P6183973
Originally uploaded by sarongskirts.
See the creamy egg yolk... the croutons.. the bacon.......
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
P6183977
P6183977
Originally uploaded by sarongskirts.
A sandwich so massive it should be christened a Carls' Jr burger or something.
P6183976
P6183976
Originally uploaded by sarongskirts.
See the amount of greens sandwiched inside the eh, sandwich??? We left quite abit untouched. Heh.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Acceptance.
Acceptance.
I think my Ireland fever has subsided. And I think you guys probably have had enough of all that Irish ranting! While my current book, a more chick-lit-y read by aptly titled The Bride Wore Chocolate, has yet to get me all hot about Boston where it is set, I have quite the urge to try out one of the many chocolate recipes featured inside. Hmm, maybe I will.
My Nokia phone fell apart on Thursday. (About time I say!) I shall not go into details except that I've replaced it with a sleek Motorola V3. In fuschia. I was actually undecided between that and classic black, but the Starhub guy sealed half the deal by telling me that it is a limited edition, and the other half by telling me about its connection to Maria Sharapova. I'm not a fan of hers, but the celebrity connection tempts me EVERYTIME. No regrets though, I'm diggin' it.
Dined at Blu Jaz (again) last night with Ceci. The place always makes me feel like I'm away on a resort holiday and their Chicken Salad is pretty darn good. Speaking of resort holidays, I think we will be going for our own sometime next month. 2 direction-blind girls + 1 tropical island = a recipe for adventure (I hope)! Anyway, till our island getaway becomes official, here's a list we came up with after always talking about wanting to check this and that place out but never getting around to it.
To Go List
I think my Ireland fever has subsided. And I think you guys probably have had enough of all that Irish ranting! While my current book, a more chick-lit-y read by aptly titled The Bride Wore Chocolate, has yet to get me all hot about Boston where it is set, I have quite the urge to try out one of the many chocolate recipes featured inside. Hmm, maybe I will.
My Nokia phone fell apart on Thursday. (About time I say!) I shall not go into details except that I've replaced it with a sleek Motorola V3. In fuschia. I was actually undecided between that and classic black, but the Starhub guy sealed half the deal by telling me that it is a limited edition, and the other half by telling me about its connection to Maria Sharapova. I'm not a fan of hers, but the celebrity connection tempts me EVERYTIME. No regrets though, I'm diggin' it.
Dined at Blu Jaz (again) last night with Ceci. The place always makes me feel like I'm away on a resort holiday and their Chicken Salad is pretty darn good. Speaking of resort holidays, I think we will be going for our own sometime next month. 2 direction-blind girls + 1 tropical island = a recipe for adventure (I hope)! Anyway, till our island getaway becomes official, here's a list we came up with after always talking about wanting to check this and that place out but never getting around to it.
To Go List
- Prince of Wales pub
- Whatever Cafe
- Indochine Wisma
- Indochine Waterfront
- Giraffe Bistro & Bar
- Little Bali pub
- Moon River Cafe
- Eclectic Cafe
- Liang Seah Street
- Hooters
- Max Brenners
- V Tea Room (repeat to try more desserts)
- Fosters
- Dome Cafe
- Marmalade Pantry
Apart from the bunch of punkass youngsters who irritated the shit out of Jason and I on our bus ride home (though I started having to disguise my giggles with coughs after one of them attempted singing), my life's pretty much mundane! Oh yes! I dreamt of a bride jumping off my block on 16 June 2006. Which was yesterday by the way. And that her veil floated to my room. BLOODY HELL! I'm still creeped.
P6163972
P6163972
Originally uploaded by sarongskirts.
This quirkily named shop never fails to catch my eyes every time I'm on Bussorah St.
Friday, June 16, 2006
A world outside my own.
A world outside my own.
After a couple of nights of sleeping only way after midnight and spending the next day with my nose buried in the book, I'm finally done with the Irish trilogy. What a read! To think I'd almost wanted to chuck it back into the return bin at the library when the first few pages seemed too slow-moving.
Well, I may be done with the book but I sure ain't done with satisfying my interest in all things Irish. Though, after a convo with Cassandra in which she pointed out that Westlife is an Irish band, my illusion of tall dark and roughly handsome Irish men vanished. I'm no sucker for pretty boys baby.
Here's a little Irish mythology for you. According to ireland-now.com, a banshee is actually Irish for faerie woman. With long flowing hair and eyes bloodshot from centuries of crying, the banshee is usually clad in a hooded cloak. When someone in one of Ireland's respectable families is about to die, the Banshee will be seen pacing the dark hills about his house, her white silohuette a sharp contrast against the night's darkness.
Are your goosebumps standing or what!
And may I share a poem by William Butler Yeats, taken off everything2.com.
Titled "To a Child Dancing in the Wind", it tells of an old man getting depressed watching a young girl dancing carefree at the beach while thinking of all the nasty things she will have to face in the world as she grows.
