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The body count
2010.07.27
01:33:49 |
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I was going through all my old photos over the weekend and I came across this old photo of me when I was 16. It was New Year’s Eve and I was wearing a backless top with a mini skirt (don’t judge, I was young and stupid). But my point is, I was 46kg, my tummy was insanely flat and my legs were great.
Today, I’m 58kg and even if for some reason dressing like a skank ever came back into fashion, I’d rather be caught dead than go out in a backless top and a mini skirt. Let’s just say it’s my way of being considerate to the public.
While I was sitting in my room, I realise as much as I would love to have a stomach that was made for midriffs, I can’t bring myself to give up my love for food again. As a teenager and way into my early ‘20s, I went through great lengths to suppress my love for food. When I was playing tennis for my secondary school, I told myself I had to eat healthily to up my game. When I was in University, I gave up meat after a philosophy class and after realising how much weight I’d lost in a month, I stuck to it for another nine months even though my stand on the morality of eating meat had changed.
Forcing myself to go on stupid diets and refusing to be even near anything that was remotely tempting (for example, a diet of nothing but tofu, pineapple juice and bean sprouts for a month straight) wasn’t only obviously damaging to my body, it made me perpetually frustrated. “Why am I not losing weight? What mutant fat genes did my parents pass on to me?” And it made me hate my body immensely. I might have dressed like I was proud of my body but it took me hours to convince myself I was going to be able to walk out without people throwing up.
When I started working at CLEO, I was forced to eat. From the time I started as an editorial assistant, I was in charge of the food page and going out for food tastings were necessary. Initially, it was hard for me to eat at ease but after a while, I realised the reason why I was so damn miserable previously was because I was denying myself of the one thing I loved most.
Today, I’m the one who’s banned from ordering at restaurants cos I’m always accused of over-ordering, I’m one of those crazy people who roll their eyes back and bob my head like an idiot when I take a bite into something that tastes amazing and I’m always on the look out for new food spots to try.
So it’s not surprising that after four years of my fulfiling relationship with food, I’ve put on more than 10kg. But you know what, I don’t think I want to break up with Food for Size Zero. Kate Moss might have said “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” but I’ll have my grain fed Angus fillet steak that has been aged for 200 days and grilled to perfection tastes any day, thanks. |
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Where were you while we were getting high?
2010.07.12
17:44:24 |
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Last Friday, Serene and I went for the grand opening of what I think is set to be Singapore’s most exciting night spot.
Introducing … 1-Altitude.
Opened by the same people who brought you 1-Rochester, 1-Caramel and 1-TwentySix, 1-Altitude is bigger, better and more stunning than any of their previous outlets. It’s made up of three different concepts: Stellar, a restaurant that serves modern cuisine, 282 and City Golf, a sports bar that offers interactive indoor simulated golf and 1-Altitude Gallery & Bar, an alfresco bar with a jaw-dropping view.
I’ve yet to try the food at Stellar so until I have, I can’t really say much about it.
Stellar
As for 282 and City Golf, virtual golf is pretty fun. It’s especially fun after you’ve had a few beers. But what I like about 282 is that it looks nothing like a sports bar. Sure, there are screens showing sports but with it’s unique bar feature that sits in the middle of the bar and the use of special lighting effects throughout, the bar looks modern and sophisticated.
282 and its swanky bar
But what makes this nightspot so exciting is 1-Altitude Gallery and Bar. Located on the 63rd floor, it’s the world’s tallest rooftop bar. Overlooking the entire CBD area, the bar has this Manhattan-chic vibe that’s chi-chi yet informal.
The view from the bar
Stellar is open for dinner and 282 and City Golf is full operational already but you’ve got to wait till the end of the month to check out 1-Altitude Gallery and Bar.
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The first rule of fight club is …
2010.07.08
21:39:28 |
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There are few things I miss about being 16 – my insanely high metabolic rate and my ability to survive on three hours of sleep for three days in a row, to name a few. But there’s one thing I’m glad is a thing of the past – my penchant for creating a scene on nights out.
Back in the day when I was just generally angsty, agro and just plain stupid, I wouldn’t hesitate to snap and shout at people who pissed me off. That by the way, didn’t take much. If you looked at me and I for some godforsaken reason decided it was in a condescending manner, it warranted me calling you a bitch. If for some reason, you bumped into me, well, you’d be very well acquainted with my only weapon – my potty mouth.
Thank goodness I no longer think being a stereotypical ah lian is cool. This, I learnt after an incident where my friends and I found ourselves apologising to a group of girls who weren’t like us – all talk. They were more than happy to beat us to a pulp.
So last week when my drunk friend tried to start a fight with a random girl, I was extremely unamused. This is what happened: We’re all at a pub at Mohammad Sultan road. My friend moves her chair back and accidentally bumps into another girl. The girl responds with “OI!”. I didn’t think anything of it but my friend decided to devote the next 15 minutes insulting her. Only, she didn’t turn around to tell her off. She continued to sit at our table, speaking in a voice that was obviously loud enough for the girl to hear.
The sheer stupidity of the whole situation was annoying the shit out of me and finally I couldn’t take it and I snapped at my friend. “What’s your freaking point of doing this? Are you looking to start a fight here? And seriously, how old are you anyway? Either you turn around right now and beat the crap out of her right now, in which case you’re on your own, or I say, we behave like what we are – adults – and get on with our lives.”
I think my sudden outburst scared her cos she was dead quiet for a while. Finally, my friend said, “Yeah, what was I thinking? If we were really to get into a fight, I think I would be too busy protecting my Mulberry bag to throw a punch at anyone.” We burst into laughter and ordered another round of drinks.
See? There are perks to growing older – becoming wiser and being able to afford your own designer bags. |
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“No, I’m not watching the match.”
2010.07.01
18:26:11 |
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I can’t wait for the World Cup to be over. Here’s why:
1. People think they’re entitled to my table at a pub cos I’m not watching the match. Just this weekend alone, I had four people come up to me in various pubs asking me if I was watching the match. The first two times, I gave them an honest answer and said “no”. To which, I was given a look like I was less deserving of the table that’s nicely plonked right in front of the telly.
Look, with the World Cup happening right now, it’s hard enough to get a table in a pub. This means I do my part to ensure I get a table somewhere by going in early, or waiting my turn like every other person would if the World Cup wasn’t happening. So if you didn’t get a table, well, it sucks to be you then. I really don’t see why I should give up my table and I don’t like feeling pressured into justifying why I should have my seat.
