go on television!

We had to send someone from our mag to appear on a breakfast show yesterday morning, and it just so happened a colleague and I had ‘pick me pick me’ flashing in bright neon above our heads. Yeah, right.

Okay, so it wasn’t all that bad. We were only expected at 8.45am (which means my bathroom mirror saw me trying to do decent mascara at 8 in the morning) and they fed us yummy coffee right away. While coffee doesn’t do a thing to me, it made my colleague a very happy person for the rest of our time at the tv station. Which was great.

Despite our best efforts to paint our face however, we were still ushered into the makeup room upon arrival to ‘touch-up’. In other words, they gave us more and brighter makeup in the name of harsh camera lights. Then it was on to mike-fitting, where someone mixed things up and everyone thought they’d lost the sponge of their clip-on mike on my colleague’s person. (They didn’t; she checked.)

Then it was on to the set. Commercial break, go on, get comfy, introductions all-round, the fleetest of chit-chats and we were on. Except… they didn’t tell us which camera to look at so we ended up sort of staring at each other or into nothingness. No matter, it was just a simple chat and all over so quick I don’t even remember what questions we were asked. (I know there were at least 3.) We suspect someone forgot about us or we were slotted in at the last minute because of some scheduling changes. Or both.

Then it was ‘thank you for coming’, commercial break, scoot scoot off the set, return their mikes while they continue to scratch their heads over the missing sponge, say our goodbyes and leave. The most important parting words had to be those by the sound guy: “If you find our sponge, please bring it back.” Errr, okay.

Just in case you’re wondering, no one saw me on tv. I didn’t tell anyone but Y and he was fast asleep at home throughout. My colleague didn’t tell a soul.

Snapshots from my cousin’s wedding the Friday past. It was the first time I’d ever seen a presider, as they called the priest who officiated the ceremony, launch into a very extended and angry tirade midway through the occasion because people were talking and taking photographs. Someone obviously forgot to remind him it was a wedding. It’s such a pity I’m only thinking of all the things I should have done now, when it’s way too late. But then again, isn’t that what they call hindsight? The wedding dinner was heaps more celebratory and joyous. The priest was not invited.

My brother, Josh, and I posing with our cousin, the bride.

Y and I with Jessie, my youngest sister. She insisted on the black and white.

Josh and I in an epic battle of the heads. Ain’t my lil’ bro growing up to be the cutie?

Feeling the suspicious beginnings of a sore throat - it hurts to yawn, especially. I don’t know how it happened, one minute I was just fine, the next minute it appears. Just. Like. That. Am guzzling water in the hopes of making it go right away.

Realising - but not doing anything much about it - that this little piggy is getting lazy. I’ve barely done anything with my TESOL course that can be considered work, and I am determined to Get Cracking this weekend. I am also telling you this in the hope that by telling you, I will somehow make it happen.

This little piggy is very glad she’s taking the morning off tomorrow. Now maybe she can finally get in on some of that midnight action she’s been missing. Unless of course this ailment-which-shall-not-be-named gets me first.

Oh dear, now I’m feeling the beginnings of a headache. I swear, it wasn’t there the last sentence…

Despite perfect rainy sleep-in weather this morning, I was in an infinitely better mood about getting out of bed for work. Oats-and-chocolate cereal with fresh milk was yummy as, and yowling all by myself in the car where nobody could possibly hear me was sweet.

I’ve decided Mondays are depressing because it’s the start of a work-week, but Tuesdays are cheerful because it means there are only three more days to the weekend. If we really think about it, five days really aren’t all that long. I’ll be outta work and into July in a jiffy. Needless to say, the rest of the week only gets cheerier as the hours pass.

I still can’t stop singing hou sam fan sau in my head though.

I finally got round to watching Prison Break on telly. Still having withdrawal symptoms from too-much-fun and dearly-missed-someones. Feeling utterly melancholy and grumpy today, no thanks in part to it being Monday. At least I wasn’t the only grouchy one around the office. Monday blues is indeed a universal ailment.

I am excited to see what life will bring around the corner. It is a season of many changes, and I can’t wait to see what is in store for those with whom I am experiencing and learning to live life.

This looks like it’s going to be another of those aimless, meandering posts with cryptic statements that make no tangible sense.

