Woooww~ Do I even update this thing?

I remember when I first started out blogging I was so enthusiatic about the whole she-bang I was checking my blog a gazillion times a day. Admiring the disgusting blogskin, the ridiculous posts and the silent c-box.

But that was in 2007.
Ancient history man~ ancient history.

Now the prehistoric dinosaur rears her head and contemplates the deep profound significance of a home in the museum and a shift to Wordpress.

Anyway, that aside. Here's a pop quiz for you... ...

1) Have you felt that Singapore is small, insignificant and downright boring?

2) Have you felt that you have been to ALL the shopping districts in Singapore and prowled through ALL the auntie & uncle shops just to find you are better off shopping online?

3) Are you really sure Singapore is so dull and boring?

4) Really?

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Well, if you have answered a resounding YES for all 4 questions, you are WRONG!

Because I (with shan) just found these few gems of heavenly, unbelievably un-singaporean, un-boring, utterly brain-blowingly awesome lifestyle cafes that are guaranteened to send you to cuteness rehabilitation centres in no time.

It's CasualPoet.
Location: Chinatown
Decor: Vintage & loving it
Cuteness: Through the roof
Stairs: Yes

OMG, the stairs were a killer cos the shop was located smack-bang in the middle of nowhere of New bridge road.
It was raining for a spell and we got wet, lost and utterly miserable until we finally found the shop and had to climb up 3 flights of narrow, killer stairs.

But it was worth it, amen.

Here are some photos to illustrate the how cosy and retro-groovy this place is.

Cosy O' meter level 10,0000

2 root beer float please!

It's small- true. Barely the size of my kitchen actually but they somehow managed to squeeze in a small dining area along with shelves that sell designer trinkets & ditsy things you never use but always want.

There are free board games to play, and free books to browse and you can stay there for hours on end with no one to bother you if you don't buy that extra regular coke.

Another one such place is Cat Socrates in Bras Basah. Go there when you feel like murdering your boss and calm down. Very effective.

Anyway, shan & i also visited the patisserie shop along Clark Quay: Nectarie
We ordered a microscopic slice of caramelized banana cake costing $8 *Chokes on bile* and are sent straight to heaven because THIS IS A SLICE OF BLOODY GOOD CAKE.

A slice of bloody good cake

Shall I describe it??
It's soft - Oh so unbelievably soft.
It's crunchy - Oh~~ the flaky dense banana caramel at the bottom.

You see your fork carve through the pale silken mousse and cut into the delectable chunk of banana sitting melodiously in a harmony of softness & satin.
What a ochestra of confectionary goodness that sings in your mouth and cascades down your throat that reaches it's crescendo in your stomach and leaves you in a state of shock, revelation and enlightenment.

Yes, cakes can taste this good.

And that's it. Till another time.

In the spirit of remembrance of a time now past, I have so humbly drawn the honored visages of whom that have came, saw and conquered,

(Carcicatures are only of those whom I can remember off the top of my head and have features distinct enough to be rendered by my poor poor skills. Enjoy. In no real order.)

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*PS : Gorillas are actually kind, warm, loving and generous mammals*

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*But, the one above isn't*

So so so so... ... ...

So so so so so ... ... ... and sos so so sos sos sos sososososos sssssssssssssssssssssssssss..... ummm...... am I still writing this???

Oh yeah, sorry, I fell asleep and my head fell on the "S" key for that brief moment.

Ummm... so..... ummm.... so.....so

Lemme write a poem about 'so'


The past few weeks has been a joke,
I've worked my ass off, now I'm broke

My eyes are closing on their own,
They feel like steel, they feel like stone.

My brain is melting down to dust,
The gears in there can't move but rust.

My life goes by like speeding trains,
A blur or white, a puff of pain.

The railroad tracks are bathed in smoke,
Carries it, my fears and hopes.

Always onward to unknown
Always onward to the dawn.


That was verbal diarrhoea. Kindly wipe clean with approved toilet paper and refain from trying to read it again.

Did I mention that I am very sleepy? I did? Well, I have to repeat this again because it impresses me how sleepy I am just so that it impresses my how sleepy I am that It impresses me how I am writing the same thing over and over again because I am just so sleepy.


OH MY LORD!!!! I AM SLEEPY.

Oh, yeah.... and I'm getting comments from people that my blogskin sucks to high heavens and it cracks their computer screens when they come to my blog.

PINK & GREEN DO NOT GO TOGETHER! ( Unless it's in a ham salad )

And the layout sucks and the main image sucks and the butterflies look like random nonsense to fill up the random nonsense watever and blah and blah blah blah


No, I will not change my blogskin. Yet.
Also, I have a soft spot for badly masked butterflies with a god-ugly lines trailing behind them.
Also, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and mine are just about melted in their sockets from over-use so that is moot point.

