Yay, I'm off to Tokyo people!

Yeah, yeah, I just came back from Cologne like 2 weeks ago.

But that was for WORK.

This, is for a family vacation.

Whhheeee!!!! Ramen and sashimi, here I come!

Save me some parties!

xoxo

Sigh, I failed to blog about something really important and devastating that happened to me....

I LOST MY GUCCI WALLET UPON RETURNING FROM COLOGNE.

Yup, my darling wallet survived through a foreign land, through numerous purchases, through museum trips and all.

But I came back to Singapore, went for dinner with Fadz at the Changi Airport Terminal 3 Foodcourt, set my wallet on the chair next to me, and left without it. Just left.

I was so tired that I slept all the way home in the taxi. When I wanted to pay, that's when I realised that my wallet was GONE.

Frantic calls to Changi Airport and the foodcourt ensued. But to no avail.

Sigh, I guess I'd buy a Burberry wallet in Japan.

Fadz offered to buy me a wallet, something nice from Elle or Pierre Cardin.

Oh darling, don't you know once you go luxury, there's no turning back?

Well, my little escapade in Cologne has come to an end.

And you know what? I AM ready to come home. The charm of roaming the streets alone wore thin after awhile. Having people not understand me, either because they don't speak English or can't understand my accent, did mar the experience a little. Some call it an adventure, I call it an inconvenience.

At least when I went to Paris with the girls, I understood a little bit of French. But you know what? Europeans really are quite helpful. I had random people coming up to me to ask if I needed help, especially when I was staring at my map and looking like a hopelessly lost person.

And today marks one year since Fadz and I got back together! Sad that I'm not there with him... but we've agreed to celebrate when I touch down tomorrow, cos 11/11 mah, more cool. Haha!

But I wonder... what would have happened if we didn't get back together? Sure, the 2 months apart hurt like hell, but I'm sure I'd have survived it and moved on. Don't we all?

And would my German experience have been any different if I was single? Would I have flirted a little more, tried my feminine wiles a little harder, been as charming as possible, had a quickie romance on the fly?

Oh well, I can only speculate. But I fly home now with the knowledge that my Fadz is waiting for me at the airport, ready to welcome me with open arms. Knowing that there's someone waiting and looking forward to seeing me... that feels pretty good too.

I used to wonder if I still "have it", if I still desirable to the opposite sex if I was to trawl the singles market again. I used to think that being in a relationship for so long made me dowdy, predictable and unattractive. I'm glad to report that feeling is gone. And I'm DEFINITELY glad that I'm still desirable to some men. I'd leave it at that.

Haha, dunno who's reading this blog mah! But I didn't do anything inappropriate in Cologne, lah! At least nothing outrageously inappropriate. Teehehehehe...

Yay, coming home!

Whoever's reading this and cares, lets meet up soon!

wow, there's nothing to do in Cologne on Sunday at all.

All the shops are closed, and only the eating places are opened.

Again, poor planning on my part, the museums were opened but I'd already visited them on Friday and Saturday.

So there I was, carefully saving my money to blow on Sunday, and there's nowhere to spend it!

So I sat by the river, read a book, ate, but there's only so much you can do of that, before it gets boring, you know?

So I took a walk around town, walked for hours, walked through all the side streets, walked through deserted residential areas, but eventually wound up at my hotel.

And the worst thing is, I found out that there's a huge carnival on Tuesday, but I'm leaving tomorrow! It's supposed to be this huge parade where everyone comes out, drinks, party and go a little crazy. But there's just no way for me to extend my stay any longer. I think my boss would fire me!

Sigh, hopefully I get to do a little more shopping tomorrow....

Hello from Germany again!

The conference is officially over, I'm on my own and itching to explore the city!

For the past week, it's been work, work, work, from 7.30am to 11pm almost every night. By the time I reach the hotel, it's dark and I'm exhuasted and there's no way I want to leave and go partying or whatever.

But it's exhilarating and a little bit scary to be all alone in a foreign land. It's like that thrilling first sip of alcohol, or the first time you successfully sneak into a club underage, or watch an RA movie, or many other things that I should not mentioned... but you get the drift.

Travelling on your own is like a clandestine moment to be savoured, but you're also unsure of what to expect.

My second hotel is quite nice, significantly smaller than the first, but a lot nearer to town. My first hotel, for all it's grandeur, was in such an isolated place that I was surrounded by car shops, washing machine and mattress shops! The nearest sign of civilisation was a Mac's 10 minutes away.

I'm just grateful that the official part of the trip is over. It was so tiring maintaining this air of professionalism. And I felt like I was in such a conundrum - on one hand, I still feel like a student and in fact, some of the student envoys were older than me! So, it was a real dilemma whether I should stick to the students or stick to the PR people and other jounalists. But at times, the students just seemed so.... immature and noisy and I was this close to throttling them.

But on the flip side, the PR people were kinda old, and always tired, and sigh... okok, shouldn't complain so much about a free holiday work assignment.

So you know what? I'd just enjoy being alone for a while. Exploring museums for hours on end (and not have to deal with fellow travellers who are bored), shop wherever I want, eat whenever I want...

Haha, I need to buy another bag! The tiny suitcase I brought is bursting at the seams already... :)

So anyway, this was a video I took of my hotel... as you can tell, I REALLY didn't see much aside from my hotel room and the conference...

And this is where I'm staying now...

Alright, going out now... bye bye.. or as Heidi Klum would say... Auf wiedersehen!

Hello from Germany!!!!

I'm using a German keyboard which is quite quite different from the ones at home, so pardon if i have have any typos. in fact i'm going to minimise the use of punctuation.

the weather is pretty cold, but my clothes are holding out well. the singapore contingent is freezing their butts off, so that's quite funny.

the only thing that's irking me is that i look like one of the students! the pr people think i'm a student, the students think i'm a student, and it's so hard to interview people cos they think i'm a student!!!!!

arrggghhhhhhhhhhhhh....

and for some reason, i can't access my email!! i just know it's all piling up, and there's shitloads to do.... but hey, at least i tried right?

the programme is pretty packed, the only time i get to use the internet is a, at a media centre specially set up at the hotel... and the only free time i get is either before breakfast at 7.30am or when we return at night at 10.30pm. i'm so tired i'm about to fall asleep...

yeah, yeah, i know this post is damn boring and pointless... just want to say hi, cannot issit?#

ok, i'm logging off, this keyboard is killing me. I'm a touch typist, and they've switched the 'y' and 'z' buttons... so I keep typing the wrong letter. bleaghhh....

Injury prone

Sigh, I sprained my ankle. 3 days before I'm heading off to Germany.

No, I wasn't running after a story, I wasn't wearing high heels, I wasn't climbing some mountain.