Dance there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
For wind or water's roar?
And tumble out your hair
That the sale drops have wet;
Being young you have not known
The fool's triumph, nor yet
Love lost as soon as won,
Nor the best labourer dead
And all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
The monstrous crying of wind?
Has no one said those daring
Kind eyes should be more learn'd?
Or warned you how despairing
The moths are when they are burned?
I could have warned you; but you are young,
So we speak a different tongue.
O you will take whatever's offered
And dream that all the world's a friend,
Suffer as your mother suffered,
Be as broken in the end.
But I am old and you are young,
And I speak a barbarous tongue.
Meaningful huh? Alright, crash course for the day's over!
After a couple of nights of sleeping only way after midnight and spending the next day with my nose buried in the book, I'm finally done with the Irish trilogy. What a read! To think I'd almost wanted to chuck it back into the return bin at the library when the first few pages seemed too slow-moving.
Well, I may be done with the book but I sure ain't done with satisfying my interest in all things Irish. Though, after a convo with Cassandra in which she pointed out that Westlife is an Irish band, my illusion of tall dark and roughly handsome Irish men vanished. I'm no sucker for pretty boys baby.
Here's a little Irish mythology for you. According to ireland-now.com, a banshee is actually Irish for faerie woman. With long flowing hair and eyes bloodshot from centuries of crying, the banshee is usually clad in a hooded cloak. When someone in one of Ireland's respectable families is about to die, the Banshee will be seen pacing the dark hills about his house, her white silohuette a sharp contrast against the night's darkness.
Are your goosebumps standing or what!
And may I share a poem by William Butler Yeats, taken off everything2.com.
Titled "To a Child Dancing in the Wind", it tells of an old man getting depressed watching a young girl dancing carefree at the beach while thinking of all the nasty things she will have to face in the world as she grows.
Dance there upon the shore;
What need have you to care
For wind or water's roar?
And tumble out your hair
That the sale drops have wet;
Being young you have not known
The fool's triumph, nor yet
Love lost as soon as won,
Nor the best labourer dead
And all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
The monstrous crying of wind?
Has no one said those daring
Kind eyes should be more learn'd?
Or warned you how despairing
The moths are when they are burned?
I could have warned you; but you are young,
So we speak a different tongue.
O you will take whatever's offered
And dream that all the world's a friend,
Suffer as your mother suffered,
Be as broken in the end.
But I am old and you are young,
And I speak a barbarous tongue.
Meaningful huh? Alright, crash course for the day's over!
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Goodbye straw head.
Goodbye straw head.
Knowing that I wouldn't be able to stomach another day of my hay-like hair, I popped over to my stylist for a trim and a much needed treatment. It set me back QUITE ABIT, but I'm digging the results. For the first time since I'd permed my hair months ago, it is actually soft and swishable without that damned styling lotion. -swish swish-
I think I'd be feeling much better if I weren't so stuffed! It's been almost four hours since my last meal and I've yet to start feeling less like one of those stuffed teddies. Whatever possessed Jason and I to share a large waffle with two scoops of ice-cream after a pasta dinner??? Oh yeah, it's Waffle Tuesday. Hahaha!
My appetite's decreased quite abit of late, though it's starting to pick up again. Gone are my days of dessert stuffing. Which is good, right?
I'm onto my second day of listening to Ireland Forever. I'm still trying to spot that Irish lilt Nora Roberts mentioned in her book, and to really differentiate what it is about Irish music that sets it apart from the rest. Apart from the generous use of hornpipes that is. That seems to be the only difference I can hear. Please, go listen to a track by The Corrs and tell me. (Oh yes baby, they're Irish.)
Alrighty, time to hit the bed and get on with the trilogy. Gotta be up before the noon time sun if I wish to jog off all that sugar. Night world!
Knowing that I wouldn't be able to stomach another day of my hay-like hair, I popped over to my stylist for a trim and a much needed treatment. It set me back QUITE ABIT, but I'm digging the results. For the first time since I'd permed my hair months ago, it is actually soft and swishable without that damned styling lotion. -swish swish-
I think I'd be feeling much better if I weren't so stuffed! It's been almost four hours since my last meal and I've yet to start feeling less like one of those stuffed teddies. Whatever possessed Jason and I to share a large waffle with two scoops of ice-cream after a pasta dinner??? Oh yeah, it's Waffle Tuesday. Hahaha!
My appetite's decreased quite abit of late, though it's starting to pick up again. Gone are my days of dessert stuffing. Which is good, right?
I'm onto my second day of listening to Ireland Forever. I'm still trying to spot that Irish lilt Nora Roberts mentioned in her book, and to really differentiate what it is about Irish music that sets it apart from the rest. Apart from the generous use of hornpipes that is. That seems to be the only difference I can hear. Please, go listen to a track by The Corrs and tell me. (Oh yes baby, they're Irish.)
