Phantom self

Isn't it funny how work piles up while you're away working?
It's as if your workload suddenly doubles. As long as your desk is there, you're there.
Curse all this this correspondence.

Real estate hunt

When I got back to Sydney, the first thing we did was a spot of house hunting.
Not for a new place to live, but for an investment property.
We parked the car and went around on foot and doing the real estate rounds in Mosman.
On the hunt for capital gains!




I feel a Duran Duran quote coming on.

"Burning the ground, I break from the crowd
I'm on the hunt, I'm after you
I smell like I sound, I'm lost and I'm found
And I'm hungry like the wolf"




Just like typical Sydneysiders, we're hydrophilic and we NEED to be near water and have views of water. The properties we're looking at are a few streets away from boutique giftshops, lifestyle shops and patisseries.

And I'm so happy to say there's very good coffee to be found here. None of that Starbucks cat's piss. But at AUD3.20 per pop (inclusive of the ever present Aussie GST), it better be good.











A decent Sydney property with at least 3 bedrooms in a suburb that's nowhere near water, hills, cafes/shopping or train line will still cost you around AUD 650-800K. It's craziness.
In Mosman, you're looking at a teeth-gnashing AUD 650K-800K for a ONE bedroom apartment. And for houses..... it's around 3 million for an old one storey brick home.
*Sigh. Welcome back to Sydney, Implosion*

Back in Sydney again

Last week was all about work, work, work and network, network, network.
It was dry and uninteresting. A bit like airline food, actually.
I didn't get to see my parents during this trip because they were out of the country.
Not really worth blogging about. I finished a book in 8 hours.

Yes. I read this. And found it absolutely riveting.
So call me a freak.

I did find the time to have the dinner I blogged about with my group of friends from the 50490 'hood. We talked about what I blogged about.
Some of us got emotional. And some of them/us share Orked's taste.

*Get yer sugar here, ladies*

And YES, it was exactly as I predicted. Takut bini- WaWa and Mr. UnitedNations left early. They obviously don't read blogs. Bwahahaha.

The Hurdler was having a soiree at her parents' home in Pantai Hills (damn that brings back memories. Back then, her "soirees" came complete with a DJ and strobe lights. Heh.) and the people there were what I would call Malaysian Eurotrash. Heavy emphasis on the "trash".



Now- what do I want to say about these people? They're OK actually. I judge people by their looks more often than I like to admit. I don't think I made any lifelong friends, but they were nice people.

DIY weekend

My husband and I went to Domayne, (To put it bluntly, it ain't no IKEA, mmmm-kay? IKEA it ain't. Best not be too nasty- I know some people in Malaysia think IKEA is bees-knees designer chic.) on the weekend for a full day of shopping.

We bought stuff. I mean lots of STUFF.


I saw the Genie Lamp loveseat I'd always wanted, but hubby talked me out of it. Phew! That was close!














We stopped only to eat and load up on those good little vitamins in those fruit smoothies.

We're satisfied little consumers now.
*Aaaahhhhhh*

Name Your Illusion part 2

I blogged about my friend "H" a while back.
She's the woman who swans around in a fantasy that she's living the life of the rich and famous. The one who hasn't accepted that she hasn't got her daddy's money to spend anymore.

Both she and her boyfriend made me very cross and disappointed recently.

They've started badmouthing "S", a common friend who, despite having an average job, is still living in relative luxury because she is still supported by her tycoon daddy. "S" is a really nice girl. She works hard at her job, she has never been the type to show off, unlike "H".

What do they say?

• "She'll never make it in her job because she's never had to go through any hardship in her life!"

Not true. She's slowly been given more and more responsibilities probably because she's a really hard worker, despite being paid an average salary.

• "She's 30 and doesn't have a boyfriend because there isn't a man out there who isn't intimidated by her being such a high maintainence girl."

Not true. She's recently found herself a banker boyfriend (A first tier bank, not just any second or third tier bank.) of the same caliber as my husband. Well done, girl!!!

