--
solemn
--

you know it is time to do something when somehow a few times a week your ride home is marred by the overwhelming urge to throw up;you wished that the fucking car would sudden teleport to your place so that you can barf in peace.

i have done it once before and i will attempt it gallantly again-

i am going off alcohol for a month.

YES u heard it here first, barely 10 minutes after yours truly has thrown up for the 3rd time in a week, not particularly drunk, just extremely nauseous. (for the record i've just downed TEN glasses of vodka limes within three hours. i was.. thirsty.)

it's showin up in the form of pasty complexion, severe fatigue and pounding headaches in the mornings. NOT GOOD AT ALL.

good night!

--
spectrum!
--

i have been spending too much on clothes recently. and that was before the GSS even started! actually i'm not too excited about GSS at all, because as an insider i know that the so-called good buys are really trash from a million seasons ago. :p

but of course if u are that patient chances are you'll be able to fish out some really kitschy cute thing from the bargain bin. but i'm never that patient, and besides i have a low tolerance when it comes to rubbing sweaty shoulders with other frenzied shoppers. and coupled with the fact that it is almost impossible to find something in an XS during sales, i have almost given up on sales altogether.

but enough of my sad sad life. here are two outfits that i covet.



HELLO GORGEOUS COLOUR BLOCK SHIFT DRESS!! i love colour blocks like this, it's like art on the go. and it is! i just cannot remember the name of the artist who does such prints. ellsworth kelly? no?

i am going to buy a plain long tee and print my own!



and this. i went ballistic with lust when i saw Posh in this get-up.

pink leather pencil skirt + tiny cinched waist + gorgeously fitting blouse = PERFECTION!

i am now inspired to wear my pencil skirt in bright happy colours, downplayed by a sombre dark camel belt + leather stilettos. i love how the pink softens the would-be office dominatrix look (if the skirt is in black).

actually i really like Posh's style. she's very structured, clean though she may look overly harsh with her choice of clothings sometimes. and also mainly because i am able to emulate some of her looks because she is pretty damn skinny as well. ha!!

okay.. maybe not. common folk like us scrimp and save for ages just for a whiff of chanel but to the i-bath-in-milk-and-honey kind, they wear chanel and prada like we wear topshop and zara. SADNESS!

haha.

lastly.. one of my "creations"



my nautical hue/summery dress which is actually an old blue dress i sewed ( very badly, i can't sew for nuts) together with a plain cami, cinched at the waist with a vintage striped fabric belt.

i've got like a whole bag of old clothes waiting to be refurbished, with 101 inspirations in my head but i haven't got the time to actually sit down to piece 'em together!! (but i have the time to booze/shop/ogle at men though)

random trivia: a blob of mucus just flowed out from my left nostril. LOL. so damn sudden lah, considering i don't even have the sniffle. hmm.

okay back to work!! press conference later. HELL YEAH. i hate press confs but at least i don't have to sulk in front of the computer. :D :D

HAPPY VESAK DAY PEOPLES!

--
WOWness!
--

what makes me deliriously happy

1- a second take from the short (and hunched) but amazingly gorgeous greek-god replica in the canteen.

2- espresso in the morning

3- alcohol at night

4- car rides with the little emperor because he is completely retarded. "fiona i am going to show you a giraffe" halfway down the highway.

5- car rides with the YYYYYs (guys, i say Y5 is cheesy but does the job well. or how about WiFi? :p). because i get my nose tickled by roving feet and get scared shitless by xin's driving.

6- the Grandmother's cooking

and what makes me ridiculously upset

1- incessant phone calls from m and a voicemail from him featuring an angry aussie accent saying that i shouldn't be so childish and i should answer his damned calls. well, fuck you.

2- the food at science park 1.

3- surging crowds

--


okay will update this when necessary. heh. back to work!

--
YAYNESS!
--

finally. maroon 5's sophomore album is OUT! dammit i have been waiting for so long that my underarm fuzz's long enough to be braided. kidding. but i WILL embark on a hairy-pits campaign one day, to stand up for feminism.

anyways.

i have decided on what car i want. a white mazda MX5 please, the old chunky ( and decidedly affordable ) model. the Father grunted when i mentioned it to him (as usual, which was his exact reaction when i hinted to him i wanted an unattainable BMW Z3 ). it'll have to wait till i get my licence though. am currently facing some.. problems getting it :p

speaking of cars, i hate how everyone feels that i am better off driving some cute car like the beetle or cooper or even worse, the suzuki swift. yes i know i am quite petite and that everyone will go awwww if someone as small as me steps out from an equally small car... NOT! Its so bloody stereotypical lah. Fuck you all. Ha.

