hooked on creme brulee ice-cream

for the benefit of a friend whose name begins with E-D-N ... (i hope blogspot's good to me tonight)

here's the mixed kebab grill i had at Beirut where we were being stared down by the Lebanese mafia


i finally had a taste of Swedish meatballs at Ikea here.


and today, it was ellen degeneres, more folding underwear into neat little squares, experimenting with new pasta sauces, ironing clothes, ellen degeneres, throwing away a whole kilo of cherries away cos i've forgotten about them, overeating, ellen degeneres, you get the picture.

i haven't started missing Singapore yet. i understand now, that it doesn't matter where we are. home is where Ravi is.

and here he is.

finally, i step into the sun

when someone asks you, "so what are you doing in Dubai?", the ideal answer is not "oh, you know, i watch Ellen Degeneres the entire day cos i have lost track of time and day." oh, and Martha Stewart - i swear she's botoxed, she's practically expressionless, and i just thought she was boring! except for her succulent plants centrepiece arrangements episode which was absolutely riveting.

and i confess, i am a wuss. for some reason, i'm fatigued all the time. it's like 3 weeks of non-sleep finally washing over me at the weirdest times, like when i am folding underwear neatly into small squares or chopping onions - and then i just pass out on the very luxurious sofa (which, unfortunately is also rather ugly - you can't have everything, right). like today, but that's different because i was traumatised by a bunch of Russian chicks manhandling my feet in a bright room filled with turquoise and red chairs. i needed a comfort nap despite the wonderful result that is ... a French pedicure.

i almost never nap unless i'm crouched in pain on the floor from food poisoning or drowsy with anti-histamines.

oh, and over here, they call olive oil ... Spanish oil. well, some companies do. imagine Popeye's girlfriend being called Spanny - might be taking his love for spinach a little too far. and for some reason, there are shelves and shelves of sunflower cooking oil and a very small section for canola oil, and an even smaller section for, well, Spanny Oil. a sunflower growing country is profiting from this country's mad love for sunflower oil.

and here, i will leave you with a couple of snappets, ya know, a play on snippets and snaps and ... nevermind.

i was taken by this crummy yellow building, perhaps reminded of how i myself will be battered and forgotten one day. well, maybe not battered, but almost forgotten.

a souk, or market, or shopping area. something like that. when you read souk, just read shopping.

half of Dubai catapults you into a time warp, into different periods of times forgotten, like the 70s or the 80s, and this building seen from our cab is hard to love, but i love it. i'd get closer if not for the fact i'm dead afraid of perspiring.

and for 25 cents, you get a ride on one of these dhows across the water to the other side.


sorry for the extensive collection of photographs. for some reason, blogspot has given me lots of problems uploading pictures.

this close to getting my own domain - except the idea of doing everything on my own is just so ... unexciting compared to falling asleep while folding underwear into neat little squares.

here.

ravi's laptop does not take to monster fingernails. so please pardon the occasional missing letter from words in the post below.

finally, we're together, after 98 days of eternal damnation. ok, well, it wasn't that bad. being that far apart for that long from each other somehow strengthened the relationhip and gave me (not him, cos he had to start making new friends) the opportunity to hang out with my friends more (hence i was barely sober half the time).

every 2nd person you see here is Indian, i felt i was on a holiday in Kerala or something, except we were shopping in Carrefour and cheering on Brazil in a British pub called Double Decker (where they serve bloody excellent Fish n Chips).

there isn't a cloud in the sky and if you want to know how hot it is here, night temperature, when it's supposed to be cooler, is aroud 35-37 degrees Celsius.

i am 2 weeks away from a major heat rash breakout and an asthma attack from the minuscule desert dust floating around.

and ravi, the bastard, he's lost so much weight.

i'm definitely gonna put on weight here, the menus here were good enough to eat.
and if you stay away from a poseur lifestyle, it can be pretty affordable.

and Klorane hair products here are faaaaaaaar cheaper than in Singapore.

and here, you drive on the LEFT SIDE - i'm gonna get killed if i don't remind myself that.

and no, it isn't true, there ARE trees here.

amidst all useless pointers above, it's just important that we are together again.

goodbye.

it's my last night in this house.

home.

i've officially left my company.

it's a strange feeling.

i think it's emptiness.

the house is empty. my workdesk was empty when i left.

i need half a bottle of whisky.

the countdown is almost over

two more days to work, three more days to dubai.

we're gonna be together again, babeh.

first up, we had a farewell party on friday night. it was a riot. dinner at Tapas Tree - where we all promptly overate. several garlic shrimps, tens of creamy mushrooms, a few sparkling Sangrias, many cubes of beef, many other sinful tapas and a caramel pudding later - i knew i had outdone even myself. and it was only 2145 and the night was just beginning.


i was getting pretty agitated, the person i wanted to see the most had not arrived. the boss' flight was delayed by several hours. we wasted a couple of $50 paellas (can you feel my pain?).

we decided to make a move to our favourite margarita bar. on our way to Cafe Iguana, Anja forced me to turn around - she had to sign the farewell card. there are just no secrets between us anymore - i even found out the ribbon/card cost a bomb, i was warned not to throw the ribbon away no matter what.


at Cafe Iguana, i got pretty restless. i was
1. bloated
2. farting non-potent gas bombs from all that cheese
3. not getting high
4. feeling goddamn fuckin' hot
5. sticky enough for fruit flies to get stuck

Rasheel and her extremely cute friend Mikesh dropped by. i always love having Rasheel around, she's one of very few friends to whom i can announce "i've been farting non-stop lah" the moment she arrived.




to play along, i had to act ABSOFUCKINLUTELY shocked about the gifts.



