Ok, I fess up. I have been sober now for 18days (I think...). This is my umpteenth attempt at giving up alcohol -- the last time I gave up I did a reasonably good job and stayed sober for 6 months during which time I took up trekking, trail running, Yoga, and bouldering.... This all happened months before I started this blog.
Then one day I reset my life back to the very familiar Drunken Wench, and I cannot remember too many sober days ever since. Which is fine to a certain point, or at least it is fine by me coz I still have many sober moments -- especially when I am writing -- and the rest of the time I am enjoying the odd drink/bottle or two with my friends, and my inner voice.
Anyway, back to sugar and spice and all things nice, which is the title of this post.
Sobriety (I had to look this one up in the dictionary coz it's THAT unfamiliar a word to me) has its pros and cons. For starters off I no longer wake up/regain consciousness in the middle of the night hugging an empty Pizza Hut box not knowing 1) where it came from 2) who paid for it 3) who ate it. I do not call cabs in the middle of the night to take me to the 24hr Korean BBQ restaurant where I would consume anything from 4000 to 5000Kcal of meat, noodles, rice, desert, etc. along with another bottle of distilled liquor. I would of course puke it all up once I felt full, and then order some more (I know, it's so decadent and "Imperial Roman" to behave this way, but I just can't seem to stop it) I once even had one of the waiters wake me up at 5:30am because I had passed out at the table and it was nearly the end of his shift. (Funny, I know! I can laugh in retrospect -- oh, hang on, I was laughing at the time too.)
The other side of the coin of being sober is that I am constantly craving for sugary foods; food that my brain 15 years ago created a lovely synaptic shortcut to the "fight, freight, and flight" department of my midbrain. In short, sugar equals DANGER, KEEP THE FUCK AWAY in my mind. There is no way in hell that I am going to pick up those sweets that have been collecting dust, or going stale, in my office desk just so that I can get a sugar-rush to substitute the calming feeling of that "first drink" after a stressful day at the office. No fucking way.
The other thing I have an issue with is trying to explain to people who are very familiar with my impressive drinking habits that I am ordering "Perrier" or "Cranberry Juice" when I am out.
"Umm...Did you knock your head, DWR? You mean Diet Coke with Rum, Vodka, Whiskey, and a twist of lime, right?"
"No, I want a Perrier."
"Riiiiiggghhht." (whispers amongst themselves) Is she OK? Maybe it's that thing with Nick still affecting her. Better let her be for now. She'll soon get over him. She'll be back on the MoJo's.
No. I am going to be a Drunken Wench without any ethanol in my bloodstream. How about that for a change? Yup, I am going to spice up my life with soft drinks from now on.
(Gawd that sounds so booooorrrrrriiiiiinnnng. How am I to cope!)
Am I going to miss all the fun things in life coz I don't drink? Am I going to find new, and interesting things that would radically change my life? Maybe, maybe not. But for now, I will just settle for a substitue for my sugar craving, something non-alcoholic to spice up my drinking cabinet, and anything -- just even one thing -- that is nice.
(Post script: Please note, unless you have a high tolerance for alcohol I would not recommend downing a pitcher of MoJo in one session by yourself. It is sooooo delicious and easy to drink that you can just pack a pint, or two, in less than an hour. The results? You start to hallucinate; it feels like you have just drunk 3 bottles of Robitussin together with 1/2 bottle of scotch. "Money Back Guaranteed!". I know. I've been down those tracks before... Great recipe tho'.)
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Waste of Time (Part 2)
My new Counselor, Ana, asked me in my first session: "So, how would you like our sessions to be structured? And what do you aim to get out of these counseling sessions?"
"I want to understand the root of my depression so that I can be happy..." (why is she asking me silly questions?)
I explained to her that with Dana I would sit and talk thru a specific topic and she would listen to me as she noted some of the things that I said. She would often ask me why I felt a specific emotion, or why I reacted to a certain situation, and she would always help me to help myself. That was how things were with Dana, and that was how I wanted my sessions with Ana to be. After my third session with Ana I noticed something different. She was *telling* me how to help myself, not encourage me to find the answers thru my own thought processes, or to work thru my own feelings at my own pace.
"You react to stressful situations because you cannot separate the emotion and the rationale. You are driven by your emotions. I can help you with this, there is a wonderful tool, and it works. It's basically taking an inventory of all the situations and things people say that upset you, and write down the emotion associated with it, followed by how you should rationalise these feelings so that you do not react."
Hang on. I've heard this tune before... it's one of those "Shrink Tools". She might as well give me a meditation tape to help me sleep, or a self hypnosis video to stop me from "binge'n'purge". But I made so much progress with Dana; I am determined to continue with my treatment, even tho' it sounds like a load of crap. I have to give it a try, at least. Otherwise I will spend the next 15 years on anti-depressants, laxatives, sleeping pills, and the works. I will be lonely again in my shell -- protected from the outside world, but with no doors to let anyone into my life.
Yesterday I started on my little assignment that Ana gave me. In one column I wrote down situations/things people say that piss me off, or upset me, in another I would write down the emotion I felt, and finally the column for how to "rationalise" this feeling. I started off writing in the first two columns, but when I came to the final one, my mind went blank. I could not find a way to rationalise how I felt or reacted. I was stuck.
Instead of spending hours and hours trying to rationalise my first emotion, I just continued to write down the external factor (stuff that piss me off), followed by my internal factors (how I react to a negative factor). This exercise continued for nearly 6 pages, by which time I was in floods of tears. Why? All I am doing is writing down all the shite that piss me off, all the unhappy memories, all the pain from the past with absolutely no answers to them. This exercise is nothing more than opening old wounds that have started to heal; there is no puss in these wounds, there are no lost shrapnel, or splinters here that need to be removed. They just need to be left alone. And the tears? The tears are from the painful memories that are attached to my deepest emotions. Why do I have to relive these painful memories? Why do I have to go thru all of the pain again? I feel like a rape victim who is explaining in detail how she was assaulted in front of strangers in her court case. And to make me feel even more shite is the fact that I cannot fill in the last column.
The rationalisation.
All I see is 6 pages worth of pain. Six pages worth of anger and despair that I feel towards myself for not being equipped to complete a simple task like separating my emotion from my mind. I have always been a fairly rational person; I'm very cool headed and detached in stressful situations. I can usually control my emotions to deliver my message across to people in a non-confrontational manner, but yet, I have a woman telling me that I am ill equipped in this area, and the proof that she may be right is sitting right in front of me.
Six pages worth of a blank column that I cannot fill... six pages of tear stained, emptiness that has eaten away at my heart for nearly half my life. Maybe that's why I am driven to be a drunken wench, who just rambles on about everything, and nothing, for this is the only tool that I have to be able to cope with the world that surrounds me.
(to be continued...)
Nah, you know what? Fuck that, I need a drink.
"I want to understand the root of my depression so that I can be happy..." (why is she asking me silly questions?)
I explained to her that with Dana I would sit and talk thru a specific topic and she would listen to me as she noted some of the things that I said. She would often ask me why I felt a specific emotion, or why I reacted to a certain situation, and she would always help me to help myself. That was how things were with Dana, and that was how I wanted my sessions with Ana to be. After my third session with Ana I noticed something different. She was *telling* me how to help myself, not encourage me to find the answers thru my own thought processes, or to work thru my own feelings at my own pace.
"You react to stressful situations because you cannot separate the emotion and the rationale. You are driven by your emotions. I can help you with this, there is a wonderful tool, and it works. It's basically taking an inventory of all the situations and things people say that upset you, and write down the emotion associated with it, followed by how you should rationalise these feelings so that you do not react."
Hang on. I've heard this tune before... it's one of those "Shrink Tools". She might as well give me a meditation tape to help me sleep, or a self hypnosis video to stop me from "binge'n'purge". But I made so much progress with Dana; I am determined to continue with my treatment, even tho' it sounds like a load of crap. I have to give it a try, at least. Otherwise I will spend the next 15 years on anti-depressants, laxatives, sleeping pills, and the works. I will be lonely again in my shell -- protected from the outside world, but with no doors to let anyone into my life.
Yesterday I started on my little assignment that Ana gave me. In one column I wrote down situations/things people say that piss me off, or upset me, in another I would write down the emotion I felt, and finally the column for how to "rationalise" this feeling. I started off writing in the first two columns, but when I came to the final one, my mind went blank. I could not find a way to rationalise how I felt or reacted. I was stuck.
Instead of spending hours and hours trying to rationalise my first emotion, I just continued to write down the external factor (stuff that piss me off), followed by my internal factors (how I react to a negative factor). This exercise continued for nearly 6 pages, by which time I was in floods of tears. Why? All I am doing is writing down all the shite that piss me off, all the unhappy memories, all the pain from the past with absolutely no answers to them. This exercise is nothing more than opening old wounds that have started to heal; there is no puss in these wounds, there are no lost shrapnel, or splinters here that need to be removed. They just need to be left alone. And the tears? The tears are from the painful memories that are attached to my deepest emotions. Why do I have to relive these painful memories? Why do I have to go thru all of the pain again? I feel like a rape victim who is explaining in detail how she was assaulted in front of strangers in her court case. And to make me feel even more shite is the fact that I cannot fill in the last column.
The rationalisation.
