Oh Look, Krill!

Oh don't worry. Whales don't eat clownfish, they eat krill.


I Can’t Seem To Travel Light

On more than one occasion, when someone hands me my bag, they’d comment on how heavy it is. It’s not that I don’t want to travel light, it’s just that I don’t know what to cut out from what’s in my bag.

Here’s what I would usually have in my bag, on a normal day:

1. A wallet, bulging with receipts and various crap.

2. My phone

3. A wallet sized bag that holds at least 3 different types of wet wipes.

4. A pouch for lady items.

5. A small make up bag containing finishing powder, two trial sizes of blushes, a mini kabuki brush, a flat top brush, 3 different eye liners, a lip shimmer, a lip plumper and a comb.


6. Notebooks

7. Pens
pens

8. My tablet
tablet

9. A foldable umbrella

10. A pouch containing thumb drives, my 3G modem dongle and my internet banking dongle.

11. A mini hair brush.

12. At least 2-3 packets of tissues.

13. Various hair bands/scrunchies/clips

14. Keys.

15. Work pass.

Everything but the notebooks and the tablet are usually packed into a bag organiser, so that I know where I can find my stuff easier than just digging through the black hole that is my bag.

Yes, I do have a lot of items in a tote bag. It’s gotten to the point where even Dude said it’s heavy on the odd occasion that he carries the bag for me when I have an aching shoulder.

So what do I remove? Or should I get a better bag? What do you think?


What Friday Means


(via)

Everyone loves Fridays. It’s the last day of the work week for most people and best of all, it means the weekend is here!

Friday means that I can stay up late as I won’t be working the next day, so I can sleep in.

Friday means that I can drink copious amounts of coffee since I can sleep in.


Friday means that I can finally rest after the whole week of work shenanigans.

Friday means that I can go out and meet my friends or hang out with Dude.

Friday means that I’m free from work for the weekend!


Hacking Up A Lung: Home Remedies For Coughs

Being sick during the holidays is never fun. I came down with a cold that developed into a cough that I had trouble trying to shake. I’ve always had a hard time recovering from a cough and this time it was a lot worse than before since I had coughed badly enough in my sleep that I sprained a shoulder and pulled a core muscle. That made it really hard to move around and sleep was agonising since I couldn’t lie down to sleep.

OTC cough meds or even those prescribed by the doctor didn’t seem to help so I resorted to a number of home remedies, like honey and lemon in warm water.

Didn’t work.


Then I tried ginger boiled with rock sugar, to make spicy but sweet ginger tea.

It worked for a short while but I was still coughing badly enough that my left core muscles were aching and I thought that if I didn’t find something soon, I was going to pull another muscle.

Then my granny’s maid suggest taking a tablespoon of soy sauce and some lemon juice.

Guess what? It worked! I took a tablespoon last night and it was the most restful sleep I’ve had in the last three weeks. I’m still coughing a little but not as bad as I used to, which was more like trying to hack up a lung. I took another tablespoon of the mixture this morning and I’m not rushing out of the office every fifteen minutes so that I don’t disrupt the office quiet with my hacking coughs.

So yeah, if you’re having a really bad cough, give this a try. Maybe it’ll work for you too.


Would It Be Totally Scandalous

To attend a company function, themed “When I Grow Up”, dressed in a corset, with a skimpy skirt or tight pants and say that I wanted to be a call girl, just so that I can use my corset again?

Back view

Or, turn up in a white shirt, black underbust corset, pleather pants and whip, and say that I wanted to be a dominatrix?

Photobucket

The underbust corset I’m talking about. Just pretend that I’m wearing what I described.

Too much?

You might be wondering why I’m rather hung up about wearing the corsets. That’s because I HAVE THEM! Also, I don’t get to wear them often enough.

That is, if I’m even going to this company function, since I’ll on vacation break during this time they’ll be having this thing and I may not be free to attend anyway.

Truthfully though, I don’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up. In fact, I still don’t know what I want to be.

What about you? What did you want to be when you grew up?


Why I Love And Hate Rainy Mornings

Rainy mornings. I love ’em. And hate ’em too.

Rainy mornings, especially when it’s storming, are the perfect mornings to sleep in. I love snuggling under the covers and listening to the wind howling and the rain lashing against the window. I especially love it when there’s s lightning storm and thunder is just booming, shaking even the apartment building. That mixed feeling of awe and fear is just lovely when you’re curled up in bed, warm and toasty while you know it’s wet and cold outside. However, rainy mornings are a bitch when you have to go to work. Even with the sheltered walkways to the train station, you get wet when the winds are strong enough to blow the rains horizontally.

Getting on the train is another matter as the trains would be slow and there would be a gajillion people at the train platform already since the trains are already so slow in arriving. Then, having to try to squeeze in with the rest of the island into those tiny train carriages, just to get to work.

For me, after getting off at the train station near the office, I’d still need to battle through the throng of people gathered at the bus stop. As the bus stop is one of the major bus stops in the area, there’s a heck load of buses and people there. Always. All the freaking time. Even when it’s not raining. When it rains, it gets almost impossible to get through the crowd without getting wet since everyone’s crowded at the centre of the shelter and the rest of us have to squeeze through the sides of the crowd, just to get to the other side. This also means that I usually end up getting rain water dripping not just on my head but down my shirt too, which I must say is totally uncomfortable.

So yeah, love rainy mornings when I get to stay home and sleep in but when I need to get to work, totally hate it.


The Cats In My Life

I like cats, I really do but I also have a slight fear of them. How can one not be cautious when handling animals with sharp claws and teeth, and who wont think twice about eating you if you just happen to die and they don’t have any food? But for me, mostly it’s because of the teeth and claws.

Over the past couple of months, I’ve gotten over most of my fear of their claws. It helps when Dude keeps throwing his cats into my lap. I’ve gotten to the point where the cats can run all over me, climb over the back of the sofa right behind my head and having them sniff my feet. Heck, they can claw my knee too if they want, provided I’m wearing jeans.

Since I do talk about the cats relatively often, I thought why not introduce them. Also, since I can’t have cats at home, I get to have taste of what it means to have cats in the house.

First up is Mama Cat, Sadie, formerly known as Kitty.

sadie 1

Sadie is, according to Dude, a Balinese chocolate point. She’s fuzzy, smart, vocal and also rather fat.


Look at that face, isn’t she just the cutest? She’s almost 2 years old and I remember when I first saw her, she was about half the size she is now and not as dark.

sadie 2

Most of the time when I come over for a visit, I’ll find her in the dark corner under Dude’s desk, napping the day away. When she’s awake, she’d saunter over and plop herself down in front of who ever is free, expecting pettings, scratches and lovings from the lowly humans.

She makes me want to pick her up, stuff her in my bag and take her home but because she rarely gets her claws trimmed (she’s fussy like that), I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.

Next is Baby Cat, Coco. Coco is the only surviving kitten of Sadie’s. The other two didn’t survive since Sadie was under a year old when she got knocked up by a roving Romeo. Coco was originally Harry, The Kitten Who Lived, until they realised that Harry was a female and so she became Coco.

coco 1

Coco is very energetic, running around and playing with her toys. She’s not a lap cat that’s for sure, and she’s one hell of a climber. I’ve never seen a cat climb as high and as quick as she does. One minute she’s on the floor and the next, she’s standing at the top of the cupboard, looking very proud of herself.

The one and only time she would lounge on my lap, looking forlorn was when she first came back from the vet after being sterilised. She had the saddest look on her face.

coco 2

So these are the cats that helped me get over my fear, and are also the ones that leave me covered in cat hair half the time. They may not be mine but I do love them just the same.