda reminiscent of our typical muhibbah ads, in a way - it's like the whole of America is represented by the trio (just like our muhibbah ads like to feature Ali, Ah Chong and Muthusamy). We have the ditzy blond that seems constantly amazed, the african escaping a horrible past, and, surprise surprise, the voluptuous all-curvey, all-American mama.

Three beautiful ladies stand before The Bank. Who gets to be on top?

Easy. Breezy. Beautiful. Now just who is which?

The judges had come to a decision and well, let's just say it's official:

BIG IS BEAUTIFUL!

This is like license from legendary supermodels (with nods from a diva runway trainer and a noted fashion photographer), permitting plus-sized people to enjoy a full meal at Delicious and then shop at Ms. Read. Oh. My. God. This can only mean one thing...

There is hope for me yet.

Handsome Handjob

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Humidity

The air is thick, as though drenched in sticky, sour sweat. And it has nothing to do with my being in the gym.

First, it was months of daily downpours in the season for dry spells. Now the rains seem to have stopped, only to be replaced by this heaviness. Heat. Humidity.

These are the humdrum days.

In the afternoons, you just want to sit your air-conditioned office. Unfortunately, my table is brilliantly located in the air-conditioning's blind spot, so I'd have to get up every five minutes or my arms would otherwise be glued to the desk by the sweat seeping through my pores.

In the nights, well, these are nights you wouldn't want to cuddle up in bed. Which oddly works out well for me - there's no one to cuddle me anyway.

May. So this be your mayhem, O mischievous May.

Harrumph

It probably says a lot, when I think of my childhood and see that the characters I've most identified with back then were these...


This is me then, and now you know.