• "She looks so plain she could pass for a lesbian."

ROFLMAO... well, yeah she does a bit.....but a cute short haired lipstick lesbian, not a butch dyke type. But she wears Prada type of plain clothes, mmmm-kay?

This isn't the only person whom "H" and her boyfriend spend their time criticising, but I think that this is the person who least deserves their vitriol, because this person has never said a mean thing in return.

My bitchy friend "H" sounds like someone who's gorgeous, tall and has a killer bod, huh?

Nup. She and her boyfriend are both what you and I would consider tubby rotund bodies.

They're unhappy with their own lives so they put other people down to make themselves feel better. He is still overworked and underpaid in his back-office job, hating it but not quitting because they have a lifestyle to upkeep. She still hasn't found a job yet, she still spends her days being Martha Stewart, having dinner parties and doing lunch.

Instead of putting that negative energy into bettering themselves, they do nothing and sit back, watch and wait for other people's failures so that they feel better.
I think I told them so, in not so many words.

I haven't heard from "H" since. I value her friendship.
I want to call her and explain why I said what I said... I think I'll let things cool off for a bit.

At last- finally

My bubbly big-haired mother took time out from her busy travel & social calendar to visit me over the holiday long weekend. We get friday and monday off for Easter holidays over here.
(I don't give a rats' ass the holidays are for, I'm just glad to have a holiday.)

My mum kindly brought a particular DVD over for me. Finally!
Sepet reminds me of every relationship I ever had with someone of another race.
Most of all, it reminds me of the days we spent in KL just before we left to further our studies overseas.

My friends in KL back then were/ are just like me, offspring of VIPs, they went to CBN, TKC, VI, SJI, MCKK, RMC, ISKL etc. (Having fun going nuts on the abbreviations here. It's one of those cheap thrills I live for.) They lived in the 50490 vicinity or in the neighbouring suburbs. Amongst the people in that group was/is a good friend of my ex, that friend is a fellow SJIer who was in a boy band in the late 80's and is now married to a successful local jazz songstress. Another person in that group is a socialite grand daughter of a previous agong, whose brother was........ OKlah, so it's a tangled web we weave.

Now that I've actually seen the movie, I can't say any of them are anything like the characters in Sepet.

Some of us ended the relationship with the person from a different race. Three of my friends claimed that the person was the one big love of their life with whom they had the most amazing sex. They lost their best friend and ended up marrying/ settling for someone of their own race.
And some stories do have a happy ending.
Some of us married that person from a different race.

I resolve to organise a get-together with my old friends (no spouses allowed) when I get time off on my upcoming trip next month and I want to ask the friends in question why they did that. My husband's friends in Malaysia are very different from mine. None of them have ever been with anyone outside their race.

My friends love a good long meaningful discussion session that lasts late into the night. Some guys in the group will usually leave early. (They know who they are.)
Methinks it's a toss up between takut intimacy and takut bini. Heh.

It ain't the size of your axe, it's how you play it, baby.

Don't we all love a man with a guitar?

 

Look at how sexy this looks. How could you not?
OK, so it's John Taylor from Duran Duran.
Axe or no axe, I'll take him any day.

I used to errr.... date a Singaporean guy (when I was in university) who was soooOOooo good with his fender stratocaster.

He played in a serious rock band at night and was an engineering student by day.
He was no white boy and he could “goreng” (Malay word for fry) until the cows came home.
He could play any guitar riff that I asked- just to get some. Heh.
"Sweet Child O' Mine" by Guns n Roses would work every single time.
(Hey, this was the early 90's. Gimmie a break, OK?)

There's nothing like the sight of a hot looking man and his hot looking guitar playing a er, hot guitar riff.

When I asked him to play any song on U2's Achtung Baby, he said "Pfffthppth... no challenge." Then he proceeded to show me the finger maneuver that The Edge created for U2's sound. Not the guitar god I thought he was.



