Sidestep

Enfant Terrible and I were having dinner at "our" banana leaf restaurant when he mooted the idea of ordering something other than banana leaf rice, roti sardin or tosei on our next visit.

"What would you order?"

He looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then said, "Maybe nasi goreng."

Needless to say, I was aghast.

"Why would you order nasi goreng at a banana leaf restaurant???"

"They have it here right?" he said. "We've never tried it."

"You don't order nasi goreng at an Indian restaurant*, okay? We'll have the manager out in minutes to ask us what's wrong if you do!"

Has your dinner companion ever made such an outrageous suggestion before? What out-of-the-ordinary meal would you order at your regular haunt?

* Honestly, it's never occurred to me to do so before.

Storming the Keep

I actually tried to wait out one of the Klang Valley's most epic storm of storms in my car on Tuesday across the road from my house (no umbrella).

This, after having driven on zero-visibility roads, over every broken branch lying on said roads (4-wheel drive wot) and through horizontal rain as ferocious winds threatened to sweep me, Kembara and all, away to Oz.

Sure, I pretended Zeus was having another hissy fit, but that's entertaining for only 10 seconds. Seriously, how can the supreme Olympian be subject to such tantrums? Obviously the Greeks wanted us to know that wisdom and forbearance don't naturally accompany massive doses of over-testosteroned raw power.

The rain hadn't let up either, and I was beginning to wonder which would get me first – a freak lightning bolt for my blasphemous thoughts or carbon monoxide buildup? I even toyed with the idea of shielding my head with my brand new stainless steel bowl and running back to the house until I remembered that mixing lightning with metal can get messy.

O stainless steel bowl

So perfect for the egg whites

So useless elsewhere

I thought to myself "even if I have no lightning protection, there must be some way I could get to the house without having to run too far through the rain."

Then it hit me like a lightning bolt from Zeus himself: I could park the Kembara right in front of the house.

Not my shiniest moment. Good thing I was alone.

What a Nice Boy

Via cleolinda, on dealing with inappropriate fan behaviour:

I've misplaced the link, but apparently Taylor Lautner told a story (which we also discuss on the podcast) about some New Moon signing or other where a woman and her young teenage daughter came up to him, and the way I heard it was, the mother says, "I'm wearing Team Taylor panties right now. If I take them off, will you sign them?" And of course the daughter dies of embarrassment: "MOOOOOOOOOM!" To which the mother says, "It's okay, honey, that's what we do at these things." To which Lautner then said--and keep in mind, this is a teenage boy, not a seasoned star, and put on the spot--"No, it's not." And security escorted them out. So what I'm saying is: if Wolfboy can draw the line, so can you.

An Uphill Struggle

You know you're in trouble when your boyfriend's laconic father looks closely at you at breakfast and says, "You've gained weight ah? Your face is much rounder now!"

I'm tempted to do what anyone else would and blame the CNY goodies, but you don't pile on the same number of kilos as I have in the span of a week.

The consequences for every time I helped myself to another spoon of rice are mocking me from their position around my midriff!!! Even my shadow casts its own shadow now.

I can't have lipo cos it costs too much (though of course you lose weight quickly... money too), and I'm not joining a gym because I don't see the point of paying someone to bully you (sorry my fitness trainer-type friends). I can understand the attraction of comfort eating now.

BUT, I will eat only celery. Win-win all the way.

Still, how hard can it be to cut back ever so slightly at every meal, right? forget that diet food stuff. And plodding consistently around the running hill track thing just minutes away from your home? Running for weight loss works, right??

I just need to avoid that creepy old dude.*

The hardest thing so far has been not signaling for refills at the banana leaf restaurant. God knows how that big green leaf just cries to be filled with MOAR RICE.

* Have only told Enfant Terrible and Freddy Ever Ready the story. Only one of them may live.

Pokoface Weir

Seriously, when was the last time a dude made me go "asdfghjklasdfghjklasdfghjkl", flail around and key-smash in futile desire?

Also: why does it take a white dude to really bring the bishonen look to life?

Bonus: ambiguous sexuality ftw (but who cares, really).

Ladies, today marks the day I popped my Johnny Weir cherry. Look:

That is an ASS to aim for, and I totally mean that in an exercising, non-creepy way.

And look. Minute 1.38 onwards totally killed me. You could've scraped all that remained of me into a jam jar:

I mean, it's just ice skating right? WRONG. Outside it's raining but inside it's wet etc. (remember East 17? No? Um, me neither). It's a wonder all that ice stayed frozen, ifyaknowwaddamean.

About damn time: what a first blog should be about

Who is anyone to say for certain anyway?

I can't believe I've moved to a new blog. I was on diaryland for the longest time and I think I'm shocked at how easy it was to just up stakes and move, as it were. Forget reminiscing how nice it was at "the old place" or "blogging for money", it's now all about how "different" the "new place" feels. I feel like a rat abandoning a sinking ship. I'm still working on that guilt complex.

I know this is really old, but tags are great. Excuse me while I enthuse about the blog equivalent of folders. Marvel at how long I've held out against using them. I never actually saw their purpose earlier, it just seemed like too much trouble to categorise random stuff that was all part of my personal life anyway.

But still, tags!

So, "moving" to a new place. I wish I had walls to paint. Well, I do, but I don't know html so fuck it, I'll jut put up pictures. Some things never change.

So, what's new in my life? A friend of mine from secondary school is engaged. When you're my age (old), you can't say talk of engagement rings and whatnot is very surprising.

Only, the dude to whom she got engaged is a friend of mine from primary school! Go figure. Why do people, e.g. apparently everyone I know, go all the way to Australia to study but wind up with someone from the next block?

I'm just sayin'.

That reminds me; I'm supposed to look up my friends from primary school. If only I could remember their names…