HAVE I SLEPT? HAVE I NOT?
Yes, T.I.N.G. - Towards Internationalisation, Nationalisation, and Globalisation, again.
Blogger here has ran out of creativity, eagerness to blog, and is low on energy level.
Oh really?
Take this. I woke up at 8pm on Monday, was dozing off on and off since then, feeling drowsy again at 12 midnight, and fell asleep right in front of my monitor.
Woke up around 4 plus, and am awake till now, after a telephone conversation with Sean someone who would prefer to be anonymous.
To quote him, ‘….for the 3rd time since i started work, tis same 3 ladies sat at 1 of the tables i was in charged of… i remembered dem cuz dey kept on ordering orange juices after orange juices after orange juices… ‘
Oooo. What an impression we left.
So have I slept, or have I not?
I no longer know.
Everyone is pretty much sick of my constant reports and reviews of my clubbing ways, I know.
I am proud terribly sorry to announce that… you have yet to see the end of it.
It wasn’t my intention to hit the club on 2 consecutive days till the last songs spun to a stop. But hell, I blardy did.
No, I am not morphing into a party animal. Maybe that’s because I am already one.
Or maybe, the great reluctance to stay home is getting to me a tad too much. But com’on, it’s the holidays!
And, we seriously did not forsee that we would end up at Attica again on Saturday night.
Really, we didn’t.
So much so that I was in jeans, and a simple top, which was totally unglam for a night of intense partying.
I was in a devastating mood. I didn’t care.
Mr New Zealander was already waiting in his regular pub in Duxton when 2 of us strutted into the pub at 9.30pm.
Apparently, he didn’t receive my earlier message to confirm that we would be meeting up, and that we would reach after 9pm, cos we would be having dinner at Raffles City first.
Alas, he didn’t receive the message at all. It was said that his estranged wife had deleted the message away.
Thankfully, he stayed on in the pub and we were still able to meet him there.
As usual, conversations were never dry with Bruce around, and his witty and acute sense of sarcasm pretty much spiced the evening up.
It was there, where I fixed my eyes on the television with the telecast of the big match, and Bruce and Janice wouldn’t stop rolling their eyes, and they even joked with the staffs, asking how much would it cost to shut all the televisions in the pub.
Horrid pals, I have.
My gaze plastered to the screen, and they contemplated to abandon me in the pub, knowing I wouldn’t leave.
But they didn’t.
So it was games of pool, with Janice dominating the pool table with her beginner’s luck. Somehow, the people playing with her would clear the table, but with the last black ball going in anywhere but the supposed pocket.
Bruce left before we finished the game, and with Janice being forced to continue on the games with new contenders, it was past midnight when she finally finished her last game.
Felt slightly guilty that I was crap company for the night with my attention on the game and little else.
At that point of time, the game was still a gameless draw. Extra time.
How could I leave at such crucial time.
I had bad vibes about their unutilised opportunities.
Then, came the penalty shoot-out, and the soccer klutz stayed back to hold my hands, cheer with me, and ease my tension.
I am thankful babe. It was such a big sacrifice on your part, knowing how you loathe and couldn’t comprehend the game.
Darn, we were the only Manchester United supporters there.
Of course, my eyes were brimming with tears when the moment of truth prevailed.
Disappointment, definitely, but I still love them all the same.
Keep the mean comments to yourself, soccer is sensitive issues, alright.
What I feel irritated was, once when Mr Ex boyfriend messaged me over MSN(just couple of weeks ago), and went on saying spiteful and childish comments, just simply because he detests Manchester United, and the fans.
His justification is that Manchester United fans are people who would sway to other winning clubs, unlike how he and his fellow Reds supporters would always stay faithful.
It’s kinda unfair, really. Most pals of mine are Liverpool supporters, and I do adore Liverpool, too, just that I am not into the politics of soccer. Harmless funny jibes are alright, but not when they get personal.
Okay, I am into good games, that’s all. Manchester United had their fair share of goods and bads, just like any other clubs. I remember the days when Liverpool played good soccer, and I pretty much enjoyed watching them too.
Also, my crush(10 years back), is a Liverpool supporter, too. Muahahahaha.
