Why Do Some People…

… have long toenails?

On the train today, I was surrounded by women wearing open-toed shoes, giving everyone a view of their long pointy curved toenails. Toenails that extend beyond their shoes even. Toenails that will make fishing nets out of socks and stockings.

I can understand long fingernails. It’s to give otherwise stubby fingers the illusion of length and slenderness. But toenails? Who wants their toes to look long? Not I.

… flick their hand furiously when waving down a cab?

Ok, so your elbow is locked, arm extended to its full length and beyond, hand flicking at 200 flicks a minute, hoping desperately that the cab will stop. Your hand is but a small portion of your arm. What makes you think that the cab driver is going to see your hand if he doesn’t see your arm?

Ok, maybe the movement will catch his eye. But he’s not a raptor and there’s a lot more movement going on on the streets than there can ever be in your one hand.

… stick their twinkie toe out from between the straps of their strappy sandals?

This one actually gives me a physical reaction. I saw it once on the train and it just gave me the shivers. It was an autonomic response. It was bad. I actually had to shield my eyes so I will not look. Cos it’s as gruesome as a morbid car accident.

If the sandal is so small that you can’t fit all your toes in, buy a bigger size. If there isn’t a bigger size, then just don’t buy it. No sandal on earth, no matter how cute, no matter how this-season’s-Blahniks, can save the syndrome of the runaway twinkie toe.

Btw, the twinkie toe is the last toe. I don’t know who taught me that, that’s just what I always called it. I mean, if the last finger is pinkie, then last toe is twinkie, right?

Ok, you don’t agree, but never mind, that’s still what I’m calling it.

My Super Heroes!

Jack In The Box Football Star * Hunky Construction Worker * R2-D2 wearing Napoleon’s hat * Blue Bomberman

South Park Me

You can make your own South Park character here!

This Friday’s Post

Yesterday BGF quoted to me someone’s reflection on the quest for true love. And that person wonders if somehow, somewhere there might be someone searching for her.

(Well, I’m assuming it’s a her. It’s a pretty safe assumption. Guys don’t think or talk like that. Guys just go, “Cute chick.. hubba hubba!”… I kid.)

Aaanyway, her reflection prompted one of mine. I thought, even if there is someone out there searching for one, how does one know that the searcher is the right one? I mean, just cos they’re searching doesn’t make them the right one. There’s got to be more to selecting a life partner than willingness to start a relationship, right? I mean, surely we haven’t sunk that low. Ok, we haven’t.

So, what else do people want in their life partner? Since it’s a slow afternoon on the last day of a very long and exhausting week, I shall attempt to make an *almost* comprehensive list. Perhaps it can help you define your search, put things down in words. Just check off your desirables and start exchanging lists and compare. Here goes:

- Good looks
- Money
- Famous family name
- Single
- Computer Literate
- Can change a light bulb
- Perky butt
- Long legs
- Big eyes
- Sense of humour
- Nice voice
- Can do back flips
- Drives a car
- Ambidextrous
- Sensitive
- Sensible
- Thrifty
- Spendthrift, on you
- Religious
- Not afraid to cry
- Does not cry
- Can wriggle eyebrows
- Witty
- Thin upper lip
- Stiff upper lip
- Exotic accent
- Loves camping
- Hates camping
- Loves travelling
- Hates travelling
- Loves football
- Hates football
- Loves Abba
- Hates Abba
- Can touch elbow to nose
- Does not have smelly feet
- Flosses
- Right-handed
- Left-handed
- Can discuss politics
- Does not know Arafat from Adolf
- Tall
- Short
- Medium
- Loves to dance
- Does not know arabesque from altitude
- Does not wear purple
- Drives a purple car
- Holds a job
- Competent
- Ambitious
- Challenging
- Mysterious
- Simple-minded
- Does not play computer games
- Buff
- Marshmellow-y
- Tanned
- Pale
- Glow-in-the-dark
- Knows how to program a VCR
- Still owns a VCR
- Not old enough to know what a VCR is
- Knits
- Crochets
- Washes dishes
- Cooks
- Cooks well
- Cooks very well
- Does not care if you don’t cook well
- Does not talk to his mom
- Tolerates his mom
- Loves his mom
- Still holding apron strings
- Wants to have kids
- Does not want to have kids
- Knows how to operate washing machine

Right, you’re all set. Let me know how it works out.

…

Ok, I think I’m making some headway with the Yellow Post Its. Quite a few of them have items crossed out or ticked off. *phew*

Last Friday’s Post

Ok ok. Here’s the deal. I’ll let my mom make the decision. I think I’ve come along far enough to realize that there is truth to the old cliché “Moms know best”. It’s true, they do. Well, mine does, I can’t vouch for your’s.

At the risk of sounding like a totally uncool, bespectacled (though I am myopic and thus do require the assistance of corrective lenses), gawky nerdgirl, I do think that my mom knows best. Actually, you know, someone brave enough to admit that in public, though somewhat anonymously, though I would tell that to anyone I know in real life, is not a nerdgirl.

