The stirs from the newly-clothed duvet roused me to my first hint of consciousness.

I tossed lightly, and made a vague mental note that he was most probably having a brief moment of knowingness.

It was just split seconds, before I was impaired by sheer fatigue, and was mellowed back to the snoring state I was moments ago.

I doubt it was seconds before my senses started registering the messages the soft touches sent.

In a state of trance, eyes stubbornly shut, I could feel a firm arm scooping me closer, and a snug cuddle ensued.

A trickle of kisses trailed my forehead, nose and lips, as I heard him softly whisper a wisp of ‘Good morning..’.

I pried open the obstinate pair, the right heavier than the left, and took a bare glimpse of the affectionate one.

I couldn’t remember what I saw.

Back to the state of comatose.

I tossed once again, burrowing deeper into the warmth of the duvet and him combined.

I turned my back to him, the usual way I would cling on close to the corner of the bed.

Yet somehow, I tossed again. Perhaps sub-consciously wanting to inch closer for another dose of affections.

I felt watched.

Something within me jolted me awake, and I made an extra effort to part the lids somnolently.

There, lying detached from me some distance away, on 2 stacked pillows, was him, with his lively eyes fixed on me, as if observing the silliness of my sleeping state.

I gasped in absolute horror, and the drowsiness dissipated almost immediately. The rays of the day penetrated in from the window behind him, and were casting the limelight on my ghastly, pale face.

What an awful sight.

He leaned in for yet another morning-greeting kiss. Unusually energetic of him.

I snuggled up close to him as I hid in the solace of his neck, arm wrung round his slender body.

Not sure how long did the cuddle, snuggle, kissy routine went on, before he scurried off to brush his teeth.

A check with the handphone, showed that it was 8.33am.

The last I checked of the time before we both dozed off, was 6.38am.

I had this terrible struggle to open my eyes. My right eye felt extremely tiresome and I gave it a violent rub.

It eased up and I blamed in on the sleep deprivation.

He jumped onto the bed upon returning, and announced how he was unable to fall back to sleep.

I immediately pulled up the duvet to cover half of my face, and would allow my eyes to peek out at him.

Self-consciousness still ruled.

With the sunlight illuminating my flaws, everything became apparent, you see.

Before long, I was totally out of snooze mode, and was equally awake.

Good morning, sweetie, I chirped.

***

Introduction of the day was spent chatting for a few hours, and an action-charged sparring session.

Nothing kinky, alright.

Smacks, kicks, tickles, pinches, wrestles, grabs, grasps, restrains, struggles, throws.

We should be giving wrestling classes.

It was physically draining especially when he was pretty rough except for the time he paused to tenderly sweep off a speck of flecks from my eye.

Or the time I would pout concedingly and call truce with my pleading eyes, baby voice.

Only then, he would plant cheeky smooches to appease me that would sometime lead to more sensual, passionate kisses.

I giggled at the silliness of it, and how I wriggled my way through disadvantaging situations.

The despicable lowlife actually threatened to kidnap my baby pillow home, by stuffing it into his bag.

I swore I would hunt him down at his place and asked his parents for my lovely pillow.

And he further threatened that he would dangle my pillow from the window if I ever did that.

Such…. absurdity.

We even tried messing around with the OSIM ipamper which I had chucked aside since I got it for free.

Free massages! Whee.

We sat in the living room at the end of it, lazing.

Spent from the exhaustion, and the consequences of sleep deprivation.

It was noon, when he set foot out of my place after yet another round of cuddles and smooches.

***

It was a short talk on the phone before I headed back for my newest read.

The lids grew too heavy for me to take, and a 4-hour nap till 6pm followed.

***

How do you define gross misjudgment of character?

I don’t know.

But I am sure there is/was someone in your life who turned out to be the utter opposite of who you thought him/her is.

I have one more to throw into the pile.

SBB.

Did I mention something about him being intelligent and deep? Or that his wits make him engaging?

I think I did. But have no freaking idea why.

Classic quotes from the man. In a single day.

SBB: Hey sweetie, I’m at the petrol kiosk already, you want anything?
Ting: Hmm.. okay, I think I feel like having a croissant from Delifrance.
SBB: Okay, so what do you want to go with it?
Ting: Eh.. I want egg mayonaise then. Thank you sweetie!’
SBB: So.. what bread do you want?
Ting: ???!!!

The bewildered me took 1 second to regain my composure and broke into fits of giggles.

Ting: Ahem. Can I quote that on my blog?
SBB: ……

~”~

A bottle of Biotherm moisturiser sat by my moniter.

I reached out for it and squirted some onto my palm, before applying on his dry arms, and nagged that he should start using by himself before his skin cracks.

He held up the bottle, and studied it with great curiosity.

SBB: Sweetie, how do you cap the bottle?
Ting: *Slightly stunned* Erm, you twist it anticlockwise to open, and cap it, twist it clockwise to close. Er, just like a normal bottle cap?
SBB: Oh.

~”~

We were just walking around my house, looking at the mess scattered around the house and me rattling the significance of those items.

As we approached the sofa to sit down, he walked past the screen seated right in front of the couch, in the centre of the cabinet that held it.

SBB: Is that a television?

I turned to look at him with disbelief.

Obviously it gotta be since it was strategically placed right in front of the sofa, and that there ought to be a television in the hall, and nothing else would remotely resemble one.

My Aquos television suffered an ego-dent when he tried to come back with a lame defense, ‘Well, it looks like a computer flatscreen, and it’s such a small television for the hall, ya know?‘

Try harder, I say.

~”~

SBB: Sweetie, what month is it today?
Ting: August, 29th
SBB: August is 9 right?
SBB: Or is it 8?
Ting: *Confused* Ah?

It took me a while before I realised he meant the month in numeral terms.

Ting: 8. I can’t believe this is coming from you.

Woe is me.

And I thought I am bad. What have I gotten myself into?

I take back what I said about his intelligence previously.