All I see is 6 pages worth of pain. Six pages worth of anger and despair that I feel towards myself for not being equipped to complete a simple task like separating my emotion from my mind. I have always been a fairly rational person; I'm very cool headed and detached in stressful situations. I can usually control my emotions to deliver my message across to people in a non-confrontational manner, but yet, I have a woman telling me that I am ill equipped in this area, and the proof that she may be right is sitting right in front of me.
Six pages worth of a blank column that I cannot fill... six pages of tear stained, emptiness that has eaten away at my heart for nearly half my life. Maybe that's why I am driven to be a drunken wench, who just rambles on about everything, and nothing, for this is the only tool that I have to be able to cope with the world that surrounds me.
(to be continued...)
Nah, you know what? Fuck that, I need a drink.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Waste of Time (Part 1)
For many years I have resisted going to counseling to treat my chronic depression and my eating disorder. I was first told to go to counseling at 17 when I had already developed Bulimia Nervosa, an eating disorder, which I have been living with now for 15 years. (Shit, that is half my life!) I just saw no point to it; I was diagnosed with "mild" melancholy, and they never even detected that I had behavioural problems with my eating habits. How can someone who "under-diagnosed" me send me off for the "right treatment"? How can my problems be solved by a complete stranger who knows fuck all about me, when *I* -- who knows me the best, and most -- can't change anything? All the shrink tools, meditation exercises, and big hugs in the world were not going to make the pain go away. "Just give me the pills so that I can function, get my grades, and get the fuck out of this miserable situation that I am in." was all that I would say in my sessions with my first shrink.
The second time I went into counseling was when I was at University; my doctor refused to give me my Prozac unless I went to see a counselor. If anyone who is thinking of being a psychiatric nurse, or a clinical psychologist, or going into a profession dealing with people who have some form of neurosis is reading this, well, this is one of the worst things you can do to one of your patients -- make threats to remove their happy pills, coz they are NOT going to cooperate. I used to go to my counseling sessions, sit down, ask what time it was, and sat there in silence for the entire session. I knew that what was "discussed" between me and my counselor stayed between us, unless they thought I was a threat to myself so I took full advantage of the "patient confidentiality" thing. I got the happy pills, in exchange of wasting 1hr of my time sitting opposite a complete stranger who just sat there and waited for me to "open up" to him.
I've had a few other shrinks that I have been seeing, some of whom recommended taking personality tests, ink blot tests, changed my medication, combined "alternative" therapy, etc. Whichever way, none of this was working.
Until I met Dana.
Dana has been my counselor for over a year now. I actually feel that I have made a lot of progress in her sessions; I don't know why I decided that I wanted to continue going to see her, but in Dana I felt that maybe I can get over all of my issues because she was the first one to make me feel like I could help myself. Not have someone else solve my issues. Unfortunately, Dana has now stopped seeing any patients, because she is on maternal leave. She adopted a little baby who needs full time attention.
Which left me back to where I started.
Luckily my doctor understands that I need all the happy pills to helps me to get thru the day and continues to write the prescriptions without any threats, and Dana has introduced me to a new, English speaking counselor. My new counselor is also a woman, but for some reason, she reminds me of why I resisted counseling all those years ago...
(to be continued)
The second time I went into counseling was when I was at University; my doctor refused to give me my Prozac unless I went to see a counselor. If anyone who is thinking of being a psychiatric nurse, or a clinical psychologist, or going into a profession dealing with people who have some form of neurosis is reading this, well, this is one of the worst things you can do to one of your patients -- make threats to remove their happy pills, coz they are NOT going to cooperate. I used to go to my counseling sessions, sit down, ask what time it was, and sat there in silence for the entire session. I knew that what was "discussed" between me and my counselor stayed between us, unless they thought I was a threat to myself so I took full advantage of the "patient confidentiality" thing. I got the happy pills, in exchange of wasting 1hr of my time sitting opposite a complete stranger who just sat there and waited for me to "open up" to him.
I've had a few other shrinks that I have been seeing, some of whom recommended taking personality tests, ink blot tests, changed my medication, combined "alternative" therapy, etc. Whichever way, none of this was working.
Until I met Dana.
Dana has been my counselor for over a year now. I actually feel that I have made a lot of progress in her sessions; I don't know why I decided that I wanted to continue going to see her, but in Dana I felt that maybe I can get over all of my issues because she was the first one to make me feel like I could help myself. Not have someone else solve my issues. Unfortunately, Dana has now stopped seeing any patients, because she is on maternal leave. She adopted a little baby who needs full time attention.
Which left me back to where I started.
Luckily my doctor understands that I need all the happy pills to helps me to get thru the day and continues to write the prescriptions without any threats, and Dana has introduced me to a new, English speaking counselor. My new counselor is also a woman, but for some reason, she reminds me of why I resisted counseling all those years ago...
(to be continued)
Friday, August 05, 2005
What Next?!
(I am doomed. Fucking doomed....)
D-Day Minus 3: For some strange reason I have a HUGE headache today so I went down to the "First Aid" room and slept for 2hrs while it subsided. I love working for this company! There's an infirmary where I can take a nap during the day if I am feeling sick. UUUUGGGGHHH. I *do* wish this headache, and tired feeling goes away soon coz I can't take pain killers unless it's an opioid. NSAIDs trigger my asthma; and why the FUCK can't I get codeine in this country...
D-Day Minus 2: I noticed a nasty, rash on my back tonight, which I didn't think much of considering that I am allergic to a lot of food. The buggers are itchy and slightly painful. It's probably that Caesar salad at TGIFs that I ate -- it must have been laced with some funky chemical that has caused this ugly skin condition. I took my usual dose of antihistamines and steroid cream, and I am now snug in bed feeling a bit bummed off that I have yet ANOTHER rash. Fuck, when was the last time I had one of these? 3, 4 months ago? Oh yeah, it was just before I went off to the US for a month. Why on earth does humanity put industrial chemicals in my food to make it "look" and "taste" like Caesar salad sauce? Try making it with NATURAL ingredients, not something that comes out of a conical flask!
D-Day Minus 1: Oh shit! There are BLISTERS on the rash today, AND they have spread from my back to my breasts!!! FUCK!!! How can it get worse!! And the burning sensation -- FUCK -- my back feels like I have just sat in the Sahara sunbathing in my string bikini! This is not Kosher, I need to see a dermatologist tomorrow morning, because I could have leprosy or something, and will have to be in quarantine for months!!! What will I do if they put me away with other people with weeping, pussy welts covering their bodies. No one will hug me anymore, no one will touch me anymore, no one will even come close to me...
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!
D Day: I ran to the nearest large hospital which just so happens to be only 4 mins walk from my house. I handed my medical insurance card and asked to see a dermatologist. The receptionist made me sit outside Room 2 which was located in a relatively dark corner near the lifts that lead to the inpatient wards. (Maybe they have a special ward for lepers like me!). I was the third person to be called up by the doctor who listened carefully to my symptoms and asked me to show him my nasty rash.
"Herpes."
"'Scuse me? Like, as in VD?" (I know it sounds silly to have a sexually transmitted disease on one's back, but that was all that came to my mind at the time.)
"No, No. Herpes Zoster. Did you have chicken pox as a child? It's the same virus. You have Shingles."
"What? Like what old people get?"
"Well, yes, it is more common in the elderly population, but young people can get them too. But, oooooh, yours is pretty bad. How long have you left it in this condition?"
"Two days."
"Hmmm... I would usually recommend a topical treatment, but this time I think I will prescribe some anti-viral medication. It will take about 2 months to heal; I will give you 7 days of medication, so please come back next week."
"What causes it?"
"Oh, the causes are unknown, some say it's stress, others say that you are genetically prone to redevelop chicken pox, some even say that it's just bad luck."
"Riiiiiggght."
The doctor put some cream on my back and asked how I felt. I was in too much pain to tell him that of course I was feeling like shit with funky blisters across my back and my breasts, but I decided not to considering that he was kind enough to explain my condition carefully, and professionally. It's summer time, it's bikini season, it's time to expose my skin and get a nice suntan... but no. This year there will be no pretty bras, no massages, no beach parties, no intensive yoga, it will be just me waiting for the autumn so that I don't feel out of place wearing long sleeves and thick clothing that covers my erect nipples.
D-Day Minus 3: For some strange reason I have a HUGE headache today so I went down to the "First Aid" room and slept for 2hrs while it subsided. I love working for this company! There's an infirmary where I can take a nap during the day if I am feeling sick. UUUUGGGGHHH. I *do* wish this headache, and tired feeling goes away soon coz I can't take pain killers unless it's an opioid. NSAIDs trigger my asthma; and why the FUCK can't I get codeine in this country...
D-Day Minus 2: I noticed a nasty, rash on my back tonight, which I didn't think much of considering that I am allergic to a lot of food. The buggers are itchy and slightly painful. It's probably that Caesar salad at TGIFs that I ate -- it must have been laced with some funky chemical that has caused this ugly skin condition. I took my usual dose of antihistamines and steroid cream, and I am now snug in bed feeling a bit bummed off that I have yet ANOTHER rash. Fuck, when was the last time I had one of these? 3, 4 months ago? Oh yeah, it was just before I went off to the US for a month. Why on earth does humanity put industrial chemicals in my food to make it "look" and "taste" like Caesar salad sauce? Try making it with NATURAL ingredients, not something that comes out of a conical flask!
