Angst, Laughter and Pineapple Tarts

Angst, Laughter and Pineapple Tarts

My auntie makes the best pineapple tarts. Each bite sends me to paradise. I like the pineapple to be a bit chewy, abit jam-like in texture. I am biting into my millionth tart now. Sinful sinful, but definitely worth every pounding step I'd have to pay on the treadmill.

An extract from my conversation with Justin last night. We were talking about our O'levels Chinese Aural exam.
Him: After distinction is what ah?
Me: Merit izzit?
Him: Oh, I got merit.
Me: Congratulations.
Do you guys get the joke? I took his "merit" as "married", lol! I am so proud of that.

Anyway, he's now telling me he looks like a terrorist in the No Smooching picture. I am an excellent photographer am I not, considering that I am able to capture the closet terrorist in him? (See for yourselves. Scroll down two entries.)

I've met my match in lamelogy! Another extract from our present msn conversation. (I was telling him to get his whole soccer team to apply tanning oil as a pre-game ritual.)
Him: So sissy.. haha.
Me: No la, metrosexuals the "in" thing now what.
Me: I don't quite fancy metros.
Him: Well, some girls like guys to be metro mah.
Him: You probably prefer OG guys.

Get it? OG? Metro? The departmental stores. Haha.

I wish I hadn't procrastinated my hmm, intimate shopping. Jostling with crowds make me cranky. Cramped dressing rooms that make one feel claustrophobic, display areas cluttered with half-unpacked boxes, all the pushing and shoving.. It was enough to make me feel bad enough to go for a haircut! Haha. Anyway, my hair's short now. Not short short, but short. Hmm. Not as long as before, DUH? Hahah. I gave up attempting to take a picture.
I replenished my supply of Fruit Fusions shampoo and Kenzo fragrance too. :) Bought the pink shampoo instead of my usual orange. Maybe my babes will stop telling me I smell berry-ish. Maybe it'll be passion-fruitish this time around, haha.

For the past week, there's been an old lady squatting by the big old house, a plastic bag of tissues in front of her, her eyes closed like she's asleep. My heart squeezes a little each time I pass her by on my way out, and each day, I tell myself I'd do something about it, but I haven't. I don't wish to give her money, for fear she'd scrimp and save and not buy herself a proper meal; and I'd very much rather buy her some food, but I'm afraid she might not be able to eat what I buy.
When I see her tomorrow or Tuesday, I am going to squat down in front of her and put a note into her hand. That's my resolution.

Time to polish up my resumes, and practise using serving gear. I have a feeling Saffron's gonna be full of falling breadrolls tomorrow! I am feeling so sleepy. My 45-minute nap sucked.