I was talking to my boss in his office, turned to exit, and my left foot got stuck in the carpet.

Bam! Crack! Ow! There goes the old left ankle again.

Circa May 2007, I sprained my right ankle in Beijing while on holiday. Also in flats.

Circa 2006, I sprained my ankle while playing volleyball. Also in flats (sports shoes to be exact).

My conclusion? High heels aren't dangerous. I've NEVER hurt my ankles in them. It's the flats. they're killing me, seriously. At this rate, I'd run out of ankles to injure.

Bloody sodding hell. At least my boss let me off early to see a doctor.

Work Trip

Since some of you asked what the heck I'm going to Germany for... actually, it's quite a funny story.

Ok, my radio station has this weekly programme that focuses on the education scene in Singapore.

So the reporter in charge of it chanced upon this MNC who organises an annual event for students to discuss about the environment.

Students from 17 countries around the world will submit eco-friendly projects to this MNC and 3 lucky and deserving students will be picked for the conference in Germany.

So anyway, my colleague wanted to interview the 3 Singaporean students for his programme when they returned from the trip.

Upon contacting the PR of the MNC, she asked my colleague if he'd like to accompany the students to Germany instead to witness the conference first-hand.

My colleague of course jumped at the opportunity, but lo and behold, he has reservist duty in the same exact week!!!

So he told my boss, and my boss then casually asked me if I was going on leave in November.

I said maybe, cos I wanted to go Batam with Kristin and Sylvia.

Then she said don't, and told me I'd be the backup for the Germany trip whilst my colleague attempted to defer his reservist.

Long story short, he didn't get his deferment, and I stepped into his place.

And so ladies and gentlemen, that's how I ended up being selected to go to Cologne, Germany's 4th largest city and oldest settlement, dating back to the Roman times!!!

Oh god, i'm so excited, and yet, a bit guilty too. I know it's not my fault that my colleague can't go to Germany, but I still feel bad, and in the office, I'm fearful to discuss my trip with my other colleagues, or show too much excitement.

But on the inside, I'm so happy it's sick. And I'm extending my trip by 3 nights so that I can wander and explore the place by myself.

First time I'd be travelling all alone. Cathedral! Musuems! Churches! Beer! Sausages!

Sigh, happy. *grinz*.

Leaving on the 1st, back on the 11th. Starting work on the 12th.

At first my supervisor didn't want to grant me leave. Cos I'm going on leave again in December. But I kept pestering him until he caved in. Hohoho.

But that also means I only have 13 working days to work on my 5 long stories based on the trip, before going on leave.

Yeah! Must work hard.... :)

Guess who's going to GERMANY for a work trip????

*does a victory lap around the office*

Hu-ha, babbbbeeeeezzzz!

Selamat Hari Raya Bay-bee!

Just a photo post.... of great food, and cute cousins during Hari Raya! And for your benefit Ridzal, all the family photos too!

But first, a homage to my one true love... Fadz mum's cooking!

I'd never get sick of this stuff!

And a close up...

Sambal goreng. It's like bits of prawn and intestine. I always thought that it was oily because it was cooked in oil. I only found out this year that it's actually cooked in coconut milk until it becomes clarified OIL. (!!!)

Li Wern, your favourite beef rendang! And yes, it's still super shiok... haha! And no, I still haven't learnt how to make it.

Sambal Sotong. This stuff is soooo fabulous, it should be a national dish. It's spicy, but not so spicy that it numbs your tongue.

My very grumpy beloved. who still hadn't changed into his baju when I arrived. Reason? He didn't want to get his clothes dirty while digging into the food. He only changed when relatives started arriving.

The brudders (minus big brother Ridz) trying to act cool.

Smile!

Who's this? Who's this, you ask? Just about the sweetest, most adorable, angel, hamster-looking darling in the world!!! Meet Diya! Is she cute, or is she cute? Look at those cheeks! Those eyes!

Come, come, take photo with me.... Aww...

She loved to play with my ring and wouldn't return it. Here's Fadz trying to convince her to hand it over.

Aww, the tudung making your head itchy??

Man, those fingers must taste good...

...so we gave it a try.

Another cousin!! Diya's big brother, Rian! He just woke up, so kinda grumpy.

Family photos time!

Fadz's mum is the eldest sibling of the 2nd generation.

2nd sibling: Chik Ne and family.

3rd sibling: Chik Ros and family.

4th sibling: Chik Ham and family. (and ya ya and yan yan!)

Dunno why all look so solemn. I guess I missed the memo to "play it cool".

Fadz in a baju and me in erm... clothes.

Another cousin. Dunno which branch. He even stopped to pose for this picture.

Fadz being all fatherly. He really does adore children.

And front view of the toddler. Not happy with the camera's flash.

One more for the ride! Rian looks like his brains have been scrambled by too many flashes from the camera.

Good day.

Lifeless

A typical day for me sounds like this...

Wake up, stare blankly into the ceiling, get ready for work, go to work, sleepwalk through my assignments, go home, wash up, sleep.

It's really pathetic. Which explains how I could have missed a get-together with the volleyball girls.

I'm sorry darlings, I was working till 10.30pm.... and then you girls were unsure about what you wanted to do... So I jumped at the opportunity to do something when my colleague suggested we go for drinks.

Yes yes, promise that I'd make it for the next outing.... !

And yet, I'm typing this from the office. On a Friday night. The terminals around me are switched off and if I look up, I stare straight into an empty corner.

The only other person on shift with me is the night editor.

Sigh, sigh, sigh.

On the upside, I celebrated Hari Raya with Fadz's family on Wednesday.

This time last year, we had broken up. I remember I was sitting at home, thinking that life really sucked.

I didn't just miss Fadz, I missed the convivality of celebrating the holiday with his large and boisterous family.

Fast forward one year, and how times have changed. In fact, I can't believe that a year has passed since that "dark period", as I term it.

There I was, stuffing my face with his mum's famous food. Beef rendang, lontong, sambal goreng, ayam goreng and of course, my perennial favourite, SAMBAL SOTONG. I was practically drinking the stuff.

Playing with his numerous cousins. Coming from a small family (I only have 2 immediate cousins), I'm endlessly enthralled by his ever-expanding family.

Every year, it feels like I meet a new cousin, or a tiny baby being cradled in someone's arms.

And of course, seeing his cousins grow up before my eyes... tiny kids whom I used to run after in the corridors, who use to be up to my hip only and have now reached my eye-level.

Sniff, I'm growing old.

Attempting to my the dutiful girlfriend, I stayed till the end, attending to the endless stream of relatives who turned up at all hours, demanding to be fed.

Cups that needed to be refilled, lontong that needed to be cut, dishes that had to be replenished....