Cos think about it, if there were really people who deserved a seat over others, then I reckon after this whole World Cup is over, it should be totally alright for me to ask people who go to a pub to drink Coke to bugger off from their table. And now, that would be plain rude, no?
2. When the match is on, the conversation’s over.
It has become clear that soccer is so captivating that even people who don’t watch it usually are unable to do anything but stare at the telly with their mouths open. Nobody is able to string sentences together and all I get from my usually very entertaining friends are groans of agony and screams of joy.
3. Suddenly, everyone’s a hugger
This is probably one of the rare times when men are genuinely happy when other men score. In fact, they’re so happy that it has become common practice to involve everyone within the vicinity in a manic group hug. That would be fine if I was equally inebriated and I looked remotely receptive. But if I’ve spent the entire night trying hard not to stare at your sweaty pits, it also means I’ve spent the entire night sitting in fear of the moment when I’m going to get pulled into a group-hug.
So don’t mind me while I turn into the Grinch. No, I'm not watching the match. No, you can't have my table. Do I want to talk? Hell, yes!
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Can I have more, sir?
2010.06.28
22:03:23 |
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Last Thursday, Serene and I were given a chance to sample some seriously famous chefs’ food. I had spent all week dreaming about this event and when it finally came to the day for us to head to Marina Bay Sands for the exclusive media preview, I was totally excited.
In a ballroom, there were tables set up by some of the chefs who were going to be opening restaurants at Marina Bay Sands. I headed straight to Tetsuya Wakuda’s booth while Serene dashed to Daniel Boulud’s booth.
We lost each other for about an hour, walking from booth to booth sampling the food and when we finally reconvened, we shared our faves:
1. Justin Quek’s Maine lobster In Shao Hsing wine
Justin Quek used to work for the Les Amis Group and in 2004, he left to open restaurants in Shanghai and Taipei. His restaurant at Marina Bay Sands will be located on Sands SkyPark and diners will be able to tuck into his unique blend of traditional Asian food with a French twist.
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2. Daniel Boulud’s Piglet stuffed with chestnuts and foie gras
As much as most of the chefs revealed how uncomfortable they were with the status “celebrity chef” during the press conference, it’s hard to think of Daniel Boulud as anything but a celebrity chef. His restaurant DANIEL in New York was recently awarded three Michelin stars and he’s also the man who started the gourmet burger trend. His restaurant in Marina Bay Sands, db Bistro Moderne, is a casual bistro that serves modern French-American food.
3. Tetsuya Wakuda’s Scampi with tofu and a Japanese water vegetable
OK, it has always been my life mission to visit Tetsuya’s in Sydney before I die. I hear there is a six month waiting list at Tetsuya’s and I’m hoping I won’t have to wait six months before I get to eat at his restaurant in Marina Bay Sands, Waku Ghin. It opens in July and I’ve already rallied my troops to go try out his restaurant.
Known for his use of fresh, seasonal ingredients, his dishes combine French and Japanese culinary traditions. Serene and I even got a chance to meet the man himself and he told us how excited he was to have his first restaurant out of Sydney. He also told us how in Australia, the import rules for ingredients are very strict so he’s looking forward to working with a wider range of produce in Singapore. Don’t laugh but one of the ingredients he’s most excited to work with in Singapore is bamboo clams.
4. Wolfgang Puck’s 300-day aged, grain-fed sirloin with a fried quail egg and spinach
For a long time, American food was junk food. Wolfgang Puck had a huge influence on elevating American cuisine to the level of fine-dining. In Singapore, he’s launching CUT, one of the top three steakhouses in America. So all carnivores, this is for you.
5. Santi Santamaria’s Octopus with potato
Serene and I call him Papa Smurf cos when we saw him in person, he was this huge, jolly old man who looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly. Well, his restaurant in Singapore, Santi, is modelled after his famous restaurant in Spain, Can Fabes, and will feature the best of Mediterranean food. Expect some awesome seafood!
I’m totally looking forward to the opening of these restaurants! How about you? Are you excited to try the restaurants at Marina Bay Sands or do you think it’s going to be overpriced and overrated? |
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Found! Wasabi Tei
2010.06.22
20:03:42 |
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If you’ve tried Wasabi Tei at Far East Plaza, you’ll know Singaporeans are willing to put up with a lot of shit for good food. Eating at Wasabi Tei was always exciting. Not necessarily in a good way, though. Firstly, I always made sure I was in comfy shoes cos I knew there was going to be a 40 minute wait. When it was almost my turn to enter the 16-seater restaurant, I started preparing what I wanted to order cos I had learnt my lesson after getting dagger stared and my menu taken from me for taking too long to order on my first visit.
When I finally received the signal to enter the eatery, I knew the ambience was going to be tense. Diners ordered quickly, sat quietly and waited for their food to be served with a scowl. Oh, and you weren’t allowed to order seconds unless you were willing to pay a 20 percent surcharge.
The atmosphere and service made the entire experience slightly sadomasochistic but you’ll be surprised by how many people told me they missed being ill-treated when Wasabi Tei changed hands.
Personally, I’m not a fan of being bullied while I eat. But I’m willing to put up with it if the food is freaking awesome. And at Wasabi Tei it was. So when I found the “nazi chef” and his wife (who’s nice, by the way) at Chikuwa Tei at 9 Mohammad Sultan, I mustered up some courage and decided to brave ill treatment for some sashimi.
Maybe the “nazi chef” has mellowed with age or maybe it’s because Chikuwa Tei is way bigger than Wasabi Tei (and pissing people off may not be the best way to bring in the moolah) but check this out, service was great.
Firstly, I could call in to make a reservation – a request that would have been rudely rejected at the previous location. Secondly, I wasn’t only allowed to take my time with the menu, the waitress took her time to make recommendations. Thirdly, I swear I caught the nazi chef smiling.
But is the food as good as before? For sure, yo! I was in a really greedy mood that night so we had a lot of food. But here are the ones I really enjoyed:
1. Cold tofu
I love the texture of tofu and at Chikuwa Tei, the tofu is amazingly silky and smooth texture. Because tofu doesn’t really have a taste, how good the dish is depends on the dipping sauce. Here, the soy sauce dipping sauce isn’t too salty and has a slight sweet aftertaste.
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2. Sashimi
Seriously, you can’t go to Chikuwa Tei and not have the sashimi. The sashimi here are some of the thickest slices of fish you will get in Singapore and they’re sweet and super fresh. Try not to drown the sashimi here with soya sauce and wasabi cos you won’t be able to taste how damn good the fish is.
3. Deep fried river crabs
A seasonal dish, you’ll see these tiny fellas’ hanging out in a bowl on the sushi counter. But order it and they’re deep fried and slightly salted. Crispy and savoury, they’re great with booze.