I dream about driving massive cars all the time. I dream about owning the roads with a kickass BMW 7 series or a pick-up truck. Or monster truck. I swear to god once you’ve seen a monster truck (I’ve seen it in LA before), u’ll never want to own anything else again. EVER. I want everyone to go WOAH this little thing here is driving THAT!?

Or a hummer.

I am going to get a selfish two seater so I am not obliged to send anyone home. Tee hee hee. If not, I’m going to fill my backseat up with a lot of stuff :D

Okay please bear with my weird punctuations as i’m typing this using Word so every bloody thing gets corrected. Gets on my nerves when I’m trying to edit copies because Word is so vindictive. Roar!

the Grandmother stayed over for the weekend and she insisted that I lock up the kitchen windows because she was afraid some enterprising burglar would enter from there. Yes grandma, and my apartment’s on the 7th storey.

bye!

--
bimbotic half-rant
--



This morning I was feeling rather smug for finally getting my eyebrows done up symmetrically. As a result, my mood became extra good so I paid more attention to my make up (usually a slap and go affair), fussed around with my outfit, and went out feeling like a million dollars.

And then, at the bus-stop, I caught sight of this gorgeous woman, sans make-up. She was absolutely ravishing. Her dark tresses brought out her flawless porcelain mien, and her cheeks had that healthy flush even the most expensive blusher cannot emulate. Dressed casually in a white tank top and jeans, everyone at the bus-stop was vying for a closer look at her. I felt… Neglected. Like hello people, I spent an hour in front of the mirror today so will you please take a second glance??

You know, some women just have all the luck! While most of us would primp and pluck and pile on the cosmetics just to look fairly human (and expose skin, for the desperate), a select minority can just roll right out of bed into town and still be able to command admiration.

Tell me again why am I even bothering? Haha.

--
GOOD MORNING SINGAPORE!
--

beautiful, beautiful morning.

much better than yesterday, mostly due to the fact that some damned pigeon shat on me.

fucking pigeons.

firstly i would like to dedicate this post to the little emperor, whom i indirectly caused to crash his car early saturday.

little boys and girls, this is a sterling example of why you should not attempt wacky car stunts on narrow and dark roads :p

anyways.

i have been walking with a spring in my step, and i believe that my excellent state of mind is due to the fact that i've largely managed to stop thinking about m, though of course once in a while i get reminded of him, and it doesn't help that my boss sounds exactly like him. smells like him even. sort of. must be some generic aussie aftershave.

but like all bad experiences, especially one that has dragged on for an agonizingly long year, it'll probably take a long awhile to get over it.

and to my horror i've sort of morphed into a cynical bitter bitch when it comes to men.

like how t was gushing to me about how this guy she has been eyeing actually came up to her and confessed that he has been wanting to talk to her, but his shyness prevented him from doing so.

my immediate reaction was to roll my eyes and think: women can be such moron sometimes. i’m a prime living example.

“yeah right, you mean you actually believe that load of bollocks?!!” i rolled my eyes some more.

t laughed

“yeah like you make the best judgement ! who’s the one who went crawling back to some asshole just because he said he missed you?”

“that’s why i speak from experience darling!”

now i am unable not to link every damn male gesture to an ulterior motive.

come to think of it the female species are equally scheming. heh heh heh. okay enough of my tirade against the egoistic species.

my playlist is becoming as eccentric and erratic as i am. i know it is a wee bit too early, but i have been getting off listening and jumping to Christmas songs such as Santa Baby and All I want for Christmas Is You. Haha!! So damn cheesy but oh, they really get you tapping your feet and wishing that Christmas would hurry up and arrive.

