Twu Wuv (or something like it)

Imagine this: The boyfriend agrees to look up the trailer for Red Lights* because Cillian Murphy is in it.

He types the title into the YouTube search bar and the auto-complete list appears.
As one, you both gasp in horror at the suggestion that reads "red lights movie 2012 spoilers", and practically slam the tab shut.

I believe that it is difficult to find someone like that. Gasping with the same tone and duration as you do, and for the same reasons, means that the two of you share something special that goes beyond an appreciation of an impossibly fine-boned and fine actor. 

You should hold on to such a person if you find them; and hold tight, because the world is likely to come howling to your doorstep and baying for your blood, wild with jealousy after realizing that somehow, you of all people have the privilege of calling this gem yours.

Right, back on the meds now.

* Absolutely not the sequel to the nervy Red Eye (2005).

Story of my life

[Someone in the family falls ill.]

Person: Woe is I; I require nourishment that heals!
Me: Hm, I'll cook a [tasty yet healing dish involving a lot of ginger and other healthful ingredients].
Person: Hurray!

[I fall ill.]

Me: Woe is I; I require nourishment that heals!
Mum: Let's have pizza!

Perception vs. reality

It's unbelievably easy to slip down the "social networking" slope when you work in an environment unfettered by a corporate IT policy (to understate it) and have to do a lot of online "research". That, and a recent IT security scare*, made me resolve to go on a digital diet.**

Rather than trawling the FB or the Twitter during lunch hour or after work, I decided to access all work-unrelated miscellany using only a smartphone. The key to ensuring this idea worked was to: 

1) Own a smartphone.
2) Be subscribed to a data plan.

This approach works. For about 2 weeks (if you're me). It works because a mobile data plan is still light years away from broadband and home fibre network speeds, and you just feel really silly staring at a 4.5-inch screen waiting for a page to load, all the while knowing it contains absolutely nothing that will impact your life in a significant way. So, you go back to work, and work productivity doubles.

Unfortunately, a smartphone doesn't need booting up, unlike a laptop. Thus, after the aforementioned 14 days, you just get used to the loading times, transforming into the type of techno-nerd wanker featured in memes:

I'd be the girl in jeans on the left, but frownier. Image from Share Dis LOL (seriously??)

The boyfriend wonders where the girlfriend has gone; deadlines are just barely met (just kidding); plants are neglected. So, now I'm back to Square 1. New tactic: Put the phone in another room. I just need to put it down.

* Possible email spoofing incident.
** I don't think I can handle a detox.
 

Overheard on a boat

Wherever you travel, day excursions are a great way to meet people from other countries. You'd be surprised by the things you never knew you never knew. Enfant Terrible and I went snorkeling in Krabi, and there was a group of Americans on the long-tail boat:

[At a snorkeling spot. Some opt to remain onboard while the others splash around in the water. A young American woman (YA) makes small talk with a non-American woman (NA).]

YA: Where are you from?
NA: I'm South African, but I was born in Namibia.
YA: *gapes* Where?
NA: Namibia.
YA: Wow, where is it?
NA: *bemused* It's in Africa.

[Those on board start tuning in in earnest.]

YA: Namibia is in Africa? Oh my god... I'm doing geography and I've never even heard of Namibia!
NA: Well... it's a pretty small country.
YA: Oh my god, "Namibia"... what's it called, really?
NA: Er... Namibia.
YA: Wow.

[YA's friends climb back onto the boat.]

YA: You guys, this is [Woman] and she's from Namibia!

Elswhere, the Thai name for "fox" is also "musang".

Differing expectations

Every time we come back from a holiday, Enfant Terrible and I ask each other where we should go next. Every time we go on holiday, I ask myself why I keep travelling with this boyfiend. The scenario runs thus: we arrive at the destination, check in, freshen up, and walk around town. Then:

He: What shall we do tomorrow?
Me: Laze on the beach!
He: Nah, let's do something more active.
Me: Er... walk up and down the beach?
He: *spots a tourist info booth* LET'S GO FOR AN ALL-DAY MOUNTAIN BIKE RIDE.

So yes, I have gone on an all-day mountain bike ride and I can still feel the imprint of the saddle on my tender bits. Hurrah, modern life.

Easy as pi

I see why people have children. There's no one easier in the world to impress, at least until they turn 16 or so. Then you get a dog.

Cousin (12 years old): Hey, do you like Justin Bieber?
Second cousin (around the same age): *giggles*
Me: Do I like Justin Bieber?
Cousin: Yeh.
Me: No, I don't go for young girls.
Second cousin: EPIC COMMENT. OH.

How things change

A nostalgic-like thread developed during a FaceBook discussion the other day:

"blablabla Boyz II Men bla."
"Oh, NKOTB were the bomb I heard they're on the cruise ship tour circuit now (or maybe that was the Backstreet Boys)."
"OH boybands... I really loved those BSB fellas..."
"Mmm, JC Chasez."

In the evening, I had to wait in the car for a bit while Enfant Terrible got ready for dinner. The new Justine Bieber song (Boyfriend*) was playing.

It was redolent of, dare I type it, sexy feel. My external auditory meatus was swamped by the sexy feel. I was simultaneously intrigued and creeped out. Intrigued because here was Canada's #1 one-man boyband sounding sexy, creeped out because he is (only) 18 years old.

This young man is confusingly pretty. Image from The Justin Bieber Shrine

Things have not changed at all. Young, good-looking men are still making sexy faces and sounds that throw old(er) girls like me for a loop and think they're way too young to be behaving like that (though they're clearly not).

Suddenly, I have a rudimentary understanding of the desire to be forever young. The candy-colored everything, the predilection for impossibly tiny and delicate delicacies like rainbow-hued macarons, the entire concept of precious behavior. All aim at preserving the feeling of youthfulness.

I might be being melodramatic, but think about it: those who really go for that stuff, i.e., if they're all "OMGWTFBBQ<3<3<3" in real life, they might tell you they're 28 years old 5 years in a row.

* Entirely different and infinitely better than the one by Big Time Rush**
** Don't know what else they've done, but I had a hell of a difficult time looking them up.

Differs from expectations

It was Enfant Terrible's idea to watch Prometheus*.

"Why do you want to watch Prometheus?" I asked.
"Because it's a space movie."

Upon reflection, watching Prometheus because "it's a space movie" is like watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show because you want a little song and dance.

*Verdict: Had its moments, but left the audience largely unfulfilled, even despite the presence of Heimdall, Aeon Flux, the original Lisbeth Salander, a Tom Hardy lookalike, and the requisite number of light humor/cannon fodder peripheral characters.

Freedom

Charlie thought life outside the factory would be paradise. Charlie was wrong.

Unanswered

The applause at the Mutua Madrilena Masters in Madrid, Spain, was drowned out by the volume of whining about the horrible, nasty blue clay coming from sterling examples such as Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic.

Now that the dust has settled (ahem), I'm curious: did the ladies play on another surface at the WTA Masters Open in Madrid? Because I don't recall reading about Victoria Azarenka vowing never ever ever to return to play on that slippery-ass blue stuff ever again. Nor do I remember Serena Williams complaining that it's only a matter of time before players get hurt.

All I remember is Roger Federer the eventual men's winner posing, somewhat bemusedly, with Will Smith and the latter's suit from Men in Black 2.