detached

Finally the week came to a close last night, and i found myself doing all the great things i love to do on my own (which to be honest, i dont really love to be on my own)–great music, funny-as-hell show, and hooo boy, i am one sleepy-contented little grub.

anyway, the best friends were how sweet last night, coming over to play 2 rounds with me because they knew i’ve been itching. i lost 10 cents to the paikar–again.
soo soo says maybe we play tonight again.
whoo hoo. i hope i hope.
i cannot call her, if not i’ll appear too needy.

anyway, it finally arrived in the mail 2 days ago!!
my emboidery book is finally here.
went to spotlight yesterday and spent too much money
on threads and cloths and needles.
(poor lavi.)

http://www.sublimestitching.com

that’s where the book is from.

see?? it’s 10 am, i am awake already.

addiction

so we while away the hours around the mahjong table, like those half-stoned concubines of the sepia chinese movies, just gossiping and clicking our tongues against the soft parts on the roof of our mouths while the tiak! of the tiles are cushioned by expletives that escape the sides of our lips, as our feet, my freshly painted feet, perch precariously off the floor.

roaring to the noise alongside 300 beautiful men, driving down beach road, wolfing down cold tofu (do wolves eat tofu?), eyes watering up from bak koot teh, cherryade guzzling, washing feet upon entry, stand fan-baby fan, little mouse in its little green world, of men and other men, and hands in places they shouldn’t be.

:) i’m itching to play again, please.

pop goes the weasel

hello party people, not that thaaat wave has passed over us, everything returns to normalcy, given all this hoopla and tension it’s a real breather to just chill out and do nothing!

so today i went to pick the hufflepuff up. (FINALLY!) she says its so significant she has to blog about it in hers.
and we drove. and it was nice, just laughing.

the boy in phuket has gone missing after saying to meet him on skype. grrr.

that aside, i watched gilmore today, and teared through the end of it.
7 years, dear stef and sueann, 7 years culminates in this shit
that the new writers throw at us.