And the weird thing is, a lot of his family (whom I only see once a year, and the more distant ones), never know how to react to my presence.

When I attempt to salaam them, they either take my hand in an attempted shake, or look very confused. Or ignore me. I don't know which is worse. Maybe they're afraid to touch my pork-laden hand?

Oh Well. At least I was polite.

And when I was leaving, Fadz's grandma asked when I was planning to wear a baju. *Gulp*

Erm, how bout NEVER?

Or else, make sure your son marry me first. Hah. That should scare Fadz sufficiently.

Fucking Corp Comms Moron

It's amazing how some people can call themselves Asst Director of Corp Comms (emphasis on Media Relations) and not even have the most basic of conversation skills.

Don't even get me started on you apparent lack of skills when dealing with the media. Look prickhead, you piss off the media, we retaliate by digging even deeper and publishing even more salacious news. Stupid, stupid fool.

Let me explain a simple concept. The media and corp comms of organisations/government bodies have a love-hate relationship.

They need us to publicise their good news. But hate us when something goes wrong, cos we pounce on it even faster.

So we do try to have a good working relationship; a lot is give and take. 

But when you try to CENSURE my news, yell at me, intimate me, exercise your will on me, refuse to speak politely when essentially you're asking for a favour, don't hate me if I retaliate.

It all happened when I went to cover some stupid event. That stupid event resulted in an unfortunate accident.

Like any good journalist, I filed an instant report.

Doing their job, they tried to do damage control. Fair enough.

But to go so far as to declare to all media present, "please wait for our media statement before writing anything. We understand that radio has the wrong perception".

What you trying to do? Shame me into doing your bidding?

No dickhead, what you managed to do is make me publish my news on the double, and say you had yet to formulate an answer. You made it such that I was under no obligation, no goodwill left, to wait for you to formulate a generic, two-bit answer.

And then your boss had the gull to call and YELL at me, tell me that I've committed "irresponsible reporting", "factually wrong", "error", and TOLD ME TO USE MY JOURNALISTIC INTEGRITY TO PUT IT RIGHT.

Yeah, like I'd be so motivated to "do the right thing" now.

You don't get to influence the media. You most certainly do not TELL the media what they can or cannot write.

AND YOU MOST CERTAINLY DON'T WANT TO PISS THEM OFF.

So what turned out to be a small matter, has exploded further. I did another story that made you seem even more stupid. And there's more to come. 

Just because you came from the army doesn't mean you get to yell at me like I'm some clueless soldier. I'm not your subordinate, and I'm most certainly not at your mercy.

And when confronted by me, you had the gull to YELL that YOU WEREN'T YELLING AT ME. Yeah, yeah, you just have a loud, obnoxious voice that bruised my delicate ego. Sucks to you. You dare to yell, own up lah! Fucking coward. Only know how to cover backside. Cheebye, kan ni nah tamade chicken! Deny, deny, deny. Obviously no balls left, henpecked, deprived bastard who has to abuse others to feel like a man.

Stupid prick. I told my boss what happened and she called YOUR boss. I hope you get fired. Because evidently you don't know how to do your job, you barking mad dog.

Workplace oddities

I was wearing my Juicy Couture hoodie in the office the other day.

The words "JUICY COUTURE" are stitched prominently in gold on the back.

As I was talking to my colleague, my boss walked passed and said...

"Hello juicy."

If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was trying to be funny, and not in the ha-ha way.

But how odd indeed.

Alamak, failed

My station has this morning talkshow programme that discusses current issues and invites callers to air their views.

This morning, they decided to talk about the workers' dormitory that is being proposed to be built in the estate.

I went for a dialogue session that discussed this issue.

The talkshow producer invited me to go on air to share what went down during the dialogue session.

Haha, but I got cut halfway. I guess I wasn't making sense. Or not interesting. Or sound horrible on air.

Oh dear.

Boohoohoo...

My laptop dio major virus/worm/trojan. I don't even know what it is. It's so lethal, it diasbled my control panel, access to C and d drive, infected my clock and every document says "virus alert!"

I'm so fucking screwed. Why, why, why, did I attempt to download some stupid programme? Even when it didn't have a listed publisher, making it twice as dodgy, I still downloaded the fucking programme.

Urgh! Now every 10 seconds an annoying and false message pops up telling me I have a virus and I should go buy their programme blah blah blah.

And when I thought I "found" an online freeware to help remove the first spyware, it turned out to be another malware.

I'm so so so so so so stupid.

So how? I'm sending my laptop to a computer shop tomorrow. See if they can remove the virus. If cannot, then have to reformat.

Whatever, so it shall be.

DAMN UNLUCKY.

YESSSSS!!!! NDR is over!!!

I was a complete mess at the rally. My inexperience really, really shone through. It was an absolutely NIGHTMARE.

So my duty was to talk to MPs and get their immediate feedback on the PM's speech and the goodies announced.

My bit was to cover the stuff for babies. Lots and lots of stuff to wade through.

But I also had to do a doorstop (which is journo lingo for on-the-spot, off-the-cuff interview with VIP) with the PM. Cos he was commenting about the Table-tennis finals.

Thing is, I didn't spot him coming out of the auditorium at first. So in a haste to talk to MPs (mind you, there were 1,700 people floating about the UCC that night and it was difficult finding appropriate ones) I rushed off to speak to an MP.

When I came back, I realised that the doorstop with the PM had already come and gone.

*$&%&*$(%&*$!!!!!!!

So anywayz, it was a nightmare.

And I realise I barely recognise half the MPs. And most of them give sweeping statements and talk about things in general.

Long story short, had to go beg CNA for the audiofile of the PM's doorstop.

In the end, I only stumbled out of the office at 5.10am. Yes, I arrived in the office at 3.45pm on Sunday afternoon to get prepped for the speech. And left on Monday morning. The morning shift people did a double/triple take. And I belted out "Good Morning, Baltimore" from the movie Hairspray, as I was exiting the door.

Yes, I do such things. Yes, it happens quite commonly when I'm overworked. Yes, my office allows such shenanigans.

I always cackle when I think about how I used to say I didn't want to work in a bank because of the long hours.

Oh yes, that thought alone and the irony of my current situation keeps me entertained for many hours on end.

My Poor Liver

What started out as a gorgefest/steamboat dinner with Haolun and Jialing, degenerated into a binge drinking session with Robin, Chris and Haolun.

Yes Ms Aw, after you left, the drinks came fast and furious.

Let's see....

• Glass of white wine
• Glass of vodka lime juice
• Mug of Tiger beer (only drank it cos Mr Chui got dizzy after 2 mugs, otherwise, I HATE BEER)
• shot of B-52 (which the bartender shortchanged 1 layer of vodka cos she dunno how to make.. idiot)
• shot of flaming Barcadi

The flaming Barcadi was the MOST disgusting thing I've ever drunk in my life.