***

Had wanted to blog last night, but was really not up to it despite the nap I had earlier tried to replenish.

FF dropped by last evening for another dinner meetup over at my place.

It perked me up since I had it rough over the weekend, plagued by the evil PMS.

It was yet another night of juicy talk with the PMSsy lady(gee, it’s hard turn now), and I am just so glad I am out of my PMS state.

But then again, only us girls can empathise with that, and we would always be lenient with our girlies cos we could totally apprehend the kind of torment they go through month after month.

Conclusion of the night? PMS is evil.

So is FF.

I tend to eat much more than I usually do when she’s around.

Discussions revolved around the same, old issues. *chuckles*

And we have a new bet! That would due in 2 weeks time.

I am so sure this 2 bucks will be in my pocket.

***

As the good times shared by FF came to a halt in the evening, I decided to make a trip to the clinic.

My pocket was sore after a 56 bucks deficit.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For less than 3 minutes of consultation.

The sting in my right eye was hard to ignore as the area around the entire eye felt the prick as well.

It felt as if someone had punched me in the eye.

Ouch.

I walked into the consultation room, and there sat my Dr Not-Too-Bad. He’s pretty cute, with a hunky build, and speaks in a soft, slow drawl.

Dr: Hi Ting, what’s wrong?
Ting: (In a grumpy, kiddish voice) My right eye is painful but I don’t know why. I think it’s sore eyes.

He did a check with the torchlight, and concluded in a matter of seconds.

Dr: Yeap! You’re down with sore eyes.
Ting: (Despite being the one who had earlier complained of sore eyes…) But it doesn’t look like sore eyes.. No swell, no redness, no difference, ya know? So it can’t be sore eyes.

*Cough* Who’s the doc here now?

Dr: -laughs- But it certainly looks like sore eyes to me.
Ting: (Still wanna get her way) Cannot be what.

The area about my dark eye circle ached, and I rubbed it forcefully.
Dr: Don’t rub!

For a moment, I thought he sounded like he gonna smack my hand.

I pouted slightly like a defiant child, and ceased.

Ting: I didn’t rub what.
Dr: You just did!
Ting: -eyes shifty- I never, hehe.
Dr: I will prescribe you with 2 eyedrops. One for the infection cos you were rubbing your eyes just now.
Ting: But I didn’t rub!
Dr: Yes you did! I saw you doing it!
Ting: I never.
Dr: You did it just now right before me.
Ting: No what. No have.. You see wrongly la. Must be. -sheepish laughs-

And yeap, that 3 minute banter costs me $56 cos I had gotten some pills for my gastric as well.

I forgot to mention to him I had a sore throat too.

Throat is pretty sore. Not sure why, but I guessed I had swallowed something too hard the night before.

I had an ulcer on my gum, and it’s darn sore too, after I had brushed my teeth a tad too hard and the toothbrush hit the gums.

And I shall not mention how my muscles are all aching after the chores, push-ups, sit-ups, and random exercises I had tried resorting to to fill up my mundane Sunday.

Speaking of Sunday, it was chore after chore, and a treat to a great game on the cable’s sports channel.

I tried exercising and realised my stamina had taken a great dip from my peak.

I could hardly manage the sit-ups and push-ups which I could muster with great ease in the past.

Gee. Such weakling.

Thighs, neck, shoulders, back, lower back, arms, calves, butt… everywhere’s aching.

So sore.

Worst part?

Doc says no to contact lens for the next 2 weeks.

*UTTER ABHORRENCE*

How can?

But I no longer feel the itch, pain now. I don’t have swells nor redness, so it should be alright, no?

Ah, heck it.

I am meeting the darlings tomorrow and I want to look good.

*Wails*

***

I retreated pretty early last night.

Around 3ish?

I couldn’t read and struggled to blog with my eye growing increasingly painful. It didn’t prick as much prior to the administering of eyedrops, ya know?

I slept on with great comfort, and it was noon time when I finally greeted the day.

Shortly after I washed up, SBB called, and it was another couple of hours on the phone which took my blogging time away.

I shall sneak back to blogging for a while whilst munching on pastries and chocolate, which would make my lunch today.

***

Whee. Rossi is getting really invincible on the track, doesn’t he?

I can’t wait.

It’s less than 4 weeks to go, and I am bursting with excitement.

And, back to the field, I am so freaking exhilarated to see my team getting back on form with the impeccable teaming of the Rs.

Glory, glory. Yippee.

Now I feel like kicking some balls.

And yes, I mean donning my soccer shoes for some running around the street-soccer court.

Any kind souls who wouldn’t mind my clumsiness and willing to coach, please leave a message.

***

Dad brought me out for dinner on Sunday evening.

Cold Soba, he likes.

And I shopped round for new bedsheets, which I eagerly clothed my duvet and bed into once I got home.

It was a quaint night spent with dad.

I was incredibly hyperactive throughout the day, but I mellowed with dad’s presence.

I suddenly felt a hue of dejection overwhelming me as I saw his aging looks.

We spoke about life, and his retirement plans.

He has no plans of doing so, cos he is afraid of being ostracised by the society, and slowly pushed to a corner of the forgotten elderly.

I looked at him, and my eyes were moist.

I love you daddy, I failed to say.

***

Know what is karma?

That is to laugh at people’s rocketing phone bill, and mock at their streak of bad luck to realise…

The numerals on your phone bill spelt ‘$226.56‘.

Which is much more obscene than your pal’s.

And my previous bill was tagged 60 bucks only you know?!?!

And I have free-incoming and free 700 minutes, you know that?!

I browsed through the 3-paged bill, and I realised why.

I spent a great deal of time back in JB last month, remember?

Ah, that explains.

Each SMS costs me 60 cents.

And, one distinct number shone through in the bill.

That one call that lasted more than an hour.

ONE FREAKING CALL FOR $50!!!

And the number didn’t appear once, but a few times.