4. Grilled squid
We were recommended to try this. Don’t expect a succulent piece of squid. The grilled squid is here grilled till it’s slightly dry, giving it a nice, chewy texture. I’m getting hungry just recollecting my meal.
Oh, and do let me know of any other great Japanese joints. I’m on a rampage.
Must. Have. Jap food.
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Hippity hops!
2010.06.17
17:43:27 |
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At the risk of Debs killing me, I haven’t been able to focus at work this week. Why? Cos Beerfest Asia 2010 is here! Serene and I bought tickets for Saturday but Archipelago was kind enough to give us a sneak peak on the first day of the festival. And after getting a little taste of what the festival had to offer, I’ve haven’t been able to think of anything but how glorious this Saturday is going to be.
Anyway, for the people who haven’t been for Beerfest Asia, here’s what it’s all about. It’s a festival that’s aimed at encouraging people to find and enjoy beers. This year, there are about 250 commercial and craft beers from over 30 countries and each distributor and brewery has people who are eager to talk to you about their beers.
But don’t get me wrong, this is by no means a festival for beer experts who want to go into the details of hops, distillation methods and head formation. I mean, you can, if you want. But Beerfest Asia feels to me, like Oktoberfest minus scary barmaids and mammoth one-litre mugs of beer.
There is, however, copious amounts of drinking at huge beer halls that are made for people to sit, mingle and be merry. Even Serene, who isn’t a fan of beer at all, found the fratboy in her and started drinking beer. There are also going to be live perfomances at the main tent. I’m totally looking forward to Hell’s Belles, the all female AC/DC tribute act and our very own Goodfellas. Oh, and the Promenade Tent is airing the World Cup!
To get the most out of this festival, I suggest you walk around and check out the different types of beers when you first arrive cos after a sampler or ten, you’re going to care less about the diverse range of beers available. Serene and I managed to find a few really cool beers.
1. Storm
This beer from Bali is an all-natural beer that doesn’t use any chemicals or preservatives. Try the Golden Ale.
2. Satan’s Gold
You can find this in the World Tent. I thought it tasted like honey but the expert on hand, looked extremely dubious when I told her. So, I might be way off but it tastes pretty good!
3. Rosé the Fruity Pink Beer
Also found in the World Tent, I’m told this is the original rosé beer in the world. It looks girly and tastes girly as well so it explains why Serene’s a huge fan of it now.
4. Archipelago Summer Ale
Fruity and spicy at the same time, this beer is totally made for our scorching weather.
So guys, if you haven’t bought your tickets, I strongly suggest you do. Tickets are sold onsite at Marina Promenade F1 Tracks (behind the Singapore Flyer) for $30 for a one-day pass (includes two free drinks). But you can buy advance tickets for $20 up to 2359hours the day before the event date. Beerfest Asia ends this Sunday, so get your tickets quick, pals!
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Don’t cha need a challenge?
2010.05.26
00:54:19 |
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Last week, work was insane and by the end of the week, I was exhausted. So over the weekend, instead of going for a run at the gym, I decided to meet up with a friend. I wanted to find new food spots in Singapore so we walked aimlessly around Ang Siang Hill, Club Street, Chinatown, Duxton Hill and finally ended up at Marina Boulevard.
I didn’t even think about how much walking we had done in the day until I went home that night, and realised my legs were aching quite a fair bit. I had walked for about four hours!
That’s the great thing about exercising with pals. Not all of us are motivated gym bunnies who enjoy pumping iron and hitting the treadmill. But when you have company, it takes your mind off the fact that your body is getting a workout and that distraction allows you to push your body further.
So this week, I decided to test the theory. I forced my sister to go to the gym with me in the morning. Usually, I stop after half an hour on the treadmill then move on to the weight machines. It doesn’t matter whether I’m tired or not, I just stop after half an hour cos I tell myself that’s enough for a warm up.
With my sister around, I ended up running for an hour. In between gossiping and running, I managed to squeeze in another half hour! I was also able to lift heavier weights than usual cos when I was struggling, she was there to assist me. And here’s the best part: Brekkie at Cedele after a good workout!
So, I’ve gotten all my girlies to sign up for The Ultimate CLEO Fitness Challenge. There will be four fitness challenges going on throughout the afternoon (The Bike Challenge, BodyCombat, The Cardio Challenge and The Body Balance Challenge) and all we have to do is complete as many challenges as we can.
Now, I’m by no means saying this is going to be an easy feat. But it is called The Ultimate CLEO Fitness Challenge, not The Ultimate CLEO Walk in the Park. There are amazing lucky draw prizes for people who complete two challenges including a surf tour to Australia and $500 in cash but the girlies and I have our own internal bet. The person who gives up first has to buy drinks after and go up to three random guys at the bar and say, “I’m sad. Can I cry on your shoulder?”.
So come down and join us! It's happening on June 26, Saturday and all you need to do is fill up the form on pg 151 in the June issue of CLEO.
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Peaches is coming to Singapore!
2010.04.22
02:35:32 |
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My friend and I were talking about a group of annoying expats. They are the ones who make the decision to work here and while they’re more than happy to live at The Sail and enjoy a lifestyle far more decadent and luxurious than the average Singaporean, they are also incredibly open about their dislike for Singapore.
Here are some of the most common complaints I hear:
“Singapore is such a boring place. There is nothing to do.”
“Singaporeans are so rigid. They don’t know how to have fun.”
“There’s no music scene in Singapore. All you guys have are live cover bands.”
“There are no really good parties here.”
“Singapore has no culture.”
I’d like to think everyone is entitled to their own opinion but when I have to sit through your rants, I think you owe it to me and the time I’m wasting on you to do some research before you complain. Cos most of the people I’ve met who say these things are the same people who have never travelled beyond Robertson Quay. I’m serious! I have actually met one guy who told me the only bar he has been to in Singapore is Harry’s.
My main gripe about this group of expats is the blatant lack of respect for the country that’s providing them with the job opportunities that pay for their bills. In the same way it’s alright for me to say my mum sucks (even though she doesn’t) cos she is my mum, it's rude for you to say my mum sucks if you haven't really bothered to get to know her.
Now, not all expats are like that. In fact, I’ve met many who know sides of Singapore I wasn’t even aware of and are keen to know locals so they can find out where all the good stuff is. And speaking to them is always insightful cos I get to see Singapore from fresh eyes.
