Archive for August, 2011


Public holidays on Tuesdays are really annoying. You get the feeling of Monday two times in the week and you work doubly hard on both “Mondays” to make up for lost time.

On top of everything, my blackberry fell into a puddle of water on Monday while I was taking my kids to the doctor. It is deader than dead. I can no longer weed out my emails in the train before getting to work. At least not for a while.

Argh. I am going off to kill something now.

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You grow up thinking that all you need to do is to study hard, get a good job, then all things will fall into place. Like falling in love, getting married, getting a place to stay, growing old.

You were also lead to think that the most important things in life are integrity and honesty, and so long as you remember that, everything will work out fine.

All you need to get through in life is to try hard to be good at everything that you do.

But then you are now grown up.

Not everything is really working out. And you are slowly finding out to your utter shock and horror that integrity and honesty are overrated and there is much to be said about mediocrity.

So what do you do?

Do you cleverly compromise so that you can fit in with everyone else, or do you just go on and do your own thing and let everyone hate you for being different?

I’ve spent quite a large part of my life doing the latter because I don’t know how else to live.

It is clearly still not working out for me since I am once again being persecuted for being who I am.

Some days, long days like these, I just want to give up.

But I can’t. There are bills to pay. That just makes it all worse than hell.

So tomorrow, we will start all over again and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find enough spare change somewhere inside to go on.

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work epiphany 2

Sitting at my desk yesterday, I have come to the conclusion that I shouldn’t really waste my life trying to teach people to be better. If they are shitty people to begin with, then no amount of teaching is going to make them less shitty. It’s just a complete waste of my time, efforts and emotions.

So, take a big sigh, drink some water, put your head down, and slowly unravel the threads. No point sitting around wondering how the mess was created or who created the mess. That’s not going to help anything at all.

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borrowed scissors

Good News – I did a trial today before a generally disagreeable judge without getting yelled at, constantly interrupted, or publicly ridiculed.

Bad News – I lost. Went down in a huge ball of flames.

Bleah. This is so not a good week at work. And it’s only Tuesday. There’s still the usual veritable hell of a Wednesday, 9am contested hearing Thursday and I-don’t-want-to-know-what-else-will-explode Friday. Even plenty of fresh drinking water can’t fix this. This has officially been upgraded to a “I need to buy an expensive dress” level.


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Said Peanut to Lion, who was in the midst of complaining about something or other:

弟弟, I love you. Don’t cry.

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Conversation on the telephone

He: Hey, I’ve put the bleach into the airconditioner and it is still leaking.
She: Oh dear. That means we actually have to employ a professional to service our aircon this time. No choice.
He: Oh well. I’ll see what more I can do.

Conversation in the car

He: Hey, I’ve managed to sort out the airconditioner.
She: Really? Great! How?
He: I squirted Mr. Muscle into it. All the black stuff melted away! It’s okay now.
She: You used the bathroom cleaner on the airconditioner?!
He: I read the label. It said that it was safe for PVC pipes.
She: Oh well, whatever works. Yay! Then we don’t have to call in a professional aircon man.

Conversation in the bedroom

She: Why is the cover of my toilet cleaner removed?
He: Huh? What toilet cleaner?
She: In the bedroom toilet. The cover is removed and the toilet cleaner is lying around. The blue bottle with the red cover.
He: Isn’t that the bleach?!?!

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My relationship with cheesecake begun when I was about 15 or 16, at Billy Bombers in Holland Village, where I used to meet a friend for drinks and dessert after dinner. We’d sit together in a booth and share a slice of cheesecake, order California Dreaming on the jukebox maybe 2 or 3 times, and gossip for a couple of hours.

Then a couple of years thereafter, I started working nights at a cafe where every 3 to 5 days, we were compelled to eat all of the unsold cheesecake on display in the chiller. I couldn’t eat another slice of cheesecake for the longest time thereafter.

When I asked The Other Half what cake I should bake for his sister for her birthday celebration last weekend, we pulled out my newly acquired Donna Hay Chocolate book, read our options, and then he informed me that his sister likes cheesecake.

So a trip to Chocolat Factory and another to the supermarket plus 15 hours later, we have this:

70% Chocolate Cheesecake

I have incidentally discovered that Peanut is the biggest fan of all of my baking experiments ever, kneeling on a chair over the kitchen table surreptitiously picking at the cake with her little fingers. With a [discerning] fan like this, I feel compelled to cook more and better.

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