Anyway, onto the conversation with the ex.
In the past, how he would sulk, and sulk, and sulk when Liverpool loses.
And the shout-into-your-face jibes, which I wasn’t comfortable with.
So, when he messaged me the other day, and said something about ‘I am so sorry that you guys didn’t win anything. I am waiting to see how many of you guys would start to say they are actually Chelsea supporter since X years ago.. no integrity blarblarblar.‘
I could almost see the smirk on his face on the monitor,
‘Then we can have a good laugh into your face when we lift the Champions’ League… yadda yadda…‘
I found it incredibly funny.
I spoke it in a matter-of-factly way with a smile on my face,’Despite spiritually changed, and an obvious change to how you humble yourself for God, some things never changed. You’re still as spiteful when it comes to soccer.‘
Woops.
I still adore Liverpool fans. I have too many of them as my friends, crushes, ex-boyfriends, crushees, buddies.
Perhaps the constant harmless bickers are a turn-on for them. Muahaha.
All the best for Champion’s League!
Woops. Too much soccer talk.
Anyway, with teary-eyes, I took up Janice’s suggestion of ‘Since it’s already past midnight, we might as well stay out and dance the blues away.‘
Not too bad.
We jumped onto the cab, which took us to Clarke Quay, all for 5 bucks.
It would have been more, but we told uncle we had only 5 bucks with us, and he could just drop us anywhere near there once the meter hits 5, and we would walk over.
Apparently, being a very generous Manchester United fan, and seeing how affected I already was, he insisted on sending us right to the gate of Clarke Quay, though with midnight charge, the meter hit 5 bucks when he U-turned from where we were, so we were almost at the same spot when it hit $5.
Reached the club with a sulk, and feeling totally unglam cos I was in a casual top and jeans.
Pouted like a kid, and replies to all ‘How are you doing’ were the standard ‘No good.’
“Io noh molto bene!“
Was entering the club when I realised the red lipstick stain on Roberto’s cheek.
Woops. Wipe it away from his stubby face apologetically, and I silently thought no wonder I lose my lip colour so swiftly these days.
I pretended to ignore Jamail, cos he SMSed earlier to tell me he was rooting for Arse.. nal, but of cos he’s too lovely to ignore.
It wasn’t long before the music perked me up, and we partied the night away again.
I wonder if it was because I was in jeans, and I actually had a French guy coming up to me, and after the usual patronising lies compliments, asked if Janice and I are… *gasp* lesbians.
He insisted on buying us drinks, and we had our first Kamikaze of the night.
Then, a local Malay guy was smiling at me, and I thought he was a friend. Until he joked harmlessly, ‘Just a silly question, can you bring me home tonight?‘ like a little kitten.
Only if you can fit into my handbag, my dear.
A Spanish tried make some conversations, and started showering all the usual blatant lies compliments again.
Then conversation went on like this:
He: Where do you live?
Me: Where do YOU live then?
He: Jurong.
Me: Jurong where?
He: Jurong East.
Me: Jurong East where?
He: XX Condominium.
Me: !!!!!!
Yeah, darn. He stays in the same estate as I do, just couple of blocks away.
Then he suggested that we could go home together.
Yeah, very right. For once, I was quick-witted enough to say that I was heading home with my partner as I was bunking over at hers.
We moved away, and went onto the podium, where no guys would bother us.
While we were taking a break from dancing, we saw Roberto standing near the stairs leading to this private area, just above the dance floor.
He came over to say hi, and then gestured the bouncers to let us up to the private area.
We hesitated, cos it didn’t seem that much fun up there, but we did venture up to see what’s with the place anyway, since Douglas was standing there.
Alvin was the bartender behind the counter, and was pretty much lovely, just like most people from there.
We didn’t stay up at the exclusive private area, cos the people up there seemed pretty, er, weird.
God knows what are they normally up to, up there.
So we stuck to the bar counter, nearest to the stairs throughout the entire time.
Roberto and his friend came up, and bought us a shot each.
And for the first time, I broke away from my usual Kamikaze, and had one shot of Tequila.
With lotsa, lotsa salt. And many dashes of lime juice.
Vile, very vile. Drinking is definitely not my forte. As if you guys don’t know.