For example, it was only until this British guy said he still couldn’t get used to calling taxi drivers “uncle” that I realised how bizarre it must be for a foreigner to be calling random people, “uncle” and “auntie”. Another guy I met told me his favourite place in Singapore was Golden Mile Shopping Centre cos the food was kick-ass and there was a really organic, electrifying vibe to it. I didn’t get it but hey, trying to see where he’s coming from made for interesting conversation.
These days, if I meet an annoying expat who tells me how boring my country is, I very politely tell him he has the option to go back to the wonderful place he came from. If he responds by telling me he’s just here for the money and he shows no interest whatsoever in learning more about Singapore, I very, very politely tell him that unbearable as it is, he will just have to be strong and try not to cry himself to sleep in his nice, swanky rented apartment.
So anyway, to kickstart my little personal project which, has a working title of “We are pretty cool, if you’re willing to get to know us so don’t talk shit about us if you don’t know shit”, I’m happy to remind you Peaches, is coming to Singapore! Thanks Home Club for always bringing down the most awesome peeps to town!
Here are the details:
Peaches in Singapore
Venue: Zirca
Date: April 28
And in the spirit of spreading the love, Home Club has been kind enough to give away three pairs of tickets to Peaches. All you need to do is drop me an email at
This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it
with your name, IC number and mobile number. The first three win!
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Game on!
2010.03.11
04:18:21 |
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My best friend from KL, Jean, visited me two weeks ago. Now, this girl is a tiny, deceivingly sweet looking girl. But she is the woman who taught me every drinking game I know, introduced me to the most foul shots known to mankind, the joys of beers in the afternoon and the art of lasting in a club till 5am. It goes without saying we met in our much younger days when we had the luxury of time and frivolity to engage in such a lifestyle.
Anyway, we went out in the afternoon but instead of shopping marathons, we lazed at Jones the Grocer at Mandarin Gallery. That turned out to be a good thing cos Mandarin Gallery had hot topless models walking around for people to gawk at and take photos with. Yes, I’ll have a side of manmeat with my coffee anytime. Anyway, after that we headed to Brotzeit for a few beers, went home to change and headed off to Butter Factory.
After a few drinks, we realised we were shadows of our former selves. We complained about aching feet, pushed tequila shots to other people and the last straw was when I felt my back crack after busting some bad dance moves.
“What happened to us?” Jean asked.
Life, Jean.
I’m glad I don’t party like I used to. The process is torturous, hugging a toilet bowl is never fun and the morning after… Let’s not even go there. There is however, one tradition I still enjoy -- the random games we play when we’re out drinking.
Random game #1: Would you rather…
Now, this game requires a sinister mind and both parties to be honest and game.
So for example, would you rather do a body shot on Martin Yan (as in Yan can cook, so can youuuuuu!) or Danny de Vito?
My answer: Danny de Vito. It’s Martin Yan’s accent. I wouldn’t be able to do a body shot without hearing his voice in my head. “Now you put hoisin sauce, wah, hoisin sauce. Boo-tee-fool!”
Another example: Would you rather eat a rice bowl of shit for a million bucks or make your unwilling best friend eat half the amount for two million?
My answer: I’d do it. Most of my best friends are feisty so I’d probably fail at making them do it and get beaten into a pulp as well. Penniless, friendless and bruised. Not a good state to be in.
Random game #2: Celebrity death match
For this game, you basically take two people (fictional, dead, alive, famous or not) and decide who would win if they were to fight it out.
For example: Professor X or Wolverine?
Professor X. Adamantium has nothing on mind control.
Another example: Professor X or Batman?
Batman. He would have booby-trapped Professor X’s wheelchair even before the fight started.
So now you know how painfully meaningless our conversations are. But hey, I use my brains all week, it’s nice to kick back and send my brains to the gutters to think of the worst situations to put people in.
I
f you have a good one, let me know. Or even better, ask me yourself at the CLEO 50 Most Eligible Bachelors preview this Saturday! (Like how I just slipped that in?) |
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Learning to be a reasonable person
2010.02.22
02:14:53 |
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It’s not new news that I enjoy my beers. But I think writing “Can You Get Away With …” scared the shit out of me cos by the time I was done researching the article, I was convinced that at the rate I drink on an average night, I’m pretty much headed towards premature death. And since I’m still certain Edward Norton and I are going to cross paths and fall deeply in love with each other, it’s well worth my effort to sustain my life for as long as I can.
What I have realised about myself is not so much that I have unhealthy habits per se but that I easily develop unhealthy obsession with the things I do.
When I was in secondary school, I was in the tennis school team and I realised my lack of fitness was making it hard for me to improve my game. This started a gruelling three months of self-imposed torture. I had no real strategy to getting fit. I would go for tennis training, decide my strokes lacked power, then go back home and force myself to do push-ups. Another time, I had a genius idea that since tennis required fast reflexes; I would get my younger bro to train with me by randomly throwing balls in all directions for me to catch.
Last year, after a bout of really bad cramps, I went to GNC to buy Evening Primrose Oil. It helped to ease the cramps and that sparked off the massive collection of vitamin supplements. Right now at my desk, I have about eight bottles of pills and at home, I have another six. I pop them religiously and if I’m running in and out of the office and I fail to take my pills, I feel uneasy.
Lastly, my tendency to take things overboard can be seen when it comes to love. Firstly, there are usually weak/little/non-existent grounds to justify my actions. I’m not exactly convinced that vitamin supplements do me any good but I do it all the same. I definitely know ordering the fourth pint is stupid but it never stopped me from doing it. Similarly, I always find myself losing the plot when it comes to boys. It starts off with “I like him because he is xxx”. After that is established, it is never questioned again and the main task at hand is to keep him.
Now, let me clarify something. I’m no Glenn Close from Fatal Attraction. I don’t do stalking (only cyber sussing but that doesn’t count), I don’t lurk in the dark and I’m not mad (which isn’t really helping me prove my point cos all mad people probably think they’re not). But anyway, what I mean is that I constantly find myself holding onto relationships that are obviously hopeless cases. And after a while, I’m so focused on doing what I can to keep that person that I fail to ask myself whether a) it’s doing me any good or b) it’s going to amount to anything.
My sister thinks it’s because I’m a Scorpio. And as Annabelle told me on my first day of work here, “Oh my god, all Scorpios are insane!” I don’t know about whether my star sign has anything to do with it but I do know I don’t deal well with regrets. I find it a crippling feeling that fuels my insecurities and turns me into this sappy, annoying girl I hate. And I think somewhere along the way, I decided that if I wanted something, I had to give it my all and if it failed, I would know for sure that it was inevitable.