Stupid Robin. Upon hearing that I've never tried a flaming shot before, he egged me on. It's petrifying to SEE the freaking shot glass and its layer of flames.

But that's nothing compared with the TASTE of the drink.

It was fine until I hit the warm liquor. It was like a truck slammed into me.

My eyes watered, my throat was on fire, and I couldn't breathe for a few seconds. I could hear Chris and Haolun gasping away beside me.

And instantly, my sinus clogged up and I got a cold. Haiz, first and last time.

It was so bad, my very, very kind taxi driver stopped at a petrol kiosk to buy me tissue. And he gave me like 10 packets. He even stopped the metre when he dashed into the kiosk. Such a nice man.

When we were still relatively sober.

Bottoms up of the B-52 (yummy!)! (spot Chui's very red face. And that's from 2 beers. He's just entered a sales job that requires a lot of entertainment. Good luck fella)

All in all, fun night. We should do it again!

Next up, a clubbing session! Ok ok, let me go check my schedule first.

Work, Work, Work

Sigh, Ms Aw, you ask for update, but unfortunately, life has been rather blah.

All I seem to be doing is work, work, work. 12-hour shifts are becoming commonplace. Urrrgghhhh.....

Plus, I'm doing National Day reporting. This means I have to come up with 5 colour stories before NDP, do hourly live reports during the actual NDP show, and go back to the office after the whole thing is done and file another report. My stomach is churning at the thought of it.

AND I'm doing National Day rally. Not that I want to gripe... screw it, I DO want to gripe. We're sending 2 people for each event. But my partners change. Why am I the constant?

DOING NATIONAL DAY RALLY MEANS I START ON THE DAY ITSELF AND THEN I'M EXPECTED TO WORK UNTIL THE FOLLOWING DAY.

Like 4pm to 4am or something like that. sobz...

Anyway, my appraisal is up. Talking to my boss tomorrow. I was having a pretty bad time last week, and I kinda blurted out that I wanted to know if I would be confirmed. I was worried that my sliding performance was gonna affect my appraisal.

The boss hinted that my confirmation was likely. So well, we shall see.

I can't believe it's been 6 months. But after all this time, I still wonder if I'm suited for this job. When people talk about wanting to become a journalist, they usually describe it as a passion, as an ambition. To want to find out the truth, dig into uncomfortable areas, write prose that can change the world.

Do I feel the same way? After all, I've never really thought about being a journalist. It just kinda.... happened. Does it matter that I don't feel those same needs? Does it matter that I view my job as a job, and there's no overriding desire? Does it matter that sometimes I read what I write, despair at its insignificance, but it goes out as news anyway?

The question I've been asking myself is that, would I be happier anywhere else? I used to think that I was destined to do HR. But what made me so certain? Would I have been happier doing that?

I'm rambling now. So tired that I can't think straight.

On a positive note, I'm going for SingFest with Fadz! And Shah, my co-DJ back in SMU, remember? Can't wait! I know it's an odd combination of people, but the concert is going to be rocking!

Oh yeah, and I think my colleagues think I'm incredibly flighty and sex crazed and weird. Just because I put this picture on my 15-inch monitor.

I can't imagine why they would think that way. Might have something to do with how I like rubbing my hands all over my screen.

Oh well. Shouldn't my bosses be happy that I enjoy looking at my computer screen?

Occupation Hazard

Sigh, I've been clocking in more than 12 hours for the past three days. Like I told Fadz, even my eye bags have bags.

He replied, "LV or Prada?"

Gucci, of course, darling.

I have been labouring over the unfortunate drowning incident involving a student from my alma mater.

In case you've been living under a rock and have not read / watched / listened to the news, get the details here and the previous day's news. Not mentioning kid's name so that my blog wouldn't pop up when people do google searches.

Was stationed at the site for the past two days, trying to get interviews with the school president and the family.

What sucked the most is that I kinda feel emotional attachment to this story, seeing how it's my alma mater, my beloved school.

When it comes to such cases, journalists usually take a detached view so that we can get things done in the most objective manner.

Yesterday, when there was still hope that the boy could be found, I didn't feel so bad.

But when we received news that his body had been recovered today.... sigh....

Having to separate personal from professional was really tough. Having to grill Woody, seeing his huanted face, and pushing ahead with questions about safety and checks... Having to deal with the corp comms team like Ann, Sharon, Karen, Shirley... How does one stay emotionally detached?

I guess I simply buckled down and went into auto-response mode.

But when L's father started wailing AS we were interviewing Woody... that was really, really hard.

I did the story as best I could. When the school requested we not put L's photo on our website, we agreeably took it down out of respect for the family.

But when the other media repeated posted his picture.. I mean... I have to do what I have to do. I told Sharon the same thing.

I think the worst part was when L's sister gave a press conference and read out a statement. Having to deal face to face with such raw devastation really choked me up.

When I stepped forward to offer condolences to his sister, I started to tear up and had to look away.

How unprofessional is that.

But the reality is that journalism is part coldhearted.

We deal with deaths almost on a daily basis, be it accident or murder or whatnot.

But when you spend 2 days surrounded by people you have a connection to, no matter how remote, and not some random stranger altogether... maybe I'm weak, but I found it tough to deal.

Am I right for this profession? I'm not too sure. Maybe I just need to be more emotionally detached.

I'm so, so drained now. I can't even begin to think about commencement next week.

Restlessness is setting in

2 years ago, as I was about to turn into an adult as defined by legal age, a restlessness took over.

A pull so strong that at times I felt despair, a pull that was telling me to go experience the world as I straddled the fine line between teenager and adult.

I badly needed to get away; from school, from the same-old routine of life, from my friends, and even my family. In short, I needed to feel like there was more to life than... this.

I was sick to the bone of the tired routine that had taken over me, of seeing and experiencing the same things day-in day-out.

And so I escaped to Vietnam with Fadz. My mum violently forbade me to go, partly because it represented my first trip alone with my boyfriend (for 18 days!), and it meant that I was no longer the little girl who followed her parents on overseas trips. In short, it meant that I was slowly but surely declaring my independence.

Back in 2006, I dunno how many of you realised it, but I was sick of life. The exams were just over, I received the best results of my entire unversity education, the volleyball tournament was over, my torturous OCBC internship was done. I needed a break. I was like this prowling tiger, ready to snap at anyone who crossed my path.

But Vietnam restored me. Bright, colourful delight where I gesticulated my wants, sat through train and bus rides that smelt like hell, got a pedicure at a place that soaked my feet in a plastic bowl, ate like the locals, travelled like the locals... so many memories.

So why am I mentioning this now? Because the restlessness is back.

