"U wanna play badminton Sunday?"

Oh shit. those are about one of the last things I want to see in a text from my man. This writer may be a lot of things but a sports person is not one of them.

It was only made marginally better that we'll be playing with another group of friends rather than his usual badminton kaki who are all so super awesome that I'm pretty sure will definitely hate having an extra player who will literally be the one who keeps dropping the idiomatic ball, okay shuttle.

I never understood sports - the idea of running towards some ball/shuttle/puck/*whatever* that's flying at you with potentially nose-breaking speed just baffles me.

The other frightening part of it was the prospect off looking like I fit the stereotype of the sio chia girlfriend who squeals when a shuttle flies at her, runs like a, well, girl; and just seeming unpleasant and unsportsmanlike in general.

Well there's no way I'll get in any practice or magically improve in three days.

So the next best thing, I thought, was to watch a mix of tutorials & actual matches online.

Tutorials

I never cease to be amazed at the number of how-to videos on any topic there are on Youtube. But then, I got bored after four, which were under 2 minutes each.

Actual matches

I tried picking the more interesting matches to watch, honest! Then again, I wouldn't know what would constitute an interesting match. So I just picked the first one with names I recognized.

After semi-ignoring my screen, playing games in another window cleaning my room through one and a half matches, I learned only one thing -sports commentators for badminton matches aren't expected to be as excitable as football sports commentators.

Oh please, please, please let my awesome personality make me seem like less of an uncoordinated dork.

*cross fingers*

Mois

I don't know why we've never done this before.

Except maybe that all of us haven't really been back home at the same time since we were legally old enough to enter a club.

So me and my besties finally went clubbing together and it was good fun! We went to the one place I've actually heard people recommend here which was Mois (MOIS? As in all capitals? I don't know. Whatever.)

On the other side of the velvet rope we were a little worried we weren't getting in - there were so many people just hanging around the entrance, though there did not appear to be a queue. Cover charge was RM50 per person inclusive of one free drink.

And then we got our hands stamped and I nearly walked into Jo as she scrutinised the back of her hand and doubled back to tell the bouncer:

"Uh there's something wrong - I can't see the stamp."

Lol! But yes, several clubbing cherries were being popped in our group that night.

At dinner the next night with her family, her mum tries to see if I'm still the good-girl bestie her daughter used to have, or am I going to turn her daughter into an alcoholic or something. She says something to the effect of "It's not the going to a club that I worry about, it's the friends of friends who will then be the ones who do the pressuring you to drink or try stuff."

To that, Jo, sitting next to Mr Pius, her man, says

"That's why I'm glad my first time was with Penny."

And two seconds later,

"Oops, that didn't come out right, did it?"

Anyways, back at the club. It was crowded, like the 'paranoid part of me worries what building fire regulations are' kind of crowded. Music was soso, liked the choice of music but would've though I think I personally would've tweaked the playlist a little bit.

We were hoping to cuci mata a little that night. And for all our efforts...we came up with a grand total of TWO possible hotties. That said, one of the things I particularly enjoyed about the night was that the people didn't seem to be trying that hard. Sure, there were those girls (Jo called them clones of this classmate we used to have), but I didn't feel inadequate just being me. Don't know if it was that nobody was trying too hard, or that I was with my besties. Bumped into an ex uni classmate of mine - and honestly I think I've seen him look better after one of our three-hour labs.

One drink which saw Jo waving her stirrer around mouthing wingardum leviosa, Gina looking like she could fall asleep on the dance floor from the lack of not-already-attached hotties to watch, lots of dancing and four hours later, we headed home.

And my night came to a close with the person driving me home asking me exactly the same thing the last person who drove me home after a night out did.

"How do you know if you're drunk?"

Vino Vino Cafe at Bay Avenue

Me: I'll have a Mojito, please

Waitress: What??

Me: A Mojito.

Waitress: What??

Me: D, could you please?

D: A Mojito.

Waitress: Sorry, we don't have that on the menu.

Me: Huh? L, could you please point out the item for her?

After L does this she says, with a rather smug look on her face that makes me realise she heard us all long...she was just trying to make a point.

She goes on to tell us they don't have Mojitos. They're moh-JEE-tos.

Uh...okay whatever makes you happy.

After all that, it came out with a couple of measly mint leaves that were kind of brown at the edges. And didn't taste that good.

But anyways, the whole incident had our table quite amused for the evening.

On to the good stuff, though. The place is really lovely and welcoming. I'd give it an A for ambiance. The bar looks welcoming and the opposite wall is lined with bottles. The super cool dispensing system I read about looked pretty awesome, though we didn't feel like trying it out the other night.

The staff were also pretty pleasant. This is also one of those places where they'll dim the lights and sing along with you and your friends when they bring out the cake if you've come to celebrate a birthday..and have brought along cake.

Had the waitress been right as far as pronunciation was concerned, I would've said the whole experience was educational, too.

Food was just so-so. Rather pricey, with the below bowl of rice with flakes of Salmon and the salad costing RM29.

Would probably go back again...most likely just to try out that whiskey and wine dispensing system or for a coffee.

Rounding off the holiday season at Eastin

"Occupation?" my sister asks, the pencil hovering over that column on the feedback form she was filling in for me.

"Umm..."

I think it's time I come up with some humorous (and possibly more convincing) line to answer that question. My only inspiration at the moment is Barney Stinson's "Please..".

But yes, something to figure out before all the pesky family reunion dinners and visiting relatives during the next holiday season at the end of the month.

We do seem to have a lot of holidays, don't we?

