Whacked upside in the head once again

I know for sure that I’ll need to get my tampons ready in the next two days on the day my nose starts dripping ballistic. Not for stuffing my dripping nose with, although I just gave myself this brilliant idea. My current method to prevent a sore nose and to stop it dripping is to rip a piece of Kleenex facial tissue, roll up one half each and stuff them in my nostrils. Imagine how much easier this would be with regular or super sized tampons.

This nose-dripping phenomenon has been repeating itself the last two months after a hiatus of several months. I thought I’d boosted my immune system. Well, I thought wrong. My body is back to playing the waiting game with me. Just when I think everything is fine and dandy and I’ve planned a night out dancing, it whacks me in the head, starts my nose taps flowing and leaves me gasping in despair. Once again, I have to shove my dancing shoes back into their box.

I wonder if my eggs are any good at all at the rate I’m going.

A pinch of estrogen

It’s quite amusing to see what people will receive or do for free. A bunch of guy friends have free tickets to watch the preview of Jennifer Aniston’s latest chick flick tonight. There are four tickets and they are a gang of three. To even out the hormonal imbalance, one of them called me up to go watch the movie with them.

“Huh, you’re watching a chick flick?”

“It’s just us guys, man! We need a girl in our group.”

Talk about validation! I just find it so amusing and quite comical. I wonder if they would attract weird looks if they walked in and out of the cinema on their own?

Then again, I don’t think anyone would bother or even notice. It is Malaysia after all. The only time people stop to stare is when there’s a pile up or a fender bender on the roads or highways.

Advertising one's underwear from the inside out

It baffles me why some women wear black or dark coloured underwear under white tops. I often see women who wear black bras under white shirt or white T-shirts.

Today I came across a woman sporting a black panty underneath an unlined white skirt. I wonder if she realized that the colour and shape of her undies were visibly noticeable under her skirt.

I think it takes an awful lot of balls and indescribable layers of epidermis to layer your clothes so creatively. Especially if you’re dressing for work.

Mind-boggling!!

Two nights alone and thinking about busting my butt

The hubby is off to Janda Baik for two days for a work course thingy. In the middle of the night he scrambled to pack and discovered his track pants were nowhere to be found. He looked, I looked; they were nowhere to be found. He had to make a trip to his brother’s for stand-in pants.

I’m free in the evenings for two nights. This should be the best time to try to utilize it as best I can and possibly to get some salsa practice in.

I’m not sure if I can do much more guaguancos. I’m not used to sticking out my posterior and boobs and having my underwear show up above my pants. That and the way my thighs wobble when I try to walk after.

My cup runneth over (or so I would like to think)

There is something not quite right with my bra today. Either I’m sprouting or the clasp has gone awry. It’s unclasped itself about three times already just this morning. It’s never happened before.

Dare I think it? Dare I even hope that my breasts have taken it into their twin heads to suddenly go on a sprouting spree?

Or is it just my two-month old bra starting to fail on me?

I think I’ll be realistic and bank on the latter. No point getting my hopes up only to have them dashed.

Long John Silver's

I'm of the mind it's no coincidence that we had dinner at Long John Silver's and ended the night playing Pirate's Cove.

"Shiver my timbers!"

A major step backward, a tentative foot forward

Yesterday I did what I swore I wouldn’t do: I lost my temper. Not once but twice! In a day. In one meeting. It was very unprofessional.

I’d never realized how difficult it is to try and control my temper until I actually tried to do it. It’s like keeping a raging, foaming-at-the-mouth, totally out of control beast caged in. I failed utterly and miserably.

I blew up at my consultant because I didn’t listen and felt that she was questioning the integrity of my work. I blew up at my HR head because she overstepped her bounds and interfered unnecessarily with my department. It was a day of major spewing. I was the raging beast foaming at the mouth.

I was not proud of myself. Suffice to say I felt like the algae in the darkest parts of the longkang that never glimpse even the shadow of the sun.

I apologized to all parties involved, including the chairman for my utterly unprofessional conduct. And vowed to myself not to do this again.

I wonder why there's water coming out of my eyes

There is a baffling phenomenon that happens when I apologise to someone. Tears will start seeping out of my eyes on their own accord. Even though I'm talking calmly to the person, my eyes and tear ducts seem to have a mind of their own and the water seeps out. Esepcially if I apologise after I've blown my top like a sleeping volcano that's decided, "Enough's enough! It's time to spew!!".

I wish I didn't have a temper. I wish I could keep it under better control. I wish I could direct it to other people other than my family. I wish I didn't have a problem with authority.

At least I can still apologise and I am big enough to apologise. But the matter of the fact is, I already blew. I must stop spewing.

Just stop.

Counting the eggs before they've hatched

Okay, I admit it. We’re ready to have kids. Well, the truth of the matter is, I’m not quite sure that I’m ready but if we don’t start now, who knows when we’ll ever start having a family?

Who else but both sets of parents would be madly excited about our decision? The point was driven firmly home this morning when I got into the office.

My mom had packed last night’s leftover meehoon for my breakfast. Together with the noodles, she’d added another container. She excitedly explained to me that they were full moon eggs from a friend’s daughter. She had tried long and hard to conceive and finally, they were blessed with a baby.

“Here, the eggs are for good luck, eat them. So that you’ll conceive soon.”

??????

Evidently, this child, when it arrives will not want for anything.

Pirate's Cove!

Dinner was a hefty-sized Marsala Thosei with liberal helpings of tomato chutbey and coconut chutney, mmmm...I just love the stuff! Oh, and topped up with juicy Tandoori which I only half-finished. The remaining half went to Sam, the bottomless pit.

Games began with Blokus, which turned out to be boring if you are the first person who ends up without anywhere to put your piece. It was a short round, after which we moved on to Pirate's Cove. It was a looooong wait for the game master to explain the game, the rules, the moves, the many things we could do with cards collected, the direction to move, the battles to play, the points to collect, you get the picture. It took more than 30 minutes for the explanation, during which time I had the liberty to get more drinks, comb Trixie and pay attention to Pixel. And barely paid attention.

During play, it was all but boring. It was actually quite entertaining: choose and then declare which island you want to go to, battle it out if another pirate chose the same island to go to, either recuperate or plunder, upgrade and move on. It all happens in a matter of 12 game rounds, which is equivalent to 12 months. During this time, a pirate is to accumulate as many fame points as possible and this is done by killing off another pirate or burying treasure and loot or collecting fame cards. It is much more fun than when sitting and listening to the explanations.

It lasted about an hour. I won.

Did I mention I won at Blokus too?