*Ting glares menacingly at SBB*

The other numbers included were Vamp’s home number, handphone number and a few random numbers of my financial planner and such.

I don’t dare to check the Malaysia’s home bill for the phone call that lasted 7 and half hours…

I am gonna avoid meeting my parents at all costs for the next few days.

*SHEEPISH*

***

The roars from the familiar engine ceased, and as usual, the rider looked darn good in white.

I thought PMS had made be grown distantly detached from the figure right before me.

I flashed a smile, and gave a crisp, perked up ‘Hello.’

He swept me into his arms as he swaggered towards me, and I threw mine around his neck.

Quick peck on the lips, and a snug hug ensued.

I clutched onto him a tad tighter, and I felt the sturdy arms round my back constricted as I buried my face into the side of his neck.

Something ignited with that cuddle.

We allowed the embrace to linger for a brief moment longer than it should, and the grip took another contraction before we let go and smiled at each other.

We stood around at the corridor outside my doorway, near the lift landing, devouring the pastry and sandwich from Delifrance.

We decided it was a weak idea to be munching in my room cos my clumsiness would mean a mess would be cooked.

We grabbed our drinks from my desk, and ventured out to the open area, where he could have a fag or two.

The very same lift landing, that housed the parapet where one of the most dramatic moments of my life ever took place.

I graced him the details to my momentary hysteria that changed the events of my life, greatly.

I tried to sound light-hearted and detched from that surreal event, but I knew I was slightly traumatised within.

And I rattled on the hilarious events that followed thereafter.

As much as it was bizarre, it became something that fostered the relationship between me and my parents.

And come to think of it, it was partly PMS-triggered.

PMS is evil.

We fed each other our share of food, and stood around, though my mind was monopolised by the thoughts of the past event, which perhaps had scarred me in more ways than one.

I felt a cuddle from the back, as I stood around the area where everything once happened, and chuckled at that snippet of my memory.

I am strong, I told myself silently.

Not brittle, I insisted on my mental note.

He took a last drag from his last fag, and I pulled him close for a taste of his tongue, before going back into the house.

Man, this is getting addictive.

Known as PMS.

No, it’s not another coded name for a new guy in my life.

Not Pre-Marital Sex either.

It’s Pre-Menstrual Symptoms.

Yay.

I can’t say how glad I am that I am finally bleeding.

Not that I enjoy leakages and having something wedge between my you-know-where.

But yeah, I can list 1001 things on why I am glad that my monthly hassle is finally here.

Cast that dirty thought out of your evil mind, pregnancy is not included in the ‘1000 things’.

In the first place, there’s remotely, or rather, no chance that I would be.

But, after being tormented by the fatigue PMS brought along for the past few days, I heave a loud sigh of great relief when I woke up today feeling charged, energised, and fresh.

I even contemplated to go jogging cos of the spare zest, but I didn’t think jogging with something bloody wedged between is a joy.

You have no idea what kind of monster PMS can turn me into.

And I really am awed by how this incredibly powerful thing called hormones can be more lethal than any weapons of mass destruction.

Wanna conquer the world? Saddam should look no further.

Lock an army of PMSing ladies together with the jerks and bitches they loathe, and within minutes, the entire galaxy will be his.

That is, if he could survive the blast as well.

I would morph into an absolute devil, barely with any hint of my usual self.

Snappish, easily agitated, extremely anti-social, grouchy until cannot grouchy(what a sentence structure), exceptionally whinny, heavy display of koala bear syndrome, perpetually angry with myself, a constant urge to bawl and feeling suicidal over the puniest thoughts.

I would stab anyone who comes within 2m of my radius with my piercing stares.

Bottomline?

An utter bitch.

Remedy?

Cuddles and given the grace to sulk. Endlessly, I might add.

Then, I would crumble into this needy baby, and just wanna snuggle up to some sense of affections.

My body is very sensitive to the hormonal change.

The constant fatigue would finally cease when I start to bleed.

I was almost dozing off when I was out last night, and I was spaced out most of the night when anyone tried to make a conversation with me.

I looked at this girl whom I just got newly acquainted like a hurt puppy, and whimpered, ‘I’ve got PMS… and am extremely drained and exhausted.‘ while she listened empathetically after asking if I was bored.

*PUUURRRRRRRRRRRR*

I punched my fist into the air victoriously when I got home past midnight yesterday to realise the time had came.

Thus, I feel as if I regain my zeal today.

I scurried around the house in full zest today, sweeping the long forgotten laundry off the floor, into the washing machine.

I skipped into the spare room which is obscenely littered with my clothes and scoured through them to rescue them out of the mess, before delicately folded them into neat rectangles.

Tops here, casuals there, jeans here, pants there, dresses on the hangers, panties here, bras there, skirts here, school uniforms for kinky keepsake purposes there…

Whee.

In the midst of it, I found stuffs that welcomed flashbacks from the past. Things that I would rather not remember.

Ouch.

I am glad I chance upon them after my PMS, and not entangled in the midst of it.

Or else who knows the hells it would unleash.

I whistled as I paired up the shoes and put them side by side.

I hummed some happy tunes as I dug into the twisted pile of damp laundry, spreaded them across the poles and watched them dance to the breeze.

The bright colours that adorned the poles perked me up.

Reds, pinks and all the girlie shades.

I never knew I was THAT girlie.

I even decided I shall blog!

I resolved to finish my new read by today.

Yippee.

I drew up a list of how I should systematically spread the chores over these 2 days.

Handwashing tomorrow. Scrub bathtub/sinks/toilet bowl and bathroom floor. Vacuum cleaning and mopping tomorrow. Light wash tomorrow!

Ironing.

I might not be able to wait and ended up doing them later.

Such push doesn’t come easily, you know?

Oh, and I can finally wash my freshly tinted hair later, and return to my usual curls.

How exciting.

I even felt upbeat enough to take a walk in the cheery sunny day, to the coffeeshop for lunch.

I was litted up by the fact that I no longer crave for lard-infested Char Kuey Tiao, but wheat biscuits.

