Oops.

Apparently, his mummy said “Wah, your lovebite so big ah!”

So, they weren’t blind to it afterall.

Bleah.

My flat shoes!

Well well, look what we’ve got here. Turns out my only pair of lamb-colored flat Swear-wannabe shoes were packed in the CK luggage bag (which is already heavy when empty) all along, stored up on the cupboard in the piano room. If I didn’t have to pack I might not have found them till next year. Yayness. Church Camp awaits. The next few days are going to be crazy. But there’s something about packed schedules that give you that heady rush. Had lunch just now with Pastor, Chee Cheong Fan and Isaac (Pastor’s son) at the awesome kway png stall at Far East. And then Jas Chee Cheong Fan and I walked around. Funny how when you shop with a girl you feel comfortable taking as long as you want to browse while when you’re with a guy you instinctively speed up no matter how patient the dude is. And then Pastor sends me to Newton and complained about being my 私人 taxi. Yes yes, I’m sickening, spoilt to death, and what-have-you. Hee haw. Time to pack for Church Camp before the Chias get here. Ikea beckons!

Jas’s Chinese name is Cheong Ee Mei. I’m always shouting that at her while she shouts Sia Hui Ling at me just like Pastor does. Roro cannot remember so he calls her Chee Cheong Fan.

And, I can feel the beginnings of a stomach upset. These days I keep getting pains.

The WWW is full of bull.

Someone’s been walking around with a huge ‘bruise’ on his neck the whole day. It takes some real skill at keeping a poker face in front of said person’s parents. But then, being Rachael, I started giggling while queueing at the mee pok stall with his mummy and pressed my fingers against my lips at a poor attempt to feign coughing. Through my peripheral vision I knew she’d noticed, so I distracted her by asking if the fishballs were handmade. Talk about conspicuity akin to a neon sign. Strange thing is, I swear my mouth isn’t heart-shaped. Hehe.

How do I hide my Hickey?
A hickey is put there to show up! It’s a mark of I-Was-Here. Why else did you get a hickey on your neck? But let’s assume that some wild hickey attacker got to you and now you have to hide the evidence. Again, it’s a bruise. It won’t just vanish with warm water or cold water or lukewarm water. You can get make-up concealer and try that, to cover it while it fades away naturally. Wear turtlenecks or scarves. If you tend to be a really slow healer, take vitamins and eat healthy food so your body has half a chance of healing up well. Stand in dark corners

It will NOT work to use water, ice, eye drops, or aspirin on your hickey. This is a bruise. Blood vessels are broken, they need to mend.

Apparently someone got teased when he went to MI at Funan to while time away. But it is apparently also nothing new because the lyingcheatinghornyslutfacedbitch used to always give him those too. But nothing like the size of the one I left. For the record, I sucked twice around the same area. I don’t have a huge mouth. He does.

How Do You Give a Hickey?
What you do is put your mouth against the side of their neck, in a kissing shape. You leave your mouth slightly open in the middle, like you’re saying the letter “O”. Now you suck in! You suck the skin into your mouth, in essence hurting it, and causing the blood vessels to break. This turns that circular area bright red. It doesn’t take long, maybe 30 seconds.

If you really aren’t good at suction, you can nibble with your teeth. But that is really a last resort, because now you’re not giving them a hickey. Now you’re just gnawing their skin to make it red.

Yes, giving a hickey hurts the person you’re doing it to. You’re breaking their blood vessels! But to some, a hickey is a temporary mark of love. Sort of like a red tattoo that fades naturally after a few days. It says “This girl (or guy) trusted me enough to let me damage their throat, one of the most sensitive parts of the human body”.

Wow. I like the explanation. Now, bite me.

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ROCK THIS PARTY.

DANCE EVERYBODY. MAKE IT HOT IN THIS PARTY. DON’T STOP. MOVE YOUR BODY.

EVERYBODY DANCE NOW.

Farking high. Wednesday is Happy Place Day.

Oh wait. CRAP. Wednesday night is Church Camp Social Night, in Johor-fucking-Bahru. Okay. All plans on hold. Next next Wednesday then. Genius, Rachael.

Mulan.

I cried. How could I not. So many people died. And the lovers couldn’t be together.

Which is kinda beautiful in it’s own twisted, wrenching, cry of agony way.

But I guess after all they went through on the battlefied, just knowing one is alive and well keeps the other going. If that’s how it is with everyone, then who needs to be together with the one you love?

Language.

Someone just added me on FB. And the way he wields language like some kind of weapon; I keep flitting back to the profile to read it. It’s fueled with angst, scathe and snarkiness. And you know how I am about snarkiness. What a very thought provoking individual,

who likes long legs.

And people like that make me check and re-check my sentences.

Twins.

As long as I play nice, it’s easier to remember the reasons I’m in this; because we’re so bloody similar, and we like all the same things, the same songs, the same food. But if there’s an evil twin, it’s me. And we definitely don’t have the same approach towards people, life and situations.

I realize my iPod is now packed with clubbing songs I’ve always loved but never learnt the titles of. And what the fuck man, once you’d heard an iPod via noise canceling earphones on Bass Booster, you can’t go back. I’m a bass addict; must be something to do with the vibrations. To think I’ve been letting that awesome little thing sit there collecting dust for months. The pounding beat makes me happy.

Tonight feels so different from the last. I’m at peace. Is it because of the quick fix? I’d credit it to the knowledge that this is working out. Or maybe, maybe I’m just intrinsically mercenary and talking about “who has what” made me realize, eh, we can click after all.

Funny how everything suddenly became better upon meeting ZX. (: We haven’t met for too long. And the world is always brighter after Horlicks ice cream.

“Horlicks and blueberry cheesecake; in a 65%-35% ratio exactly please.”
Baby snaps his head around and looks at me, “Walao eh!”
And Ziwei calmly replies, “I’m sorry ma’am, but I am unable to meet your request.”

I must learn pole dancing. It’s becoming some kind of obsession.

Never thought I’d say this.

Down to 0% patience. Every action sets me off. And I’m a person with a million triggers. Talking doesn’t work. And I am unwilling to be affected by the animosity. It’ll cost me the exam, and cost him nothing. But I foresaw it; foresaw the inability to comprehend, the defensiveness. Some things are like wine. I am growing unhappy. Perhaps it will lose me some unwanted weight. I am growing discontent.

Promises must be kept. Helping me to study doesn’t mean turning up the volume on the soccer channel and leaving me alone in the room. And if there isn’t a more hideous sound in the world: The sound of a commentator’s droning British accent and the cheering of rabid idiots. Helping me to study doesn’t mean setting the book and me down on the bed and barking “Study”. I feel unsupported. Alone.

Scary word, innit. Alone. 3500 miles away and it felt like you were always there for me. Now 3.5m away, you’re as inaccessible as I am withdrawn from you.

Now that I’ve taken the morning off, perhaps I could use the time to talk. But I’d be better off studying. Much less of a waste of time.

He gives and takes away.

Usually people say the above of God. But that’s my boyfriend I’m talking about. One of my 21 birthday presents for my 21st birthday from the jackass was a shiny red iPod Nano, supposedly limited edition, with an inscription on the back. So he stays over a few days ago, and because I was staying over the next night, since he was already in my house (I went to work and left him sleeping there) he packs for me and happily swipes the iPod along with everything else. It’s been sitting on his table for the past few days, used at whim by him, filled with songs I can’t stand.

I swear Reuben Chia, if there’s a single scratch, you are paying hell for this.