Anyways here’s what being overplayed on my ipod

1) Nouvelle Vague – Too drunk to fuck
2) Kylie Minogue – Santa Baby
3) Suede – Beautiful Ones
4) Placebo – Pure Morning
5) Matchbox 20 – Push
6) The Postal service – Such great heights (otb, this is definitely your song)
7) Joan Osbourne – What if god was one of us (the parody being What If God Smoked Weed. LOL)
8) Jay Chou – Qing Tian
9) Imogen Heap – Just for now (gorgeous.. absolutely surreal piece of music!!)
10) Nelly Furtado - Say it right


this morning i was standing next to this well-dressed and nice smelling guy. i was impressed with his overall sense of style. everything was well put together,
from his striped shirt with the french cuffs and chunky cufflinks. i loved his vintage camel laptop carrying case, a vast contrast from the fugly ones that the laptop makers throw in for free with each purchase.

then i looked down and almost wanted to scream.

his pants were at his ankles and his socks were a ghastly white peeping out shamelessly from underneath!!!

noooooooooooooooooooooo. faux paux alert!!!

i was seriously disappointed. what on earth was that?

his freshly polished wing-tips were gorgeous to a fault, but the white socks and ankle-length pants were not.

maybe he was trying to make a statement. but from the look of it, i highly doubt so. maybe he was in a hurry.

whatever it is, it kind of sums up how some people sometimes spoil an entire outfit by overlooking just one detail.

like how i once worn suspenders with shorts that were abit too loose and unflattering, so i ended up looking like a clown.

at the magazine i was with previously (for the curious.. i was with the highly upper-crust Lexean magazine as a writer. don’t really like to talk about my work here), my male colleagues were all impeccably dressed, thank god.

abit too overdressed in Lanvin and Hugo Boss for a media company but hey, who's complaining?

their cuffs were all of the right length, their made-to-measure jackets perfectly fitted, their silk ties never a gaudy colour and always complementing. most importantly, their shirts were always neatly pressed and their collars never limp. i abhor limp collars on men.

anyway, do check out http://www.thesartorialist.blogspot.com/ if you want to know more about the dos and don'ts of style. and http://facehunter.blogspot.com as well.

please.move.me.to.london.

i'm also starting my own online shop, and yes they will be based mostly on the shit i like.



an example of what i usually wear, and what i'll be selling.

yaaaaaa do not mock my skinny legs.

more about my business venture next time. back to work!!! ciao !! kisses!

--
whack!
--

Alive but very busy! As of now, every week I have 5 articles ( doesn’t sound like a lot but I think fellow writers will feel my pain ) to churn out and about 15 to edit. I’ll need all of my brain juice to keep sane and buzzing so I’ll probably be neglecting this blog more than I would like to =(

Worst of all, photoshoots will be commencing soon. Actually I’d rather style shoots than write. I hate feeling stagnant. I love writing, but only if I’m on some secluded strip with vodka for company and a notepad in my hand while sucking on a pen thoughtfully. Give me pen and paper over the keyboard anytime. Nothing beats feeling pen against paper.

The rest of my free time's filled up with crazy alcohol binging sessions with the retarded people from TNP, retail therapy with girlfriends, getting knocked out by reckless drivers i.e dex and J, non-stop 21st birthday celebrations, dinners with grandma and after-work media events (which is.. still work actually. and no OT!)

And starting from next week, my french lessons will begin at Alliance Francaise.

Pleased to announce that life without M has been Fabulous with a capital F! I am clear-headed and my appetite is voracious. My new tattoo is totally fucking botched, because it scabbed and I scratched bits of it off in my sleep =( Now it looks patchy !

Time to fuck off from the office. One more day to the weekend!!! Kisses!
--

listenin to : REM - losing my religion

--
musings
--

all the hullabaloo over unconsiderate people on public transportation has launched a train of thoughts in my seldom idle mind (usually buzzing with a POV shot of jude law's head peeping between my legs and my hot mouth on edward norton's... well, never mind)

anyway.

it all started not too long ago, when i had finally settled down into a coveted seat on a rather crowded train, my feet sore from prancing around in my 3 inch high heels and my back aching from all that balancing.

i could barely stand.

then. enters pregnant woman.

as if on cue those seated suddenly snaps into a hypnotised sleep. except for dumbass, and still smiling wide-eyed me.

really, i don't think i can understand the discomfort of pregnant women but i believe it is on par with blistering feet.

i panicked, knowing very well that my poor feet can no longer endure the torture i subject it on a daily basis.

but because i am such a conscientious person (as compared to considerate), i bit my lip and stood up, wobbling on my brand new pedder red heels, the dull ache in my back throbbing.

pregnant woman sits down, beaming.

and you know what, fuck that, i am not happy.

fuck all the social consciousness and the graciousness and what-have-yous. i have of course launched into my little angsty tirades on trains before, the uncaring ugly commuters bearing the brunt.