Lately, I've been getting this feeling of despair again. The feeling that nothing changes, everyday is just another mindless day as a mindless drone.

That for the rest of my life, or at least some time into the future, this is all I have to look forward to.

I thought the challenge of having to write something new everyday would keep me excited. The challenge of having my work reviewed on a daily basis would keep me entertained. But the overall feeling I get is still everyday is the bloody same, nothing really changes.

The relationship with the Fadz? I'd say it's going pretty well, except once in a while old fears and insecurities surface, but that's not unexpected, yeah?

But the worse part is, I'm doing the same thing every day, he's doing the same thing every day, when we meet up, it's pretty much the same thing too.

It's a nice feeling of familiarity, and I do look forward to seeing him each time.... but........... the notion of "is that it? is there nothing else?" keeps popping up.

He's not a fan of trying things new, I'm not a fan of trying things new ALONE. I want to see things from his perspective. I want to watch his face as he does something he never thought he would do. I want to experience new things and talk to him about it, and in the process, discover something new about myself.

I thought an 8-day leave around my birthday in May, thinking that going to KL would be enough to stifle it. Thinking that shopping and eating would be sufficient. That it was all I craved for these days.

Well, lo and behold, it isn't enough. I want more. I want to see more, to feel more, to rediscover the spirit of adventure and doing things off the beaten track.

I want to go to Laos.

Spoke to the Fadz about it, and it appears he might be up for it. But I have to wait until the end of the year.

In the meantime, I'm getting grouchy and snappy again. Some days, I don't even feel like going out with my friends, and just want to stay at home and stew in my own thoughts.

Am I turning into a recluse? Or am I dreaming too much about this?

See if you can spot me! the one with the fairest legs... we drank copious amounts of bad Vietnamese red wine, got so drunk... we then clambered onto the 2nd storey of our rickety boat and jumped into the azure sea.... and then i promptly fell asleep on the ride back to shore. Fadz of course abstained, and managed to capture this.

Home and Rootedness

I was on the train yesterday with Fadz when I was hit by a wave a nostalgia for my time in Paris.

It's really strange, and I don't think it's because I miss being on holiday (erm, I'm not screaming to be back in KL), but rather, I miss the idea of witnessing history and pretending for a moment that I'm part of it.

It's a feeling that's tough to describe... You know how the Singapore government keeps talking about how we need to be more rooted in Singapore, be more connected to Singapore, yada yada?

Well, it just dawned on my that it's a bit difficult to feel a sense of home and rootedness to a place that just doesn't stay the same.

The government talks about home and family, but really, what makes a home? Is it just the people? Or does the environment play a part too?

They say that overseas Singaporeans need to come home because THIS is where home in, where your family is.... So if they equate home with family, wouldn't transplanting your family to whereever you are be equivalent to having a home? What exactly makes you feel for a country, to want to belong to a country, if people are the only link that's keeping you there?

It just feels Singapore is never standing still, that history is constantly being wiped out and pushed out of living memory by the insane need to constantly rebuild and push ahead.

But all the clean air and shiny buildings don't make a country. People need visuals to capture their imagination! Words and ideas just don't feel the same.

History comes in the form of buildings, architecture and monuments that have stood the test of time, artifacts that our ancestors have fought for... that to me, is the idea of rootedness.

The idea that no matter how far I go, how long I've been away, I can always go back and that slice of history will still be there. Something concrete that I can show my children and grandchildren.

It's like, the Chinese have the Tiananmen Square, the French have their historic buildings, the Romans have their ruins. What does Singapore have? A plague to signify that something important happened? A byline in history books that something important took place? Ideas don't inspire people. Concepts don't build nationalism and patriotism. Efficiency doesn't fire up the imagination.

That's why I miss Paris. It's like it's perfectly fine to stop, sit and stare at a building, contemplate about how that building has affected history and made a city the way it is today.

In Singapore, what you're most likely to get is people staring aimlessly at other people. But people come and go in today's world. People are transient. They survive but one generation. Great leaders inspire a group of people. But it's THINGS, BUILDINGS, that stand the test of time.

I just sometimes despair at how obtuse the officials can sometimes get. Sure, I'm all for capitalism and new shiny things. But when does it all stop? If things of my childhood are relegated to mere memories, that I have nothing to show my children but anecdotes, when my memory starts to fade, would my children know the Singapore I know? Would my children care about the Singapore they may choose to be part of or not?

Ok, just a rant. A slight sadness. I respect Singapore for it has taken good care of me, but that doesn't mean I'm passionate or love it or willing to die for it. Because it's a caricature of the character it is attempting to be. Trying to be more than just a soul-less, efficient city that is a holding place for transient beings.

Masquerading as a nation that holds an appeal for its people, rather than acknowledging that people are fleeing to places that capture their imagination, or acting as a gilded cage for those who can't move.

A Harrowing Life of Taxis

One of the greatest perks of my job is that I can take taxis to all my assignments. I've become so accustomed to the lifestyle that I'm unable to take public transport EVEN when it's not paid for.

Anywayz, it isn't all sunshine and roses while taking cabs, ok?

I have to put up with drivers who talk at the top of their voices, drivers who drive as if they are on the F1 race track (this I secretly like), drivers who play techno music at full volume, and of course, mutha-fucking drivers who go in circles and cheat my money.

Of all the cabs that I've taken (and that's plenty, mind you), I have to say that Silvercab drivers are the worst offenders.

They take you round and round in circles, purposely drive slowly, and go a much longer way than needed. Bloody bastards.

Just the other day, I received a life lesson from my senior reporter, S.

I was going to Suntec after work and gave him a lift. When we hopped into a Silvercab, he asked which way he should take. We told him to take the fastest route.

Well, I dunno which driving school he went to but MAKING A BIG ROUND DOES NOT CONSTITUTE THE FASTEST ROUTE.

The asshole made a huuuuggeeee ass loop, and my heart leaped every time the metre jumped 20 cents.

That's when S casually asked the driver if he knew where the hell he was going, and if the route he was taking was truly the shortest and fastest way.

After a pregnant pause, the driver started muttering a whole bunch of rubbish like "you told me to choose which route..." blah blah blah.

S silenced him and quietly took him to task, all the while smiling and never raising his voice.

Amazing. I need to learn his finesse. Anyhoo, we arrived at Suntec, the driver told me to pay whatever I wanted. The fare was $13, and when I offered $11, he took $10 and used his fucking ELBOW to shrug away my $1.

Bastard! I give you money and you shoo me away like some insect!

Anywayz, I try to put S' actions into practice but I must say I lack the guts and finesse. Most of the time I end up slightly yelling at the taxi driver, or quietly shaking my head and making disapproving noises when I'm too chicken to voice disapproval.

