The End.

Here i am. Tmr i'm starting my first day of full time work...the begining of the rest of my life of working.

I think this weekend i had refrained from thinking about it by keeping myself busy with social activities. My version of the last supper perhaps? I was telling my friend that honestly, i am only in fear of the fear itself - that one day i will hate working, and that i cant go back. In truth, at this moment i'm much more excited and anxious rather than dreading.

I had better go and iron my shirt now.

More questions, less answers.

Here's a question: why is it that people have the nerve to ask their single friends if they are 'happily single'? What the hell does that mean anyway? I mean, what is the single friend supposed to say? "No, i'm incredibly desperate... please introduce me to some second rate guys u know but dont want... in fact, i think i mite just walk up to that lump of lard over there with the greasy hair doing the Sponge-Bob Square pants impersonation and pash him..."

Here's a thought, next time u singles get asked that question by some distasteful member of the 'coupled-club', ask them whether they are happily coupled or whether the sex is so bad that they would be dying to have an affair with the Sponge-Bob Square pants guy.

Meet my shoes!

I'm so bored. Really i am. And i am one who can spend a whole afternoon at the library, or 1.5 hours in target and can entertain myself at my local suburbia shopping center. And this is certainly no way to be spending the remaining of the days of my life (seeing i start work on Monday). Apart from this being a very very sad end to 'life-as-i-know-it', it is also causing immense injustice to my shoes. Just bc i have no social life, does not mean that my shoes should be punished by a life of sitting there oogling at me from the shoe rack! So here they are - meet my shoes:

Now as a preface, there is no way i can go through all my shoes in one post, so i'll start with my collection of flat points: my go anywhere everyday shoe. Since i grown out of wearing runners/sneakers/street shoes, the flat points has been a god send. Might i just say "pointy flats are the solution to anything".


My go anywear basic black points from Robert Robert. Leather everything and incredibly confortable and versatile.


It was love at first site. The buttery leather and the luscious deep purple.... they were THE perfect points: perfectly shaped and flat. Too bad they were damaged after only 3 wears when i fell over in taiwan and nearly got ran over by a scooter. :(


silk weave shoes - so nice and summery! the exact same shoe retailed at Witchery for $139.95, i got mine in HK for around $9!


side detail.



Who could resist a pair of silver mock-snakeskin moccasins? i have no idea what i'll wear them with, plus they are 2 sizes too big!


My schizo shoes: them seem unable to decide whether they want to be round toed or pointy. Either way, i love their kitsch-y style.


So pretty. i paid too much for these shoes. But i just had to have them.

As u guessed, these are the newer additions to the family. And despite my Chinese heritage, my footware must be Greek, cos man is the family big!

'lil explaining to do

Some of you may have noticed that i had recently changed my profile. This new, and dare i say it, improved profile perhaps requires a 'lil explaining. So come, take my hand, and let me walk you through it:


Firstly, my "number one". Rather self-explanatory methinks, i mean, who wouldnt want to be the high-school clown or the witty-cynic who is loved by all?! As a comedian, you can withstand really really bad haircuts and fashion (think Seinfield bad) and still be immortalised as a cultural icon. And so, during my highschool years I entertained the possibility of being my very own Rob Stich. So, now that I have my law degree (woohoo!), all i need now is have my very own Panel show and a kick-arse name for an entertainment company.

BTw, just to prove that i'm serious about this ambition, and why it deserves to be number one, i had even put this as my ambition in my highschool year book. Go figure.

Regarding the rest of my top ambitions (bar the 'unemployed wife of zillionaire' one - which again is self-explanatory), they can be traced to my utter obsession with reality tv/home-makerover/wardrobe makeover/cooking shows on TV. What's not to love? the possibility of a bunch of strangers wielding bright lights and powerful lenses intruding your home, humiliating you in front of national TV, and then 'making it all better'.

And with the 'tax accountant' thing. To be honest, once upon a time, it actually made its way quite high into the list. When i was... i dunno, so age of naivity - say 9 years old, my dad's accountant came to visit our house. He had with his this really "cool" calculator that was able to general its own paper receipts. And that was what spurn my brief fling with the idea of becoming an accountant. Perhaps this is the classic case of childhood memories scarring one for life?

I think i'm going to die...

Utterly stunning bag which sends my bank account balance shaking with fear from a mere sniff of the buttery leather.... If only i had that luxury.


