hello coffee, you sexy thing

i have to admit, i’ve never been much of a coffee drinker. have always been more skewed to all manner of tea – english, chinese, japanese, indian being my preferred. i think between Dad and i we have more tea in the house than either of us + 6 wedding party-scale events can finish. especially because we spend so much time in China: it is a fairly common gift. Especially because i have a particular weakness for Tie Guan Yin, we have much in stock at home. The other (more) notable stash of tea we have at home is the for-every-occasion Earl Grey. (and his family Lady Grey, Contessa Grey). we are not tea connoisseurs, just tea lovers.

given that my forever-boyfriend is a certifiable coffee addict, i’ve never caught the bug.  i dont like its semi-burnt smell,  the bitter taste, or worse, the imaginary goosebumps it raises. coffee always made me a little wiry and just that little bit nauseous. i know right, considering D’s collegues told me over lunch that they counted once that he had 13 cups of coffee a day from the pantry. he has since brought his own nespresso machine in, and it sits on his desk in easy reach. my ex-boyf is the coffee-barista God of Sg, winning himself the top spot in our competitions, and all these years, coffee never rubbed off on me.

but recently, for no real particular reason, i’ve had a hankering for coffee. oh dear, i fear a slippery slope. it started off with a realisation that hot milk is sweet.. then i can’t quite explain how it lead to me wanting and actually ordering coffee.. but well. here i am. sitting here on a saturday afternoon, lusting after a hot cuppa.

i dont think i’m currently interested in the Coffee shop kinda coffees yet. but i sure would love one of those fancy cuppa latte. my nespresso machine at home will have to do. there must be something in that brew that makes addicts of half the world right. time to find out what it is.

Beans--Beyond---Extra-Strong-Coffee-72dpi

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Hello pillow

So last week Denn n I took a trip to JB-KL with my folks on a work trip, and had loads of fun and food. Half an our out of KL, I realised I left my pillow behind at the hotel.

i brought it along because none of them would have allowed me behind the wheel so I was going to just sleep all the way there.. Especially since i had an awfully late night prepping For my Monthly staff briefing the morning of the Drive. Since I was going to sleep anyway, might as well do it in comfort.

It’s a lovely silk pillow– silk stuffed, silk lined, silk covered. It’s almost molten in texture, and the closest thing to describing how it feels is perhaps a mochi.

Anyway. I left it behind.

Wonderful friends have offered to bring it back for me, and for that I am touched, beyond words, that they would take the extra detour to help me out, while on holiday.

My loving Forev-Boyf decided (pressured by my nightly bemoaning the absence of soft-soft, which is what I call it) that since we were relatively free this weekend, to drive up to free my stranded pillow.

Decided on fri night, booked room, left Singapore at 12 (couldn’t wake up cos we were both frantically clearing work to go away). We also decided to drive my little Toyota rush, which is rather infamous with my friends as being a rather slow mode of transportation.

Fruits for lunch.

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3 hours jam at 2nd link yo!! Stuck after Singapore customs before Malaysia customs. 3 hours feels somewhat like eternity, when one has an overly full bladder. I had to get out of the car ( in my acid yellow Minnie Mouse shirt and bright pink shorts) to walk a stretch to use the toilet at immigration, then walk back to the car. The jam was so bad, after I did, many others followed suit. If I could have held it in, I would have. Desperate times, terrible times. Was quite scared to do it also, because to be honest, I didn’t know if there was a toilet near the immigration and if I had to walk further I would have just wet myself. Denn did assure me, regardless of what it actually felt like, bladders don’t burst.

Enough about pee. We made it to KL, at 8, The rush drives well. I drove fr Malaysia customs to pagoh! Which is also why we took a bit longer than usual. Plus the KL jam. Anyway, check out the sunset we saw! :) what an amazing palette of colours. Truly Asia.

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Breathtaking.

Got my pillow back!

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KL was a lot about food for us, we slept a little while, then headed for dinner at 10 pm, then it’s just meal after mean from that point.

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Then jam all the way from the petrol station at 2nd link, all the way back. 2.5 hrs.. :( bumper to bumper.. Poor Denn.. He insisted on driving because he felt if I was behind the wheel we’d never be able to get out of the jam since I don’t seem to be able to stop others from cutting our queue.

Denn was wonderful the whole way. He downloaded my favourite songs for my driving stretch, drove all the difficult parts, he patted my hand when I was upset about the puppy in the middle of the road (probably was hit already but still alive — it was at a crazy fast junction so we couldn’t stop for it — good news is that everyone gave it a wide berth, so I don’t think it would have been hit twice), but I had a mini meltdown over the helplessness of the situation. We had a good rest too, from midnight to nearly 11 am the next morning, which is really a lot more than we manage to back here.

:) great fun! Wouldn’t do it again anytime soon though.

hello venom breath

hypocrite

 

i should really have outgrown this by now, but there are periods when i just get really bothered and disgusted with the hypocrisy of people. (even know they haven’t done anything to me per se).  with their lifestyles and their facebook PR management of themselves. its so carefully poised to make suggestions of a certain lifestyle yet in real life, its completely not the case.

and i check myself, whoa, plank in the eye!

and that is probably very well true. i remember this incident in secondary school, where we had a “truth box” — which on hindsight was a terrible shitty stupid thing to do. Thanks Ms Maryanty, for decades of feelings insecurity and inadequacy! — where we wrote anonymous notes to every one in class about how we felt about them. image a bunch of hormonal teenagers given carte blanche to basically say anything to demean, bully or hurt someone else and got away scott free.

i remember (because of the trauma) , there were a couple of classmates that thought i was hypocritical. and so i guess, there is probably some truth to it, no?

so, to rise above this awful reaction to witnessing hypocrisy, i will remind myself 1) it may be unknowing  2) plank in the eye. 3) its none of my business

now, onwards to living life #nofilters.