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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| rail track teeth. peons and strawberry pies.
   These
pictures came a tad late thanks to miss railway-tracks-teeth. Kidding!
Don't shoot me, Yanhui.It has been more than 4 months since we left
school. I miss my daily wake up calls during the 1st term from Divya,
who got lazy during 2nd term and became my turn to wake everyone up. I
miss the GTA session with the boys at the last row during classes. The
chicken nuggets and Matt Damon jokes on you-know-who. sigh...I miss
school.
Then again, I hate school.
Anyway, I had a bad run in with dog
haters at East coast park on sunday, and I bet I'm not the only dog
owners who actually experienced crazies like that.
I was with
my mom, maids and dogs at East Coast Park since Sunday is permanently
"Doggies day out" for my family. And as we know, East Coast on weekends
are filled with harsh browns and their 10 generations of family
squeezed inside a tent. And if you were to ask any one of them where
they have been for vacations, they would probably tell you: "Malaysia,
Batam and East Coast Park."
As much as I don't like most of
them, I respect their religion practices and leashed my dogs up. But
i'm particularly pissed with this bunch of peasant and his family. They
must have like 2 trucks of kids and allow them to run amok and knocked
into me on skates and caused me to scrape my knees and guess what?
THESE LITTLE MOTHERFUCKERS THREW STONES AT MY DOGS. CHAO CHEE BYE. They
should be thankful that I didn't slap them each across the face for
behaving like monkeys and running into me.
And like the
saying goes, "The apple never fall far from the tree"...Their dad is
also another little motherfucker. My dog, Terri is very particular
about where she does her business and hates to be on leash when she
does it, and so I brought her to the field behind the isolated parking
lot and unleashed her. Guess what? Daddy "motherfucker" actually walked all the way to me 50 meters away and gave me a piece of his brainless mind:
"THERE'S MALAYS HERE YOU KNOW? YOU BETTER LEASH YOUR DOG UP OR I CAN REPORT YOU!!!"
"My dog is well behaved and I'm only letting off her leash because there's no malays or anyone around here."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND AH? YOU DOG CAN RUN AWAY AND BITE PEOPLE AND I WILL COMPLAIN YOU!!!"
"FUCK
YOU LARH, If you're scared of dogs, why fucking come all the way here
just to ask me to leash my dog up? YOU DON'T FUCKING THREATEN ME! MY
DOGS ARE MORE WELL BEHAVED THAN YOUR KIDS AND FOR FUCK'S SAKE BE GLAD I
DIDN'T ASK YOU TO LEASH YOUR 5 CHILDREN UP AND STUFF YOUR SOCKS IN
THEIR MOUTHS FOR BEING PUBLIC NUISANCE. YOU DON'T YAYA WITH ME I TELL
YOU, I WILL CALL THE SPCA ON YOUR STUPID CHILDREN FOR ABUSING MY DOGS
WITH STONES!!"
..and he contined to ya ya with
me until my mom came along when she heard the commotion . Arrgh, what a
bunch of low lives insulting my precious Terri like that. My
dog has more class than this fucktard. How dare he
actually thinks my dog would want to sink her teeth into their d-grade
flesh when she only wants to eat the best. While she's being fed
chicken thighs everyday, I'm eating broccoli and carrot sticks. That's
dog's life for you.
 See? Terri look so harmless(but fat as sumo), does she looks like those crazy dogs that will chew your leg off?
  1,2,3 everyone:" Awwwww" How could anyone be cruel enough to want to stone my angelface precious? And perhaps it's my mom's fault for choosing such horrendous outfits for them. Terri looks like a chav, Faifai looks like a fat and lesbonic G.I Jane and Bobbie....looks like the default tourist with floral print shirt on a permanent vacation in Phuket. The next time I'm going to East Coast, I'm bringing Roy's Doberman along, unleashed. It doesn't pay to be considerate. Everyone has been pretty shocked to learn that I'm usually home these days, cultivating my domestic side, and bloody Jon actually called me a "Hermit" and remind me every other day about it.But boredom always kicks in and when it does... my inner Martha Stewart calls out to me.
Not that I'm bad with baking, just that I'm a very impatient person and I can't stand 20 minutes rolling the dough and pressing them into the cups.
 That's why they ended up looking like that.   I made 2 batches of strawberry mini pies and only ate a piece and fed the rest of the scraps to Roy. And now that he has seen these pictures of the process, he must be wishing that he never popped them in his mouth.BUT HEY!! It taste pretty good, just look unpresentable.Oh well, I think I better stick to my Lemon meringue pies and Pillsbury's cookies ready mix. | | |
| Auto-Pilot I know I haven't been myself lately. It's not that I'm avoiding you guys or that I don't want to hang out with you all. It's just that, it's one of those days again. I know myself and my disorder well enough to know that if I go easy on myself, I might just loose it. I wish to keep it contained. And plus, I'm not really into parties and clubbing anymore. It just dawn on me that, it's not what I really want. Yeah, it's fun occasionally, It's taxing for a routined thing. I'm almost 20...I don't wish to throw away my youth just like that to something meaningless.
Right now, I just want to stay home, skate, read up on Kahlil Gibran and Kant's works. Nothing out of the norm. It's better off this way, and like all the time before, I don't know when will one of those unexpected bipolar episodes come throw me off the track once more.
You know, I always thought leading a normal life like everyone else ain't that bad. Life on Autopilot doesn't sound that bad at all. Cruise through life with eyes wide open heading for pre-determined destination chosen by others. Go to school, go to college, get good grades and join the rat race. Maybe if I weren't stubborn and stayed working for mom's company instead of running away from home, it wouldn't have been that bad.