Chloe Padlock Bag: $1800 a small price to pay for heaven?

What ever am i to do?

I "Heart" Me!bourne

Oh yes i do! And i'm not afraid to admit it! Despite being a hongkie, a bit of a foodie and a complete shopaholic, i still rate Melby over HK any day. Few of you mite know that i'm fanatical of Melbourne's secluded alley ways and lanes full of obscure fashions and kooky cafes. And of course, there are our bars: be them upstairs, downstairs, around a dark corner or requiring a special glass elevator to transport you to the entrace - the theme is them same: seclusion. Perhaps this obsession with exclusivity is related to Victoria's gold rush past; that good things only come to those who.... dig?

Only true Melbournians are able to discover and enjoy the riches of Melbourne, and only true Melbournians are allowed. Perhaps at this point, we may seem a little snooty (i assure you we are not - once you discover us, we are a most hospitable city), and today i discovered a book full of little reasons to be 'proud' of our little city. Reading the introductory chapter of The Melbourne Book: A History of Now, author Maree Coote explains that Melbourne is one of the few international cities with such a short history (a mere 160 years which makes us basically a baby compared to Rome, London or Paris - or not even, maybe we are still the sperm!). And unlike Sydney, we were free from a convict history giving us a sense of moral superiority over them on which to build our fair city.

Melbourne was born over a period of less than one generation: from the money, people and trade which lingered on from the gold rush, the property boom in 1837s would be something which property developers of today can only dream of. Builty on a fury of hopes, opportunities and dreams, today Melboune surely is the most livable city in the world.

Bitchy and Buggered

Just got home from lunch + shopping with besties. Feel like shit. Perhaps its the muggy Melbourne day, but I felt that i had been bitchy and impatient and generally not very nice. Alternatively i'm just sleep deprived and tired... which causes the "bitchy-and-buggered-ness". So, i guess this is an acknowledgement of my "blah" and an apology of sort to those subject to its ramifications.

Following from my "bitchy-and-buggered" mood, care to join me for a noice little bitch abt Delta Goodrem? Well i have to confess, for a brief (i repeat - brief) moment after the cancer, i actually didnt mind her that much. But since her fling with Mark Philippoussis, she has become intolerable. The whole affair with its whirlwind of B grade international celebs being flashed across tabloids all over the country has been just a bit too much for me.

And so, u mite say, it's old news right? It sure is... old and stale news, but somehow resussitated with a statement i read in MX (the local free commuter's tabloid) on the way home. To set the scene, Delta told the reporter of her plans to keep her current romance with ex-boy-band-member and current-robbie-williams-wannabe, Brian McFadden 'hush hush':

"I had my heart-broken very publically last time, so from now on, i will keep things completely to myself"

Just a tip Ms Goodrem, telling this to a tabloid report isnt really a good start to the plan. Neither is selling your 'exclusive story' to New Idea. After all, action speaks louder than words.

Gemma, Gemma, Gemma...

Following my post about the perils of teenage-dom, i would like to post about one teenager who would look stunning even in a supre stretchy-lycra-potato-sack: Gemma Ward

In 2002, she was plucked from obscurity in amongst the audience of Perth "Search For A Supermodel" auditions, where Gemma was supporting her friends entering the competition. Though she didn't make the cut in the competition, a model scout managed to see the amazing talent behind her girlish nerves. And as they say, the rest is history.

Since then, Gemma has graced the covers of Vogue (Aus, US, UK, Japan), Numero, and W magazine, and has opened shows in Milan, Paris and NY. Oft described as having an "other-worldly" (and yes, by that they do mean alien) look, her unique etheral beauty has proved amazingly adaptable, and she has been choosen in feature in print adverts for prominent fashion houses including YSL, Prada and Jil Sanders.

Her wide-eyed and glowing 'doll-faced' beauty is evident in her catwalk shows for Ralph Lauren and Missoni

For Missoni


Backstage at Ralph Lauren


Breathtaking

More recently, in various editorials for vogue, Gemma had proved her incredible versatility as a scarlet lipped vixen. Who would have thought that Gemma's waif like body and doll-like face could exude such sex appeal?