D-Day Minus 1: Oh shit! There are BLISTERS on the rash today, AND they have spread from my back to my breasts!!! FUCK!!! How can it get worse!! And the burning sensation -- FUCK -- my back feels like I have just sat in the Sahara sunbathing in my string bikini! This is not Kosher, I need to see a dermatologist tomorrow morning, because I could have leprosy or something, and will have to be in quarantine for months!!! What will I do if they put me away with other people with weeping, pussy welts covering their bodies. No one will hug me anymore, no one will touch me anymore, no one will even come close to me...
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!
D Day: I ran to the nearest large hospital which just so happens to be only 4 mins walk from my house. I handed my medical insurance card and asked to see a dermatologist. The receptionist made me sit outside Room 2 which was located in a relatively dark corner near the lifts that lead to the inpatient wards. (Maybe they have a special ward for lepers like me!). I was the third person to be called up by the doctor who listened carefully to my symptoms and asked me to show him my nasty rash.
"Herpes."
"'Scuse me? Like, as in VD?" (I know it sounds silly to have a sexually transmitted disease on one's back, but that was all that came to my mind at the time.)
"No, No. Herpes Zoster. Did you have chicken pox as a child? It's the same virus. You have Shingles."
"What? Like what old people get?"
"Well, yes, it is more common in the elderly population, but young people can get them too. But, oooooh, yours is pretty bad. How long have you left it in this condition?"
"Two days."
"Hmmm... I would usually recommend a topical treatment, but this time I think I will prescribe some anti-viral medication. It will take about 2 months to heal; I will give you 7 days of medication, so please come back next week."
"What causes it?"
"Oh, the causes are unknown, some say it's stress, others say that you are genetically prone to redevelop chicken pox, some even say that it's just bad luck."
"Riiiiiggght."
The doctor put some cream on my back and asked how I felt. I was in too much pain to tell him that of course I was feeling like shit with funky blisters across my back and my breasts, but I decided not to considering that he was kind enough to explain my condition carefully, and professionally. It's summer time, it's bikini season, it's time to expose my skin and get a nice suntan... but no. This year there will be no pretty bras, no massages, no beach parties, no intensive yoga, it will be just me waiting for the autumn so that I don't feel out of place wearing long sleeves and thick clothing that covers my erect nipples.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Speed Dating
So how did I go from the end of a nearly 7 month, long distance relationship to Speed Dating? Well, here's the story.
I am an avid hiker/trekker, and when I came back to Japan in April 2004, after living in Hong Kong for nearly a year, I wanted to join a hiking group so that I could make new friends and enjoy the mountains of Japan. I looked online for various groups, and ended up signing up to an English speaking hiking group that went trekking about once a month. I was really excited about going on an "international hike" for the first time in my own country, but unfortunately it pissed down with rain that day. Needless to say, the expedition was cancelled.
Ever since the day I signed up for the "international hike" I have been receiving a newsletter on "Events and Parties in and Around Tokyo" (which includes a hiking expedition at times. The title of the newsletter says it all: it's one of those "sad, singleton oriented" spam that has lists of events such as: "TGWR30s" (Thank God We Are 30s -- meet men and women (single/divorced) who are in their 30s!), or "International Friendship Party" (Tired of crowded bars? Tired of bad chat-up lines? Well, this is a casual get together of.....) , or "Tokyo Executives Wind-Down Sunday BBQ".... Do I need to continue?
I must admit I usually glance through the newsletter to see what kind of "Parties" are being organised in this city, when I noticed something new: "Speed Dating", a 5 minute date with 10 to 15 men on a saturday evening in a bar/club. There is a no-nonsense, non-threatening aspect about speed dating; if the date is not going well, and you don't particularly want to see him ever again, well, he has gone to his next date after 5 minutes, and "lo and behold" you have a new date for the next 5 minutes. And if that does not work out, well, you get your next dude in 5 mins. In all honesty, considering the calibre of available men in this city (you'd be surprised!) my expectation is that I am going to walk out of a Speed Date saying. "Yup. And that was that. So what can I do next for a laugh!"
So -- literally -- for a joke I applied for the Speed Dating thing, thinking that a) I probably won't get a place in the highly competitive event for all the sad and lonely singletons out there b) even if I did, it is going to be a laugh coz most of the participants are going to be geeks, misfits, closet homosexuals trying to convince themselves that they "can" be cured, or organic life forms that are a few, um, actually several steps below "homo sapiens" on the evolution ladder for there is no screening process to join c) it's a time-filler for me while the DWFs guzzle local booze in downtown Taipei coz they are out there for business... indefinitely d) it's boring being at home by yourself on a saturday night.
Two days ago I got a message in my inbox that told me that I had secured a place at the Speed Dating event on the 20th.
Great... GRFuckingEAT... (I really was hoping that I would not be accepted into this very exclusive club of sad, lonely singletons!) AND to just add icing to cake, or maybe salt to injury, the organisers had the audacity to say in the last line of the confirmation email: "By the way, is DWR a male, or a female name?"
These FECKERs don't even know if I am a man or a woman, and they are trying to match me up with a date!! I am a little bit worried now: I may end up finding a cabbage leaf sitting opposite me for 5 minutes during this Speed Date event, in which case I am going to have to snag its "1 free drink ticket". It won't notice, I'm sure!
Jeez, what have I done...
(post script: some of you may be wondering why I can just spring out from a 7 month relationship and enter the dating "ring" so soon. Well, to be honest, I am doing it to fill my time with activities so that I don't end up crying on the train again. My expectation, just as I said, is pretty low, and the most likely "ending" to the speed date story is that I bump into one of the closet homosexuals who dated one of my gay friends. Yes, it really is a small world....)
I am an avid hiker/trekker, and when I came back to Japan in April 2004, after living in Hong Kong for nearly a year, I wanted to join a hiking group so that I could make new friends and enjoy the mountains of Japan. I looked online for various groups, and ended up signing up to an English speaking hiking group that went trekking about once a month. I was really excited about going on an "international hike" for the first time in my own country, but unfortunately it pissed down with rain that day. Needless to say, the expedition was cancelled.
Ever since the day I signed up for the "international hike" I have been receiving a newsletter on "Events and Parties in and Around Tokyo" (which includes a hiking expedition at times. The title of the newsletter says it all: it's one of those "sad, singleton oriented" spam that has lists of events such as: "TGWR30s" (Thank God We Are 30s -- meet men and women (single/divorced) who are in their 30s!), or "International Friendship Party" (Tired of crowded bars? Tired of bad chat-up lines? Well, this is a casual get together of.....) , or "Tokyo Executives Wind-Down Sunday BBQ".... Do I need to continue?
I must admit I usually glance through the newsletter to see what kind of "Parties" are being organised in this city, when I noticed something new: "Speed Dating", a 5 minute date with 10 to 15 men on a saturday evening in a bar/club. There is a no-nonsense, non-threatening aspect about speed dating; if the date is not going well, and you don't particularly want to see him ever again, well, he has gone to his next date after 5 minutes, and "lo and behold" you have a new date for the next 5 minutes. And if that does not work out, well, you get your next dude in 5 mins. In all honesty, considering the calibre of available men in this city (you'd be surprised!) my expectation is that I am going to walk out of a Speed Date saying. "Yup. And that was that. So what can I do next for a laugh!"
So -- literally -- for a joke I applied for the Speed Dating thing, thinking that a) I probably won't get a place in the highly competitive event for all the sad and lonely singletons out there b) even if I did, it is going to be a laugh coz most of the participants are going to be geeks, misfits, closet homosexuals trying to convince themselves that they "can" be cured, or organic life forms that are a few, um, actually several steps below "homo sapiens" on the evolution ladder for there is no screening process to join c) it's a time-filler for me while the DWFs guzzle local booze in downtown Taipei coz they are out there for business... indefinitely d) it's boring being at home by yourself on a saturday night.
Two days ago I got a message in my inbox that told me that I had secured a place at the Speed Dating event on the 20th.
Great... GRFuckingEAT... (I really was hoping that I would not be accepted into this very exclusive club of sad, lonely singletons!) AND to just add icing to cake, or maybe salt to injury, the organisers had the audacity to say in the last line of the confirmation email: "By the way, is DWR a male, or a female name?"
These FECKERs don't even know if I am a man or a woman, and they are trying to match me up with a date!! I am a little bit worried now: I may end up finding a cabbage leaf sitting opposite me for 5 minutes during this Speed Date event, in which case I am going to have to snag its "1 free drink ticket". It won't notice, I'm sure!
Jeez, what have I done...
(post script: some of you may be wondering why I can just spring out from a 7 month relationship and enter the dating "ring" so soon. Well, to be honest, I am doing it to fill my time with activities so that I don't end up crying on the train again. My expectation, just as I said, is pretty low, and the most likely "ending" to the speed date story is that I bump into one of the closet homosexuals who dated one of my gay friends. Yes, it really is a small world....)
Monday, August 01, 2005
Moving, Living, Moving On
In the end it took the 3 movers only 2.5 hours to move 60 items/boxes into my new house. It was very impressive considering that the municipality had contracted a bunch of cowboys (probably with a second job as traffic wardens during the weekday) to dig up the road in front of my house. By 1pm I was unpacking boxes after boxes of my clothes and hanging them up with only one intention: I am going to have some structure and order in my wardrobe... this time. (I think I said that the last time I moved homes.) My mind is set: I am going to live in this house for at least 2 years, maybe 3 or 4 even. I am going to do up my area of the communal garden, put out deck chairs on the wooden patio, and place potted flowers in the window boxes outside the upstairs bedrooms.