See! Having menstruation finally means no sinful cravings, that would derive you into a bawling state cos of the immense guilt from obscene indulgence.

And! Best part? I looked into the mirror and thought I lost 5 kg from yesterday cos the water retention and bloatedness sept away with the blood.

Whee!

I thought I was fat, but I have an excuse.

PMS was the culprit.

Don’t tell me I am deluded, cos I know I still am quite a bit from my ideal weight.

Dammit.

And my complexion finally cleared up!

Yay.

And my favourite perfumes no longer nauseate me.

And! Throw me any jibe right now and I could retaliate without spacing out and making a bimbo out of myself cos of the slackened wits.

Oh oh oh. Did I mention how I slumped into bed at 2.30am yesterday and I managed to sleep on without coldsweating and feeling all uncomfortable?

Erm well, SBB did call at 4 plus and 5 plus, and Vamp called at almost 6 for a short call.

Yet, I was very alert and not feeling tired.

And! I could easily drift back into snoozeland after they hung up.

Such a bliss when I could sleep so comfortable without all the edginess PMS brings.

I woke at 12 plus today. Body clock is back to normal. All’s good, isn’t it?

Bleeding is good.

I sound like I am high on drugs or something. Gee.

Well, that’s the vast difference.

And considering that this is one of the mildest PMS streak I had in a long while, minus the backaches, swollen boobs, crying spells and prolonged moodiness(the moody part only lasted half of Friday!), I had it easier this month.

Just that all of the above were traded for extreme fatigue and I was spacing out for a good half of the week wherever I go.

The exhaustion was doubled.

Yet, quality sleep was deprived cos too much discomfort felt.

Such annoyance.

Now that it’s finally here, I could move on to some things on the agenda which I had delayed for the longest time.

Like the ‘appointment’ I set with Vamp.

Like getting myself started on some daily routine.

Like going for my gynae checkup which I had delayed and missed 4 times for the past 2 years.

For all I know, I might be getting cancer without even knowing it. Muahahaha.

The thought of going for the checkup scares me. *Shudder*

It is just something psychological I can’t seem to get over.

Maybe I will go next month, next year, next millenium or something.

Ah well.

***

Someone tried hacking into my blog account.

I hope your genital is rotting, face infested with zits, body accumulating with excess lard, and your armpit hair will grow to a feet long.

***

I graced almost every corner of Singapore on a frustrating Friday.

Woke up to a blur, still feeling very much drained and sulkish.

It was one of those days I want to go to nowhere but stay under my duvet.

I got ready, packed my stuffs, before heading out of the door at late 3 in the afternoon.

It was something I couldn’t miss.

Had wanted to drop by Parkway Parade, and realised there is a direct bus from Jurong East to my destination.

Wrong move.

I took a bus to transit to 197 at the library.

15 minutes of wait didn’t kill me.

I read my book.

Spoke to SBB briefly on the bus, and I thought it would eat up enough time for the ride.

How wrong I was.

What I wasn’t prepared was the darn blardy long bus ride that took up 1 and half hour.

When I alighted, I thought I reached KL or something.

I mean, hello? A flight to KL would take only 45 minutes with more comfortable seats and snacks included okay?!

My legs nearly buckled underneath when I finally strolled onto the streets.

To fit into the theme of ‘PINK’, I was as pink as one could be.

Pink shirt with a pink camisole underneath. Pink bra. Pink minis.

With my dyed, straight hair, I feel like a Lian princess.

SBB tried to speak to me in Hokkien, and doubted my ability in Hokkien sprouting.

As much as he was laughing throughout, I did think I fare pretty well when I spoke Hokkien with my own unique accent.

That’s called individuality, alright?

I actually managed some decent sentences besides the fanciful nouns with nothing but references to genitals.

Parkway Parade brought back incessant memories of my childhood.

Going to Parkway Parade was a joy.

Whenever dad could squeeze me into his busy routine, going to Parkway Parade was a treat, since it was an obscene distance from Taman Jurong.

Of course, the countless disappointments from unfulfilled treats scarred me as a child.

When he was free, my instant reply to his ‘Where do you want to go?’ would be ‘Parkway Parade’.

The bare quality time I had with them, was there.

Bliss. No fights. No beatings.

It was there, where I felt I had a knitted family.

I remember how once I stubbornly wanted to go to Parkway Parade instead of those night fairs that I threw a tantrum despite it was dad’s intention to enjoy those park rides with me.

We didn’t even venture past the ticket booth, cos I was vastly disappointed that I didn’t get to Parkway Parade as promised.

I went home, and got a beating from dad.

I could remember the number of times my dad ever laid hands on me. They could be counted on my fingers.

That, was one of the rare moments.

As I grew up, I slowly regret not going into the fair with my parents, cos it would mean a whole new memory into the data bank, which I could look back and reminisce a different experience with the folks.

Another once, I was injured after falling off the bicycle. The wound was quite bad, and a huge area of scab was forming.

I still insisted on going to Parkway Parade with my healing wound.

When I fell down as a kid, I used to get a beating from my mum for my clumsiness.

Since I was, and very much am a clumsy person, I would not cry after I fall, cos all the crying would be left for the smacking that followed.

It was a lot of fear when I fell as a kid, which never went away.

I remember I did not get a beating from my mum after falling off my red bicycle, which came a surprise.

Perhaps so, I have very vivid memory of that fall, cos my fear was redundant.

But what happened was, I was diving into the sea of colourful plastic balls at Parkway Parade, when something happened, and my big chunk of scab fell off.

I left the place, turning pieces after pieces of tissues scarlet.

I went home, and got caned pretty badly.

Ah. Memories.

And so, I was saying, Parkway Parade.

It went through a major change.

I think I only been there twice or thrice since I was a kid.

I scurried round the mall for a gift, and finally settled for a tiara, and 2 fairytale story books — the known Disney princesses - Snow White and er… I can’t remember who, but that she was donning a pink gown.