Phew, damn- is it getting hot in here?
*Implosion fans herself*

 

Cityscapes part 1

"A city is a congregation of animals whose biological history is enclosed within its boundaries; and yet every conscious and rational act on the part of these creatures helps to shape the city’s eventual character." Claude Lévi-Strauss in Tristes Tropiques.
I like to think that I shape cities in my masterplans. They get built and become reality.
That's just the megalomaniac I am. Armistad Maupin wrote Tales of The City as if San Francisco could be embodied in the personalities of his whacked out characters.

There are pockets of urban spaces I call home within my city.


An apocalyptic sky over Darling Harbour.
Taken on the Western Distributor flyover heading towards the Harbour Bridge.


Clovelly Beach on a Sunday morning. People here are a mix of bohemians and the bourgeoisie. Everyone leaves their things on the concrete and forgets about it for an hour or so while they have a swim'n'bake. When they come back, it's always there. There's a good sense of community here.

Neil Gaiman spun a wonderful urban tale in his one of his Sandman graphic novels, World's End.


In it, a generic unamed city dweller finds himself lost in an unamed generic city.
He bumps into a generic old man on a generic street who says this:
"Each city is a collection of lives and buildings and it has its own personality.
So, if a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams."

End of intellectual wankery.
Back to the intellectual MBA books sans wankery. (i.e: not very much fun at all)

Australia, the highest taxing country in the world

As I was having my morning coffee this friday morning with my husband- we watched Sunrise on TV. The usual light morning banter of the hosts and the regular politicians Kevin Rudd and Joe Hockey is standard breakfast TV fare, but this morning the subject was taxes.

OooooooOOOOoooooo. We choked on our coffee and put down the paper and listened and yelled profanity at the politician who looks like a used car salesman, Joe Hockey for saying that "We have to collect taxes if you want free healthcare, education....."

"FREE????? Free??????? Don't tell me he said FREEEE??" Hubby had to restrain me.

FREE healthcare? Noooo. I don't think so. The amount of money you can claim back from an average doctor's visit is set at AUD$20. That will cover half of the bill. You're not allowed to claim for medicine unless ONE item exceeds AUD$25. And on top of that, if your income exceeds a certain threshold, you are slugged with a levy when tax time comes.

FREE education? Nooooo. I don't think so. These days, the average Australian university student has to shell out more and more to pay for their education. I have said my piece on this piece in my last blog entry.

Everyone I know votes Labor. I vote Labor.
Why the hell is that little snivelling lying rat John Howard and his Liberal cronies still in power?

My theory is that there is no Labor leader charismatic enough for the job.
Bob Hawke was the most popular PM of all time.
He held a record in his old university for drinking the most beer in the shortest amount of time. When Australia won the America's Cup, he was absolutely pissed off his face when he announced on national TV, "Anyone who sacks a bloke because he doesn't turn up for work today is a bum".
Interest rates went up as high as 17% while he was PM. Believe it!

These days, we're not so easily convinced.
We need an articulate, intelligent, rational man to lead this very naive country.
I think Kevin Rudd is one of the best men for the job. He is compelling, he rarely makes excuses, he does never patronises voters or Australia's Asian neighbours . He spent many years working as a diplomat in Beijing, where he learned to speak mandarin.
Bob Carr, the Premier of New South Wales, is an amazing leader. He is very Asian in his approach to business. And how I'd best describe him is that he is a man after my own heart- pure capitalist scum. He is married to a Malaysian chindian woman.

WHY am I going on and on about the Australian economy and its relations with Asia these past few weeks?
It's to do with an International Trade assignment. My husband did the same unit when he was doing his undergraduate degree. Pfffah. Should be a breeze, but I'm really getting my teeth into the topic, so excuse my ranting ass.

The Tall Poppy Syndrome and Australian Malaysians.