I'm going to "live" here. Just me, and my cats, Belle and George. Just me. And I'm going to live.
Since I ended my relationship with Nick last week I have been walking in a daze half of the time, thinking of all the "what if"s between us. I've tried to fill my time with Yoga, rock climbing, dinner with friends, and anything that I can think of at the time. I even went and got my hair cut into a short bob, which everyone seems to notice, and like, today at the office. "DWR? What is it? You look different... Ah, you cut your hair!"
Yes, I did. And I am going to make a fresh start, while I hold onto the good memories that I have with Nick, for they are treasures that are part of my life.
So, now that this chapter in my life titled "Nick" is over, what am I going to do next that is radical and crazy and unusual and uncharacteristic and fun and positive and incredibly silly and unbelievably sad and pathetic?
Speed Dating.
(more about speed dating tomorrow...)
I'm going to "live" here. Just me, and my cats, Belle and George. Just me. And I'm going to live.
Since I ended my relationship with Nick last week I have been walking in a daze half of the time, thinking of all the "what if"s between us. I've tried to fill my time with Yoga, rock climbing, dinner with friends, and anything that I can think of at the time. I even went and got my hair cut into a short bob, which everyone seems to notice, and like, today at the office. "DWR? What is it? You look different... Ah, you cut your hair!"
Yes, I did. And I am going to make a fresh start, while I hold onto the good memories that I have with Nick, for they are treasures that are part of my life.
So, now that this chapter in my life titled "Nick" is over, what am I going to do next that is radical and crazy and unusual and uncharacteristic and fun and positive and incredibly silly and unbelievably sad and pathetic?
Speed Dating.
(more about speed dating tomorrow...)
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Leaving The Nest
Today I am moving into my new house -- yes I am no longer going to have to put up with the Wench Mum's inedible food, her crazy outbursts, and her whining at me about my "strange" behaviour patterns. I'm not quite sure what she means by strange considering that she talks to the TV, lies in bed shaking her arms and legs in the air, and continuously has a monologue about germs and house dust when she vacuums the house only once a week (and that's a good week).
Oh, I digress. Yes, I am moving into my now 2 bedroom house in a green suburb only 30mins commute from my office. I had my plans all set from about 5wks ago when I started to look for houses to rent; when I came across my house, I just instantly fell in love with the high ceilings, and the amount of natural light coming into all the rooms, the wooden deck where one can hold a BBQ, and most of all the large tree in the communal courtyard. Oh, and the walk-in-wardrobe.
I love the place! And my movers are coming to bring my furniture this morning at 9:30am... only that there are some local government FECKERS digging up the road on a sunday morning JUST OUTSIDE MY HOUSE!!! WTF!!!! Where else on earth has anyone heard of workmen -- on a shitty government contract -- doing road maintenance in a residential area on a SUNDAY FUCKIN' MORNING!
Now, my movers are going to have to park their van round the corner and carry my furniture nearly 100m, walk up past the car park, and into my home like little leaf-cutter ants carrying large bits of foliage to decorate their nest...
If there is any damage to my furniture, I will be well pissed off!!
Why are they digging my road on a sunday?
Oh, I digress. Yes, I am moving into my now 2 bedroom house in a green suburb only 30mins commute from my office. I had my plans all set from about 5wks ago when I started to look for houses to rent; when I came across my house, I just instantly fell in love with the high ceilings, and the amount of natural light coming into all the rooms, the wooden deck where one can hold a BBQ, and most of all the large tree in the communal courtyard. Oh, and the walk-in-wardrobe.
I love the place! And my movers are coming to bring my furniture this morning at 9:30am... only that there are some local government FECKERS digging up the road on a sunday morning JUST OUTSIDE MY HOUSE!!! WTF!!!! Where else on earth has anyone heard of workmen -- on a shitty government contract -- doing road maintenance in a residential area on a SUNDAY FUCKIN' MORNING!
Now, my movers are going to have to park their van round the corner and carry my furniture nearly 100m, walk up past the car park, and into my home like little leaf-cutter ants carrying large bits of foliage to decorate their nest...
If there is any damage to my furniture, I will be well pissed off!!
Why are they digging my road on a sunday?
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Friends
I have wonderful friends. Drunken Wench Friends. They look after me when I am feeling blue, just as I look after them when they are feeling like shit. We laugh together, we cry together, and we get drunk together. We hang out in each others homes, we go for a drive with no specific destination, and most of all we accept each others shortcomings...
My DWFs, Y and A, are no longer in Tokyo, for they are on a project in a different country. But I am not alone, because I have the most wonderful friends that I can have that look out for me even when they are far away: DWFs. And I want to dedicate the lyrics to this song -- have a safe journey, both of you.
DWR.
My DWFs, Y and A, are no longer in Tokyo, for they are on a project in a different country. But I am not alone, because I have the most wonderful friends that I can have that look out for me even when they are far away: DWFs. And I want to dedicate the lyrics to this song -- have a safe journey, both of you.
DWR.
"You've Got A Friend
(Carole King)
When you're down and troubled
and you need a helping hand
and nothing, whoa nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me
and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest nights.
You just call out my name,
and you know whereever I am
I'll come running, oh yeah baby
to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall,
all you have to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.
You've got a friend.
If the sky above you
should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
and soon I will be knocking upon your door.
You just call out my name and you know where ever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall
all you got to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?
People can be so cold.
They'll hurt you and desert you.
Well they'll take your soul if you let them.
Oh yeah, but don't you let them.
You just call out my name and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Oh babe, don't you know that,
Winter spring summer or fall,
Hey now, all you've got to do is call.
Lord, I'll be there, yes I will.
You've got a friend.
You've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.
You've got a friend."
(Carole King)
When you're down and troubled
and you need a helping hand
and nothing, whoa nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me
and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest nights.
You just call out my name,
and you know whereever I am
I'll come running, oh yeah baby
to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer, or fall,
all you have to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.
You've got a friend.
If the sky above you
should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
and soon I will be knocking upon your door.
You just call out my name and you know where ever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall
all you got to do is call
and I'll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Hey, ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?
People can be so cold.
They'll hurt you and desert you.
Well they'll take your soul if you let them.
Oh yeah, but don't you let them.
You just call out my name and you know wherever I am
I'll come running to see you again.
Oh babe, don't you know that,
Winter spring summer or fall,
Hey now, all you've got to do is call.
Lord, I'll be there, yes I will.
You've got a friend.
You've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.
Ain't it good to know you've got a friend.
You've got a friend."
P.S. By the way, Y and A, can I go to see you guyz on 20,000 airmiles??? Is that enough??
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Crying...
I cried twice today, once on the outside, and once on the inside.
First I cried on the outside on my train journey, tears streaming down my face, to my shrink's office to pick up my medication. My DWF, A, recently started to date a woman whom he introduced at a classic DWF dinner. While A left the table to go to the gents, the woman that he brought to meet us started to invite Y and me to "international dating" and "speed dating" parties, for not moments ago Y and I were talking about how difficult it is to meet single men, but despite this, we were quite happy hanging out as DWFs, meeting at least once a week in a pubs/restaurants getting drunk and bitching about our work. These "international/speed dating" events are frequented by Caucasian men who live in Japan, so Y and I started to suspect something strange about her. Why would a woman dating an Asian man invite us to join her in one of these singleton parties?
Y and I confided with A and told him to be careful, because she may be using him to introduce her to a white guy...
It turned out that the only reason why this woman suggested that we go to these dating parties was because she felt "sorry" for us, because we couldn't even get a date. To her we were two women in their 30s with a career, but without that which all strive to achieve in life.
Happiness.
And to her, happiness is to have a line of men waiting to date you, or to be married to a successful man, and have children, neither of which we have. How could we? We work, we get together as DWFs, we go to the gym, we take "classes", we call each other up, we go shopping, but the thing is that we have fun with what resources we have available to us. How can we plan weddings, or romantic holidays, or dates, or anything when we don't have anyone to do these things with? That's why we make the most of what we have -- each other. There should be nothing wrong with that, but it made me both sad and angry to think that a stranger saw us as "dysfunctional" simply because we don't have dates...
Why do people judge us for who we are? Do they think that we chose to be dateless? We are only trying to find our small pocket of happiness with what we have now. That's all...
Second I cried on the inside as I wrote an email to Nick to tell him that I think we should go our separate ways. Long distance relationships are hard to maintain, and with no concrete plans for even the near future, it is difficult to maintain the closeness that we once shared. He has his finals and also started his business, which makes it even more painful for me to have to end things with him during this difficult time. But it had to be done -- sooner, rather than later.
As I pressed the send button on the email, my colleague walked past my cubicle. We joked around, laughed at my drinking habits, told me that I am a good sport because I can take jokes from the boys. I was smiling, laughing even, but really I was crying on the inside. Just like a court jester, I mask my face and make people laugh, I hide my true feelings, my sadness. But one thing a jester cannot hide -- or should I say I leave for us to see -- is the small teardrop on his left cheek, a symbol of his inner, true sadness.