Pink gown reminds me of her.

It was Faith’s 21st birthday chalet, and as usual, I am not good with gifts.

To me, she’s always a fragile lady putting on a strong front.

Perhaps that’s why, she’s always wanting to be a princess, cos all she wants, is to live happily ever after.

Which girl doesn’t want that?

Just that our ambition to be a princess is always tainted by the harsh reality, and became an outlet for a fantasy world.

My dear, I do wish you would find your deserving happily ever after ending.

Just thought the tiara would be sufficient enough to realise her dream of becoming a princess, and that the irony of giving her fairytales books(which are aptly sub-named ‘Friendships of the Fairies‘ and ‘Friends you can count on‘ ) meant that she doesn’t need to give up on her dreams simply because she has reached adulthood.

Happy 21st, and the years forth.

***

I strutted out of the mall, and asked for directions from the kind Old Chang Kee auntie who pointed me towards the direction of the underpass to East Coast.

I found the underpass with relative ease, and East Coast was a mere 5 minutes walk away.

Cool.

I enjoyed the dimming blue of the sky, and the enthusiastic breeze that greeted me as I exited from the other side of the road.

The buzz, the laughters, the Siberian husky jogging with its owner, the youths gathered, men with bulging musles in tiny shorts jogging(-whistles-), pretty boys blading, and families cycling.

Wheee. I like.

If I wasn’t in my slippers, I would be breaking into short sprints to jog my way down to the chalet.

If I wasn’t in my skirt, I would be heading straight into one of the shops to rent a bicycle to immerse myself into such laid back evening.

I walked, and walked.

I saw an empty bench, and sat down to enjoy the mesmerising atmosphere, slowing my pace, enjoying the relaxing breeze.

I adore park life, but it was too much a distance for me to cover to get there.

The dimmed blue darkened to a light shade of grey.

The chalet was still not in sight.

I didn’t know how far it was, until I finally got to the chalet.

And?

The chalet nearest to me was the last few chalets, when her chalet was A, furthest from where I was.

Blardy hell.

35 minutes by foot alright?!

And there was barely any hint of daylight when I reached.

So, an hour and half of bus ride plus 35 mins by foot, I think I could almost reach Thailand.

Surprisingly, I did not sweat a single drop like what someone had predicted.

‘Actually it’s within walkable distance, just that by the time you get there, you’ll be covered in nothing but sweat.‘

I spaced out most of the time cos the tired bug was slowly seeping in.

Then, the horror came.

Dad called to say he is in Malacca, so I had to make plans to endorse my passport by myself.

And, since I didn’t expect that, I only had 30 bucks with me to last till he comes back.

If I have to make my way back to Malaysia by myself, I would sure have to take a midnight cab back to Jurong, which would cost 15 bucks.

So, taking a cab to the causeway would be too much a luxury to handle.

And how the hell am I gonna get out of East Coast, to get to Woodlands?

Just then, my handphone was threatening to space out cos I forgot to feed it electricity.

And my bout of PMS was threatening to put me to sleep right there and then. Had wanted to sleep there, but decided not to.

I feel nauseated when I saw food. Unwell. Sickly.

I didn’t feel like speaking to anyone.

I finally tried breaking the ice since the girlies are all very fabulous characters.

I pulled through till the cake cutting(oh my, the cake is simply delicious but is hellava expensive cake), before one of her very kind friends, Alvin, offered to drop me off at the nearest MRT station.

I took up the offer.

But Alvin went the extra mile.

He knew I was pretty rushed and that I didn’t have enough cash on me.

Thus, he offered to share the cab to where he stays, and then I would continue on the journey to Woodlands with him paying for the full fare.

I was taken aback by the nice gesture and refused. He insisted.

Being in a rather desperate situation and feeling extremely unwell, I swallowed my pride and promised I would buy him a drink the next time round.

He’s one of those rare people who are genuinely nice, and do things without asking anything in return.

Nowadays, nice people I met are all cab-related.

Really, really heartfelt thanks to the darling.

***

I reached the checkpoint just in time, feeling absolutely lethargic. The fare of $21 pretty much explains why I was car-sick.

East to north. And west beckoned.

I made my way home after endorsing my passport, and it was a bus ride to Kranji MRT, a train ride to Jurong East MRT, and the maroon hue of the sky plus its howling wind scrapped the plans of me walking home.

I hopped on a cab for a short ride, feeling the pinch.

Wise move. The windscreen was slowly spotted with dots of droplets.

I heaved a sigh of relief when I finally stepped into the wrap of my home, ending the day.

Raf tried enticing me to Zouk where Feroz had a really cute pal in tow.

The babe even went as far as offering to pay for my cover to get me down to boogie with her.

Was darn tempted to as the boogie cells in me beckoned, but the fact that I might be stranded there and not able to afford a cab ride back put me off and I had to disappoint the darling.

*Sulk*

That is what happened when I didn’t check my bank account and splurge on a hairjob and senseless shopping.

*Double sulk*

So, another day of home-bound activities today.

Yeap.

Excuse me now, while I head straight to the waiting hoover.

Warning: Parental Guidance *cough* advised. If you might get offended, skip this, rather than bitch about the contents in your tiny, sad world.

I am tired.

I am so tired.

I am so freaking tired.

Despite sleeping for a fulfilling 12 hours for Tuesday, and almost 10 last night.

I swear it’s the PMS(Sheesh, thiis month, it doesn’t come with boobs).

I float around like a zombie, I feel lethargic all the time, my usually *ahem* swift wits slow down to a crawl, my appetite is unusually huge, and my favourite scents become unbearably nauseating.

And I shall not mention the erratic mood swings that make me the most anti-social creature around. *Grrr…*

Thus, there’s barely any zealous grey matter left for any pulse-accelerating entry.

Therefore, I indulged in some quiet time with myself, reading, surfing, emailing, watching CSI, and just lazing under the duvet, sulking away.

