The organised chaos

Soon to come: Vroom vroom


The speed demon is slowly being unveiled.

I really enjoy the process of learning to drive. As a learner who doesn’t get to drive more than once a week, there is a thrill, a frisson of excitement that passes through me each time I hit the clutch and gear up. The apprehension all but disappears as I absorb the teachings of my instructor, with whom I enjoy an easy chemistry, and I can’t hardly wait for the next lesson to come.

Yes, I sometimes stall the car and I haven’t mastered the art of turning into my lane. But well, I’m getting there and I daresay I really like driving a manual car. Except for the times when I have to stop, that’s when it becomes somewhat a pain.

I know it’s considered late for me to learn driving, given that most of my peers got their licences during our undergraduate lives. Truth is, I didn’t start lessons partly because I could not afford them and also because I didn’t think it would be a useful skill to pick up then.

And now when I do take up lessons, I go by an unorthodox way of first getting my Provisional Driving Licence and having driving lessons before attempting the Final Theory Test.

But oh well, who cares how you get there as long as you get there (and as long as no monkeys were hurt in the process)?

Two of Us

Mushy moosh

(Warning: The following post contains excruciatingly nauseating words that could cause severe brain haemorrhage in the cynical.)

This is my boyfriend.

“!(img)!(Carrying my funky Nike bag)”:

He is quite the cool cat, to me, because he does very nice, SNAG-ish things. For example, he carries my bag around for me, especially when it’s after a gym sesh and my shoulders almost break from the exertion and the weight of my shoes and clothes. And this is even when we are at traditionally masculine locations such as inside a computer shop.

I do things like poke fun at him because I know I can get away with it. Unlike me, he doesn’t sulk or whine and lets trivial things like this pass. Sometimes, I am rather mean and call him “my fat boyfriend” although it’s done endearingly and with much affection. But I know I have to rein in my tongue and stop and think before speaking, even if he doesn’t mind.

“!(img)!(In his faux basketball getup)”:

When he does things like that (wearing basketball jerseys over his own clothes and posing gleefully for the camera), he makes me laugh till my sides ache. And then, I am reminded of why I like him so much, because he can always make me laugh, even when I am feeling down and under the weather.

One of the best things about him is that he goes shopping along with me willingly and happily. And then he springs nice surprises like buying me something that I really like.

“!(img)!(My new cap!)”:

In conclusion, I would like to state that I think my boyfriend is cute and wonderful and is da bomb.

I heart you, boyfriend!

Friends, The organised chaos

Rochester, and getting wet and wild

Last week flew by me so quickly that I had no time to really sit down and edit my photos, let alone blog about them. I’ve always marvelled at people who manage to paint the town red the night before and post photos and the night’s events the next day. How do they do that? My life seems to be a mad rush these days.

One Rochester

“!(img)!(Sandy, the birthday girl)”:

“!(imgleft)!(Trevor and I hamming it up)”:

Two Fridays ago, we trooped down to One Rochester for a quick drink, partly to check out the place and also to gather for the upcoming birthday of Sandy.

I have to say, all that hype about One Rochester is true – the place is really a great place to chill out. The outdoor setting is cosy and intimate, there is no feeling of claustrophobia and clutter that usually accompanies nightspots. The seats were comfortable and the staff service prompt and friendly. It felt rather quaint to be sipping beer at a colonial house.

The only drawbacks of the place are its location (located somewhere far, far away in the west) and the fact that it only opens till 1am on Fridays. The drinks are a tad too expensive too, although it helps that we couldn’t stay for too long, ironically.

I got there at 1140pm after my shift ended and was surprised by the fact that nyrtap’s new girlfriend is not who I was (mis)led into thinking! That sly bugger had gotten attached to his university pal, whom I had once met briefly, for almost a year and there I was, thinking that it was her sister that he was with now. I bet they had a good laugh about it everytime I bugged him about her. Darn you, nyrtap!! *shakes fist *

Wild Wild Wet

Gawd, I don’t know why I persisted in calling it Wet Wet Wild.

Met with the guys there and we had a blast! Although it was pouring when we got there, we decided not to let a little rain get us down. Besides, it’s not as if we were intending to stay dry. So off went the clothes, out came the bikinis and the berms and we were ready to go!

The rides were not exactly exciting, and the mountain of people thronging the place was quite a turn off. But in times like these, it’s always the company that mattered and not the place.

We had a blast going down the Ular-lah slide in the rafts, with the guys trying to outdo one another in crazy antics for the camera situated towards the end of the ride. They were practically shoving their fat arses into the camera and immediately after splashing down to the bottom, we would jog over to the photo booth to look at our silly poses.

Even when going round the gentle Shiok River was full of danger when these people were around. While I was just sitting on my float and letting the “current” sweep me along, I was subjected to various acts of mischief. Somebody would invariably overturn my float or kick out at me so I went bouncing along the walls. And it was hilarious seeing them try to sabotage each other in many different and unimaginable ways (eg. nyrtap “running” away with Sandy’s float while she chased him down, shrieking her head off), or find various methods to leap from the water back onto the float.

The most pointless act of the day was getting Yakult-ed.

Basically, the Yakult is a giant bucket that is constantly being filled with water and located above the “playground”. At a certain point, when the alarm bell would sound, the bucket would overturn, causing a mini waterfall to cascade over the willing victims. Once it finishes unloading, the bucket would right itself again and continue filing up. It repeats this process for infinity.

Every time we hear the bell ring, we would yell out “eh Yakult Yakult!” and proceed to dash to the best position where the water would hit the hardest. Absolutely pointless but such a therapeutic act. I think we Yakult-ed at least 20 times that day, and were probably the number one public enemies of all the small boys and girls there that day.

We ended the day nicely with a huge ass meal at Via Mar (fantastic Cochinillo Asado or suckling pig, alright paella and delicious Sangria) topped with drinks at Mr Bean’s.

What a fabulous way to spend the weekend!

[Let’s play tag! , , ]

Health Goddess

Running and running

The problem that exists between running and me is that I don’t do it often enough because a PT once told me that I should not be doing it as it would make me thinner than I already am (burning up all my calories and all that). Since then, I have limited myself to just one cardio exercise a week, primarily bodycombat.

Hence, the most remarkable thing about today’s run at the gym was that it was my first time working those knees since the Singapore Marathon exactly six months ago. Plus, I was sniffling quite a bit in the morning and was afraid that my errant nose would turn nasty on me and block itself up. I did it at a very slow and steady pace of 8.7km/h, pushing to 10km/h for the last two minutes, and for only 20 minutes. Although the end result is not too great – only 4km – I was rather satisfied.

I had concentrated on my breathing, ensuring that it’s not too shallow and goes right down to my belly and was glad that it was smooth and regular. The nose had miraculously behaved itself. As the Workout Mix downloaded from the Nikewomen website pounded in my ears, I ran and kept myself focused on not pushing the body too hard.

Initially, there was a niggling pain down my right waist but I forced myself to breathe in deep and soon the pain all but disappeared. My naughty pronating right foot was on its best behaviour too, and there was nary a twinge during and after the run. This could be due, in part, to the support rendered by the Nike ankle guard that the boyfriend had bought for me last year when I complained of walking pains. I wasn’t panting heavily after the run and my legs, though slightly tired, were not jellied or weak.

All in all, a good run. So despite the sad distance, I can safely pat myself on the back.

Next week, 30 minutes of pure running! Oh, and send in Shape Run form. Gah.