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"Is it weird in here or is it just me?" Woody Allen



HOWDY! This is a platform for me to express myself. To bare my thoughts, emotions and life stories. Leaving bite-size pieces of me before I go. I graciously invite you to comment, swap stories and thoughts. Please post your comment or get in touch with me here.


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ON THE BLOG.

alexandra wong
allyson
bawangmerah
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dreams&sugars
jemima
lex
loopymeals
lynn wabbit
mooi
mrd
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postsecret
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ARCHIVES.
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a rustic analysis*
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jakun & boon cit - a love story. not.*
jingling nona*
many happy returns of the day, u sexy u*
love misunderstood*
no willy*
perfect man*
save me from this misery*
tan ah yam, i'm sorry*


INTERVIEWS & REVIEWS.
an interview with joe blogs*
woo! a review!*


TRAVELOGUES.
halong bay - you jump, i save you*
hanoi on my mind*
hanoi - in search of the pain-in-the-arse ice cream and other stories in between*
sungai petani, my hometown* [pt 1]
leave my country* [pt 1]
leave my country* [pt 2]
ozcapade* [pt 1]
ozcapade* [pt 2]
ozcapade* [pt 3a]
ozcapade* [pt 3b]
moomoo vista* [pt 1]
moomoo vista* [pt 2]
moomoo vista* [pt 3]
ah moy in paris* [pt 1]


CREDITS.
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glamorous is not me* 

Ever woken up feeling all perked up?

Of late, I've made some effort to look good. Guess it's true - when you look good, you feel good, you walk good, you act good, you put on a good behaviour, you smile good, you talk good. Basically, 'good' becomes your middle name. When you look at the mirror, you see 'good' written all over your forehead.

At times, it's 'great'. Sort of a bonus.

On some blue moons, it's 'glamourous'. And that's when God will pull pranks on me, and I'm back on earth again.

How do you feel glamourous when...

You gave your best smile to a cute guy, only to realise later there was a small cut red chillie on your front tooth.

You walked on air, only to trip amidst a traffic jam.

You realise the key reason people stopped and looked at you when you walked into a room was due to exposed cleavage...coz your button decides to have a field day and opened itself to the public.

Your most expensive g-string falls over the balcony and commit suicide.

But today, I do feel glamourous.

Why? Coz the old makcik at the coffee stall said I remind her of Ning Baizura. Hah! Funny. I asked, "Aah? Ning Baizura? Belah mana sama dengan dia?". (I was praying silently her response won't be "Muka sama dengan bontot dia lah!")

Then I realised I wore my darkest red lipstick today, on my thick, thick lips. The same lips which my sister said belong to Tracy Chapman.

Such a sucker I am. But a glamourous sucker, nonetheless.

March 31, 2004 // anjali* pranced on tip-toes all over the keyboard at 12:51 pm
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