My very own Sex and the City man whore friend.

My very own Sex and the City man whore friend.

It's 2 a.m. and in three days at this exact time, my flight would have covered a quarter of the 12-hour trip to Paris. But today, I am slouched comfortably on the couch, satisfied with a day well spent.

I completed the second half of the laundry, met up with Ceci, Faggy and Marc (that's the last time I see Marc before he flies off to Australia!), caught Sex and the City with Erwin, and spoke with B online and sorted out some wardrobe questions.

Back to SATC. We were seated beside a gay couple. Their sexual orientation doesn't bother me at all, but their constant fidgeting in their seats did, big time. At one point, Erwin dared me to show them an sms asking them to keep still. I was too nice to do that, but I did give them a few dirty looks, not that those were any effective in a darkened cinema. I'm non-confrontational, unfortunately.

That aside, SATC was extremely entertaining, and I think my man whore friend enjoyed it very much despite the film's chick-flick status. And this man whore friend has just posted a semi-touching albeit extremely mortifying blog post, suggesting that I have dark twisty secrets beneath my happy facade. Not true!

I am finally meeting up with Jinli for our much-awaited Brewerkz date tomorrow, after I swim off the Doritos I chomped on earlier. Gotta make some calorie-allowance for the beer! Good night world.