Some girls aspire to appear on the cover of Vogue. Some girls will burn their best friends for a shot on Forbes top 100 list. Some girls believe that tupperware is enough to warrant a fetish. Some strokes suit some folks.

All women are different. But dare i commit that all women (and men quite frankly, even though most of the time it IS hard to believe) ALL women desire to fall in love, even if they won't admit it. Being in love of course is very different from lov-ing.

Puppy love is really where it starts. Where that intense rush called "catch me I'm falling" (thank you boyz 2 men) really sinks its teeth. And before you know it. You're addicted. It's really not your fault. Can anything feel better? What else should compel a girl to rip off her clothes and allow her peeing device to interact with someone else's peeing device? Okay. Never mind. Dont answer that, especially after tupperware fetish.

Anyways. The academics claim that we, like all other creatures on this earth, strive toward an ultimate fulfilment only to be found in procreation. Survival of the fittest has rendered the laws of attraction to go beyond the mere scope of physicality, despite the true nature of the reproduction act. So why not fall in love with the new microwavable "glad-tainer" happily prolonging the macaroni and cheese casserole in your fridge for tomorrow's lunch and not about to displace itself. You don't eat, you don't live. One has to admit, "Glad-tainer''s qualities are beckoning.

Qualities! We fall in love with qualities. That nose, those eyes, that exquisite taste in cars and sometimes even just that plain good heart. Not all of us have checklists at the forefront of our consciousness. Yet we constanty seem to be running through personal preferences.

So what makes you tick?


Some grave reflection has enlightened me on the exemplary qualities that make up my Starbucks concoction of a dreamlover:

Firstly, since physical appearance is the first point of contention. You would walk down the street and not notice him, the preference lately seems to sway towards short, fat and physically as unhealthy as possible.

Secondly, he is a man in a position of power, ever so ready to teach me a thing or three, thus furthering my stubborn insecurities pertaining to the bottomless goal of perfection.

Thirdly it is his dark cancerian nature, which almost instantaneously homes me in and gnaws at my desire to soothe all his sapping insecurities. Your rock of gibraltar? Please. Allow me.

And fourth and finest, his exceptionally stunted attention span. Where all the right was bestowed on him to squander his loving affections on me one day, and Mr Scrooge them for the rest of the 364 days. Christmas does only come once a year.


So as you probably have already thoughtfully concluded. I fall in love with men who usually fail to fall back in love with me. Which is really quite awesome, because it just means that tomorrow I get to wake up and dream about love all over again. Dear covergirl, you tell me whose smiling now?

Zing me in the morning

its official.
i have become an OL O ah. Proclaimed in the famed Hong Kong way, slang marang. Office Lady ah.
Yup. Rushing to my desk at 9 am. popping vitamin c, berrocca and whatever other kinds of drugs you think are "good" for you but really just get you through the day psychologically, as your ancient laptop chokes to start-up in the morning (cue the windows anthem)
Worrying about secretary spread as you insert potato chip after potato chip (hand carried from Italy but of course, by your devilishly skinny colleague after her insane buying trip last week, oh darling)- but still you shove on because somehow it momentarily takes the strain off the slew of commands your female boss just hurled in your direction, before she marches off to some 4 hour luncheon, which you can but only thank your lucky stars for.

To be continued...

She doesn't see

The Janus Concept

Dear T

I never wanted to make this blog about me. I mean its nice to have some sort of a directional point of view and I always thought on expressing with a more social conscience. However as you are hearing ( or reading, whichever seems to work better for you, if anyone does or will ever read this), tonight it is and shall be about I,I,I.

Me.

I will admit, I have neglected this blog. Just as I seem to "neglect" a lot of things in me life. My buddette says I'm just so easily distracted aka all over the bloody place. I realise i am always 199% in one moment, that everything else may go to waste. But that is me, so god damn bloody focused when it comes to something I want and must have. Infected with daddy-lets-me-have-whatever-i-want syndrome, will someone out there offer up THE CURE?

Yet my heart has been infested with the "we can always make things better, so how shall we?". I always need to make you happy.

hmm a little give and take. Maybe this equation is not so bad after all. Maybe I should just keep wanting to make things good and people happy and hey, no one can fault me. Of course, the logical conclusion for the shameless people pleaser that inhabits my shallow skin. Who am I kidding, I just want you to love me. So afraid of being the passed over, the forgotten and the ditched to the side, hiding in a corner yet begging to be noticed, doesn't matter by who. Perhaps it is more reinforcing when you are picked out of the shadows, really makes you feel like THE ONE

Maybe I miss him and I want him because he gave me that high. He made me feel like THE ONE. Maybe I tell myself I am so in love with him because I am just chasing that adrenalin rush again, that whirling feeling of the world really just revolving around ME. Maybe?

I need a crash course in Vegas 101, because calculating my odds still leaves so many possibilities. I guess for now, at least I know what I want. So maybe it's just about how to go and get it.

Mr West and Mr Williams

Caution: contains whiny female voice

Double Caution: repeated viewing may cause a warm tingly sensation of excitement to form around the chest area.

Whose Your Daddy?

"Happiness is emotion in which one experiences feelings ranging from contentment and satisfaction to bliss and intense joy. This definition is, however, a synonymous one rather than one based on analytic evaluation, because of the varied and elusive nature of happiness. "
-Mr Wikipedia-



Singapore is on a hunt this month for the 'Happiest Singaporean'.

Top of the list Criteria: Everyday acts of kindness done with a smile must come easily. Not happy one day, down the next.

Quest Organizer: Mr Philip MERRY

Notable 'Happy Recipe' : A poor memory, so you can erase all the unhappy things from your mind.


I never knew it was possible to be HAPPY ALL THE TIME.

Philip was born to be Merry.

And if you ask me, constant re-allocation of daily memories sounds like good old DENIAL and a recipie for disaster.

Of course there is nothing like a little competition to bring out the "Kiasuism" a.k.a. inability- to- lose- out- spirit in all of us. And IF as a result, Singaporeans are challenged to smile more and walk around feeling happier and more kind, then hey, que sara sara.

Someone please refresh my memory- Is the President's Star Charity on in May or something?


To add to the mix, funny thing is when I flipped to the very next page of the Singapore Straits Times, there was an article titled: " Who says money can't buy happiness?"
Apparently, 2 Wharton business school economists contend that the richer a country, the happier its people TEND to be.



Isn't that a fine coincidence?

Fellow Singaporeans, best to chuck the Monday Blues. Work your bum bums off and make your country some dollar dollar bills. Apparently your smile depends on it.

On that note, could the Happiest Person in Singapore possibly THAT MAN, smiling above with a cool 3 million in his pocket every single year?

Oh Daddy, if I should be so lucky.