but this time, i am not sure whether i am actually pressured to give my seat up due to the bloody fucking norms we adhere to (or rather just I, because the rest of you are just selfish little fucks), or because i want to.

obviously the former rings true in the said situation.

i have come to realise that, in the words of tyler durden from fight club

"you are NOT special. you are not a unique or beautiful snowflake. you're the same decaying organic matter as everyone else"

everyone is in a rush.

every morning, i see people rushing up the escalators when the information board warns them that the next train is due to arrive in one minute, and the train after that, two minutes.

but yet, everyone still breaks into a run.

one minute. one fucking minute. what difference would it make? why do people run frantically just to catch the the train that's coming in a minute rather than take it easy and wait just sixty seconds more for the other one?

i don't quite get it.

i am a grumpy shell of myself in the mornings. i walk past the coffeeshops in the mornings and find myself being disgusted by fat sweaty people stuffing their faces with fried beehoon and pieces of luncheon meat dripping in stale oil.

nauseating.

okay this post is extremely fragmented. will edit when i'm in a clearer state of mind. =p

--
GOOD MORNING!
--

you know it is NOT a good start to the day when you are trying to suppress your sudden craving for a good cheeseburger and chilli fries with whatever's left in the office fridge.

and sadly, the only two edible items left are CHEERIOS (courtesy of american boss ) and WHEAT BIX (courtesy of aussie boss)


seriously WTF?!?! WHO THE HELL EATS THAT CRAP??

i am solemnly munching on dry cheerios now as i type and it tastes like crunchy cardboard =(

and wheat bix. they are the nastiest cereal i've ever tried, smells and looks and probably tastes like compressed wood shavings.

oh, cheeseburger. oh steak! oh fish and chips.

at least the weekend is here!! YIPPEEEEE

--

UPDATE AT 2.49 PM

satisfied my carnivorous cravings at BOTAK JONES during lunch!!!!!

THANK YOU DEX!!!!

muah muah muah muah!! haha.

the burger was FAB (didn't manage to finish it though )

! i also took back a set of cajun chicken for my urm, snack. heh.

--

--
fifi's lunch hour chronicles
--

sat across a really good-looking blonde during lunch today.

then..

he whipped out a neatly folded blue hankerchief and dabbed his lips daintily after his meal.

while i am impressed with this display of old-school gentlemenly behaviour, i cannot help but imagine the colony of germs breeding on that square of fabric. *shudder*

by the way, m uses a hankerchief too. worse still, he enjoys blowing his nose/wiping his sweat/cleaning his mouth on it.

and its not even nicely folded at all.

why am i still talking about him?!!!

feeling extremely stagnant now at work, sounds like a dream to not have anything to do but really, you can only surf so many websites in a day!!

i like being busy. keeps my mind off shit.

shouldn't have finished my work at one shot. grrrrrrrrr

--

listening to: snow patrol - how to be dead

--
because God said so
--

okay. i have learnt an IMPORTANT lesson yesterday. and this goes out to you too!

i'm not a frequent smoker, but i can be sucking on fags non-stop if i happen to have them on hand, or when i'm not feeling particularly chirpy.

so for the past few days i have been actively feeding my body with toxic relaxants.

anyway.

first divine intervention : misplaced lighter. realised it at holland village during lunch break that i must somehow have dropped it when i held it with the fag box.

second divine (and major intervention):

this is what happened.

i bought a lighter (for 80 bloody cents!!!!! what, the price inflated like 50% lah) at the coffeeshop and proceeded to position myself within the already very crowded yellow criminal box.

stuck cancer stick in mouth.

holds lighter near to cancer stick, prepares to light it.

now, i have got a major problem with lighting fags, i don't know why. so i usually hold it really close to my face.

then..

THE MOTHERFUCKIN DAMNED FLAME CAME OUT LICKING AT ME LIKE A RAGED DRAGON'S BREATH!

WTF!

the flame reached as high as my forehead and woah! by reflex i quickly touched my hair and was immensely relieved when my fingers touched base with my still intact fringe.

i looked at the offending lighter. the bloody "switch" was set at the strongest/biggest flame lah!!!

who the fuck does that? why is the manufacturer so sick? was it a government ploy to blind all smokers?? MUST BE.

thats not the end of the story.

so upon reaching the office i prepare to re-apply warpaint on my face as usual.

then, i thought my left eyelashes looked oddly white at the tips, and i thought i had brushed my concealer over it.

i rubbed at the eyelashes eagerly.

nope.. still whitish.

i took a closer look and almost fainted.