Alrighty, time to hit the bed and get on with the trilogy. Gotta be up before the noon time sun if I wish to jog off all that sugar. Night world!
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Monday, June 12, 2006
Stone circles dancing in a farmer's field.
Stone circles dancing in a farmer's field.
feeling: dreamy
spinning: damien rice - cannonball
I love losing myself in a good book. There's something almost sacred about entering the realm where everything, from the stiffness in my back to the sound of the tv blaring in the background, fades away.
For several days now, I have been the welcome intruder in Brianna Concannon's bed and breakfast in West Ireland. Now, there's a certain predictability to the endings in all the Nora Roberts' novels I've read. In spite of that, I find myself impatiently paging through her books time and time again, savoring every word yet anxious to reach the end. Such is the magic of Nora Roberts. I do wish I had half her talent for telling tales.
Her Born In trilogy has got me all interested in Ireland. Endless rolling hills, fields sleeping under the mists, tiny villages with crooked streets... I am even intrigued by Gaelic! (That's the traditional language of the Irish I believe.) Unlike many, I've barely toyed with the idea of an European holiday and here I am, visiting the Tourism Ireland website and listening to an Irish radio station online.
Now, all this is coming from someone who doesn't give two hoots about the Irish. In fact, I have only just realized that Celtic music is actually Irish music and not what I'd initially assumed to be chanting. And I've also learnt that Damien Rice, Enya and Sinead O'Connor are Irish musicians. How many years have I spent in oblivion? I have developed a new found interest in all things Irish! I'm even thinking of indulging my urge to pick up some Irish literature!
This is the beauty of life I think. Discovering that the world is so big yet so small at the same time.
feeling: dreamy
spinning: damien rice - cannonball
I love losing myself in a good book. There's something almost sacred about entering the realm where everything, from the stiffness in my back to the sound of the tv blaring in the background, fades away.
For several days now, I have been the welcome intruder in Brianna Concannon's bed and breakfast in West Ireland. Now, there's a certain predictability to the endings in all the Nora Roberts' novels I've read. In spite of that, I find myself impatiently paging through her books time and time again, savoring every word yet anxious to reach the end. Such is the magic of Nora Roberts. I do wish I had half her talent for telling tales.
Her Born In trilogy has got me all interested in Ireland. Endless rolling hills, fields sleeping under the mists, tiny villages with crooked streets... I am even intrigued by Gaelic! (That's the traditional language of the Irish I believe.) Unlike many, I've barely toyed with the idea of an European holiday and here I am, visiting the Tourism Ireland website and listening to an Irish radio station online.
Now, all this is coming from someone who doesn't give two hoots about the Irish. In fact, I have only just realized that Celtic music is actually Irish music and not what I'd initially assumed to be chanting. And I've also learnt that Damien Rice, Enya and Sinead O'Connor are Irish musicians. How many years have I spent in oblivion? I have developed a new found interest in all things Irish! I'm even thinking of indulging my urge to pick up some Irish literature!
This is the beauty of life I think. Discovering that the world is so big yet so small at the same time.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
In introspection.
In introspection.
feeling: introspective?
spinning: john mayer - comfortable
Today feels like such a long day despite the long nap I took in the afternoon. Restless energy's coursing through my veins and I have no idea how to let it out. My body's not yearning for a run or a swim and lethargy is all I have to combat the nerves. Sinking my seemingly limp body into the couch, tuning out the sounds of MTV blaring in the background and allowing my mind on a trip to a Nora Roberts spun Ireland seemed good enough for awhile. Only for awhile.
Like I told my sister when I crouched beside her in front of the washing machine as she nursed a cigarette, it feels like Christmas today. Perhaps it's the slight chill in the air.
I feel like I'm waiting for something that I'm not sure I want anymore. Am I so set in my comfort zone that my innermost dreams and wants have been blurred to seem unreachable? Will there be a rainbow after the rain, and will I find my pot of gold at the other end of it?
feeling: introspective?
spinning: john mayer - comfortable
Today feels like such a long day despite the long nap I took in the afternoon. Restless energy's coursing through my veins and I have no idea how to let it out. My body's not yearning for a run or a swim and lethargy is all I have to combat the nerves. Sinking my seemingly limp body into the couch, tuning out the sounds of MTV blaring in the background and allowing my mind on a trip to a Nora Roberts spun Ireland seemed good enough for awhile. Only for awhile.
Like I told my sister when I crouched beside her in front of the washing machine as she nursed a cigarette, it feels like Christmas today. Perhaps it's the slight chill in the air.
I feel like I'm waiting for something that I'm not sure I want anymore. Am I so set in my comfort zone that my innermost dreams and wants have been blurred to seem unreachable? Will there be a rainbow after the rain, and will I find my pot of gold at the other end of it?
Thursday, June 08, 2006
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