they got me a beautiful Guess evening bag and Hugo's Intense - no wonder they asked me if i wore perfume. they got the perfume wrong, but they got a nice one - what they do not know is i get perfumes at half their retail price, so they had wasted some good moolah.

some sad faces on the farewell card.


then David Sprengel, the German Intern whom i was hanging out with 2 years back turned up - he was in Singapore for a holiday with his GORGEOUS girlfriend, Sarah. i couldn't be more delighted, i had simply SMSed "Cafe Iguana, Clarke Quay" to his phone, half-expecting him not to turn up.

then everybody got restless - only bloody snakes can keep still in thick heat like that. we decided to move on to Attica, then we saw the queue. no one was feeling slutty enough to throw themselves at the bouncers or pretend that they knew the bouncers. Hans and Jay called their wives to get instant access into Attica, i was ashamed i forgot the name of the lady to whom the co-owner of the club is married. we cracked up - it's a sad day in a man's history when he calls his wife to get into a club. we detoured to One Nite Stand - the live band is always good. only thing is, i can't stand the lead male singer. he bloody masturbates on stage and probably makes love to himself in the mirror. who the hell looks like he's fuckin enjoying the music that bloody much when
1. they didn't write it
2. they are only emulating
the way he runs his hands through his rebonded hair is enough to drop my Black Label. fuck, i'm a chick and i don't even run my hands through my hair the way he does, like i'm bloody coming for God's sake.

but then again, i can't risk running my fingers through my curls as Rasheel can attest to - last time she tried pulling a hairband through my hair, i had to cut parts of my hair.

but this guy, whatever his name is, acts like he's bloody God's Gift to Women, and i hear, that he's having trouble with his marriage. OH MY GOD, he's MARRIED to someone ELSE to whom he must give love TO other than himself?

the three boys, Hans, Jay, Don. Hans shocked all of us when he picked Don up and hung him OVER HIS RIGHT SHOULDER. and here, Don is actually a good metre off the ground in Hans' safe grip - in my excitement, i wasn't able to get a shot which clearly illustrates this (hence, am bad photographer).




Brix was where we finally got it on, though. when all else fails, it's always good to go back to the nest. here, i bumped into Ashraf, Hadi and Hanaan - i was very pleased. had not seen Hadi since he got married a year back, Hanaan since the last time we all got caught drunk in the rain about a year back too - no thanks to Sherif who refuses to let us hang out together for some goddamn unfathomable reason, something to do with "danger", "know too many people" and "wild". string those along yerself.





we decided to make the high risk trip to Living Room where someone stole my handbag. before we got in, Ravi, the bouncer, stopped me in jest and asked "and what are you bringing in this time?". here, some lady approached Jay and got it goin' for a while. when i asked for her name, she said, "I'm Korean." several garbled semi-Korean sentences later, i find out her name is Susan, she's ashamed of her real Korean name and that she's goin' at SGD100/night.

man, that's cheap.


here's Korean. i mean, Susan. and Hans getting high and cracking up at the entire situation.


and then, as witnessed by my trusted camera, here, it all goes down the drain somehow with Jay taking control of the camera and taking a million out of focus shots and random shots of us giggling at everything. and for the first time, Hans stayed with us (Jay and me) till 0600, even suggesting we go for teh tarik and prata. we ended up at Spize.

here, you can see the unavoidable destruction and deterioration in our motor/rational skills.











Jay's magnificent nostril behind Drunk German Chick Molesting Everyone.


never seen Hans so gleeful - it bloody cracks me up each time i see these pictures.



at the end of the day (morning, night, whatever), there was a nagging thought "the packers are coming at 0900", and i was only halfway through the packing. i'd taken it for granted they were coming tuesday/wednesday, but they gave me a ring during dinner at Tapas Tree that "we're sorry, Dali, we cannot make it on Tuesday or Wednesday". in a way, i regret taking it for granted - i couldn't get drunk.

got home at 0630, took a shower and immediately started packing. i was really proud of myself up to this next point. NEVER, should one attempt to empty one's Fatboys when slightly high and absolutely spent. i found myself rolling in styrofoam snow before sunrise. if i weren't high, i would have gotten upset and started crying, but noooo, the hilarity of the entire thing was MAGNIFIED by the fact i now had
1. 2 more hours to pack the rest of the house
2. to clean up the floor and try to salvage as much beads as possible




by 0800, i call The Mater in panic.

but it all turned out well.

Ich bin Soooper Packer.

of laces and beads

i'm getting there.
i'm getting really excited.

2 weeks to my last day at work.

2 weeks, 1 more day to seeing ravi everyday again for the rest of my life after more than 3 months.

the ticket has been paid for, the letter of resignation has been submitted - there is no turning back now, and i can't be any happier.

the last few weeks have been hell for me. while i am proud of the fact that i've arranged for both weddings in Singapore and KL on my own, i am also proud of the fact that finally, i conceded that i need help and have passed the reins on to a wedding planner in Singapore. i'm gonna need help from the bro-in-law for Malaysia.

and finally, dear friends, the acne breakout is going away thanks to three things
1. The Natural Source facial wash
2. Erythromycin
3. Benzoyl peroxide

i'm putting freaking bleach on my face. apparently the benzoyl peroxide can bleach dyed fabrics, a comforting thought, that should you ever run out of Clorox, Acnegel will be there to save ya!

weddings cost a bomb, brings whole new meaning to "new life together" cos you're bloody starting a new life practically from well, scratch.

almost everything's in place, almost.

got the saree


and the empire line wedding dress is ready


we're almost there, baby.

we're almost at the rest of our lives.