So how does one learn to live moderately? I’m not too sure, really. I’m working on the booze first. But then again, I might actually start taking that to the extreme and obsess about not having a single drop… Hmmm… I’m a hopeless case. |
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Beyond bad service
2010.01.17
20:37:08 |
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Monday mornings are usually the only time of the week when the CLEO girls are quiet. This morning, Cheryl was not quiet. In fact, she was fuming mad. Standing at my desk, she started recounting her horrible night out over the weekend. I must admit, I didn’t hear the first part of it cos it just takes that much longer for me to process things on a Monday morning. But when I finally paid attention to her, I got annoyed by what had happened to her. Cos I know there’s nothing worse than having your night out spoilt by rude service staff.
So today, I present our guest blogger, Cheryl. Let her tell you what happened.
Oh and if you’ve suffered bad service at any club, feel free to rant and rave here. Monday blues just got his ass kicked by Monday angst.
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“I may not be one of those clock-watchers at work cos I do enjoy my work, but I definitely love my weekends. I believe in working hard and playing hard, so I’ll always try to make the most of the 48 hours.
Last weekend, my friend invited me to a party at Stereolab. “Come on, it’ll be fun! It’s Frankie Knuckles!”
I wasn’t too keen on Stereolab and Stereolounge. I’d only been there once, and let’s just say I didn’t really feel welcome there. “Don’t worry, it’ll be better this time! I’ll get my boyfriend’s friend to put you guys down on the guestlist! We’ll all have fun together!” she enthused. I gave in. After all, I always believed that it was the company that made the night fun.
So on Saturday night, we shared a cab and alighted at Pan Pacific. As we walked towards the guestlist queue, we found our paths abruptly blocked by a tall bouncer.
“This is the guestlist queue, you know? Are you on the guestlist?” he asked in far-from-friendly tone.
We stopped in our tracks and looked around. We weren’t the only bunch streaming towards the guestlist queue, but I did notice we were the only all-Chinese bunch.
“Yes, we are on the guestlist,” replied my guy friend.
We were allowed to move on, and we joined the queue, albeit a bit bristled. When we finally reached the front, we had calmed down sufficiently and we gave our friend’s name to the female door hosts.
“Hi, we’re under XXX’s guestlist.”
The female door host with short light brown hair checked her clipboard, flipped the sheets and glared at us.
“XXX? Are you sure he’s on the guestlist??” Call me sensitive but I detected a hint of sarcasm and impatience. “Yes, that’s what we were told. XXX, “ we said.
She flipped the sheets again, and this time, the other female door host joined in to help her check. Both of them glared at us, and shot us a series of questions.
“Who is this XXX? Is he part of management? Who is this guy anyway? How do you even know him? We don’t know any XXX.”
“Ummm, OK, let me call my friend to check? We’re supposed to be on the guestlist,” says my girlfriend as she reaches into her bag to retrieve her mobile phone. Before she even has time to press the call button, the short-haired door host speaks up.
“Can you guys get out of the queue?”
“Huh???”
“Yes, can you guys get out of the queue?”
No please and no thank you. It wasn’t a request, it was a command. We were flabbergasted and pissed off.
Since when did it become OK to treat people like that? Whatever happened to basic courtesy? I mean, of course I know that I should move aside to let the other guests pass. But it wasn’t as though we’d been holding up the line for 20 minutes. It’d been less than 5 minutes!
We completely lost our mood to party so we decided to leave. The two female door hosts didn’t even have the basic courtesy to open up the velvet ropes to let us exit easily. We had to squeeze our way out through the queue, saying “excuse me” and “sorry, coming through” repeatedly. What was this, a walk of shame for not being on the guestlist? When we finally reach the end of the queue, we were fuming mad.
We called our friends who were on their way, and told them not to bother coming down, ever. We ranted and raved on our respective mobiles. “Babe, did you know that XXX didn’t manage to put us on the guestlist?? Do you know how crappily we were treated?? You guys have fun, we’re not going in already! We’re heading to Zouk!” I updated my Facebook status, warning all my friends never to head down to Stereolab, not unless they wanted to receive the same “royal” treatment. Within minutes, I get comments from my friends saying that they’d received similar treatment the last time they went.
At that moment, the manager approached us. Apparently, XXX had called the manager to ask why his friends couldn’t get in, and the manager correctly deduced that the pissed-off group standing by the cab queue was XXX’s friends.
The manager was very nice and explained that it was an internal miscommunication that resulted in us not being on the guestlist. He even invited us in for drinks on him, and told us that we could just breeze past the queue with him. However, we declined.
It wasn’t the fact that we weren’t on the guestlist. It was just the complete lack of basic courtesy that had pissed us off. Why did the two female door hosts have to be so rude? Did they have to inject sarcasm and disdain into every line they said? It wasn’t as though we were an inebriated bunch of rowdy people – it was just two girls and a guy. We weren’t even inappropriately dressed – dresses, heels, shirts, pants, the works.
Who would still have the mood to party after being treated that way? We told the manager that he didn’t have to apologise, cos it wasn’t his fault. He gave us his card and told us to call him whenever we were heading back. He would arrange everything for us.
Call me petty but I’m unlikely to head down again. “
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Back in the day …
2010.01.04
23:40:19 |
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Serene and I share a work space and let’s just say it isn’t the prettiest part of the CLEO office. Behind us are towering stacks of magazines, press releases, boxes of beauty products and probably mutant animals which have managed to live in such harsh environments. Lin Kuan has tripped at our treacherous area a few times, our colleagues from the sales team think we’re conspiring to make it as difficult as possible for them to bug us for help and Debs has sent quite a few emails telling us to clear up our area.
At the end of last year, Serene and I decided that getting organised might be a good idea for 2010. She didn’t want Santa to trip and die at our work area and I was convinced that negative chi was getting caught in all my clutter and I had to clear the pathway for new and positive chi to enter.
While I was clearing up my desk, I found all these photos and notes that brought me back to my noob-cake days of being an Editorial Assistant. I was a fresh grad and I had painfully little work or internship experience so when on my first day so I was filled with all these grand thoughts of a glamorous life of strutting in my stilettos and attending events.
My first shoot was one for the CLEO Most Eligible Bachelors and I remember sitting in the suite at Pan Pacific Hotel as one of the bachelors took off his shirt thinking, “Oh god, this job rocks. And my friends thought being a banker rocked. Those poor sods.”
Fast forward to a week later and I was sitting at my desk at 11pm with looming deadlines, a whole pile of admin work and the CLEO Most Eligible Bachelors event to coordinate. This continued for two weeks and I was near breaking point. I had never handled such a huge event before. I had zero organisation skills, had no idea how to manage my time and most of the time, I had no idea if I was doing anything right.