It wasn’t long before the lights came on, and I didn’t have the chance to dance it away.
I sat at the cashier counter below at the ground floor, and chatted to Jamail and guys, who were pretty much shocked by my utter scarlet-ness.
I am usually red from drinks, but I was BRIGHT RED, and was a pretty scary sight.
Absolute scarlet.
We started chatting to the auntie at the cashier, and playing with one of the guy’s walkie-talkie.
I took it, on it, and *ahem*: Baaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.. Baahhhhhh -hiccup-(no, just kidding) black sheep… Have you any wool?
Sang it with trembles in my tune.
Then, doraemon’s theme song serenaded the other people around the clubs holding to a walkie-talkie.
I was giggling into the walkie-talkie, and Janice and I did a duet of Bah Bah Black Sheep.
Everyone was laughing and it wasn’t long before someone radio-ed back ‘Shut up lah!’
*giggles*
It was more clowning around, and I maintained that alcohol is evil, however little there was.
Exited from the club and was taken aback by the *cough* majestic sight.
Out there, was a crowd of well-built men in all-black, some donning dark glasses.
Like some triads, or some sort.
The bouncers were getting ready to leave in a group. (So sweet eh! Everyone waited for everyone! *sniggers*)
The goofiness in me acted up, and I told them to walk behind me(since Jan was wearing all black too, and I was wearing my jacket with top and jeans).
I sashayed in front of the pack, and joked I am like some superstar walking out of the airport terminal.
I gave a cocky look, did my dramatic cat walk, and turned to Janice, ‘No interviews, please. No photographs, please.’
Diva!
2 of them flanked me, and making it more convincing.
I turned back and when I saw the entire group of them behind me, for a moment, I was afraid they might just bash me up for being too kooky.
Very grand exit, indeed.
Bade them goodbyes, and laughed ourselves silly over their spontaneity.
Walked to the 7-11 and got ourselves some nice food.
We always sabotaged our diet plans with food, after consoling ourselves how our partying ways should have cut down our fats by much.
Wanna gain weight? Just stick to us.
I got home by cab whereas Miss Posh walked to the MRT station and went public.
I got home looking like a lobster.
***
It was pretty quaint. I sat in front of the television, still reeling from the effects of the alcochol, and whatever was on the television, made me cry.
It wasn’t a sobfest nor intense weeping. Just a flow of tears for that minute. Slow, gentle, lingering tears.
My ducts generating a flow of tears cos it hadn’t been released much these days? Possibly.
Hurhurhur.
***
Woke up and watched a bit of television, before leaving for Raffles City to meet up with the 2 gorgeous ones. Raf and Janice.
Grabbed a quick bite at Burger King, and the 2 bombshells and I were plenty of legs and flesh for the evening.
It’s stressful to hang out with gorgeous pals, I tell you.
We headed down to, where else?
Sadly, on a holiday eve, the crowd was pathetic. PATHETIC.
We chatted at Attica, and met up with Jasmine.
Being really bored, we whored ourselves for the camera, onoce again.
Janice and I in Attica before the place warmed up.
The centre of all attention, Raf, in her sexy dress.
I love it!
When we were in the ladies, this Korean lady doctor came up to Raf, telling her that her companion, a white doctor from America, found her incredibly gorgeous.
We started thinking what if the doctor was a cute one, after I let slip Raf is engaged. Bah. I shouldn’t have said that. I already forgot how cute doctors could be these days, and shouldn’t write him off from the beginning. Muahaha.
We then took a picture of the 3 of us, before we finally abandoned my chocolate martini(which tasted real lethal, I was burning red after just TWO SIPS. My first drink for the night, no less) after some persuasion and proceeded on to Attica Too after a round of Kamikazes.
We were so bored with the place that, we ended up taking a rest on the couch in the courtyard of Attica, and it was rather cool lying down on the couch, 3 ladies, trading scandals, bitching endlessly.
And then while stacking on top of each other, looking totally unglam, I don’t know why the 2 ladies started caressing my thighs, back, and stuffs.
Pretty hot, actually.
Thanks girls. *roll eyes*
I whined how deprived I am of affections, and they should stop rousing me that way.