ALMOST HALF OF MY LEFT EYELASHES WERE GONE! AND WHAT WAS LEFT WERE SINGED PATHETIC EXCUSES FOR EYELASHES.

OMFGGGGG

the whitish part was where the flame had licked my poor follicles and they curled up into a burnt crisp in retaliation.

oh my god. oh my god.

i thought it rather funny at first and i started laughing hysterically to myself (i was alone in the office). then it stopped being funny when i realised i only have half of my left eyelashes left.

so, all ye smokers. you have been warned.

--

RANDOM UPDATE AT 4.43pm :

okay. there's this weird short strand of super curly and thick hair that i spotted on my desk and it looks like pubic hair!!!

i am probing at it with my pen. no way am i touching something so close to someone elses' vagina/penis/mangina/asshole.

i am 99% sure it is a strand of pubic hair.

HOW THE FUCK DID IT END UP ON MY SPANKING NEW DESK?!!!!!

i am thoroughly disgusted.

hahahaha i suddenly thought of something. imagine after giving a blowjob/cunninglingus you get pube hair stuck between your teeth and someone sees it and go "errr i don't know where that mouth of yours has been but there's pubic hair stuck between your teeth"

what? don't look at me like that. the pubic hair confirm plus guarantee plus chop don't belong to me nor m's. because 1) i am a brazilian wax regular 2) m is blonde. everywhere!

woot. i am keeping the suspicious hair in my drawer for further studies. i am honestly intrigued.

--
silver lining
--

yesterday was achingly surreal. i wandered along roads, trying to will myself to cross the road with my eyes closed.

a disgusting emotional heap, that was me last night. a slobbery mess of tears, mucus and a renewed determination to die with a bang.

i hate it when i feel sorry for myself because there simply is nothing i should be sorry about, considering how blessed i really am, and the situation i am stuck in, a consequence of choice, not circumstances. the situation being the omnipresent heartache a.k.a m the ex boyfriend. but thats another story.

it is frustrating to read about how people point fingers at the young ones like me, saying that we get worked up over nothing, that we're just spoilt little emperors upset over the most trivial of matters.

that i agree to an extent. but really, who wants to be suffering from extreme mood swings that can only be satiated by sleep and medication?

it is hard to describe the turmoil the minority of us inflicted with fucked up heads experience. i would liken the lows as taking long seemingly endless bus rides without a destination in mind, listening to the same god damn depressing song on repeat. you finally alight to blindingly bright sunshine, bask in the sudden exurberence, only to get on the next fucking bus not long after. it's a tedious cycle. one that i cannot wait to break out of. everytime i thought i have finally suceeded in doing so, the next crash comes.

with every such numbing wave i am rendered useless. i am unable to write my articles, i never bother to eat, replacing solids with liquids because i cannot be bothered to chew. i sit around, wallowing in self pity, thoroughly disgusted with myself for doing so.

but i cannot help it. such episodes never usually last more than two days, thank god. but everytime it does, i come out feeling like a stone jutting out from a breakwater, slowly eroding with every wave that crashes upon me. slowly but surely i'd be reduced to nothing but mere grains of sand dispersed throughout.

and then there's the hunger to feel pain. again this is an inexplicable phenomenom. like how the experts dish us bullshit advice like clenching fists and counting to ten, some of us do it another way. the keyword being therapeutic. i started out pinching my waist until it sometimes resulted in bruising, which escalated to other forms which alarmed even myself.

yesterday i got another tattoo. a small one. the rush which accompanies the calming buzzing sound soothes me instantly.

i look at it now, a better person than i was last night, and i smile like an idiot.

allow me to quote a line from murakami's norwegian wood, which i have just finished reading.

"don't feel sorry for yourself", he said. "only assholes do that".

not exactly a groundbreaking inspiring quote but makes a great deal of sense.

fantastic book by the way.

in the meantime, i am fine, still kicking ass.

as of 6.02pm, i am a sad and broken person.

i am broken beyond belief, and i am clawing pathetically at what i believe to be hope, when in fact they are nothing but fraying remnants of my sanity, and his thinly veiled lies which i chose to overlook.

go on, say it.

"i told you so."