Rare good feelings

I haven't blogged about something really cheery for the longest time. For this I must partly blame my depressing personality and the post-exam hangover which seemed to have struck as some kind of early-life crisis as it has never had before. But MOST OF ALL I blame the haze. And now it's gone! The skies are clear and the sun is bright. My underwear is drying nicely in the comfortable heat and I can see all the way to the burning horizon from my bedroom window like I'm supposed to. There's nothing like proper air to breathe for making you feel good.

Which is more than I can say for the sm0kers out there. The moment the haze showed suggestions of subsiding they must have rallied together in their secret societies to come back out in force, for how else can they coordinate their bloody aggravating actions so well and carefully? Yesterday as I stood waiting for the traffic light to turn I stood behind FOUR of them merrily shaking their glowing butts at each other in mysterious hip-hop sign language and throwing their filthy grey nicotine all over the place. They had the glazed and greasy unwashed look of the cigarette-deprived. I'm sure their mothers must have locked them indoors and taken away their pocket money because -- frankly -- if I had seen that happening while the haze was still thick I would have called the gestapo. Then they would have been arrested for being a social menace in civic-minded Singapore and we shall never see them again. Faced with such situations I feel entirely justified in occasionally wishing that smokers would die faster and stop inflicting their green phlegm on everyone else.

My mum, on the other hand, has gone on healthy-eating spree and brought a glut of oranges home. When we talk about oranges in our home we are not talking about your little sunkist citrus. We are talking about mottled monstrosities like bowling balls. There are at least ten of them in the fridge now and it's taken me the best part of one day to eat the first one. 'But they were on sale!' my mum said. And that's oranges on top of the cherry apples, the half-papaya, the daily two bunches of bananas on the kitchen table, the last plum (getting squishy now) and the quarter-slice of watermelon someone unfailingly buys home every night.

Unfortunately no one has spotted that new 1-litre bar of Cadbury's milky that I just brought home, although I haven't touched it yet (I haven't been feeling so good for the past few days). Speaking of chocolate, Ngee Ann City has a shop that sells the most amazing chocolate roll. It was two bucks and worth every nanocent; one day I shall scoop up all the people that actually read this blog in one hand and abduct them to the place, where I shall force them to buy one and eat it on the spot before they're allowed to go home. Although there's no guarantee you'll go to heaven first.

I love cake. I'm sure you know that by now. MWE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE.

Anyway I've been running high on good feeling and sending random crazed messages to unfortunate people. Hmm. Perhaps I should put an inventory here. So if you're one of them, you'll know you're not alone. =B




(in no particular order)
to Kelly: once upon a time there was a most delicious fish roll. He was most delicious.

to Karmen: It was in a fresh rain that blew no ill wind that I gloried to the spinning leaves and ribands of silken sweetness, billowing up my arms.

to Pong: butter your scones
bluebirds in spring.
serried flanks on sulpher fish (you can tell who my main victim is)

to Wynne: Twinkly feet and fairweather associates -- HULLO Wynne :D

to Mr Neo (my CT): salacious! <--( he wanted one word to describe my class.)

to Ruth (my old senior): shallots and pimple cream! <--(this was evilly a precursor to a supposed wish for luck for her studies for the big As, if you believe it)*

to my PW group members, who were late: Where are yooo my lovelies



I'll pick up where I left off if the good weather holds.
Bye bye.





*that's three 'for's in one sentence. I think I've surpassed myself.