I’m becoming increasingly antisocial; it’s rather bothersome. Which is almost paradoxical because antisocialism suggests I can’t really be bothered in the first place. I remember taking one of those personality tests when I was seventeen or eighteen. Back then, I was a phlegmatic-sanguine - peaceful above all else, friendly, happy and cheerful a close second.

Then came life. And reality.

I took the same personality test recently. I don’t recall exactly how I fared, but it was either melancholic-choleric, vice-versa, or melancholic-sanguine. I definitely wasn’t dominantly sanguine, and I definitely wasn’t phlegmatic no more.

Interesting how people change. But then again, ain’t that all (an exciting) part of life?

Beautiful swirly colours in tiny glass globes. Red. White. Blue. Green. Yellow. I’ve always loved marbles. There’s something about them that fascinate me, that make me hold them in my hand and stare at them over and over again, even though I’ve seen them a thousand times. Maybe it’s my repressed childhood manifesting; I never had any marbles as a kid, my father was always afraid my siblings and I would swallow them and choke to death. Y has a collection of marbles. He keeps them in a chocolate tin box at the bottom of one of his many drawers. I’ll bet he’s forgotten about them.

I’m supposed to - nay, wanted to - blog about the past week. It has been undoubtedly one of the best weeks ever. But I have no words. I don’t know where to start. Instead, here I am jabbering away about marbles.

When friends come from not-so-far and spend a week in your house, and you have such a good time you feel like you’re on holiday with them even though you still show up at work so you can’t be on holiday, yet at the same time you don’t feel like they’re on holiday because they’re not tourists and you don’t do touristy things and you don’t feel touristy and you don’t take pictures because you keep forgetting the camera, I guess that’s when you know you’ve got something different. And when they need to leave you wish they would stay forever, even though you know everybody has to go back to reality. It’s more than just about having a good time. It’s about knowing you’ve found family.

I have never laughed so much and so hard for too long. I’ve also never embarrassed myself on video before but that’s something we shall not talk about. You were missed before you even got on that bus. Thanks for something really special this past week. Like pretty marbles, each moment, each conversation, each experience will go into the chocolate tin, which I shall keep in my topmost drawer, to be looked at over and over. And you know how much I love chocolate. And marbles. I’m going to be greedy and hoard them, and woe betide anybody who threatens my swirly reds, blues, greens, whites and yellows.

A sign that you are growing old…

http://www.theage.com.au/news/web/teenonly-stealth-tones/2006/06/13/1149964527427.html

Strictly for those who are not afraid to face the aging truth. Preferably for those under 30 - just in case.

while blog-surfing today.

look, your very own scapegoat.

I’m thinking I should get one of these, just because the whole idea of it is hilarious! for more pictures and this little one’s accompanying box and explanation, go to Eddie’s here.

And…

Jesus and the World Cup.

Huh?!

There’s nothing quite like gloomy weather to make you wish you were at home curled up in bed with a good book. Oh well, at least it’s Friday.

There are people who look at me funny because I write celebrity gossip. As if what I do is beneath what other people do in women’s magazines, car magazines, teenybopper magazines… It used to bother me, but I think I’m at a stage in my life where I (finally) am starting to care less about what other people think about me. Firstly because I can’t do anything about it, secondly because it’s not my fault they’re narrow-minded when they are being narrow-minded, thirdly because you just can’t please everybody. It’s like a mantra that has finally begun to sink in.

The interesting thing though, is there are people who scoff at gossip writers like yours truly, but still can’t wait to see what Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are up to. Or whether Britney Spears and Kevin Federline are still together. Or whether Jessica Alba is secretly sleeping with Tom Cruise. She’s not, I made that last one up.

And so because I know there are heaps of people who would love to see what Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt looks like (that’s the name of Angelina and Brad’s baby, by the way), regardless of what they say in broad daylight, check out these pics here. You’ll have to scroll down a fair bit to see them, but your patience will be rewarded. Those six pictures cost like USD$4.1million. That comes up to what, RM2.5million per picture?

… is when my dear colleagues gather around my car to help me shoo an errant baby lizard out of it. Even if only two of them were actually doing the shoo-ing.

I absolutely hate lizards, especially black or greyish-brownish spotted ones. Even if it was just a teeny tiny baby.

So sue me.