So, the entry was delayed, and delayed.

I have been too inconsistent with my updates, I know.

So, how should I start?

Ah well.

Am pretty upset that my Bubblemunche Hisreason left blogosphere again.

Please come back soon, alright? *hug*

Tuesday was an interesting day.

The 4 male-sluts wannabes had an scintillating meet-up arranged at 7pm.

But of course, when you meet up with a bunch of girls, it’s naturally that 7pm would inevitably become 7.30pm.

I would claim partial responsibility for being 7 minutes late cos SBB called when I was changing.

Brief chat.

‘Hey sweetie, can I call you back in 10 minutes time when I’m leaving?‘

In the most sickening endearing babyish-voice, he spoke like a child wanting his way, ‘No! Cannot. You must talk to me.‘

‘Hahaha, okay, but another 10 minutes only okay?‘

Ooooooooops.

That was why I was late in meeting Finicky Feline at Jurong East MRT. Supposed meeting time was 6.30pm.

*Sheepish smile*

We waited for VampTreSS right outside Swissotel, at the taxi stand.

She was supposed to pick us up by cab before heading down to Millenia Walk to meet Jane Doe.

It was yet another wait, and it was no surprise we were late to meet Jane Doe.

The biggest sacrifice the girls made, was to endure the sight of my naked face through the night. I even threw the thought of putting on concealer out of my head cos I was too lazy.

Waking up at 7am in the morning proved to be a bitch.

I could feel the drowsiness kicking in when I was at Millenia Walk, even before we moved off from there for dinner.

No one could suggest a brilliant place for dinner, and no one was decisive enough to make any plans.

Hence, Jane Doe ended up driving around aimlessly, and before we knew it, she hit up ECP, and we found ourselves in East Coast, Siglap area.

Still clueless over what we should be having, we drove in, and out of Cafe Cartel carpark, and drove on.

No one made any decisions.

I guess, we are just too used to letting guys do the planning for us.

Yes, I am one of those ladies who will let the guys do the decision-makings unless PMS takes over.

You see, guys are the ones who navigate around, and would have a more precise idea on where they wanna park, what budget they have, or whatever that’s more convenient to them, no?

Anyway, it was then, she announced that we would head to Changi Airport instead.

*Gasp in horror*

Miss Ting stays in Jurong, ya know?

I always thought they should have an internal flight from Changi to where I stay.

I love it there, but it’s blardy out of the way for me.

FF the genius thought of Changi Village, and finally, a goal was set for our destination.

Off we went.

I stared out of the window most of the time, with my mind wandered off elsewhere.

I was just too exhausted by the day’s event that it was hard to get my mind together.

It was on ECP that the conversation between the lasses warmed the night up, and we engaged in some really quality and exhilarating topics.

Erm, topics that could keep the space-out princess awake.

Like JaneDoe said, we should have had a podcast. The juicy, tender, spicy, kinky, silly talks would sure catapult us into super stardom.

The media companies should get us onto some talk shows or something and have a program of our own.

It almost felt like a scene out of Sex and the City.

In Vamp’s words, that was one of the most liberating talks we had in a long, long while.

It was in that Nissan sedan, where we realised, we are all aliens.

I felt like a freak.

I felt like a laughing stock.

Let’s take a look on what JaneDoe had blogged about:

Well… some of things we talked about. Out loud.

1. Rimming
2. Spooning.
3. Ass Fcuking.
4. Searching for your own G-spot.(As one of the ladies said… ” its the size of a pea)
5. Can’t understand how can one not cum by stimulating the clit, with a vibrator even.
6. There are always a couple of fakers amongst us.
7. We have done the office toilet ritual.
8. Bad experiences. OMM and tiny / thin / flaccid / short etc…

Yes, since I had admitted elsewhere that vibrator does no miracles on me, I shall admit I am alien specimen A who fulfilled point 5 — vibrator is redundant on me.

And erm yeah, I know how rare it is amongst females for that…

Alien specimen B, is *cough* pealess.

That’s all I am allowed to say.

The talk was later adjourned to the dinner table at Changi Village, Charlie’s.

The lightings and the cold, chilly night was putting me into hibernation mode.

I swear my eyelids weighed a ton each, and I was slowly dozing off at the table.

I was spacing out, unable to catch up with their topics, until…..

The juicy, and heated parts came up, again.

I sobered up almost instantaneously, and it’s no wonder they said I have slut-blood running in each and every vein within me.

To keep me awake, the night was filled with sleaze educational talks.

As dinner came to an end, Janice called for a short talk on the phone, and the poor girl was down with some ailments, when she was supposed to be joining us for the night.

Get well soon babe, and go easy on the alcohol.

Before I knew it, we were all ferried to Jalan Kayu for drinks, and continued on our hormone-charged talks over there, before dispersing home from there.

I started to space out really swiftly, and my speech was slurred and slow, just like the previous time I met up with the 3 of them for the bowling session.

(Yes, the bowling session where FF set a bet that SBB and I would smooch a week thereforth)

Delirious state, I was in.

I managed to lust last through the night with the fabulous company, and I have learnt things I never knew.

Like, say, face-into-pillow, eyes 3/4 shut, eyeballs rolled back, dug nails into the back, bedsheets-grabbing, high-pitch moan and does a quick glance at the television to keep yourself entertained while claiming the title to academy award’s best actress.

Muahahahahaha.

The classic look on JD’s face while she did a demostration, was priceless.

And gossips about a pretty famous local actor, Mr er, NoFear.

Told ya it was interesting.

Let’s see.

A recap of a number of things she mentioned.

Rimming. I still have no freaking idea what it is, cos I was spaced out, and could possibly miss it.

Tsk. Next time I MUST pay full attention.

Spooning. If I am not wrong, I was the one who had the topic started.

Hmmmmmm….. I like.

Ass-shag…. As proud as JD is, I can still proudly declare I am an ass-virgin too.

Muahahaha.