Everyone around me knows where they will be in 5 years time. "Where will you be in 5 years time?" I dread that question. The mere thoughts about the future is paralyzing, because I have no idea. It's as if my life is on hold. But it won't be for long.
Anyway, to those who have responded to my last post on the pencils projects, Thank you. I really appreciate it. 
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| Pencils It's been almost a year since I've been bugging dad to let me go to Kenya to help Travis out with his projects. AND over and over again, he told me "NO! It's not a place any asian women wants to be, I'll write you a check and you donate it."
Everyone can donate a lump sum of money, but it can't be compared to actually being there helping out. When he was still in Singapore, we always said that we'll spend a summer or 2 after high school volunteering at Africa. Now that Travis spends a lot of time there doing what he has always wanted to do, building water filters and teaching orphans and I'm still stuck here making me feel like a complete failure.
Sometimes, I feel like a selfish and miserable little person spending unnecessary amount of money on things I don't need, when there are people living in poverty, families surviving with less than $400 each year and children eating with rulers without proper utensils. And that $4000 spent on a Chanel bag could have made vast differences in the living conditions and quality of life in many other people's lives.
And since I'm not going to Kenya any time soon (but SOON), Travis is asking me to help him out in raising the donations of pencils. Yes pencils. It's the little things we're taking for granted where there are under privileged kids in other corners of the world yearning for an education and a simple piece of pencil is what they're deprived of
So, 1 pencil at a time. I'm just hoping that anyone from Singapore reading this could help me out... I don't know how to carry this out, but I'm looking for donations of pencils, It doesn't matter how many, but I'm sure everyone has a piece or 2 unused pencils lying somewhere. If you think you could contribute to my little cause, please email me at Cornelia_cookies@hotmail.com . Thank you!!
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| Kids, pardon me for being a grammar and spelling nazi...
It's you're/ you are, not your or ur. Don't you people hate these text message lingos? I know everyone does... nobody should be subjected to such absurdity.
Take your time to type out the full word, it's only 5cents for fuck's sake.
Bad English don't have a place here, it belongs to the oil palm peasants across the causeway.
End of topic.
By now, everyone should know of my eating condition and my obsession with being skinny. It's not exactly an eating disorder. I'm not Anorexic, I eat. I'm not bulimic, I don't puke out my meals as it will wear down your teeth (and my friends know how obsessed I am with my teeth). I used to chew-n-spit, but that was eons back. But the love-and-hate relationship with food still persist. After all these years, I still can't shake off the feeling of guilt when it comes to eating.
At times, I will binge, usually around PMS period. How often I feel guilty after that and proceed to diet for a week or. And that usually means, Tomato juice in the morning, 1 granola OR 2 cups of jello for lunch and tomato juice again for dinner. And for the last 2 day, I went back to my Jello diet and this is Roy's way of telling me:" Eat bitch, eat!!"...
 I know how it could get frustrating for him sometimes when we have meals together and I refuse to eat anything. And him knowing that the only thing I eat are granola bars, and decided to direct his passive-aggressiveness at me by clearing out the cereal shelves at 3 Jason's supermarkets for Quaker's Granolas. That's the only brand I eat, the rest are hard to chew and the choc chips are probably hamster shits. The last time I counted, there were 280 pieces. And since he wants to be anal about me eating and all so passive-aggressive about it, I'll be anal too and put out the same passive-aggressive behavior and donate all the granola bars to Salvation Army. | | |
| Riff Raff I was on the train last week, i couldn't help vacuuming in the clothes and accessories details on that Fobbish riceboy opposite me. Rolled up jeans, Gucci lanyard dangling out of his pocket, Gucci belt and a black cap that screams "WE FUCK THE FAKESHIT" which I predict to be the next trend amongs Singapore's mindless youth.
And then again, I came across another slit eyes girl showing off her latest purchase of the same "WE FUCK THE FAKE SHIT" capon her blog.
WHAT THE HELL IS "WE FUCK THE FAKESHIT"??? The statement makes no fucking sense!!! It sounds like one of those make-no-sense, half fucked english slogans on mass produced tee-shirts you find in Bangkok or China.
So I googled it....
Apparently it's a product of SUBCREW. A HongKong street wear label....I think.
 It is so redneck that it even comes with cigarettes holders on the side.
Even Small peen Edison is on that stupid fakeshit nonsense too!! But Whatever, Eddie can put on that yellow trailer trash cap and tell me he has a small wiener, I'll still go down on him and lick it like a lollipop, oooo...
Shawty say I lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-lo-look like a lollipop...
I hate HongKong's fob fashion. Every time I see a fob in some HK Streetwear, I want to dig out my eyes and bleach it. Whatever happened to the the 90's Haute Couture crowd in Hong Kong? Everyone used to deck out in fine suits, dresses and coats. The street wear fashionistas there should all be executed Chinese style, shot in the head. Nobody should attempt street wear in Asia except the Japanese.
And it seriously irks me whenever I see a ching chong fobbish Ah lian/beng flaunting their Gucci lanyard or whatever nonsense and the Faux pas they call fashion makes me want to smack them on their head real hard. Dammit, It's the House of Gucci and it's known as an iconic fashion label, which is just a waste on these Riff Raffs. Tom Ford is so going to cry if he should know that these ignorant Gucci lovers don't even know who the fuck he is, let alone Frida Giannini, Mark Lee, Alessandra Facchinetti and John Ray.
In conclusion, these Singaporean yellow trashs should forget Gucci or looking like Edison and go back to their chicken rice stalls and $3 per hour bubble tea shaker's job and make me a plate of my favorite hainanese chicken rice. What a bunch of Peons.
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