Deprived, not desperate, my dears.
As Raf was stroking my thigh, with me lying next to her, she joked someone should take a picture of her holding my leg(my leg was hanging on her leg), and titled it ‘Rough Things Raf Ting’ and it might sell like hotcakes.
I concur.
We laughed, we bitched, we joked, we just rested, and I was almost falling asleep. Pretty comfortable that way.
I saw a familiar face, and I thought he might be a friend, whom I have never met in real life.
Somehow, it’s funny how someone would walk past you, and you could feel the vibes he/she was someone you know.
Like how I may walk past some people on the streets, and some people could still recognise me despite only reading my blog, yet never seen me in person.
Quaint oh quaint.
Then, the Korean female doctor came over, and pulled us over to introduce her friend to us.
And the bartenders behind the bar clapped when Raf proceeded over!
The doctor, a certain Mr Zachary, was a dead ringer, for a soccer player.
Guess who?
Guess again?
Hmmm. Answer at the end of the entry.
Our new friend, Dr Jeannie! She’s such a lovely character whom is so easy to love.
She was pretty tipsy and bored with her first trip to Attica, and we brought her and Zachary up to Attica Too instead.
They were really down to earth people, and hopefully will meet up with them more often since they are pretty new to the country.
Despite losing weight, I still wonder why I look so bulky in the pictures.
Grrr…….
It was then Attica Too time.
We danced, we boogied.
Met Lawrence there again, and he introduced his gorgeous pals to us, Karen and Carol, whom we dirty-danced with throughout.
5 girls. Body to body, slithing up and down each other. How hot do you want it to be?
Sadly, the 2 doctors left.
Then, this French guy came over, and offered to buy Raf and I shots. Recognising he is one of the bosses of the club, we kinda went along with it.
We were pretty speechless when we saw the tray of numerous shots brought over by the server, and he offered one to everyone, including his friends who were walking past.
I downed one, and he passed me another, and I downed 2 in a go. Pretty neat feat, considering my alcohol tolerance.
***
For the first time, I had such atrocious questions thrown to me:
-Are you into cocaine? *curse curse swear swear*
-Do you want to come to my Ritz suite, we could watch tv, have drinks together, no sex. (Yah, right)
-We could have a bubblebath together.
-Do you want to leave with me?
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. SHOOOOOOO! GO AWAY!
I shall curse that you will have a rotten dick, soon.
That’s evil. Tsk tsk. I should learn to be kind.
***
Lawrence and his friends are party animals, and was really fun partying with them despite there was hardly any crowd for the night.
Saw David and he introduced some very nice friends of his to us. He said he had seen us downstairs but not up here much of the night. Very nice people who were looking out for us the entire night, and gave me a seat to sit down cos I was getting slightly wobbly.
I took few sips of the whiskey and thought I still love my vodkas. Derrick very nicely took the glass away from me and told me I shouldn’t feel obliged to drink if I didn’t like it.
He then tried to convince me his Chinese isn’t that bad.
Then, someone else joined us, and introduced himself as, er, well, David.
How many Davids are there in my blog these days, you ask.
Not bad. At least no repetitive surnames, and countries.
If I am not wrong, he is one of the shareholders of the club too, and then invited me over to join him at the VIP area, where the table was stacked with drinks, and endless drinks.
No prize for guessing what I requested for.
Orange juice. Whee.
He very nicely suggested we could quote his name the next time we are there. I smiled politely cos I thought that was pretty nice, not that we needed it.
We were chatting briefly and David(the tall and lanky one) came over to join us when David(yeay, I love confusing you guys) asked him over to supposedly, introduce to me.
David then told David, what he had told me earlier, so I wouldn’t have problems coming in in the future. David then responded to David that I already have no problems coming in these days. *sheepish*
I then got Janice to join us as well, and it wasn’t long that pretty much people were sitting down.
Despite not touching any alcohol, I got pretty creative and took the vodka bottle, and poured it neat into a glass, and passed to David. Oh, the tall one.
He scrunched his face when he took a sip from the neat liquid, and joked that much could knock out an elephant too. I would very much want to see how a tipsy elephant would behave.
Anyway he would only drink if I took a sip.