Searching for your own G. I have never tried so. Maybe cos I don’t need to.

As for point 5. Vibrator-does-no-wonders. Yes, I can’t say I am an alien enough.

That’s why I don’t even see much need for DIYs(thus, I don’t) and could survive O-less for the entire celibated period.

It seems almost impossible to people around me to believe I survived more than 16 months, with erotic stories and visually stimulating clips failed to rouse me.

Am I still human?

Hurhurhur.

Then again, not able to climax through that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it.

Adore it. Especially with the help of a probing tongue.

I don’t know who’s worse? Pealess woman or vibrator-is-useless me?

At least she has an easier task to solve. I need more to be satisfied, ya know?

And I could never be like her.

7?!

*Green-eyed*

Credits to the one who gave me 5 at one go. Shortchanged him one for that session though.

Hurhurhur.

For that I shall be nice for once and not mention his OMM’s past. For once.

Fakers. Never was one. But now that I learnt the tricks and facial expressions needed to make it a convincing show…..

Hmm.. the voice control, the falsettos. *ahem*

Office toilet ritual? My ‘handicap‘ made it impossible. *sulk*

Bad experiences? OMMism? Hurhurhur.

I have my share, you know?

Especially dealing with OMMs. (Karma ah, karma)

I thought it was hilarious when one told of this incident involving measuring tape, length, shape and circumference.

Stamina, or the lack of.

Erm, what about reading a book while the deed takes place?

And the talks of SBB, GCB, SB, GSB, and other Bs.

They should be so very worried.

And, we talked about visits to the gynaecologist.

To all ladies out there, whether you are sexually active or not, do make a trip to the gynae for a pap smear.

I think there were even mentions of….

Just take it that I can’t remember.

And yes, all these in open area, unabashed, loud, not whispering and with tables filled with males around us.

In JD’s words: We continued immersing into our conversation (only way to keep that woman awake) giggling , blushing and mouth covering and eyes-wide open scenarios a-plenty.

***

I mentioned how I first watch the initial 2 episodes of Sex and the City back in London in 1999.

That’s it.

All the ladies gasped in surprise that I could miss such a great show.

As they launched into a talk of how the characters are like, I could almost imagine the 4 of us starring in a local version of the cult drama.

Though there were no distinction of who should take the part of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda, we all seem like a combination of all.

The silly me ended up trying to read up on the characters information after FF had mentioned that I seem to be a cross of Carrie and Samantha(*curse curse swear swear* Do I seem like a nympho to you?!), and Vamp thought I reminded her of Charlotte cos of my *cough* innocence.

Innocence, yes, I have.

Sometimes, I still struggle with finding myself, cos I have such conflicting traits in me that I could hardly deal with.

I had tried to fit them into the bare information I had read about, which might not be apt at all, and decided if I really have to come up with something…

JaneDoe would be Miranda. The crisp sense of sharp humour? Somehow, just so.
FF would be Charlotte. Must be the innocent, porn-star looks.
Vamp would be Samantha. Why do you think we wanna get dildo/vibrator for her birthday?

Ting shall be Carrie!

Simply because, I happened to read this quote:

Carrie: I’m not going to replace a man with some battery-operated device.
Miranda: You haven’t met ‘The Rabbit.’
Samantha: Oh come on, if you’re going to get a vibrator, at least get one called ‘The Horse.’

*Cough*

Girls, we shall do that again some time soon.

I promise I will nap enough to energise the night instead of spacing out time and again. *Flashes saccharine grin*

Maybe I shall bring a video camera or something.

***

I was pretty amused when FF suggested that I might one day succumb to a lesbian relationship.

Gee baby, how did I give you such vibes?

I seriously would shudder at the thought of making out with a lady as much as I appreciate the female species.

***

It was past midnight when the girls finally decided to call it a night.

VampTreSS and I adjourned to the prata shop nearby for more food and drink.

We indulged in more explicit talks.

It was pretty late by the time the night ended. She left for home in a cab.

I met up with SBB somewhere near his place thereafter.

***

The veil of mist dazed the night.

His gaze pierced the sheer fog, into the emptiness before.

The sharp, frigid air froze me a little.

It was a chilly night.

It was exceptionally icy.

I wasn’t sure if my exhaustion, or his cluttered mind had added on to the already freezing night.

He was evidently drained. Bugged by the difficulties at work too.

I tried to read if it was dejection, or fatigue that was written on his furrowed brows. Futile attempt.

A harsh day it had been for him, it seemed.

His thoughts wandered faraway.

I stayed silent.

Somehow, I always feel affected by people around. Am not sure if it is a gift, or curse.

His hand reached for mine, and provided some solace for the night.

We couldn’t warm each other’s hand, simply because our hands were gloved by a layer of iciness.

My fingers clenched a tad tighter, fully aware that there were limited things I could do to help, make things better, or even just to provide a little warmth.

‘Are you affected too?‘

Was pretty taken aback by the sudden question, and I giggled awkwardly as a response.

‘You don’t have to be..‘ he offered some form of assurance as he patted my thigh, stroking it a little.

I mustered a smile in return.

Chin up, sweets. Was just pretty worried for ya, that’s all.

***

We parted goodbye with a comforting, snug embrace, as I felt his arm snaking round my waist.

A quick kiss was pressed to round the night as the cab came to a halt.

That was the bare minimal comfort I could offer for a dear pal.

***

The ride home was easy.

SBB called to tide the ride over.

He sounded livelier.

The little doofus forgot to check with the cab driver if he accepts credit/debit card payment, and I just assumed he does simply cos of the signs on the window panel.

Apparently, his machine was down, and couldn’t accept my card.

I certainly didn’t have enough on me to afford the 20-odd bucks of cab fare.

My sweet cab driver #3 for the week actually apologised to me, instead of throwing insults at me for not checking with him.

Eventually, the panic me gave a look of helplessness, and he just asked for whatever I had on me.

I only had a $10 bill and $2 note.