Then one morning, I came into the office, dejected and utterly demoralised and there was a post-it on my computer. It had a little cut out of my favourite Bachelor at that point and a speech bubble that said, “Oh KC, thanks so much for putting in so much effort to make this event happen! Will you marry me?”
It was at that moment I knew I wouldn’t want to be working anywhere else. Where else could you find colleagues like that?
With time, I got the hang of things. I learnt that when it came to working for a magazine, deadlines were King. Screw with them and bear the wrath of the Queen. I learnt how to prioritise my tasks and organise my work so I didn’t find myself on this eternal quest to finish a never-ending workload.
And I also learnt there were mad perks with the job. I got to attend glamorous beauty events. I got a constant supply of beauty products and random freebies. I got invites to opening of bars and my fair share of free booze at random events. I met and interviewed the most amazing people. I was the only one out of all my peers who could go to work in my girly dresses and four-inch heels. And best of all, I was the only one who could say that my job required me to be stuck in a tiny room backstage with 50 hot men for hours.
So now that I’m on my fourth year here, it took clearing out my desk and re-looking at all these old photos and notes from the CLEO girls to realise just how crazy and amazing a trip it has been. Which is why I think it’s so exciting that we’re running a competition to find our next Editorial Assistant. Cos we will have one more to join us on this mad rollercoaster ride!
Some of my favourite moments so far.
Meeting my long-time idol, Jared Leto!
Celebrating Halloween. Belle spent about a month making her costume and Daph managed to find the craziest outfit as an apple.
Having fun with the wacky toilets on my first press trip to Tokyo.
Happy New Year! XOXO, CLEO!
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'Tis the season to be jolly
2009.12.17
22:13:56 |
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This week has been horrible one. Firstly, my gums have been swollen all week and I feel like someone punched me on the right side of my face. I tried convincing myself that it would subside but on Wednesday, the pain was too much for me to take. I finally relented and made an appointment to visit a dentist.
Now, I’m petrified of dentists. I know probably a grand total of three people in the world have watched B-grade horror flick, The Dentist (with the awesome tagline, It’s time for your checkup… Pray it won’t be your last), but that show scared the crap out of me and now whenever I find myself in the dentist’s chair, I scheme my escape plan should my dentist be armed with a drill and a deranged mind.
After sitting through 40 minutes of torture, I found out my wisdom teeth have decided to grow sideways such that they’re jammed against my molars. In other words, my wisdom teeth have disturbed the peace that prevents me from seeing the dentist more than I have to.
In light of such devastating news, I decided beers were necessary so Debs and I headed over to Brotzeit. While I was whining to her, she said, “Urm babe. Your face is as red as a lobster. You haven't even finished your beer.” While I was staring at her in disbelief, she said the worst possible thing one person could say to another, “Maybe you’re developing an allergy to alcohol.”
I screeched. I could barely eat the whole of this week and now I can’t drink booze? This can’t be happening. Not now. Doesn’t my body know that the epic fortnight of feasting and festivities is just round the corner? Did my body decide after completing the Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon that living healthy was the new direction it was taking for 2010? What is going on??
Well, whatever the reason, this has got to stop. So here is my letter of appeal to my body.
Dear Body,
I know that I’ve not always treated you well. And I can totally understand that you’re sick and tired of having to work into the wee hours of the night to keep me happy. For the past 26 years, you’ve silently taken on this burden and have always delivered stellar results (maybe minus slacker Liver who still gives me the occasional hangover. But we can talk about that some other time.)
But here’s my point. 2009 has been a turning point for me. I realised that the last thing I want is for any one of you to tender your resignation. Cos I know I won’t be able to work half as well if even a teeny part of you didn’t do your job. So I have been putting in the effort this year to shower you with the tender loving care you deserve.
Did Heart not feel stronger after I started working out in the gym? Did Brain, Blood and Heart not benefit after I started popping a daily dosage of vitamins? And let’s not forget how I started eating less processed food, cutting back on alcohol, sleeping early and drinking more water.
In light of all of these facts, I think this sudden rebellion is excessive. In 2010, I intend to exercise more, eat better and enjoy myself in moderation. So you will get to rest when you need to, nourish yourselves when your energy levels are low and everything else you need to be happy campers.
So are we cool? Think about it. We work best when we work together as a team! Remember how happy we were when we completed the run? So, please tell Wisdom Tooth, all three of them, to stop whatever they’re doing. Inform Blood there’s no need to flood my face when I drink.
‘Tis the season to be jolly. Make peace, not war.
Thank you,
Your eternally grateful owner.
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Goodbye world...
2009.11.11
01:37:50 |
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I'm going to be running on the track today with Debs this evening. It's going to be the first time I'm running outdoors. And yes, I know it's a lot more challenging from running on the treadmill. I'm scared. What will I do without the mini-fans that come with the treadmill at my gym? Without my treadmill counting the number of calories I'm burning, what will motivate me to continue running? A friend suggested blocking out all distractions and focusing on nothing but running. "Get into the zone," she says. "What does the zone feel like?" I ask. "It feels amazing. For a moment, you're one with yourself," she explains. "Like how people say they get a moment of clarity before they drop dead?", I respond. Friend logs off MSN. 
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Run Forrest, run!
2009.11.09
19:37:33 |
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I’m going to be doing the Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon in three weeks time. And today when I hit 4km on the treadmill, I cursed myself for my stupidity. Seriously, I hate cardio. I. Hate. Cardio. While others feel rejuvenated with their heart pumping against their chest, I feel like I’m going to die. My body is unable to produce endorphins so I never get a high from exercising. I drag my sore body home, lie on the bed and contemplate how I got to be so weak. But I will persevere. Today I completed 6km and I’m determined to run/walk/crawl 10km by end of this week even if it kills me. I signed up for this cos this was in line with my 2009 campaign to try new things and if I don’t complete this run, it will be such a horrible way to end the year. Even though, Debs is convinced I will die during the run and has asked if she should start advertising for another Lifestyle Editor. I think the people at Fulford PR who are handling the Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon must have known what a hopeless case I am cos they arranged for a sports screening and an appointment with a podiatrist at Alexandra Hospital to make sure I was fully prepared for the run. The most outstanding thing about my experience at Alexandra Hospital is that the staff is incredibly nice. When I appeared for my sports screening in a dress and heels, utterly embarrassed that the obvious need for gym clothes didn’t occur to me, Sharon, my physiotherapist, went around to find me an extra set of clothes and shoes. The sports screening started out deceivingly easy. A five minute run at a comfortable pace to check my running posture and a series of stretches to check if there were any anomalies in my muscles. Then came the balancing on one foot with my eyes closed, the side planks and the lunges… By the end of the session, it felt like a full workout.