Anyways, we were having the semi buffet dinner at Eastin hotel's Swez Brasserie, which according to their website starts at RM48++ per person. The price varies according to what you order for your main course. Choices include seafood marinara and chicken Cordon Bleu, which are the RM50++ options. The buffet portion of the meal are the starters and the desserts. Starters included a pretty nice selection of canapes, salads, two types of soups, various cold cuts, a modest selection of cheeses with Ritz-like (by that, I mean I'm not sure what brand, but you know..that type of) crackers.

The downside of the semi buffet was I already kind of full by the time I was done with starters. And honestly, I'm not really that big a fan of huge main course portions either, which is of course what you get when you actually have to order a main course at a semi buffet.

The desserts were just soso, with a huge selection of custard-y jelly like thingies, a few choices of cakes, and ice cream. The chocolate fondue was a little disappointing. Strawberries ran out pretty quickly and it was quite awhile before they were replenished. Marshmallows were huge making the marshmallow to chocolate ratio a bit to large. Other choices were dried mangoes and dates. Meh.

I did love the fact that they had a selection of tea, mostly Lipton variants, Boh tea (which were, strangely, not individually wrapped like the rest), and Genmaicha.

It was a fairly nice meal. Starters were good, main course pretty good but desserts left a little to be desired. I left feeling too full for comfort, and vowing once again that I shall avoid such indulgence. I'm sure I will...until the next holiday comes along.

When I grow up, I want to be...

The way I'd complete that sentence changed pretty much every week for me when I was a kid. And now that I think about it, it still changes about that often and has't stopped changing, or at least fluctuating between a few favourites.

Which is a bit of a problem now that I'm supposed to already 'be' something other than a student.

When I got my job, I was pretty excited - it was one of those that gave you the opportunity to move around - yet another way I was putting of being defined by a specific job or role.

Instead, I've found myself six months into a job, without much experience that will bring me any closer to deciding what exactly it is that I want to do. Make that without much experience. Period. At most, it has helped me rule out one or two things I definitely don't want to do.

So that's two down, and another 10 or so to choose from!

Perhaps it doesn't have to be a complete elimination process.

But all the same, not feeling challenged in the right ways at my job has left me feeling restless and craving a change. The only thing is, the latest possibility of a change that has caught my fancy is this writer's job I saw. Judging by my complete lack of materials to present should they want to see any samples of my work, the minuscule readership of this blog, and the fact that that job I saw doesn't pay very well (read: I'm not ready to take that huge a pay cut to actually do work instead of bum around), I'm guessing the prudent thing to do is sit tight in my less than satisfying job.

Thankfully the holidays are here!

Time to think about wrapping presents (I have a few ideas about cute ways I'm going to do that) and finally using my cute handmade gift tags that I've just been itching to use!

It's that time of year, for holidays and parties...and dreaded spring cleaning.

It's been like this all along. The holiday season (ie. School holidays and Christmas) always closely precedes the more 'serious' festival in my household: Chinese New Year.

Which means my happy haze of waking up and sleeping whenever I feel like it, partying and just plain bumming is always somewhat tainted by the stressful ordeal of putting up with parents who make spring cleaning super duper stressful.

This year, it's even more exhausting. For the first time ever, I'm not having school holidays as I deal with this!

As I write this, I'm sitting on the floor of my room, leaning against my bed. Surrounded by piles of stuff that have been moved from the other room that the hourly cleaner we hired is cleaning. It's beyond me why we have to take the 7.30am appointment. Does nobody else believe that Saturdays are meant for sleeping until, at the very, very least 8am? No, seriously, we made this appointment early and my parents took this slot by choice! WTHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Actually, it's also a little beyond me why we have so much stuff.

Apparently the clutter malaise that permeates this house is quite common (yes, I did some online research on the matter).

Excuse number 1:

I might need this thing later on.

Actually, kind of true. I've been shopping in my own closet lately. I'll write about that some other time.

Excuse number 2:

This piece of junk might become valuable someday.

Actually, also kind of true. You know all that old stuff you pay to see if you're a tourist in this little island of mine? We're locals, obviously that kind of stuff exist in our houses. Then again, you're not paying to see my house, are you?

Excuse number 3:

Honestly, I don't remember anymore. It's too freaking early in the morning to actually remember what I've read all week while bumming around at work with nothing better to do (also the topic of another post, should I feel like writing about it to relive the frustrations of a workplace that is challenging in all the wrong ways).

She looks at me uncertainly and says, "Um...you know that this machine can't be used by pregnant women...," and hastily adds,"and people with pacemakers."

It was casual Friday at the office, and I was standing in front of one of those BMI and percentage body fat calculating thingamajigs which had been set up in the office for an event we were having, in a while dress that falls just above my knees, and one of those cropped cardigans that you tie up instead of button.

The dress was pretty similar to this...

and the cardigan, something like this.

I didn't feel particularly offended - I knew she was just trying to be as tactful as possible in the face of uncertainty. But it did make me think - why is it that the moment a girl not in a magazine or catalogue wears something that does not hug every lump of her body, it is assumed she might be pregnant? This isn't the first time someone has assumed I'm preggers just because I'm wearing something that isn't, ironically, hugging the slight bulge that is my very baby-less belly (hmm...is that, in fact, as sign that I'm not as unfit as I think?). I am a huge fan of cute dresses that bring words like 'breezy/summer/light' to mind. And it pains me to think that perhaps it isn't fashion that dictates we all be stick thin and wear things that make most of us look fat (last year's high waisted jeans, pants and skirts, anyone?). Perhaps it's this strange thing we've all developed - that anything that doesn't hug your body completely indicates you've got some jiggly bumps somewhere to hide.

*Images were just from a quick Google search. Not the actual clothes I wore.