First I cried on the outside on my train journey, tears streaming down my face, to my shrink's office to pick up my medication. My DWF, A, recently started to date a woman whom he introduced at a classic DWF dinner. While A left the table to go to the gents, the woman that he brought to meet us started to invite Y and me to "international dating" and "speed dating" parties, for not moments ago Y and I were talking about how difficult it is to meet single men, but despite this, we were quite happy hanging out as DWFs, meeting at least once a week in a pubs/restaurants getting drunk and bitching about our work. These "international/speed dating" events are frequented by Caucasian men who live in Japan, so Y and I started to suspect something strange about her. Why would a woman dating an Asian man invite us to join her in one of these singleton parties?
Y and I confided with A and told him to be careful, because she may be using him to introduce her to a white guy...
It turned out that the only reason why this woman suggested that we go to these dating parties was because she felt "sorry" for us, because we couldn't even get a date. To her we were two women in their 30s with a career, but without that which all strive to achieve in life.
Happiness.
And to her, happiness is to have a line of men waiting to date you, or to be married to a successful man, and have children, neither of which we have. How could we? We work, we get together as DWFs, we go to the gym, we take "classes", we call each other up, we go shopping, but the thing is that we have fun with what resources we have available to us. How can we plan weddings, or romantic holidays, or dates, or anything when we don't have anyone to do these things with? That's why we make the most of what we have -- each other. There should be nothing wrong with that, but it made me both sad and angry to think that a stranger saw us as "dysfunctional" simply because we don't have dates...
Why do people judge us for who we are? Do they think that we chose to be dateless? We are only trying to find our small pocket of happiness with what we have now. That's all...
Second I cried on the inside as I wrote an email to Nick to tell him that I think we should go our separate ways. Long distance relationships are hard to maintain, and with no concrete plans for even the near future, it is difficult to maintain the closeness that we once shared. He has his finals and also started his business, which makes it even more painful for me to have to end things with him during this difficult time. But it had to be done -- sooner, rather than later.
As I pressed the send button on the email, my colleague walked past my cubicle. We joked around, laughed at my drinking habits, told me that I am a good sport because I can take jokes from the boys. I was smiling, laughing even, but really I was crying on the inside. Just like a court jester, I mask my face and make people laugh, I hide my true feelings, my sadness. But one thing a jester cannot hide -- or should I say I leave for us to see -- is the small teardrop on his left cheek, a symbol of his inner, true sadness.
Monday, July 25, 2005
You Win Some, But You Lose A Little Bit More
Five men and five women gathered together in a fashionable eatery in central tokyo on a sunday night. They had a private room to themselves with Zen interior and a perfect view of the city at dusk. They gathered together on a mass "blind date" as someone put it; all were in their late 20s or early 30s living in a city of 12+million people... but still single.
Yes, that really was the setting for sunday's mass blind date that Sunshine and I organised. First we toasted to the meeting/date, introduced ourselves around the table, the food kept on being served, the pitchers of beer were disappearing faster than eligible bachelors, and all seemed to be going well until I noticed something. Ten people. Ten.
Five men, Five women.
If you take the average population, what percentage of that population would you say are attractive, or relatively attractive? Think of the bell curve? Think 6 sigma... Out of the five girls, there was only one girl who just stood out because not only is she fun, nice, energetic, and all the things that someone with a "good personality" has, but also she is very pretty.
She is my brother's ex girlfriend.
It didn't take too long for the large group to sort of split between the ones who were sitting the furthest away from the pretty one, and hence gave up even asking for her phone number, vs. those who were close enough that as soon as someone stood up to go to the bathroom Sunshine just ignored the rest and started to chat her up. (He's a fast mover that one; must admit, impressively fast!)
Later that evening I sent everyone a "thank you for coming" email along with some pictures that we took during the date. My brother's ex replied back saying that she had a wonderful time, and had been invited to see the new StarWars film with him at the cinema, while the rest of us came back (both men and women) kind of feeling satisfied that at least we are not alone in the city of 12+million. We know that these guyz are just as single as the moment they walked into the restaurant as they left for the train station.
If Sunshine and my brother's ex hit it off, there are now two less singletons in this city. They will not be able to join us in our singleton activities while they go on dates, hold hands, kiss, and do all the things that couples always do. I suppose depending on the way you look at things, sometimes you win, but in general you tend to lose a little more.
Yes, that really was the setting for sunday's mass blind date that Sunshine and I organised. First we toasted to the meeting/date, introduced ourselves around the table, the food kept on being served, the pitchers of beer were disappearing faster than eligible bachelors, and all seemed to be going well until I noticed something. Ten people. Ten.
Five men, Five women.
If you take the average population, what percentage of that population would you say are attractive, or relatively attractive? Think of the bell curve? Think 6 sigma... Out of the five girls, there was only one girl who just stood out because not only is she fun, nice, energetic, and all the things that someone with a "good personality" has, but also she is very pretty.
She is my brother's ex girlfriend.
It didn't take too long for the large group to sort of split between the ones who were sitting the furthest away from the pretty one, and hence gave up even asking for her phone number, vs. those who were close enough that as soon as someone stood up to go to the bathroom Sunshine just ignored the rest and started to chat her up. (He's a fast mover that one; must admit, impressively fast!)
Later that evening I sent everyone a "thank you for coming" email along with some pictures that we took during the date. My brother's ex replied back saying that she had a wonderful time, and had been invited to see the new StarWars film with him at the cinema, while the rest of us came back (both men and women) kind of feeling satisfied that at least we are not alone in the city of 12+million. We know that these guyz are just as single as the moment they walked into the restaurant as they left for the train station.
If Sunshine and my brother's ex hit it off, there are now two less singletons in this city. They will not be able to join us in our singleton activities while they go on dates, hold hands, kiss, and do all the things that couples always do. I suppose depending on the way you look at things, sometimes you win, but in general you tend to lose a little more.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Countdown To Sunshine "Mass Date"
(I was going to write about my 3 day yoga retreat up in the mountains that I just returned from, but by judging the reaction to my post about seeking the help of a sexist man to organise a "mass date" for my friends, I think I will leave my Yoga tales a bit later and concentrate on more immediate, and potentially volatile situation.)
The date with Sunshine, et. al.
Ahh.... the dating thing. It can be both blissful, and painful. You are elated one moment, and before you know it you find yourself naked in the slimey depths of Hades. And why did I not elope with Nick and get a golden band on my wedding finger in Las Vagus? Good question; he had his finals, and I was starting a new job in Japan? Is that a poor excuse? Maybe. I could have just taken a huge risk, but the only thing that I can speculate with my ultimate rationality is that I am in my 30s.
Single women in their 30s -- early, mid, and late -- are all too "rational" and "crazy". And this state fluctuates unpredictably like the movements of a cat playing with it's toys.
We are conservative one moment, and in the next monent wild whores sleeping with anything and anyone with a penis and a pulse. (actually, some toys do not have pulses) -- we just can't help it. We are like teenage boys with their chronic acne and raging hormones wanking 7 times a day just to set a personal record; but does cumming 7 times a day make any sense? No. We seek some form of meaning to our actions.
We encounter many opportunities to find a mate/soulmate every second, but we miss it, or chose to ignore it, for there is that small "imp" that resides in the back of our minds that keeps repeating the words: "Are you sure you are doing the right thing? Is he the one? What if you got it all wrong...?" These imps have become our crystal ball, our Oracle of Delphi who have (mis)guided us through our abusive, passive aggressive, dead-end relationships that we have invested so much during our 20s. Ten years ago I was not too bothered about living with an unemployed drug dealer who was only "sorting friends out temporarily" while he was working on several grand "business plans" that would have changed the whole mobile telecommunications industry, food industry, tourism industry, et. al... Now, well... the imp tells me if I see similar signals, run the other way! "Girlfriend, fuck off and get a proper life!"
But is my imp right? Should I take old baggage from previous experiences and apply them to someone who may be completely different to my bitter experiences from the past? In my 20s I would have just told my imp to fuck off... but now, I am not too sure. But one thing is for sure, unless you try it, you just never know if it will work out or not. Just because Nick is on the other side of the world, it does not mean that I should automatically dismiss what we have; in fact I think what we have is still special. It's just that we don't have much time for each other... so in the meantime I guess I am going to enjoy my life just as I did before: hang out with the DWFs, go to Yoga retreats, climb mountains, have dinner with my gay friends, play with my cats -- OH! -- and flat hunting.
But you know what? At the end of the day, the mass date with Sunshine is just a bit of fun for me and my friends, for at the end of the day, I will always have a funny, private story to tell Nick. And I'm sure that Sunshine will send me a funny email on monday morning. :)
(Postscript: OK, so I will have to tell you guyz the gory details of how our date ends up! Luckily its going to be on a sunday evening, so they are probably not going to turn into the crude boys that they are -- I hope they make a relatively good impression on my friends. :)
The date with Sunshine, et. al.
Ahh.... the dating thing. It can be both blissful, and painful. You are elated one moment, and before you know it you find yourself naked in the slimey depths of Hades. And why did I not elope with Nick and get a golden band on my wedding finger in Las Vagus? Good question; he had his finals, and I was starting a new job in Japan? Is that a poor excuse? Maybe. I could have just taken a huge risk, but the only thing that I can speculate with my ultimate rationality is that I am in my 30s.
Single women in their 30s -- early, mid, and late -- are all too "rational" and "crazy". And this state fluctuates unpredictably like the movements of a cat playing with it's toys.