Australian Vogue Sept04 Editorial


US Vogue Sept04 Editorial


French Vogue Aug04 Editorial

And my absolute favourite - the YSL print campaign:


My Favourite: in YSL ad campaign 2004/05. Amazing sophistication...

And finally, here she is as a 'normal' 17 year old (wearing a scarf from witchery which i had wanted!) - blotchy skin and all!


Au Natural! Interview with Fairfax media

And yes, the spiteful woman inside of me is insanely jealous! why was i the awkward and style-less teenager, whilst Gemma can be the eternally glowing epitomy of style? Why does she get the last lavender witchery weave scarf (as a gift from doing the adverts no less) whilst i have to run around the city in a frantic haze in search for one to no avail?! And hell yes, i would like to force feed her some lard! But take heart fellow bitter-minded women: i had read in a mag recently that on average, women gain 2.5kgs between the ages of 18 to 23. Lets hope Gemma is above average.

Teenage Girls.

With the looming of my Twenty.. hmm... second *cough cough* birthday, i can safely say that i have well and truely survived my teenage years. In retrospect, they went by in a blur... just simple daily troubles and even simplier pleasures. I cannot really recall my teenage years as being particularly traumatic, or soul searching, or self-defining... though i'm sure they are in there somewhere.

Recently, i read an article in a back issue of UK Vogue where the author interviewed 8 London teenagers (many of them the children of the rich and famous) and delved into the lives and psyche of the 'modern teenage girl'. Honestly, i dont remember it ever being like that (oh god i think i sound like a grandma!). When i was in highschool (omg i should really not use thsi phrase to preface my sentences) i was happy with samples of CKOne Perfume from Myers, stuck into my school diary, and these girls were concerned with being seen prancing around in a seaform coloured Balenciaga Le Dix even before it hits the hot (and skinny) little hands of Sienna Miller or Kate Moss.

Perhaps in today's society fill with technology which can rejuvenate and invigorate mature skin, the gap between the teenagers and the thirty-somethings is getting smaller and smaller (and the twenty-somethings? well, we are just getting squashed.. and sung about by Jamie Cullum). I mean, walk into any local shopping centre and you are bound to find mum's and daughters wearing matching hot pink terry-towel trackies from Supre. Worst still, walk into any Supre store, and you are bound to find a 12 year old spotting a "M.I.L.F. in training" t-shirt. And more likely than not, you'll find a pack of them, wearing matching denim mini ra-ra skirts.

But reading on in my article, teenage girls really cant help it but be clones of each other. As Quentin Crisp argues "the young have always had the same problem of how to rebel and conform at the same time. They have now solved this by defying their parents, and copying each other". So, the next time you see a bunch of teenage girls wearing the same cropped boob-tube as a mini skirt - refrain from making nasty remarks and eye-rolling, and simply take pity for their teenage predicament.

Fine Then!

If you dont want to play, i'm not going to give u the answer!

:-P

Time to play a little game...

Dear Friends,

After progating my dull and witless messages for so long, i had thought that it is now time to make this a more 'interactive' blog by introducing a game. The incredibly lame and rather unexciting name for the game is Guess the 'what the...?!' (yes, please imagine an annoying yet catchy jingle to go along with it). So, basically i'll show you pictures of some "What the...?!" items, and you will have to guess what they are. Better still, you will come up with a highly witty and amusing name for these items.

To start the ball rolling, here are some i had prepared (or rather, plagarised) earlier:


frog


chicken

So, innitially, my most obvious guess as to the above "what the...?!"s was that this was a new line of halloween decorations. Personally, i could not think of anything more scary than a frog and a chicken dressed in my grandma's op-shop finest, staring me in the eye. And my guess was further confirmed when i came across this:


valentine cow

Surely this must be the famous "cow head" of the traditional Chinese duo, "Cow Head and Horse Face"! (for those who don't know, the duo are basically the hitmen of the chinese-hell mafia - mythically, they come up to earth, and bring back select victims to hell). Though after vigourous searching, i was unable to find Horseface, and further, i couldnt really explain why CowHead would be wearing a Valentines day costume. Perhaps, in hell, they celebrate V-day as if it's halloween? Or perhaps (and this is the more likely) incessant Valentines day celebrations is hell.

However, my initial guess was completely thrown out the window when i saw this:

unknown

AFter seeing this most bizzarre "what the...?!", my only guess is that it's a grey teletubbie in drag.