I took a minute sip.
Vile.
He poured into a mixture and downed part of it.
Quite very mean of me.
It was pretty nice chatting to the not-so-tall David, a Korean-American. Topics covered included family, people, and he has a gorgeous, gorgeous, 5 year-old boy.
He was really brilliant to Janice and I without being touchy with us, and we even tried to sabotage Douglas to drink, knowing how bad a drinker he is.
His lawyer friend Ben, a Londoner, was great company too.
I joked about how Londoners have the accent that tickle me. Like a fetish.
They were quite a bunch of funny people. David joked about firing his staffs and I joked about how Jan and I could take over the positions of David and Terry if he ever fires the managers.
Then it was about the rings on my finger, which I took out for them to look at.
My carat could fit tall David’s little finger, amazingly, when he put his hand forward, and I playfully slided it onto his finger.
The Tiffany, birthday present from MDIS classmates. The rock, Christmas present. Oh, and the -cough- 50 dollars watch, birthday present.
It was pretty ‘duh’ when he asked ‘What is that?’ when he saw the Tiff. Apparently, it was on my finger, and it gotta be a ring, no?
Someone then asked if taller David is a Chinese, and he asked in return where does he look like he’s from.
Janice and I then laughed and exclaimed ‘Japanese’.
The others were pretty much bewildered and I tapped on his chin slightly and tilted it to them, and asked ‘Look like Japanese porn star, no?’
Only Janice and I got the drift. David got it too since we last mentioned a friend thought he looks like a Japanese porn star.
The shorter David then mentioned ‘if you received carats for Christmas, I wonder what you receive for your birthday.’
Which cued the lanky one to grab my wrist, and said, ‘See, this is what people got for her birthday.’
*cough*
Ben, Janice, and Ting.
David, Janice, Ting.
Yes, I am absolutely scarlet.
Janice, Ting, and the pole the ultra-skinny Douglas, who weighs as heavy as I do. Great guy there.
Look at his height! And be reminded I was on heels!
Yes, and I shaded away the fat, lardy, humongous arm in the picture. Tell me you didn’t notice.
Hurhurhur. People, meet David, and David.
Just before going off, taller David got us to drink Tequila pop, which I had never tried.
And I drank half, passing the latter half to him. Quite nice, which I didn’t quite expected.
The group of us thought of hitting the dancefloor again, but when the moment we arrived right in the centre, the music stopped abruptly, and the lights came on. Right at 5am.
Well done. What great timing.
We speculated the deejay didn’t like the boss much.
Airkissed the bouncers goodbye, and then bade David goodbye with the usual kiss. Bumped into the service crew and Sean was among them, who came forward for a brief chat.
I spoke a string of incoherant words which I am pretty surprised he understood. Muahaha.
We left for supper at the usual River Valley Road, but the taller one didn’t join us cos he had to do the closing for the night, so it was just Ben, David, Janice and I.
Spicy Mee Goreng, just what I needed.
I am always hungry, darn. Someone should tell me to watch my diet.
David then dropped Ben off, then Janice, before heading to Jurong, which was really nice of him cos it was really a long ride all over Singapore and the day was slowly breaking.
Great conversations on bikes, cars, and sports. This guy knows his stuffs.
He turned out to be a nicer guy than most people made him out to be.
Hardly initimidating and gentlemanly, which is really good. Then again, some guys can be great pretenders, and we would never know, isn’t it?
I mean seriously, how many guys proved to be great disappointments eventually when their masks are ripped off, and true colours shown?
I think I am morphing into a cynical bitch.
It’s nice to make new friends, but I don’t like to make new friends when turnover rates are high.
I don’t know what I am blabbering about, either. But er, well, you get the picture.
Bleah. One day, I am gonna be bashed up by all the male readers for too much guy bashings here.
Got home around 6.45am, and by then, perfectly sober. I stayed up till past noon, occupied with MSN chats, photoediting, blog surfing, emailing of the pictures..
I am pretty much amazed by my stamina, really.
Now, I am craving for MacDonald’s breakfast. *pout*
Anyway, if you haven’t guessed it, Michael Owen lookalike, is Zachary.
Much appreciated.
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