We are conservative one moment, and in the next monent wild whores sleeping with anything and anyone with a penis and a pulse. (actually, some toys do not have pulses) -- we just can't help it. We are like teenage boys with their chronic acne and raging hormones wanking 7 times a day just to set a personal record; but does cumming 7 times a day make any sense? No. We seek some form of meaning to our actions.
We encounter many opportunities to find a mate/soulmate every second, but we miss it, or chose to ignore it, for there is that small "imp" that resides in the back of our minds that keeps repeating the words: "Are you sure you are doing the right thing? Is he the one? What if you got it all wrong...?" These imps have become our crystal ball, our Oracle of Delphi who have (mis)guided us through our abusive, passive aggressive, dead-end relationships that we have invested so much during our 20s. Ten years ago I was not too bothered about living with an unemployed drug dealer who was only "sorting friends out temporarily" while he was working on several grand "business plans" that would have changed the whole mobile telecommunications industry, food industry, tourism industry, et. al... Now, well... the imp tells me if I see similar signals, run the other way! "Girlfriend, fuck off and get a proper life!"
But is my imp right? Should I take old baggage from previous experiences and apply them to someone who may be completely different to my bitter experiences from the past? In my 20s I would have just told my imp to fuck off... but now, I am not too sure. But one thing is for sure, unless you try it, you just never know if it will work out or not. Just because Nick is on the other side of the world, it does not mean that I should automatically dismiss what we have; in fact I think what we have is still special. It's just that we don't have much time for each other... so in the meantime I guess I am going to enjoy my life just as I did before: hang out with the DWFs, go to Yoga retreats, climb mountains, have dinner with my gay friends, play with my cats -- OH! -- and flat hunting.
But you know what? At the end of the day, the mass date with Sunshine is just a bit of fun for me and my friends, for at the end of the day, I will always have a funny, private story to tell Nick. And I'm sure that Sunshine will send me a funny email on monday morning. :)
(Postscript: OK, so I will have to tell you guyz the gory details of how our date ends up! Luckily its going to be on a sunday evening, so they are probably not going to turn into the crude boys that they are -- I hope they make a relatively good impression on my friends. :)
Friday, July 15, 2005
Big Brother Is Watching, And Now I Have Been TAGGED?!
Ok, so Viscous has for some reason got me involved me in this tagging business... I have also recently been asked to joing a "mass blog" session. What do they talk about? Who the hell knows. But anyway, in my monocellular drone-like style I will start off with answering Big Brother's questions about my reading materials as per the tag:
Number of Books I own: Over 900 novels/non fiction. Over 1300 Japanese "Manga" comics. My favourite? Right now the JoJo series.(yea, I am a nerd)
Last Book I Bought: The DaVinci Code, 1001 nights without sex (true story about a woman who went for over 3 years without sex because of all her dating disasters), (Japanese) The Howlings of a loser bitch (analysis of why women are getting married later, and there is a decline in birthrates in Japan. Are singletons losers? is her theme), Some Ducks Don't Fly (story about a photojournalist who ends up in a mental institition coz he's an alcoholic). Kabukicho Underground -- True Tales of the Underground World of The Seadiest Part of Tokyo
Five Books That Mean A Lot To Me: Totto-chan: A little Girl By The Window, a true story about a little girl with a very vivid imagination, but was mistaken as being stupid as a child.
Mama Black Widow -- by Iceberg Slim.... It just touched my heart in so many ways.
The Pilgrimage - by Paolo Coehlo. The story may seem simple, but the message is strong.
Brave New World -- Aldus Huxley. Makes me think about our world today...
The Chrysalids -- John Wyndam. Let's hope that the level of discrimination never reaches this point in the history of humanity.
Five Victims
My Neighbours Are Hoors
OBHDIGFHTT
Ouija
Sketchy jeoff
Kezza
Watch out all of you -- you shall be tagged soon!
Number of Books I own: Over 900 novels/non fiction. Over 1300 Japanese "Manga" comics. My favourite? Right now the JoJo series.(yea, I am a nerd)
Last Book I Bought: The DaVinci Code, 1001 nights without sex (true story about a woman who went for over 3 years without sex because of all her dating disasters), (Japanese) The Howlings of a loser bitch (analysis of why women are getting married later, and there is a decline in birthrates in Japan. Are singletons losers? is her theme), Some Ducks Don't Fly (story about a photojournalist who ends up in a mental institition coz he's an alcoholic). Kabukicho Underground -- True Tales of the Underground World of The Seadiest Part of Tokyo
Five Books That Mean A Lot To Me: Totto-chan: A little Girl By The Window, a true story about a little girl with a very vivid imagination, but was mistaken as being stupid as a child.
Mama Black Widow -- by Iceberg Slim.... It just touched my heart in so many ways.
The Pilgrimage - by Paolo Coehlo. The story may seem simple, but the message is strong.
Brave New World -- Aldus Huxley. Makes me think about our world today...
The Chrysalids -- John Wyndam. Let's hope that the level of discrimination never reaches this point in the history of humanity.
Five Victims
My Neighbours Are Hoors
OBHDIGFHTT
Ouija
Sketchy jeoff
Kezza
Watch out all of you -- you shall be tagged soon!
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Picky, Picky, Don't Be Picky! (right?)
In Japan there is such thing called a Go-Con. I have no idea where the term originated from, but is it a small gathering of men and women who convene “en masse” in a semi-organised blind date. These Go-Cons are usually organised by two people – friends – who will organise a get-together with their singleton friends in a bid to meet new people/singletons who are swimming in the dating gene pool. In essence they “go” and “con” themselves into believing that their friends will introduce them to finding “true love” or “a good fuck” that night.
As you all know, I have already accomplished my “sex quota (refer to NYR#4)” for this year, and I have a lovely partner, albeit he resides on the other side of the planet. However, the other members of the DW Exclusive Committee have not reached their quota yet; in fact they are about to hit critical mass. So in a bid to get some action for the DW Inner Circle, I have looked to the most unlikely sources for help.
Sunshine.
Sunshine has mentioned several times in the past that we should have an arranged mass blind date (Go-Con). I have always taken his words with a pinch of salt, but in retrospect when I think about his prospective friends/aquaintances (considering his background in pre-med, MBA, etc.) he probably knows many eligible men who also have an equal network of even more eligible men/women for the DWFs to complete their quota this year. I know that having an impressive resume does not always guarantee that they are a nice person, but at our age, one of the things that we look for is that we don’t date lazy, poor, apathetic men who are always going to ask us to pay for our outings.
By the time you are thirty, nice men our age are either married, recently divorced (with 3 kids and alimony), or gay, so it is hard to find someone who lives close to you to take you out on casual dinner dates, short weekends, romantic drives… We women have all been indoctrinated by “Uncle Walt” during our childhood with his Cinderella, Snow White, and the “Happily Ever Afters…”. I hate to admit it, but at the end of the day women still loved to be woo and cooed... by Alpha Males.
I am really gritting my teeth as I write this, but the likes of Sunshine and club members of the Ivory Tower are indeed Alpha Males – socially speaking. Must admit, I I need to take a DNA sample to absolutely prove that they are indeed fully the crème de la crème, but anyone who ends up marrying with the likes of Sunshine and his MBA friends are going to have an easy life of fulltime maids, well educated children, and a glamourous social life, while maintaining the financial freedom that one enjoys as an independent singleton. We get to wake up next to the man we love every morning, but at the same time feel quite OK about calling “darling” up to tell him that you have to leave on Thursday for a 3 day business trip to Singapore.
We want commitment, and freedom. We want to chose the cake, bake it, admire it, and eat it with our lovers...
Are we being too picky in our age? Is this why we are still single in our 30s???
Does anyone have an answer to all this madness?? I forgot how "dating" was such an effort...
As you all know, I have already accomplished my “sex quota (refer to NYR#4)” for this year, and I have a lovely partner, albeit he resides on the other side of the planet. However, the other members of the DW Exclusive Committee have not reached their quota yet; in fact they are about to hit critical mass. So in a bid to get some action for the DW Inner Circle, I have looked to the most unlikely sources for help.
Sunshine.
Sunshine has mentioned several times in the past that we should have an arranged mass blind date (Go-Con). I have always taken his words with a pinch of salt, but in retrospect when I think about his prospective friends/aquaintances (considering his background in pre-med, MBA, etc.) he probably knows many eligible men who also have an equal network of even more eligible men/women for the DWFs to complete their quota this year. I know that having an impressive resume does not always guarantee that they are a nice person, but at our age, one of the things that we look for is that we don’t date lazy, poor, apathetic men who are always going to ask us to pay for our outings.
By the time you are thirty, nice men our age are either married, recently divorced (with 3 kids and alimony), or gay, so it is hard to find someone who lives close to you to take you out on casual dinner dates, short weekends, romantic drives… We women have all been indoctrinated by “Uncle Walt” during our childhood with his Cinderella, Snow White, and the “Happily Ever Afters…”. I hate to admit it, but at the end of the day women still loved to be woo and cooed... by Alpha Males.
I am really gritting my teeth as I write this, but the likes of Sunshine and club members of the Ivory Tower are indeed Alpha Males – socially speaking. Must admit, I I need to take a DNA sample to absolutely prove that they are indeed fully the crème de la crème, but anyone who ends up marrying with the likes of Sunshine and his MBA friends are going to have an easy life of fulltime maids, well educated children, and a glamourous social life, while maintaining the financial freedom that one enjoys as an independent singleton. We get to wake up next to the man we love every morning, but at the same time feel quite OK about calling “darling” up to tell him that you have to leave on Thursday for a 3 day business trip to Singapore.