*Implosion gets on soapbox*
Parochial. That word has been used many times to describe Australians.
Australian society is very egalitarian by nature- very working class, perhaps due to its convict roots.
There is the very common and popular notion of “having a fair go”. Italians, Greeks, Chinese, Japanese, Indian etc. immigrants come to this country in the hope that they would all get an opportunity to get a slice of the pie.
And here, The Tall Poppy Syndrome is everywhere..... there is a prevalent attitude that "the goverment will take care of us": your pension, your healthcare, your unemployment benefits. Enter the immigrants, who are used to working hard for their money, who are quite er, more business savvy and better at saving money. Of course they're gonna get ahead.
And lots of people are unhappy.
So we asians know to tread carefully amidst their insecurity.
But business goes on as usual, Asians are also literally buying over Australia.

• Malaysian billionaire Robert Kuok owns a controlling share in Newscorp, Rupert Murdoch's listed company with one of the most expensive share prices in the Australian stock exchange.
• The Malaysian Sunway Group Wonderland theme park.
• Singapore's property giant, Capitaland owns Australand.
• Singapore government's extremely rich GIC owns those Sydney icons, The Queen Victoria Building and Galleries Victoria. They also own the hotel component of No. 1 Martin Place.
• Singtel owns Optus (2nd largest telecom company in Australia). Optus is the 2nd largest because the 1st largest, Telstra, is not fully privatised yet!

Your average Australian finance guy in a 2nd or 3rd tier bank like Westpac would not know this. Not unless he was Macquarie Bank or Deustche Bank material.
And I'm only mentioning a FEW companies and ONLY Sydney properties.

AND I'm only mentioning Malaysian and Singaporean companies, too.

How do you think Australians would react to a company that was asian run and obviously asian owned? If I were an asian investor looking to make $$$ here in Australia, I would set up my company structure in such a way that it has a local CEO and a local board of directors. That is the business model that would work over here.
Do things the Australian way, and make all the damned $$$ I can.
(damn I'm capitalist scum)

So you see, accepting Asian money is not hard for the Australian government.
They'll take in Asian money when this tiny cinderella economy needs it.
Did you know Australia's foreign debt is now AUD$422 billion?

However, accepting Asian immigrants is really really hard for them.
The Migration laws in Australia have toughened up a whole lot since the 80’s. You have to be in a profession that the Australian government considers useful to the economy. You have also had to have graduated from an Australian tertiary institution. In as much as there has been a brain drain in Malaysia, there is a brain drain in Australia, too. Young Aussies leave for the UK and the USA all the bloody time.

They do it all the time in their whore universities who accept asian students without an acceptable command of english, who therefore write essays in gibberish, as long as they pay the full fee, which is much higher than what the Australian students have to pay. Although, in all fairness I have to say that the Howard government has been closing that gap between Australian students’ and International students’ university fees. The evidence is in the annual riots mostly by Australian students, of course, that ensue after EVERY year’s announcement that the universities are raising the fees. So, they vent. They burn their papier-mache John Howards. They get on the 7 o’clock news. They get arrested.
Ho-hum. Life goes on. The fees get higher.
They pay their fees. They owe money.
BUT they still spend big to upkeep their precious lifestyle. Gotta have that beer, gotta have that V8, gotta have that Australian dream that they all have a right to......

Although, overall, this country has been good to me in terms of friends, my career, etc.
But that's because I have to walk the walk and talk the talk, you know what I mean?
(I can drink beer like a fish. I have a lewd sense of humour.)
You have to if you want to get ahead over here.
Am I a sell out? Am I a loser? I don't think so.
I am zooming far, far ahead in the career stakes compared to those who don't want to drink with the directors, those who don't share the slang or get the same types of jokes.

So what has this got to do with Malaysia?
Malaysians are always complaining about the system.
All I'm saying is that the system is there. Make it work for you.
*Implosion steps down from soapbox*

Ahem. Thank you.

Malaysian movies, the Oscars & Top 10 lists

Sepet. Word is that this movie hyped up some issues in Malaysia that need hyping up. I read this Malaysian blogger, TV Smith's review of the movie.

Then I went to its director's blog.