There’s nothing wrong with being a nerdgirl, which is what I really am, though I might not appear to be. But the world perceives nerdgirl differently from the way I perceive it. So, whenever I say nerdgirl, I really mean “nerdgirl the way the world perceives it”, not “super cool nerdgirl the way za perceives it”.

Aaaanyway, anyone brave enough to make that statement is not nerdgirl.

You can tell that I wrote this blog at the end of a looong work day of designing forms.

The Yellow Post Its Are Procreating

They made a few new ones this week. I think work tasks should use protection. They should not be allowed to procreate indiscriminately. I don’t want my workspace to be overrun by Yellow Post Its!!

Praise to Yahweh my Elohim

It was tough missing SD and the life I had. But after two weeks of quietly whining and dragging my feet, I realised that I was on the brink of being a grumbling Israelite and that I better start being thankful before Yahweh smites me. Heheh.. I have never executed such a quick about-turn. Plus, how can I receive Yahweh’s blessings when all I do is keep looking back?

So, it’s forward and forward for me.

I’m settling in better now. Working really helps. I LOVE my job. It’s tiring, it’s draining, the hours are long, but I love what I do. I’m not one to define myself by my job. It’s the satisfaction of knowing that I’m helping. It’s great that it’s a job, a calling and a ministry all at the same time.

…

You are my soul mate, it’s something that doesn’t change. It’s something that isn’t dependent on time and place.

I don’t take back what I’ve said. But I do seek your understanding for my harsh words. I’ve thought it through and through. I’ve felt it through and through. I now have peace and I wish the same for you.

Idiosyncracy #141

Watches must have little dots between the numbers so that I know exactly what time it is, right down to the minute. Not that I’m the Type A person who freaks out when people are 1 minute late. It’s just, I just like to know.

But…

I don’t like digital watches. They’re too exact. They tell me exactly what time it is, right down to the minute. And that’s not always good cos it doesn’t allow space for “interpretation”, when necessary.

Anyway, after months of half-hearted searching, I finally found the *almost* ideal watch. It’s a simple Casio – metal strap, grey-blue rectangular face, cheap. It doesn’t have dots between the numbers. But it’s ok. I shall learn not to be too anal.

Actually, I just look real hard to visually gauge the position of the minute hand and read the time, right down to the exact minute.

…

In celebration of our nation’s birthday, I went out and performed my national duty. Boosted the economy by buying 2 dresses. One’s vintage. A.k.a. someone’s discards. Dark blue with tiny red and white pattern. High collar, long delicately puffed sleeves with extended cuffs, mid-calf length. It’s cute, in a dorky way.

Happy Birthday, my beloved mother island! I’m soo proud of you!

Lost: One Nokia Cell Phone

Lost my cell phone yesterday. Dropped it in the cab. Called it ten minutes later and whoever adopted it had already turned it off.

Bummer.

It was the most basic cell phone there was on the market. I paid $0 for it when I signed up for a phone line.

BGF, who’s a cell phone freak, told me to be sure to get a phone with a something-or-other camera and something-or-other functions. All I wanted was a phone with number buttons and a green and a red button. Something with which I say “Hello? Blah blah blah. Ok, bye!”

When BGF examined my then newly-acquired cell phone, it caused her to break out into a rare Hokkien exclamation.

“Your cell phone si mi sai pun bo!” Translated: “Your cell phone ain’t got no sh*t!”

Still, someone thought it was worth enough to take.

Oh well, I don’t feel any heartache. Just dread the trouble of getting numbers all over again.

One Slow Afternoon

Bee Gees sings softly in the foreground. In the back, the office is quiet. Most people are out. Those in are quietly at work. Or maybe they’re surreptitiously blogging, just as I am.

Clay pendants lay out to cool. One is varnished. Looks pretty. Looks edible. It’s not.

Yellow Post Its on the partition wall remind me of tasks I have to complete. Some are hanging from magnetic clips in the shape of a juvenile human, like orders at a restaurant kitchen waiting to be cooked up. Some are quite out of the world. What was I thinking? It’s like the chef getting an order that reads “grilled barracuda stuffed with moose mousse served on a bed of sautéed nettles drizzled with a reduction of eggplant juice”. Appetizing, no?

I will wait. Even if it takes forever, I will wait.

Even if it takes a lifetime.

Somehow I feel inside, you never ever left my side.

Make it like it was before.

Even if it takes a lifetime, takes a lifetime…

Bee Gees rocks!

The smell of clear nail polish. I varnish the other side of the pendant. Put it away. My desk is cluttered enough. I really should get some bookends for my books. Oh well… piled up books do give the desk a look of frazzled academia.

Should I have a snack? Should I go do Pilates? Maybe I should have a snack first, then do Pilates. No, I should do Pilates first, then have a snack. But no, there’s no time for Pilates now. Wait… maybe there is if I go right now.

But I’m still sitting here.

And I’m still sitting here.

Still sitting here.

Oh well…

No, will not be lazy. Off to Pilates.