We want commitment, and freedom. We want to chose the cake, bake it, admire it, and eat it with our lovers...
Are we being too picky in our age? Is this why we are still single in our 30s???
Does anyone have an answer to all this madness?? I forgot how "dating" was such an effort...
Thursday, July 07, 2005
1001 Nights Without Nick
(I know that some of you want to know about me and Nick... well here it is -- censored)
I recently read a book called The Curse of the Singles Table by Suzanne Scholosberg. It's a story about a woman who went without sex (involuntarily) for over 3 years before she met her partner for life, Paul.
The closest I have got to that record is only a half, but nonetheless impressive... And Nick broke that spell, I suppose.
As some of you readers know I met Nick online and in under a year of corresponding with him I decided to take a plane halfway round the world to visit him for a month. I never stayed in a hotel to keep my distance, nor did I call up my female friends to rescue me from a bad date.
I spent an entire month with a man who I had never met.
Nick and I still converse with each other, although we have many obstacles that not many people face (e.g distance), but when I think about him I always have a warm feeling inside me. I last saw Nick in mid April, but I still think about him.
He lives pretty much on the other side of the planet to me; he likes to stay at home and chill out, whereas I love to go out and try out new things/food. He likes order and structure, whereas I believe that everything can be "improved",(i.e nothing stays the same), he likes hiphop/rap, and I like mellow jazz/rock.
But it does not matter at all, because its the fundamentals that matter. I can see his honesty and essence when I look straight into his eyes. (he has big lovely eyes)
Nick, the only thing that I would request from you.... come and lie down with me, and make love to me every night.
Kiss me and make love to me me the way you so wonderfuly do.
I miss being part of you...
I recently read a book called The Curse of the Singles Table by Suzanne Scholosberg. It's a story about a woman who went without sex (involuntarily) for over 3 years before she met her partner for life, Paul.
The closest I have got to that record is only a half, but nonetheless impressive... And Nick broke that spell, I suppose.
As some of you readers know I met Nick online and in under a year of corresponding with him I decided to take a plane halfway round the world to visit him for a month. I never stayed in a hotel to keep my distance, nor did I call up my female friends to rescue me from a bad date.
I spent an entire month with a man who I had never met.
Nick and I still converse with each other, although we have many obstacles that not many people face (e.g distance), but when I think about him I always have a warm feeling inside me. I last saw Nick in mid April, but I still think about him.
He lives pretty much on the other side of the planet to me; he likes to stay at home and chill out, whereas I love to go out and try out new things/food. He likes order and structure, whereas I believe that everything can be "improved",(i.e nothing stays the same), he likes hiphop/rap, and I like mellow jazz/rock.
But it does not matter at all, because its the fundamentals that matter. I can see his honesty and essence when I look straight into his eyes. (he has big lovely eyes)
Nick, the only thing that I would request from you.... come and lie down with me, and make love to me every night.
Kiss me and make love to me me the way you so wonderfuly do.
I miss being part of you...
No Weddings, But A Funeral...
I am currently reading a book written by a Japanese War photographer/journalist who suffers from clinical depression and alcoholism, just like me. You may wonder how someone can go about being depressed, not take madication, and live his life proudly drinking and gambling away -- comfortably.
Well. He does. And he does it with the support of his family. His wife is a famous cartoon artist whose recent work was made into a film; the story is both happy, and sad, but nonetheless a heartbreaking one. I have been a fan of his wife who portrays the lower ranks of the working class Japanese in simple style and language. She has two lovely children with the depressed war correspondent who spends less than 2 months in a year with his family. The rest of the time he is taking photos of flying shrapnel, or being stoned in a cheep hotel with no money for his next fix.
But he is one of my favourite Japanese writers.
Sometimes I wish that I could live a life like his: being stoned/drunk and unaware of anyone or anything... just let time pass. I meet people who I do not care about, but will help me kill time for the bottle (or two). I want to wake up at my own time, wonder in a strange land, take a few interesting photos, and go back to chasing the dragon with strangers for the rest of the day. I want to lose my memory to the point where I cannot remember when was the last time that I had a memory, just like the authour of the book that I read. And yet he has more than a lifetime of experiences and observances to last an eternity.
I wish that I could live a life of just emptiness so that I can embrace the whole...
Last week, a friend of mine committed suicide... I used to fancy him, but he went out with my friend. (plus I was going thru a breakup and wanted to take things slowly) I left it at that, but they broke up; nearly 6months after their break up he contacted me, and we went out for a casual lunch. He looked pale, and melancholy, but had a lovely afternoon. We enjoyed the sunset and a brief walk, talking about old times. And that was the last I heard of him.
Till I heard he was dead.
It's strange how you miss a person who you have not heard from in a year.
J, may you rest in peace. If things were different, you and I may have been lovers...
Well. He does. And he does it with the support of his family. His wife is a famous cartoon artist whose recent work was made into a film; the story is both happy, and sad, but nonetheless a heartbreaking one. I have been a fan of his wife who portrays the lower ranks of the working class Japanese in simple style and language. She has two lovely children with the depressed war correspondent who spends less than 2 months in a year with his family. The rest of the time he is taking photos of flying shrapnel, or being stoned in a cheep hotel with no money for his next fix.
But he is one of my favourite Japanese writers.
Sometimes I wish that I could live a life like his: being stoned/drunk and unaware of anyone or anything... just let time pass. I meet people who I do not care about, but will help me kill time for the bottle (or two). I want to wake up at my own time, wonder in a strange land, take a few interesting photos, and go back to chasing the dragon with strangers for the rest of the day. I want to lose my memory to the point where I cannot remember when was the last time that I had a memory, just like the authour of the book that I read. And yet he has more than a lifetime of experiences and observances to last an eternity.
I wish that I could live a life of just emptiness so that I can embrace the whole...
Last week, a friend of mine committed suicide... I used to fancy him, but he went out with my friend. (plus I was going thru a breakup and wanted to take things slowly) I left it at that, but they broke up; nearly 6months after their break up he contacted me, and we went out for a casual lunch. He looked pale, and melancholy, but had a lovely afternoon. We enjoyed the sunset and a brief walk, talking about old times. And that was the last I heard of him.
Till I heard he was dead.
It's strange how you miss a person who you have not heard from in a year.
J, may you rest in peace. If things were different, you and I may have been lovers...
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
No Place Like Home....
For some strange reason, I always feel at home when I stay in hotels. Right now I am staying at Hotel Okura, where our company is holding a conference for "female leaders" (or something). Last night at the end of the the conference I came to my hotel room only to find crisp linen, pre-arranged flowers on my pillow, stiff (but nonetheless comfortable) furniture, and chlorine bleached, thick towels that greeted me. It sounds really clinical, and very unfriendly, but to me it is one of those things that I have gotten used to over the years. This is my second home -- my home when I am away. All the comforts that I seek apart from my little kitties...
HOTEL ROOMS.
I know that many of you may think that I am crazy to even think that a sterile, crisp environment is one in which I find loads of comfort, but I can tell you all what -- I LOVE IT! I love being given clean bed linen each day. I love being given new towels every day, I love having my litter bin cleared out every day, and most of all I *LOVE* room serivce.
Let me tell you about something related to room service on other people's money. It's called "so can't give a shit, coz it ain't my money" syndrome. I have lived with this horrible disease for the past 5+ years... (I think), and I can't seem to find a cure... My dinner including wine tonight cost me just over US$1200. Impressive for a two course meal for one person, right? (and the funny thing is that I have spend nearly twice this amount at the Marriot in Singapore!)
Living in HK I have experienced living in "Hotel Room" like conditions in the form of 6day a week serviced apartments. I also found the same situation in Singapore and also in Korea: my place was cleaned by at least 2 lovely women who even taught me a few lessons about housecleaning which I will never practice in my entire life... Ever.
During my depressive states, I often wake in my sterile double bed, four pillows surrounding me wishing that I can live this life forever.
If only....
HOTEL ROOMS.
I know that many of you may think that I am crazy to even think that a sterile, crisp environment is one in which I find loads of comfort, but I can tell you all what -- I LOVE IT! I love being given clean bed linen each day. I love being given new towels every day, I love having my litter bin cleared out every day, and most of all I *LOVE* room serivce.
Let me tell you about something related to room service on other people's money. It's called "so can't give a shit, coz it ain't my money" syndrome. I have lived with this horrible disease for the past 5+ years... (I think), and I can't seem to find a cure... My dinner including wine tonight cost me just over US$1200. Impressive for a two course meal for one person, right? (and the funny thing is that I have spend nearly twice this amount at the Marriot in Singapore!)
Living in HK I have experienced living in "Hotel Room" like conditions in the form of 6day a week serviced apartments. I also found the same situation in Singapore and also in Korea: my place was cleaned by at least 2 lovely women who even taught me a few lessons about housecleaning which I will never practice in my entire life... Ever.
During my depressive states, I often wake in my sterile double bed, four pillows surrounding me wishing that I can live this life forever.
If only....
Friday, June 17, 2005
Oh Dear...
Poor Sunshine.