And now I HAVE to find a way to see it. This is the first gem amongst the common local fare (mostly lightweight fluff that those singer/actress/model types love to star in) but the narrative behind it all is interesting. Its social commentary, its subject matter. It's skillful storytelling that's so powerful it doesn't need to be propped up with a huge budget. I think this is the kind of movie which will remind us of many intangible familiarities in the Malaysian experience.

BUT: I don't think Orked, the lead character in Sepet is the only malay girl around who lusts after Takeshi Kaneshiro, OK? That's just IMHO.


The only foreign asian movie in Sydney's cinemas right now is House of Flying Daggers. I love well designed epics, masterful framing and landscape eye candy but I fully blame that on my profession. And Takeshi is in this movie as well, ladies!














The Oscars is on TV tonight!
I don't know whether it's live or a delayed telecast by a few hours.
I love looking at the dresses. The best friend and I will be giving a running commentary (to each other) on what people are wearing.

We know who gives good frock and who doesn't!
Grace's pick:
Kate Beckinsale.





























Will's pick:
Nicole Kidman.

We both wish we were Joan Rivers.





























Have you ever felt like you wanted to be tansported away from where you are right now?

My little way of escaping, well, besides writing in this little corner of cyberspace, is inventing a list for the things I want. They eventually turn out to be mixture of things that I already own/travelled/experienced. Then I realise that my life isn't so bad after all. It's a way you remind yourself that the glass is half full.

I LOVE lists.

Top 10 holiday destinations (travelled and yet to travel) David Letterman, eat your heart out.

1. TASHKENT, UZBEK- I'm fascinated- what can I say? Doing that soon.
2. MIAMI, USA- I love this kitsch sun drenched city in shades of pastels. Been there. Done that.
3. BALI, INDO- It's an Aussie thing.
4. QUEENSTOWN, NZ- Of course. The skiing is to die for. Been there. Done that.
5. NEW YORK, USA- I want to do 2 sides of NYC- I want to be in Manhattan and go to the Hamptons. Then I want to be in New Jersey and go to Rockaway Beach. Doing that soon.
6. TOKYO, JAP- Need I say more? The pseudo-Jap in me leaps out of my skin. I love how the aesthetics of every single thing is geared towards harmony. Been there. Done that.
7. ISTANBUL, TUR- This is one city maze I want to spend hours exploring. Doing that soon.
8. LONDON, UK- I love how I feel like I've lived there all my life when I'm there. Been there. Done that.
9. PETRA, JORDAN- The sight of the ruins take my breath away whenever I see it. Doing that soon.
10. DUBLIN, IRELAND- Drink some guinness (bleeehhh) and listen to bands playing in pubs over there. Find out why so many amazing musicians come from this country. Doing that soon.

Too many things. Too little time in this lifetime.

Will & Grace

I'm "Grace". Only shorter, asian and just as boney-assed.
My best friend is "Will". Only blonde and 100x bitchier.

I'm serious.

But tonight is Will & Grace night, my wanker banker husband is out at a company function with other wanker bankers. So I'm here at home in my Bonds couture and an extra large strawberry dream smoothie from my neighbourhood Pulp juice bar.

I don't feel very MBA-ish tonight so I'll put the books aside until after Will & Grace.
Everyone has a sitcom that they relate to.
If I know anyone that says they relate to Friends, come here darling and please let me pull your fingernails out one by one.

Name your illusion

I know "H" really well. I would consider her one of my closest friends.
She went through a rough patch in her life when I got to know her. She's got a heart of gold but she's also got what you and I would consider expensive taste. She has a rich daddy, but is now on her own trying to sink or swim. Her Daddy has retired and sold off his business to pay off some debts. She lives with her longtime boyfriend, a chubby, nerdy, quiet, insecure guy. A techie type. He's all rough edges, which is fine, but he wants to be smooth and thinks he is smooth. There ain't nothing smooth about him.