Hmmm, style needs work.

All I'm saying is, watch out for those Silvercabs, and the Premier version as well.

Cheats. Or just bloody fools who dunno how to drive. So either way. Keep clear.

Newsroom Saga Update

So I've found out the identity of the person who located my blog and spread the news about my colleagues' romance.

Yes, I know who you are. I know who you told.

I know who eventually leaked the news to the ex-girlfriend.

I suppose I could be mad at you for a) bothering to google my blog from a mere nickname and b) for repeating what you read to other people in the newsroom.

But I'm just as culpable as you are, and we're as guilty as the parties who informed said girlfriend.

Am I angry? Perhaps. But since my colleagues have told me to drop it and forget about it, and that THEY'RE not angry at me, I have no right to stay angry right?

Whatever. Apparently there was some lying and deceit involved. FYI, my blog address is NOT on my facebook account. So please don't cite random nonsense to cover your tracks.

Guess the old sayings right. You can't trust anyone. Even in the nicest of workplaces there will always be politics and shady going ons.

Or rather, there will always be lines drawn in any situation. When the situation is right for 2 people, they become friends. But when they're facing off on opposite sides, these same friends can easily become foes?

Is that too harsh a statement?

Anyway, this thing has been blown WWAAAYYY outta proportion. So let's end it here.

As far as I'm concerned, water under the bridge.

Blogstalkers Bite Back

Well, well, well, it appears that somebody from my office got to know of my blog and has been stalking me. I have no idea who it is, but it appears this same person read my entry about the romance blossoming in my office and went to tell the ex-girlfriend.

I apologise if said ex-girlfriend is hurt; I had seriously no idea that YOU had no idea. Guess it reeks to learn about such developments through a blog. It was an off-the-cuff comment, and I made it because I felt that my relationship with Fadz was on the rocks last year because we weren't spending time together. So I brought up the proximity theory, and hence, the relationship in my office. Again, apologies.

I did toy with the idea of making my blog private but you know what? Screw it. I have nothing to hide. And since I've made the decision to go public, I guess I'd just have to deal with blogstalkers and the anonymous entities who float in and out.

But that doesn't mean I don't want to find out who that person in my office is. Don't worry, I don't bite. Much.

Post-Birthday Update

I'm typing this in the dark, seeing how my light is attracting creepy crawlies to it. Ewwww... And I know I spent too much time on my laptop when I can type this entire post in the dark. Touch-typing, anyone?

Anyway, it was definitely a freaking fantastic birthday week. Thanks to those who sent well wishes my way!

KL was pretty fun, I mean, how can eating and shopping ever be bad right? And the Fadz was a perfect boyfriend. He never complained as we trawled the many, many shops in the many, many malls around KL. He waited patiently as I tried on clothes, shoes, bags, etc. He carried all my shopping without complaining. He did not roll his eyes when I pranced excitedly into the totally pink Juicy Couture shop at Pavilion Shopping Mall. He did not gag when I bought an incredibly pink, terry cloth juicy couture bag. Yeah, he was pretty great. :)

And yes!!! Highlight definitely has to be my darling Juicy Couture bag. Love, love, love it. It's sooooo adorably pink I can't help but smile when I see it. Yes, yes, all you people can diss me and call me a bimbo, but how can you not smile when greeted with such a happy bag?

Cute right?

My other fave moments of the week:

Sitting at Acid Bar with my darling Kristin, Sylvia and Fadz on my birthday and having Fadz dedicate Bon Jovi's Always to me! Plus, the bar singer (who's from SMU) sang happy birthday and the other customers joined in!

Went to Dozo with the family on Sunday, and I must say the food and service is par excellence. Truly! I don't see how this is Japanese-styled fusion whatever, but the food is really, really yummy. Plus, the service is so good they asked for my name, gave me a dessert and decorated the plate with a chocolate "happy birthday joanne".

Good times. I feel loved. :)

Happy Birthday To Me!

Fadz brought me to this outdoor pizza joint at 6th avenue for some alfresco dining. As you can see from the truck, alfresco dining is codeword for roadside, non-air con. Haha, at the risk of sounding ungrateful.... Luckily, the food was good.

Unfortunately, that was the last photo I could take, as Mr Muhd Fadzli chose to start acting goofy and in the process, dropped my darling camera.

It won't start up anymore, and the lenses won't retract.

I would have killed him if he wasn't so apologetic.

But it doesn't mean I can't grumble a bit.

Let The Par-Tay Begin!

Yeeessssss!!!!! 1.5 hours before 8 days of blissful leave begins! I can't wait! I'm still in the office, but my work is done and I'm basically twiddling my thumbs until I can leave.

Hey, it's my birthday week, I'm allowed to indulged a little right?

Since my leave officially begins tomorrow, the Fadz and I will be heading up north to KL for a little R & R. Well, I think I'm definitely more excited cos it's gonna be a shopping trip. Fadz is a little disgusted at the thought of having to carry my shopping bags, but I plan to stuff him continuously with good food so that he has nothing to complain about.

Coming back on Thursday, then Fadz is celebrating my birthday early on Friday cos he has in-camp training (humpf), starting Saturday.

Syl and Kristin will hopefully be meeting me on Saturday so that I won't have to spend my birthday alone (boohoohoo...)

The family is treating me to dinner on Sunday... and I'd still have Monday and Tuesday off! So anyone who wants to celebrate my birthday.... *hint hint*

Haha, I'm so shameless.

Haiz, I'm really bored in the office, ok? Came back from an assignment that required me to sit in sports cars and be chauffeured around Singapore. It is a very hot day, ok? Doesn't sound as simple as I make it out to be....

But it was cool. I even took pictures with a white Lamborghini!!! So nice can... 4 shiny lambos lined up in the glinting morning sun. Random people who were not part of the event started taking photos shamelessly.

Oh well.

Pity the owners were fat and/or old and/or ugly. God is fair.

When allergies attack....

Oh man, I didn't know I had an aspirin allergy, and that it can be so BAD.

Had a headache last night, and just as I was about to pop a couple of Panadol, Geraldine (that being my eldest sis) ambled over and offered some Alker-Seltzer, claiming that it works a hundred times better than Panadol.

Her description of the drug? That it was dissolvable Panadol.

So like the good, trusting person that I am, I took 2 tablets and went to sleep.

Half an hour later, I developed a cold and for some reason, I couldn't stop tearing. More troubling was that my eyes started to itch and felt painful.

I thought maybe some eyelash fell into my eye and started rubbing vigorously.

When that didn't work, I got up to get some tissue. That's when I turned on the lights and stared into the mirror.

Lo and behold.... my eyes had started to SWELL TO THE SIZE OF GOLF BALLS.

