a year closer to death

ain't my colleagues sweet?

10th May is my favourite day. for a host of reasons.

1. it's the anniversary of the beginning of the end of my parents' lives as they knew it
2. also the anniversary of the start of my brother's torturous life, living with a maniac
3. i get presents
4. i get birthday wishes from people i have not heard from in 10 years
5. i feel absolutely popular, loved and revered (HAH!)
6. i get flowers which rot, but the ephemeral euphoria is out of this world

beautiful roses from Ravi in an extremely unique packaging - it's called My Angel (do i hear "awwwwww"s?)

and Vincent who knows just how to bowl me over with this. the card read "I am sure Ravi won't mind this cat" which cracked me up - Ravi is a non-psychotic animal disliker.


7. i have an excuse to poison blood with alcohol and gesticulate YMCA while lying on dance floor and not be charged with Indecent Spreading of Legs and Arms while Cleaning a Small Circumference of Bar Floor
8. it's all about me, me, me
9. i get to pick where we eat and party
10. i get to be with my favourite people

but 10th May is also the toughest day of my humble life because i have a tendency to buck and run the other way. despite my loud guise, i am actually painfully shy. i also hate the pressure of asking myself if i want a party - cos i'd only worry if other people are having fun. and then there are the ex-flings who send you birthday wishes and you feel awashed with guilt all over again. and the yearly self reviews - what have you achieved, Dali? have you saved the world? have you eased worldwide famine? have you made peace with estranged blood relations? have you said 'i love you' to your parents despite everything?.

and to top it all, people shaking my hands all day long, wishing me Happy Birthday. i have to be extremely discreet about how, after they grab my soft, moisturised hands, that my hand suddenly goes all awkward and paralysed - my body rejects my hand. i need to continue with the usual birthday "how old are you today? how will you celebrate? congratulations!" conversation for at least another minute before i can run to the toilet and wash my hands (and open the toilet door with a paper towel). it is NOT, as my friend whose name begins with E-D-N says, OC (read obsessive compulsive), it's simply Dali Hygiene.

but as Godly humour would have it, i've fallen sick and am unable to celebrate my birthday with as much mirth as i would have liked. i'd cancelled my birthday dinner, i couldn't even collect the Goldmine Cheesecake (read chocolate fudge topped cheesecake with oreo crust bottom). and today, my throat hurts, my nose is blocked with unmentionable hazardous green plasmalike thing, my eyes are droopy from the flu drowse and my body is just so exhausted from simply being internally attacked.

but i shall persevere. i cannot cancel tonight's dinner which everyone's been looking forward to. we are headed to Melt. and, come on, i can no longer wait a day more to dip fruits into that much talked about chocolate fountain fondue. oh, and lay eyes on beefy chefs, so my friend whispers. and of course, laugh at everybody's ethnic getups - yes, there is a dress code for Dali's party. i tried for a Wizard of Oz theme but everyone threatened not to come. i don't know what these people have against shiny, red shoes and a lion's tail.

i must get better, for tomorrow, a certain friend whose name begins with E-D-N, her talented bf and another lady arrives from KL. i can't wait to hide in cupboards and scare the living shit out of them when they open the wardrobes.

and now, to Dr Lu, i must. if i want to save my tastebuds from certain tastelessness before i go to Melt.