I felt terribly awful that I was shortchanging such a sweetie.

I dug further and managed to locate lose coins that top up to another few bucks.

I emptied my bag for the last coin so I could give him whatever I could find.

God bless that kind soul.

***

Continued on the talk with SBB over the phone till it was time I should hit the showers.

I concussed straight after that.

I was THAT tired.

***

A home-bound Wednesday did good to me.

Recuperating, and reading my new read.

I have 3 books to finish, and Philip is pretty eager to lend me yet another.

Woops.

With the snail rate I am reading, I might not finish them anytime soon.

Apparently, I was told Philip’s mates are pretty nosey concerned with the recent development of my life.

Aww.. aren’t they sweet.

Kenneth had pressed for SBB’s identity, and if he is good-looking or such. And that if he’s a biker, he should be someone the group knows.

Michael then added on to the gossip on how I had been meeting rich guys over the past months.

*Cough*

I not that mercenary, okay?

And, if what they say are of important factors, isn’t all that a tad shallow?

Oh yah, I am a bimbo, I should be shallow. *giggles*

What about a good heart, and a nice, soft side?

What about if I am happy or not?

What about if I had ‘upgraded’ somehow compared to the past?

Muahahaha.

Joke, okay, joke.

The day passed easily with scattered phone calls in between, filling up the day.

Whatever happened to the long phone calls, you ask?

Told ya someone is gonna get bored of me, sooner or later.

And yesh, I said that one week ago, didn’t I?

Muahahaha.

***

I woke up at 10 plus today after only 6 hours of sleep. SBB called for a brief chat, before I slipped back into snooze mode at 11 plus.

Woke up around 3ish, and it was yet another brief chat with him, while I was getting ready to leave the house.

Since the phone might get cut off, I scurried down the dark, desserted stairways instead of taking the lift.

Time for me to get into the groove of having some exercises.

I exited from where the rubbish chute is, and the nosey one over the phone probed, ‘So, does the recycling bin reminded you of how SBM nearly threw you into it?’

Hmm, yeah, it does, you know. *wink*

The cab stopped at Vamp’s carpark, as I waited for her at her pool.

It was sweet cab driver #4 for me as he realised I didn’t have any coins, so he waived the 60 cents to make it a whole number instead of giving me change.

Whee!

What’s with the cab drivers these days?

They are all so nice!

***

SBB’s bike could be heard from a distance, and the lean figure became visible.

He swerved into the premises which he had sent me to before, and dismounted from the whimpering machine after he had shut it up with a twist of the key.

He passed the plastic bag with 2 bottles of drinks within, and we set it down next to the deckchairs.

A full-on wet snog followed briskly. Eager, and passionate.

She whipped out her camera, and set the modes, fidgeting around with it.

He pulled me up from the deck chair, which I had spreaded comfortably across, and flashed me a mischievous smile I could recognise, yet pretended not to.

‘Vamp, can I borrow her for a moment? I have something to settle with her. See ya in a while.‘

He pulled me forward forcefully, and we snuck into this little corner from her prying eyes, just behind the wall.

He pulled me closer, glued to his body, and we embraced in yet another sizzling kissing game.

(At this moment, SBB is on the phone. Although he has no idea what I am writing about at this point of the time, he said since I don’t know what to write, I might as well write… ‘As he swept me into his strong arms… and as I look into his lustfilled, compelling gaze, his mouth slowly parted and said..‘ How timely.)

So, I shall put what he said into good use.

As he swept me into his strong arms, and as I look into his lustfilled, compelling gaze, his mouth slowly parted and said..

‘I did say I am so gonna jump you, didn’t I?’

Okay, I have no idea how to complete the above sleazy statement. Or else, it might become a funny read more than anything else.

The burst of desire triggered a short-lived made out session, before we came into sight and joined Vamp again, giggling.

It was, intense.

The sensations from his touch was mind-boggling, tingling and exhilarating.

The nuzzlings to my neck were sensual.

I ran my hand down his back and wrung my arms round his neck. Sometimes caressing his cheeks along the way. Tasting his soft, lush lips between mine.

Gee, I wanna write something that seem sweet and romantic and it doesn’t seem like going that way.

We should have locked ourselves in the handicapped toilet or something.

Joke, okay, joke.

We joined Vamp at the deck chairs shortly after.

He sat at the deck chair opposite me, and dangled a bar of chocolate before me, like luring a bunny to a carrot.

I shifted over to the chair he was sitting on, and sat in the space in between his thighs, with him cuddling me from behind as we shared a bar of chocolate.

Vamp tried getting her camera to work, and took pictures of us, on and off.

Some pretty brilliant shots were taken.

Like the one he laid on my tummy, with his eyes closed, his arms scooping underneath my barely existent waist.

A few other nice shots, which you guys have no luxury of viewing.

We giggled as Vamp tried co-ordinating pictures that made us feel like muppets.

Interesting.

Phew.

***

Vamp brought me to this hairdresser in Telok Blangah, and SBB did not come along.

It was then a dye job, trimming, and such.

By the time it finished, it was already close to 9pm.

I have new hair colour, and smell of bleach.

The hairdresser even blew my hair straight, so I have straight hair for today!

But, the curls are slowly reclaiming their rights as the ends started to fray.

Interesting.

Vamp actually kinda like the style now, cos it gives a totally different, rebellious feel.

Er, I see.

Hmm.

Ah well.

Hung out for a while and went to Tiong Bahru market for dinner.

Rojak. Oyster Egg. Char Kuey Tiao. Duck Porridge.

All shared between the 2 of us.

And we walked away, still feeling hungry.

Wheee…

Ah.

Finally done with my recap.

And the phone call from SBB, who so much wanted to disrupt my sleeping pattern again.

It’s time for me to down some chips and KitKat Chunky.

I know how lethal the combination can be.

But, PMS ya know? What to do.

I have to give in to the needs of my body before it stages a riot much more than I can handle.

PMS is king. Or queen. Whatever.