In fact, my EYEBALL became puffy and yellowish, like a film of mucus had formed over it.

I didn't take a photo of myself, but thought I should gross you people out.

Yup, that's how sick I looked.

So I went screaming into Geraldine's room (cos my parents are in Malaysia), and she literally fell out of her bed.

We rushed to the 24-hour clinic, the same one that previously diagnosed my CONSTIPATION as GASTRIC.

But hey, I suppose beggars can't be choosy.

Then again, maybe they should.

The stupid doctor seemed so unsure of himself, at times taken to mumbling to himself. When I asked him if I should be worried, he started throwing medical terms at me as if I was some medical student.

Bloody hell, no wonder on night shift. He was so unconcerned even though I could barely see.... and even suggested that I be given oral medicine. That's when I started insisting that I wanted something more IMMEDIATE and asked for a jab.

And then he looked a bit puzzled and said, "Hmm... a jab? You sure? You'd get drowsy".

-_-'''

Eh uncle, it's 2am in the morning. I think drowsiness is the least of my concerns.

So he grudgingly gave me the jab. I think he was so hesitent cos he was so bad at it. It hurt like fuck lah. Bloody nana. Bloody Shenton 24-hour clinic. Useless buggers.

So after all that drama, and after a day's of rest, the swelling has mostly gone down.

Haiz, at least Fadz was around to accompany me.

Random Update

Haha, seriously, nothing is going on in my life to update about.

It's work, work, work. The occasional meet ups with friends, planning to meet up with people that never comes to fruition, some shopping, a lot of sleeping... haha, you get the dull picture.

Had a pretty good Sunday. Slept in, went for a facial at Pan Pacific, then high tea at Oriental Hotel, all courtesy of my sister. Heh, being the youngest rocks!

Will most likely be going up to KL for a short holiday to celebrate my birthday. Yup, going with the Fadz.

Woohooo! Shopping and eating, here I come!

And on a totally random note, I really, really think that the proximity theory is spot on. Witnessed the blossoming of an office romance. This reporter was attached to an ex-reporter, but she left to do her Masters overseas.

Guess the distance was too much to put up with. Long story short, another of my colleagues came into the picture. The two of them started hanging out, one thing led to another.

Before I knew it, the guy broke up with his girlfriend and asked my colleague to be his ready steady.

To be fair, the ex sounded like a bit of a bee-yotch, but it must really suck to be dumped while overseas. To not even be in Singapore to hear it firsthand, or to do anything to salvage the situation.

Not even a chance to say goodbye in person.

So ladies and laddies, all that crap about distance making the heart grow fonder? Bunch of baloney.

We humans are sluts for contact. No amount of Skype, MSN, phone conversations can make up for the presence of a warm, breathing person by your side. Nothing can make up for meals, outings, face-to-face conversations.

Oh yeah, on another random note, it's good to know that all my closest SMU friends have found jobs! Congrats Shawnie, hope you have a great time! And welcome to the mindless zone of drone-dom!

And for those people who say that I'm hard to pin down due to moving off days, simply ask one week in advance and you will find an answer. Simple, right?

Women in power

Women in power are funny creatures. Of course, this observation is based on my own very few personal experiences.

But I must say, they have all been rather bad.

It just feels like these women got to the top but being complete bitches. It's like they've forgotten how to be human and tend to snipe and snap drive the people around them up the walls.

Take the AWARE president. I was trying to interview her, I was trying to get her to sound rational, but all she did was snipe and snipe and snipe and get on her high horse.

All I did was try to present to her what the majority of women in Singapore feel; that too often, family is not worth sacrificing for a career. What's more, the sad ugly truth is that not many Singaporean men are willing to a) be less successful then their wives or b) take care of the family in the same way a mother would.

Many men have the opportunity to climb the corporate ladder because they know that their wives are taking care of the family. But are men willing to take on that role? I don't think so. So how can a woman comfortably leave the family and work?

That woman kept snapping that it is possible, it is possible, it is possible. Seriously? How? Tell me. What policies are you thinking of? How do you want to change society's mindset? But nooooo.... she just came off as a bra-burning, man-hating type of woman. I pity her husband.

And then I recently interviewed this super high-flying woman who's also the chairman of a charity organisation.

She came off as this snippy, unforgiving person who must correct your every word. And she does it in a roll-your-eyes, stare intimidating at you manner.

"Challenges, not obstacles".

"Burn-out is too strong a word. Grow weary and leave the organisation."

Hellooooo??? Aren't you just playing word games with me. Call a spade a spade lah.

Seriously, I never have this problem when I interview men. I'm not playing into the archetypical role of a "small woman" but women in power are such a turnoff.

They get to the top by being bitches. At least the men know how to conceal it better. Don't invite the press to cover some event unless you're willing to play nice.

No wonder female bosses have such a bad rep. It appears that the reputation is real.

My posts lately are all about work ah???

So boring, I know, but what to do, that really is what my life is about now.

Some days, I return home so tired all I can do is wash off my makeup (no way am I gonna compromise on my skin!!) and fall into bed.

And on my off days, I'm stuck between trying to put in some time with friends/boyfriend and just zoning out at home.

Ah, the tough choices.

Blogging at work now cos I'm so bored. I'm waiting for phone calls that may never come, so basically, I'm twiddling my thumbs.

Sigh, I wish I was outside doing something fun instead of staring at a poster of Rocky Balboa, trying to look as if I'm doing work.

Now THAT is tough.

Success!!!

Wahahahahhahaha!

I can't believe it!!

I've passed the voice test! Third time's the charm! I think I nearly passed out when my VP said that she was prepared to let me go on air.

Wooooohooooo!!!!! Finally... and I made the two month's mark! Although I still think that I sound horrible.. but hey, I'd take it anyway.

Be hearing my voice on air soon, yeah? :)

Miss Universe Moment

Haha, this just tickles my bone whenever I think about it.

I had to do a phone interview with this Vietnamese guy, but as he isn't fluent in English, he got a translator to speak to me.

Now mind you, this was completely via phone.

So what happened was I would speak to the translator in English, she would translate the question to Vietnamese and ask the Vietnam dude, he would take the handphone and speak to me in Vietnamese, and then the translator would help to translate his answer to English.

It totally felt like a beauty pageant Q&A segment. I had to stop myself from asking him, "So if you were crowned Ms Universe, what would be the first thing you would do?" or "What does this world need most?"

Teeheehee.

On a more sombre note, I failed my voice test again. And got reprimanded. And had my commitment questioned. And she did it without raising her voice at all. Adding to the pressure, an intern just got HER voice cleared.

I never realized how bad my pronunciation, enunciation, pacing and tone was. In short, I never realized that I couldn't speak properly.

Oy vey.