Whatever these are, they have fast risen to the top of my list for what to get for my soon marrying friend if she has a baby in the next 12months.

Please give it a shot and guess what these things mite be in the comments section. And as a final hint: as unlikely as it may seem, these thing actually serve a practical purpose as a household item!

Oh come'on... it'll be fun :-)

What'd I tell you...

"Bec and Lleyton's story for sale"

"Closer"

I've always been adverse to going to movies. Movies require so much committment: the $11.50 (soon to be $13.80 once my concession card expires), the two and a half to three hours of my time locked in a dark room with strangers and most importantly, the risk of the movie being a complete dud, and having to endure it because of the high cost already afforded. So for me to have seen TWO movies in the space of three days, well, it's a rarity. But then again, it snowed on Mt Hotham last nite, and its the middle of summer!

Today, the movie was Closer. And i couldnt possibly not talk about it and give up the opportunity brag about the fact that i watched an 'adult drama' and to blantantly post photos of the beautiful Jude Law: (and btw: my most sincerely apologies to my 'very good writer' friend who is incredibly fond of Jude Law. I take back all the snide remarks and sniggering looks i may or may not have given whenever you coo about the gorgeousness of this man. You are right - he is a deliciously sexy human being)


*ahh....*

The movie itself, well, it was kinda distressing and kinda sad. But i couldnt really say why. And for such a quiet film (no action, no comedy, no romantic sappy bull-shit), it was highly engaging. Nothing major really happens to any of the characters, but really want to find out what happens next and how they will react to it. It's a story largly on adult love... and conflicting human emotions. There are no bad guys or good guys, just four people who are at times selfish, at times forgiving, who fall in love, and out of it - but its never really clear what they are thinking. In a word, its a film about honesty: both in the sense that the film protrays a (seemingly) honest account of human nature, and that the characters seek the truth from each other about their intense feelings.

It makes me wonder, how much courage do you need to have to ask for the truth, and how much more do you need to tell it? And when you receive the truth, how much love do you need to forgive? Or if you do love them, can you ever forgive? If you love the person, would you force them through the pain of telling the truth? Wouldnt you both be happier with a little white lie? And does love necessitate happiness?

Watching the film, i felt that the characters were selfish and that i couldnt ever possibly hurt the person i love in that way. But then again, it's a fine line that is easily crossed.

Sneaky Ginger

If i sound abnormally smug in this post, please excuse me, for i have just returned, triumphantly mite i add, from the gym. Feeling as angelic as i ever would, i march victoriously into the kitchen in search of my well-deserved snack. Dodging past the healthy options of fresh fruit or wheat biscuits, i reached for the elegant glass of mango jelly: cool and sugar-laddened beyond my wildest dream, possibly requiring me to 'powerwalk' on the treadmill for the rest of my life to burn off.

To my immense disapointment (read: v. pissed off), the mango jelly was not as it seemed. It was merely the inferior pineapple jelly disguised as mango. Had i known it was pineapple, i would have munched on dry, tasteless wheat biscuits.

And that's generally how it works in my mum's kitchen. Every item of food thinks itself an undercover agent.. in disguise as some delicious thing it could never be. And of all the suspects in my mum's kitchen, Ginger is, without doubt, the worse offender.

I hate ginger. Even if it touches the other food it still manages to leave its poisonous sting. See, if i were Sherlock Holmes, Ginger would be Dr. Moriarty... though perhaps our relationship is more akin to the me being Inspector Gadget, and Ginger as that evil dude with the cat. And my mum is ginger's number 1 accomplice. She would somehow mould the ginger into whatever form the food takes. Like if the dish is long slender pieces of chinese 'winter melon', the ginger will adopt a pale yellow colour and the same lengthen shape. If the dish is curried chicken with potatos, the ginger would cloak itself in the fragrant curry sauce and adopt the same assymetrical cut (and size) of the potatos. And when the unsuspecting victim (ie me) bites into it... bang! Ginger: one, Inspector Gadget: zero.

Perhaps its a lot of fuss i'm making over ginger. You mite say: "why dont you just double check before you bite into it?". To that, i reply: "why can't the ginger be more like this conspicuous bottle of green tea?"


Conspicuous Greentea

But then again, if a giant piece of ginger gave me the peace sign, i dont really know what i would do. Maybe i'ld have to kung-fu its arse.