But here’s what I learnt. The whole point of a sports screening is to let you know if you’re a) fit enough to take on a long-distance run and b) inclined to particular injuries. For me, I found out that I need to strengthen my core muscles. The other thing I learnt is that that my feet tend to over-pronate (that means your feet roll inwards such that when you take a step, your arc disappears). This places pressure on the tendons and ligaments of my ankle and can also lead to trauma in my knees and back. In other words, my legs are likely to get tired faster than a person whose feet don’t over-pronate. Not good for a weakling like me. My podiatrist, Chelsea, was able to explain why my feet over-pronate. I happen to have very flexible feet. My first thought was that maybe I was made to be a ballerina but when I told Debs, she came up with lewd ways in which flexible feet can come in handy. But that’s what happens when your brain is perpetually in the gutter. I also learnt that my right leg is slightly shorter than my left leg so I tend to exert more pressure on my right leg when I walk. It made me wonder if I walk with a limp but my podiatrist assured me that it wasn’t obvious. She also pointed out how my constant wearing of stilettos was exerting a huge pressure on the balls of my forefeet. She went on to ask me what kind of running shoes I have. All I could tell her was the brand and the colour of it. And I think that’s when she decided that I’m in desperate need of help. So she offered tips on how to buy proper running shoes. Turns out the ones that look good are likely to be the same ones that destroy my feet. 1. Look at the back of your shoe. There should be a slight platform cos that is the cushioning that helps you absorb the impact when you run. This will prevent injuries. 2. Twist the shoe. The front of the shoe should flex enough cos when you run, you tend to push off with the balls of your feet so the front of your shoe needs to be flexible to work with that movement. However, the rest of your shoe should be stable. So if it’s one that’s so flexible that you can roll it into a ball, chances are, it won’t give you the ankle and arc support you need for long-distance running. I have to say my time spent at Alexandra Hospital was really informative and helpful but unfortunately a million meetings with doctors aren’t going to make me fitter. So right now, it’s all about hitting the gym. Tomorrow, I take on 7km. Wish me luck. |
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On turning 26...
2009.10.20
02:02:25 |
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Yesterday, I had an early birthday celebration with my brother at Mr Punch Winebar and he asked me how I felt about getting older. And I think I’m excited about getting older for a few reasons. The first one that comes to mind is painfully frivolous but according to my fortune teller, I’m only a year more away from finding my true love! It goes without saying that my sceptic of a brother rolled his eyes. But it’s always nice to have a false sense of comfort. The other reason that I’m happy about getting older is that as much as I had fun in my teens, I have no desire to relive those days. Firstly, I had no cash to enjoy the things I love. I wouldn’t say I’m a foodie but I love nothing more than trying out new places to eat at and hunting down new drinking spots. And right now, earning my own keep means I can splurge on myself without feeling like a useless bum who lives off her parents. Secondly, I feel more comfortable in my own skin. Growing up, I wasn’t the most secure of people. I didn’t feel pretty enough for boys, smart enough to impress my over-achieving siblings, capable enough to live up to my parents’ expectations or entertaining enough to believe that people would actually want to be around me. I know, it’s quite a lot of baggage to be carrying around. Now at 26, I don’t think I’m all that. I know where my shortcomings lie but I like the person I am now. So I have to say, I’m not dreading my birthday at all. In fact, I’m planning big things for the coming year. I’m saving up for a trip to Taipei for street food and Ibiza for well, to see what the hype is all about. But this week, I’m pulling my annual trump card to get all my pals to feast and party with me. Tonight, I keep to my birthday ritual I’ve had since I was in JC, and head to Cuscaden Patio. Tomorrow, I head to my favourite restaurant in Singapore, Oso at Bukit Pasoh. Thursday, it’s the opening of Players at Carpenter Street, a bar and lounge that specialises in drinking games. Friday, I haven’t really decided where I’m going but I’m pretty sure Butter Factory is part of the plans!
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Over the moon
2009.09.16
20:31:51 |
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I know this is very random, but check out these mooncakes from Hairloom and Caramel! Totally loving the gift box it comes in. Check out hairloomandcaramel.blogspot.com for more info! 
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Daddy dearest...
2009.09.16
20:20:13 |
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Please stop buying those red-bean goodies from Korea and Japan. I know they’re adorable cos they come in animal shapes and I know it’s not easy hand-carrying those giant boxes all the way back to Singapore. But how do I put it… I. hate. Red bean. And every time you buy it, I force myself to eat it cos I want you to know that I appreciate your efforts but the moment I sink my teeth into that powdery mush and my entire mouth is saturated with overwhelming sweetness, all I can think of is how it’s going to claw its way down the walls of my throat. Last night I think my dad noticed how tortured I looked as I ate this red bean pastry and he asked me if this was the face I was going to make if I went for a food tasting at a restaurant specialised in red bean. Good question, Dad. I never really thought of what I would do if I had to review a restaurant that served nothing but red bean. There are certain things I’m not a big fan of. Celery, polenta and chocolate to name a few. But I find them bearable and I try to put aside my own personal prejudice when I’m evaluating a dish. So let’s just say it’s a simple stir-fry dish that comes with celery. I might not like the taste of celery but I think there are different dimensions to a dish that contribute to the overall appreciation of the dish. For example, does the combination of all these ingredients make sense? Does the flavour of celery overpower? And if so, is it supposed to be the main star of the dish? Another thing I like about my food, whether it’s to my taste or not, is the amount of thought and effort behind it. There are fancy schmancy places that serve up dishes that are presented in a generically artsy fartsy way. A little smear there, a little blob there and tiny morsels of food on a giant plate. I’m not saying that contemporary presentations in general are stupid but some are just plain pretentious or excessive. Sure, one might say, “you’re just too shallow to understand what’s going on.” But here’s my retort to these food snobs: I understand that sometimes the appreciation of food requires education. For example, I’ve always been an avid drinker of beer and it was only after I got my impromptu crash course on beer appreciation from my pal that I advanced from, “Hmmm.. I like Little Creatures. Tastes nice, “ to being able to break down what made the beer more pleasant to me over others. It’s not that I expound on hops and the body of my lager/ale when I’m out but with this knowledge but when I actually try a beer I like, I now understand why that’s the case. But ultimately, whether you like something or not is emotive. You don’t work backwards and decide if you like something or not. For example, if a guy explains to me how a sunset turns the sky orange, colouring the clouds and reflecting light off the ocean, I don’t think, “Hmmm. A sunset is beautiful.” I look at a sunset and it either moves me or not. So if your dish on first impression comes across as pretentious then that means the intention behind the presentation is either a)weak (i.e. I’ll just the salad into a giant martini glass made out of tortilla chips cos nobody has done it before and it looks modern) or b) poorly executed. Either way, it fails in some aspect. So, to bring it back to my dad’s question. How would I review a place that served nothing than red bean? - I’d bring a colleague who wasn’t allergic to the taste of red bean to offer more objective insights into how the food tasted.