I was at their expensive RENTED apartment recently BUT they have no couch, no car BUT they have a Sony flat screen TV BUT it sits on its cardboard box. She carries her LV and Prada bag everywhere and criticizes me when I prefer to carry my brandless (Esprit is not really branded is it) soft leather bag instead.

I know her man earns exactly half of what I earn, yet he wants to act like a big shot. He wants to pay for our dinners and our lunches together. Which is fine, but why not split the bill?
She just quit her customer service job recently. And it was a shitty job. The kind you have to wear a uniform for. And she's a lady of leisure these days, meeting us, her friends who work hard for what we have, in the city for lunch. She's still under the illusion that she's a Stepford Wife.

I want to open my mouth and tell her to wake up and smell the cafe latte but I don't think it makes a jot of difference to people like her.

Valentine's Day. Bah Humbug.

What did my husband and I do? Not much.
I came home from work early. Made dinner.
He came home from work. Went online.
We ate dinner.
He watched TV.
I studied.
Went to sleep.

Blah.

The Great Debate

Yes. I've been back in Sydney for a few weeks now and have just been on auto pilot.
I'm pretty out-of-it, actually- walking around like a zombie.

I've been following an unfolding saga on the internet lately.
It's snowballed into something bigger than blogs. *Gasp* Is that possible? What could possibly be bigger than blogs?

What sparked it off was this post from The Malay Male.
Now I've generally found this guy to be a breath of fresh air amongst Malaysian bloggers.

Another respected Malaysian blogger, TVSmith, wrote a response here.
Suffice to say that many in the blogging community hold this guy in high regard.

That above post incensed a mild mannered bike riding blogger so much that he wrote this.
OoooooooOOOooooooOOOooo, I said to myself. People are getting emotional here!

That in turn, provoked another blogger to provide some perspective to the situation.

And so the Drama Minggu Ini continues.......
Call me a voyeur, a ke-poh-chee, a soap opera fan.....

This is the thing I've found about anything at all in Malaysia. Everything is so race-specific. Yes, I know this is the legacy of our colonial past. Malaysians keep it well hidden, but there is racial tension in the air. That's the first thing I notice everytime I land in KLIA, actually. Not the smog, not the humidity, but the racial tension. My Malaysian passport identifies my race. So does my birth certificate. So does any Malaysian application form. It is this that decides whether I am entitled to a scholarship, loan, job, shares, land, contracts etc etc.

Given all these seething underlying issues, how do Malaysians actually find a forum to discuss these issues?
There's the problem right there. Other than the internet, there isn't much of an outlet for these frustrations we all experience every now and then. On top of all that, such discussion of racial issues are frowned upon by the Malaysian government, ever fearful of another 13th May 1969 riot. ("Riot" is putting it mildly. According to this certain someone whom I know, who was in Universiti Malaya at the time of the riots, there were people killing each other on the streets. Heads lopped off with "parangs" i.e. very big knives. As I recall, thousands of Chinese Malaysians started migrating to Australia, in their highest numbers in the 70's and 80's.)

What happens when open communication and criticism is taboo? We end up not understanding each other very well. So we're all human. We form lots of stereotypes of each other.

And before anyone starts to get all defensive about these stereotypes, I believe these behaviour patterns that the abovementioned gentlemen were talking about DO exist. We all have a little bit or a lot of these qualities in us, whatever race we are. It's important to remember that the personification of each race is like a cartoon character in a political satire. (Datuk Lat has perfected the art of gentle criticism.)
I guess, according to the stereotype, I CAN'T possibly be malay, right?

Let's all be open minded and listen when people speak.

On holidays. Two weeks left.

A short post. Have been on holidays in Malaysia, Thailand and Singapore since Xmas. Thank God all family and friends were in KL when the Tsunami hit Penang. Nobody ever thought our part of the world could be afftected by a natural disaster of this magnitude. Two weeks more to go and I'll be back in Sydney.
Until then, watch out. Party animal on the loose.

U2. A spiritual experience.