Worst day of my (working) life (so far)

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

YESTERDAY WAS SUCH A SUPREMELY SHITTY DAY THAT I NEED TO VENT ALL MY PENT UP ANGER.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck, motherfucking fuckers with fucking, arrogant, fucking attitude.

Ok, that feels better. I don't usually curse to this magnitude, but sometimes, it's so gratifying to sum up my feelings by screaming....

FUCK. Short and concise.

Yesterday was seriously shitty.

Nearly got drowned in the torrential downpour in the afternoon. I was stupid enough to wear a skirt and high heels, thinking that the weather would hold out for me. Urgh.

My pitiful umbrella was no match for the rain that kept beating down upon me, causing my legs, feet, skirt to be drenched.

I was to attend an event at 7pm, so that meant I had nothing much to do from 2 to 6pm. So being the hardworking person I am (yeah, right), I tried to practice recording my voice.

After numerous, numerous tries, my voice still sounded highly awkward. And my editor commented that I sounded unnatural. Sigh.

Then I pressed the wrong button, causing my headset to screech so loudly that I saw stars. And I think I've become deaf. And brain damaged.

So I left for my event with a massive headache and a ringing in my ear, only to meet more rain (urgh).

Here's the extra shitty part.

I was attending this event at SMU held by this FEMALE group, to discuss about whether Singapore was ready for a female premier.

Sounds interesting, right?

And it really was, to listen to all the different opinions and views about females in the political arena.

I had to do a feature on this issue so I lingered after the event (and this was around 10pm) to speak to the group's President and another panelist.

Wah lao, that stupid bitch was a giant asshole! She is so stuck up her ass on certain feminine issues that my probing caused her to see red. Excuse me for not being a man-bashing, iron-willed bitch! Sorry for representing most people in acknowledging that Singapore is a patriarchial society and accepting women in a dominating role would be difficult! Sorry for not having spent my whole life fighting for female issues that my ignorance caused you to glare at me as if I were a narrow-minded simpleton.

Ka na sai. Invite me to cover your pitiful event still act all holier than though. Bitch.

The other panelist wasn't any better. She's this professor at a local university and evidently, another man-hating old woman.

I know she was tired, but so am I, yeah? I still needed to get soundbite and whatnot, right?

So seeing how it was 10.15pm and I still needed to rush back to file a report THAT very same night, I tried to steer the interview using specific questions.

I asked what I had to asked, and thanked her.

Then she turned around and asked me, "So how long have you been in this job?"

I said, "This is my 5th week".

And she was like, "Oh. So not a hardhitting, hardnosed journalist yet, huh?"

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO INSINUATE? THAT I'M NOT A GOOD JOURNO ISSIT? THAT I DON'T ASK ENOUGH PROBING QUESTIONS ISSIT? MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE ASKED IF YOU WERE MARRIED BECAUSE I HIGHLY DOUBT ANY MAN CAN STAND A BITCH LIKE YOU.

Urgh, you want to represent women's rights, fine. But you also represent what's worst about women in power: overly emotional and bitchy. And you wonder why even women dislike working for women.

So back to the office I went, arriving only at 11pm. Jialat. I wanted to finish before 12 midnight, so that involved some mad writing and cutting of soundbites from the incoherent rubbish the 2 stupid women gave me. I frankly didn't care at that point. I was close to killing people.

I finished, packed up and headed for the cab. Lo and behold, I get another incoherent, loud-mouthed crazy cabbie.

He talked and talked, yelled and yelled, screamed incoherently at the injustices in the world... and I sincerely tried to make out what he was trying to say, but I couldn't. There was something wrong with his speech. So it translated to 15 minutes of random yelling.

Bloody hell. Just get me home lah. As if I care about your opinion. Bleagh.

Fast forward to this morning. I reached the office at 3pm for my night shift, thinking that I was still on for a 6.45pm event. Turns out, my editor switched events the previous night and only told me through an email. Seeing how I was a) out of office b) so harrassed last night that I failed to check my email, I didn't know that I was supposed to go for another event. At 12.30pm.

I started panicking like hell, because I so don't want to piss off my editor. In the end, he tried to mask over a look of irritation (sigh, I guess I deserved it), and told me to do a phone interview instead.

Luckily the guy was friendly enough to acquiesce and talked a lot.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. This week ain't looking so hot. I even lashed out at Fadz this morning cos I was feeling damn pissed off by the rain.

Another harrowing day in the life of a clueless journalist

Someone please tell me why I'm in this line.

I don't read the papers often enough, I don't update myself with current affairs, my voice is Ching Chong (Jialing: I'm guessing she meant that I had a Chinese-twang or something like that) and I evidently have no idea what the protocol is when it comes to greeting ministers.

Someone please shoot me....

I'm joking lah. I love my job! Which other job provides jolts to the heart and unexpected adrenaline rushes at all times of the day?

Tell you, covering the Mas Selamat case was kick ass. Even if all I did was walk up and down and stare at army men.

Oh oh, and the A levels.. HILARIOUS. The levels of secrecy when I tried asking for percentages and breakdown of the grades, schools tooting their own horns, pimply army boys who are so proud of themselves it's adorable watching their pleasure, one top school which barred reporters into their school hall (we think it's cos they screwed up the new syllabus)... fun fun fun.

But alas, I made a boo-boo today. I was covering a simple (or so I thought) event. I thought I'd go in, look around, take a couple of shots and call it a day.

But lo and behold, there's a Minister present and the press swarm him, asking his opinion about this issue that was raised in Parliament.

The protocol when that happens is to report what he said. Cos cannot lose out to the other press companies what.

Ahem. Do I look like I follow the Budget debates? Do I look like I would know what the hell the other journos are talking about?

Of course not.

So.... as the other journos were from the Chinese language papers, and I was the only English journo and I needed an English soundbite critically... I started sweating like mad.

What to do? Hang my head and ask the Chinese journo for clarification on the issue she wanted to ask. Luckily she was nice enough to help, even though we're from rival companies.

And then when it came to interviewing the Minister, instead of greeting him "Minister ---", I said "Mister ---".

All the other journos called him Minister. Apparently, that's how you show respect.

Can I get any greener?

Sigh, sigh, sigh....

Poking Fun (Inappropriately) at a Terror Situation

Haha, this just turned up in my mailbox today.

If I wasn't so disgruntled over having patrolled Dunearn Road on Wednesday morning trying to put a story together, it might have wrung a few more chuckles from me. My bruised and battered feet are still screaming for justice (which I put right yesterday with a very soothing pedicure. Hoo ha!)

Anyway, this might be useful if you encounter some very suspicious activity near you...

Courtesy of TalkingCock.com

Trust this website to make light of a serious situation. Go check out the SCGS version. Hilarious lah!