- I would still try it cos hey, you never know, I might stumble upon the dish that blows my mind away and changes my perception of red bean.
- I would take note of my impressions of the décor, menu, service, ambience, crowd and food and see if everything gels together.
- I would then talk to the owners about the concept and objectives behind the restaurant cos that’s helps me get a better idea of how much love and effort went behind a place.
But that’s not to say that the thought of having to review a restaurant that served nothing but red bean doesn’t scare the shit out of me. So please, Dad. How about just bringing back vitamin supplements from Fancl for me the next time you’re in Japan? |
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D-Day
2009.08.03
06:15:27 |
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4 days of drinking, 1 embarrassing SMS sent, 300 precious dollars spent and 1 potentially damaged liver… Anyone knows where Moderation hangs out? Cos I need to be introduced to him.
Thursday: Debs has just gotten back from a press trip and we decide to go out to catch up. OK, not that we need to catch up cos the press trip was only for three days and we see each other everyday. Hmmm.. I think I might have just proven that this was a lame reason to drink copious amounts of beer.
But anyway, I would have been able to drink more moderately if 7atenine at The Esplanade didn’t have such an awesome deal. On Thursdays, for $39++ per pax, it’s free flow of Stella Artois or Hoegarden all night. It came to a point that when I ask the waiter for another round of Stella and he cheekily asks if I’m very thirsty.
When he asks me that question, I stop for a while to wonder if the amount of beers I’m having is appropriate for a Thursday night but I take a look around and realise that the place was packed. Using the flawed logic that the majority wins, I conclude that it’s alright to go to Happy Land on a Thursday night.
Anyway, the night ends with me making a stupid bet with Debs. Here‘s what happens:
A random song is playing. Debs: “I can’t find out what the name of this song is! Argh!” Genius of the year: “What if I can find out?” Debs: “Please lah, if you can find out the name of this song, I’ll kiss any boy you point to on Saturday.” Genius of the year: (laughs in the most maniacal way) “Set!” Lesson learnt from Day 1 of drinking rampage: I really should learn to shut up when I’m drunk.
Friday: It’s Friday morning and I’m popping my vitamins in hopes that it will miraculously undo the damage done to my liver the night before. I realise there is no way to find out what the song was. I didn’t recognise the artist the night before and I can’t recall the lyrics and the melody. I hope Debs had forgotten about the bet. But to steal a line from Red Thread, she never forgives and she never forgets. Thankfully, the whole day, we’re both too busy to settle this issue.
Come Friday night, I’ve made arrangements to have dinner with my girlfriends at Shinryoku Yakitori Restaurant at Purvis Street. I’m looking forward to the a-la-carte buffet that goes at $58 per pax but it’s not until my friend informs me that with a top-up of $30, you get free flow of beer and Umeshu. The thing is yakitori does go perfectly with ice cold beer. It’s like bread and butter! Like pen and paper! Like Chip and Dale! I really can’t be faulted for having a few beers.
After dinner, we head to Mr Punch Winebar, my latest favourite hangout. Situated at the rooftop of Mint Museum, the place is a cozy place that sits a maximum of 20 people and boasts a stunning view of the CBD area. The thing I like about it is that it feels a bit like Cheers. I’ve only been there three times in the past two weeks and already the waiters know my order, some regulars have already struck up a conversation with me and I’ve even earned myself the entitlement to request for the music to be changed.
Halfway through the night, this boy I have a teeny crush on joins us and I spend the rest of the night at Mr Punch Winebar attempting to be on my best behaviour. Last stop, the bestie and I head to Butter Factory. The Crush has to work the next day so he goes home and sends me a sms apologising that he can’t join me at Butter Factory. I end up sending a grammatically wrong SMS. Doesn’t sound like a big deal but it was appallingly bad grammar. It ranks as bad as someone who smses “I is a boy.” Not exactly good for building cred. Especially when you’ve told him about how much you enjoy writing.
Lesson learnt from Day 2 of drinking rampage: It’s not enough to shut up when I’m drunk. Communication in general should be banned.
Saturday: I wake up, log on to Facebook to find out Debs hasn’t forgotten about the bet after all. She leaves me an ominous note about how she’s looking forward to me carrying out the forfeit. I can’t feel my toes, my throat is parched and my wallet’s full of receipts. And now, I have this horrible visual of kissing a lecherous 60 year old man.
The night comes and we head to Angelshare at Dempsey. An ex-bachelor, Paul Foster, has organised a networking night that comes with free flow of booze at 49 nett per pax. We’re sitting around with my pals who are visiting from KL, having a good time before I notice Debs whispering to Paul. I shoot them a look and they both laugh. I know what’s up. Paul goes off promising to bring someone real nice over, Debs has a positively evil look on her face and I’m peeing in my pants. It’s a lie, beer doesn’t give you false courage.
Thankfully, Debs has to go off somewhere else before Paul manages to find someone suitable and I’m glad that I managed to chicken out of it.
Lesson learnt from Day 3 of drinking rampage:If you want to make a bet with the Devil, be prepared to burn in hell. Sunday:It’s my friend’s birthday and she has come all the way down to Singapore to celebrate it here so I have to forgo my mandatory detox day for birthday cheers. We head to Orgo, the new rooftop bar at Esplanade. The place is stunning! From where we sit, I can see Fullerton Hotel, the Merlion and the CBD skyline. To my right, the Singapore Flyer. I’m eagerly looking forward to catching a glimpse of the cute Japanese bartender Serene told me about but no luck that night. The Martini menu looks really good with a Pomelo Martini catching my eye but the birthday girl insists on keeping it real and orders me a beer instead. That follows with three other pints.
I reach home and my sister asks me if I’m on a suicide mission to die before I hit 30. At this point, I do feel like I’ve been on a suicide mission. I’m exhausted, bloated, broke and I can feel a pimple on my forehead.
Lesson learnt from Day 4 of drinking rampage: Reflection requires energy. Energy nobody has after drinking four days in a row. |
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