That's the only way I know how to describe what their music is.
It's a religious experience without being religion-specific.

I've been a fan of U2 ever since their album Unforgettable Fire in 1984.
I own every one of their albums. Their masterpieces like Rattle & Hum, The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby, All That You Can't Leave Behind.....and even their lukewarm ones like Pop and Zooropa.
Their music touches you in every way music SHOULD.
I can't even name one favourite song.

I am so in awe with anything and everything about U2.
I don't mean "in awe" in the groupie sense of the word. I am a shameless groupie-whore when it comes to Duran Duran.
U2 appeals to me on a higher level.
As a human being with a social conscience.
The pursuit of justice and truth.
Ideals.

Read Bono's speech at the University of Pennsylvania when they awarded him with a Doctor of Laws here.

"U2 is about the impossible."
Bono is MORE than just a musician, artist and activist. I'm convinced that he's a living breathing saint. He uses his celebrity to make a difference in the world. His work with DATA (Debt, AIDS, Trade in Africa), AIDS awareness, Unicef and Amnesty International speaks for itself. Time magazine featured him on their cover: "Can Bono Save The World?"
A fuckwit like Mick Jagger is given knighthood and not Bono.
But I argue that Bono is beyond that. Knighthood seems paltry in the light of this man's standing in the world.

Meeeeeeeeeeooooooowwwwwwrrrrrrrr

Sunday night: had dinner with husband's fellow wanker banker (myspeak for investment banker) buddy, an old friend of my husband's whom I have grown to know well. We both enrolled in the same MBA program.
Occasion: Introducing us to his new fiancee. In a whirlwind courtship, he fell in love and proposed to her.
Venue: Rockpool
Attire: Veronika Maine and Witchery

A few things I noted:

1. She TOLD him what to eat and what not to eat. *She's a controlling bitch.*
2. She pinched his cheeks and baby-talked him. *Surpress the urge to vomit*
   
3. She TOLD him she wanted no less than a 1 carat rock and wouldn't stop flashing it around once she got it. *Gold digger*

If you ask my opinion, she looks like a frigid piece of fluff who'd be rubbish in bed.

Who does she think she looks like? Audrey Hepburn, by the looks of it.

What does she really look like? You know those girls who are obsessed with showing their cheekbones and their best angles? Whose every action is designed to impress the present company?

I'm not the best judge of character, but I can spot a man who will cheat on a woman mile away. In one year. Tops. I have already made bets with hubby.

Amanda de Cadenet

This is the post I am submitting to a very cool shagfest bloggathon.
I had originally planned to write about a little something from my own experiences.
The truth is, I started typing and I was surprised at what emerged when I read it. I did what I did driven by a very pure hatred. Don't get me wrong: I'm not being prudish. What I read was not your usual sensual delight with a bit of rough thrown in.
It was a bit of a revelation for me. I wasn't even prepared to write about it, much less publish it on my blog. It really blew me away and I am sort of dealing with it.

BUT on a lighter note, I want to write about a woman who casts a bit of a spell on men. A woman whom I would swap lives with in a split second.

John Taylor, the bass player in Duran Duran was the object of my obsession up to when I was 15. I had posters of him all over my bedroom and had extremely dirty dreams about him.






















I was pretty much devastated after he started dating someone just a few years older than me. Someone who was the same age as the millions of screaming girls who adored him. A few years later, she got pregnant at 18 and he married her the following year. The woman who shattered my teenage dreams: Amanda de Cadenet.


"HOW could he? Why her? Whyyyyyyy?" I whined.
"Oh my GOD, get a life!!!!" said my so called Durannie-partner-in-crime.
Bah. Some friend.

So, who was this woman, anyway?

I had a friend, "L" whose parents sent her to Benenden College, the same posh London school that Amanda de Cadenet (who also had rich parents) attended. I phoned "L" up when I was back in KL for 3 weeks for my winter break and she was back in town for the summer holidays to get the goss. From what I could tell, Amanda de Cadenet sounded just like us. Sneaking out of boarding school after curfew to go clubbing. She dated Nathan Moore, the lead singer from Brother Beyond when she was just 14.