I kind of feel sorry for him today -- it's been nearly a week since he went off to Singapore to answer to his BIG boss, the regional business head, who everyone refers to as SB, about the state that our project is in. SB was obviously not too pleased to hear that such a large, risky project has come to a halt for now. Today I had a chance to talk to Sunshine about settling accounts with our vendors, and he sounded like he was having a bit of a hard time with what's been going on.
"Hello, DWR. Yes, yes, please fax me the approval form so that I can sign it and settle the bills; I'll leave the rest up to you, please contact the financial controller before monday."
"Sunshine, where have you been tracking the project costs? I need to double check with the invoice that we have received."
"Oh, shit, well, I have not had captial appropriation for this project, so I was going to expense everything until I got the OK from headquarters. I was going to start tracking budget vs. actuals once I got full approval."
"Great... I'll tell you what, why don't you just leave it with me -- just don't even bother to think about the small things, you just deal with SB. I will create a master schedule for this project, and give you an actual cost based on all the activities and deliverables. I'll look at the contract, work out from there what needs to be paid, and what needs to be pushed back.
And please, from now on, just let us in IT deal with the daily management of this project; IT project management is our core competency, not yours. We will just report to you, so that you can keep the CEO happy. How about that?
"
"Thanks DWR... you've been of great help. I really appreciate your input and support on this project...."
And with that, Sunshine trailed off. I think he's getting bollocked by SB. Oh well. Once he returns from Singapore next monday, we can all try to cheer him up DWR tyle -- go out on the piss! YEAH! (and this time, I'll give him some slack if he starts to tell us stories of his sexual conquest during his business trip.)
I kind of feel sorry for him today -- it's been nearly a week since he went off to Singapore to answer to his BIG boss, the regional business head, who everyone refers to as SB, about the state that our project is in. SB was obviously not too pleased to hear that such a large, risky project has come to a halt for now. Today I had a chance to talk to Sunshine about settling accounts with our vendors, and he sounded like he was having a bit of a hard time with what's been going on.
"Hello, DWR. Yes, yes, please fax me the approval form so that I can sign it and settle the bills; I'll leave the rest up to you, please contact the financial controller before monday."
"Sunshine, where have you been tracking the project costs? I need to double check with the invoice that we have received."
"Oh, shit, well, I have not had captial appropriation for this project, so I was going to expense everything until I got the OK from headquarters. I was going to start tracking budget vs. actuals once I got full approval."
"Great... I'll tell you what, why don't you just leave it with me -- just don't even bother to think about the small things, you just deal with SB. I will create a master schedule for this project, and give you an actual cost based on all the activities and deliverables. I'll look at the contract, work out from there what needs to be paid, and what needs to be pushed back.
And please, from now on, just let us in IT deal with the daily management of this project; IT project management is our core competency, not yours. We will just report to you, so that you can keep the CEO happy. How about that?
"
"Thanks DWR... you've been of great help. I really appreciate your input and support on this project...."
And with that, Sunshine trailed off. I think he's getting bollocked by SB. Oh well. Once he returns from Singapore next monday, we can all try to cheer him up DWR tyle -- go out on the piss! YEAH! (and this time, I'll give him some slack if he starts to tell us stories of his sexual conquest during his business trip.)
Sunday, June 12, 2005
And The Walls Came Tumbling Down...
The walls of Jericho came tumbling down when Joshua came with his band of merry men. Unfortunately there were no trumpets, nor was there any divine intervention when a few walls of the ivory tower came down on thursday last week.
Let me explain.
Our CEO approved of our IT project on the condition that we did some hardcore Business Process Reengineering (BPR) -- basically that means that he wanted some major changes in the way the business is run. Sunshine and the boyz of the Ivory Tower are responsible for the BPR, and we in the Engine Room are responsible for getting the system implemented.
But the CEO was pissed off...
He was pissed off that the Ivory Tower were not doing their job properly, and put a stop on the project until his wishes were granted. Sunshine announced on friday that we will be putting the project on hold while the members of the Ivory Tower get their act together so that the project can continue...
For FUCK'S SAKE!! GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER BOYZ!!!!! NOT ONLY DO YOU PISS ME OFF WITH YOUR CRAP, YOU FUCK UP MY PROJECT!!
Right! Action Plan from the DWR: "Project Management, Program Management, Ivory Tower Management, Stick a stick up the CEO's arse (management), "Get a life and go to yoga classes on weekdays"-style time management, "Do some serious Blog research" management....
Management, management. (Such wonderful ideals, don't you think? If only I could change the world...)
Let me explain.
Our CEO approved of our IT project on the condition that we did some hardcore Business Process Reengineering (BPR) -- basically that means that he wanted some major changes in the way the business is run. Sunshine and the boyz of the Ivory Tower are responsible for the BPR, and we in the Engine Room are responsible for getting the system implemented.
But the CEO was pissed off...
He was pissed off that the Ivory Tower were not doing their job properly, and put a stop on the project until his wishes were granted. Sunshine announced on friday that we will be putting the project on hold while the members of the Ivory Tower get their act together so that the project can continue...
For FUCK'S SAKE!! GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER BOYZ!!!!! NOT ONLY DO YOU PISS ME OFF WITH YOUR CRAP, YOU FUCK UP MY PROJECT!!
Right! Action Plan from the DWR: "Project Management, Program Management, Ivory Tower Management, Stick a stick up the CEO's arse (management), "Get a life and go to yoga classes on weekdays"-style time management, "Do some serious Blog research" management....
Management, management. (Such wonderful ideals, don't you think? If only I could change the world...)
"I'd like to bring the world to sing, in perfect harmony, I'd like to put an end to this, pathetic company."
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Outlook Meeting Request: DWF Action Plan
(Today, dear readers, I am writing a post with my dear DWFs, Y and A. We are celebrating the football results of Japan vs. Stalinist North Korea (Mansei!!) -- actually this is just another poor excuse for us to contribute to the Chilean wine industry. This post is going to be a freestyle convo recording.)
Y: I am not happy, A, with your resource planning for your fridge. Beer is M-Teeee! Last weekendo (just 2 days ago), you habu meny meny beeru (beer). Wai!
(All laugh!)
A: No MRP (material resource planning) in this house. Today surprise audit for my fridge contents.... didn't expect, nor did I pass the audit.
(too fucking right! not enuf booze in dis house!!)
DWR: I cannot believe that we are sitting here in A's kitchen all writing my blog with not enuf booze, and no one has even volunteered to replenish the stock in the fridge, which is packed full of old, frozen steak.... Why there is so much steak, and not enuf booze, I do not know... anyway...
A: You should have just let me fucking go to 7/11 and go buy the booze!
(umm... it would take you more than 30 mins, by which time we would all have gone cold turkey and not been able to function properly.)
Y: DWFs should live up to their names and have their fridge stocked to the brim with booze, damn it!
DWR: Too fuckin' right!
A: Let me run to the store then.
(riiiiight... we would have left your house by then, to go home to our "stocked" fridge!!)
DWR: I love you guyz! You take all the stress out of my fuckt up day!!!
(CHEERZU! Let's have another round of booze.)
p.s.: DWR: A, why do you have a "Hello Kitty" doll in your kitchen?
Y: Oh it's from that Korean chick -- did she dump you?
A: Eh! I'm not getting into that, OK? Not my fucking fault, right?
DWR:... say no more, like I said. Let's have another drink
Y: I am not happy, A, with your resource planning for your fridge. Beer is M-Teeee! Last weekendo (just 2 days ago), you habu meny meny beeru (beer). Wai!
(All laugh!)
A: No MRP (material resource planning) in this house. Today surprise audit for my fridge contents.... didn't expect, nor did I pass the audit.
(too fucking right! not enuf booze in dis house!!)
DWR: I cannot believe that we are sitting here in A's kitchen all writing my blog with not enuf booze, and no one has even volunteered to replenish the stock in the fridge, which is packed full of old, frozen steak.... Why there is so much steak, and not enuf booze, I do not know... anyway...
A: You should have just let me fucking go to 7/11 and go buy the booze!
(umm... it would take you more than 30 mins, by which time we would all have gone cold turkey and not been able to function properly.)
Y: DWFs should live up to their names and have their fridge stocked to the brim with booze, damn it!
DWR: Too fuckin' right!
A: Let me run to the store then.
(riiiiight... we would have left your house by then, to go home to our "stocked" fridge!!)
DWR: I love you guyz! You take all the stress out of my fuckt up day!!!
(CHEERZU! Let's have another round of booze.)
p.s.: DWR: A, why do you have a "Hello Kitty" doll in your kitchen?
Y: Oh it's from that Korean chick -- did she dump you?
A: Eh! I'm not getting into that, OK? Not my fucking fault, right?
DWR:... say no more, like I said. Let's have another drink
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Drunken Indeed... Drunken.
Weeeeeee!
back fuuuuukt as hell from company dinner that I organised for a guest from Oz -- just got told that I am doing a wonderful job from the boyz in the ivory tower, including Sunshine.
Sunshine even wanted me to move permanantly into the ivory tower and to go out with the other boyz after dinner that I organised. He even gave me a cummunal "HUG"(!) when we all said goodbye....
Men are so simple.
back fuuuuukt as hell from company dinner that I organised for a guest from Oz -- just got told that I am doing a wonderful job from the boyz in the ivory tower, including Sunshine.
Sunshine even wanted me to move permanantly into the ivory tower and to go out with the other boyz after dinner that I organised. He even gave me a cummunal "HUG"(!) when we all said goodbye....
Men are so simple.
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