Anyway, I am gonna get some sleep so please do not call me at 2am asking for apple juice and kaya spread.

Yeah, random last line. Ignore. With toilet paper.

One day i went opposite my church for lunch.
There was this newly renovated food court which i sat in. Having a craving for bak chor mee, I ordered a bowl from the only noodle store there.

My bak chor mee arrived and here began the excruciating and fatally depressing entry that will follow. Look away if you don't wanna read suicide technics. Read on if you are a culinary masochist.

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That was the most awful bak chor mee i've ever eaten.
Bak chor mee, unlike laksa, is relatively easy to get the taste right.
Mince meat, liver, pork balls... the works. Perhaps the slight differences in sauces set some bak chor mees over the rest but other than that, i expect bak chor mees all around Singapore to have that standard, comfortable, recognisable bak chor mee taste.


There are good bak chor mees. There are bad bak chor mees. And there are simply awful bak chor mees that don't deserve to be called bak chor mee and should be sent into a HAZMAT lab for decontamination if ever you even sniff one.
This bak chor mee falls under the last category and will blow holes into it.

Firstly, the noodles is bad.
It is stringy, lumpy, cardboard hard and took the shape of my bowl no matter how many times i tried to mix it. Awesome for molding bird nests, terrible for making bak chor mee.

Next, the 'bak' in the bak chor mee is so non-existent it should just be called "mee".
The liver slices were shrivelled up bits of grey eraser shavings.
The amount of minced meat could fit under your fingernail.
The pork balls were made of pyrite.
In essence, it wasn't bak chor mee anymore but a mutated, ghastly, cruel parody of the original.

Is it worst than cockroaches?

YES!

Is it worst than George Bush?

YES!
Is it worst than an Uwe Boll film called Alone in the dark?

YES! But that was cutting abit close.

If one day I lost all my savings when the stock market crashed, and my husband ran away with his mistress, and i got into a car accident and lost my nose, and caught colon cancer, and suffer stroke ... ... i will come to this place and eat this bak chor mee as self-punishment.

Ok. End of that... now for other things.

Guess what happened to the AMK library?
They painted it blue!
Because, as everyone knows ... blue is an intellectual colour ... No? You don't?! Well, i outta... ..., wait! Is that a UFO! *runs away*.

Oh, and my brother in the spirit of Chinese New Year twisted out a road bike all by himself.
Praise for his nifty fingers and mind-blowing patience.


He is selling one for $US 74 but knows that no one will buy it and will quietly go back to auctioning useless household appliances on his ebay account.

I'm so beat i've stuck toothpicks in my eyes to keep them open.

All you evil people out there, do not pass GO!

Do not collect $200! Do not mix soy beancurd with fried food!
If you see a cocktail sausage with quail eggs, they're MINE!

Ever so often, the parents would go out of the country and leave their kids with the car.
Here is my sis in all her newbie glory, driving my dad's ratty Toyota with the finesse and dexterity of a hippopotamus.



She takes a forlorn gaze at the never-ending traffic ... wondering why did god invent cross junctions.



She passes the cross junction after waiting for 3 whole decades! Horray! Breathes an almighty sigh of relief! I unbuckle my safety helmet.


Oh yeah... and i got myself a spanking new electric piano !!! (cue insane guitar riffs and confetti)



I got it from Cash Converters (bless its soul) at a heart-stopping $18 !!!

YES!

You, yes, YOU can get your very own no-brand electric piano too at $18! Yes, $18 gentlemen! Aye aye, i kid you not.
I was so damned surprised when they threw in the cable for me too! I mean, come on! $18 !

I triumphantly hoisted my catch back home, drowned in glory, honour and praise.... until I did a true test of it back home and realised that when you pressed anything more than 3 keys simultaneously, it played out an extra note.

Dang dang dang ~~ DANGGGggggg~~~

Trying hard to swallow my abject disappointment, I hereby convince myself that if i played 3 notes and it produced 5 ... that's an extra 2 notes free of charge!

You know how you always walk beside grabage trucks and get a whiff of that disgusting smell that's both nauseating, sour and cloyingly ripe at the same time?

You know how your stomach turns at that sourish smell not simply because of its glorious fragrance but also the vivid imagery of the mechanisim at the rear that churns up the stacks of waste and squeezes out rivulets of brown juice?

That nausea?

That revulsion?

That abomination?

You see the brown juice seeping onto the uncaring tar road and immediately walk round the puddle.


That puddle of brown garbage juice on the ground?

That's how i feel now.