She was also one of the hosts for BBC's youth music program "The Word".

OK. I eventually got over it all. Time heals all.
I forgot about all that until last year, when Duran Duran made their comeback and I went to their gigs. I started to read whatever I could get my hands on to catch up on the news.
Yes. I know. That's pretty lame.
I found an Amanda de Cadenet fan website and it inspired me to write this.

Amanda became an actress, she roles in a few moderately successful films. One of those films, Four Rooms remains my favourite to this day.

She was in the news again when she supposedly had an affair with Courtney Love. This was a short time after her husband, the legendary Kurt Cobain of Nirvana shot himself.
I don't know if there was any truth to the rumour or not, but wow. I can see why another woman would find Courtney Love attractive. She appeals to the grrrrl power in all of us- that's incredibly empowering.


























Then, as all rock stars do, Amanda de Cadenet and John Taylor announced their separation.
What did she do then? She dated Keanu Reeves, with whom she has reportedly had an on-off affair for a few years.
Oh my God, I thought as I read on and googled for more late into the night, "This woman has got some sort of powerful mojo happening"......




























She has apparently "reinvented" herself as a photographer in the last few years.
AND to top it all off, she's now got Nick Valensi, the guitarist from The Strokes.

I LOVE The Strokes. My favourite band of the moment.
I am SO jealous.
Yes, even at MY age!

My "I hate ALL Men" phase

A few months back, I blogged about a phase in my life when I hated men. I went through a bad break up and became bitter. It lasted about a year and a bit.....

It's hard at this point in my life, when I'm happy, to talk about it. WHY I chose this forum, I don't know.

I was out for revenge, out to get even with the male race. I hated them with every fibre of my being and became incredibly destructive.

I did everything I wanted to ever do to get even with men because I thought, no, I KNEW they were weak because they'd do anything for an attractive woman- they'd go even further if there was a chance you might have sex at some point. That's not an egoistic statement, I swear to God. That's just a very frank assessment. I firmly believed that men would do anything if their dicks told them to.

What exactly did I do?

• I made married men cheat on their wives (Honey, in any city in the world, men like that are NOT hard to find) and made sure their wives "accidentally" found out about it. (Strategically placed receipts, emails, untimely phone calls, misplaced personal belongings etc.)
  
• I would try to break up male friendships by making them compete against each other for me. Make them betray their friendship.
• I would lead the naive ones on, manipulate them a bit, and drop them.

All fuelled by hate.

I lost a great number of friends, colleagues and made plenty of enemies this way. Got a few pieces of jewellery, some designer handbags and shoes which I gave away etc.... (NOT what I was after. I was after BLOOD. Theirs.) Last year I had the misfortune to bump into one of them again in a meeting for a new joint-venture project. Very uncomfortable, and very unprofessional. The new projects in Asia and Australia is mainly concentrated in China and in the Middle East- Dubai, especially.

I went down this path for a while until I realised that the only person I was really hurting was myself. There wasn't really an "Aha!" moment for me. The anger just eventually dissipated.

Words

You know that old ditty "Words" by FR David in the early 80's?
If you were one of the people who religiously watched UK's Top of The Pops, you'd remember it.
Look past the synth-pop to the lyrics and it's about someone who expresses himself through music, not words.

In person, I'm not incredibly verbose. I can turn it on for business meetings and PR.

With friends and family, I'm a listener. And I hug.

I bumped into someone a while back. Words failed me.

“CUT HERE” by The Cure

"So we meet again!" and I offer my hand
All dry and english slow

And you look at me and I understand
Yeah it's a look I used to know
"Three long years... and your favourite man...
Is that any way to say hello?"
And you hold me... like you'll never let me go

"Oh c'mon and and have a drink with me
Sit down and talk a while..."
"Oh I wish I could... and I will!
But now I just dont have the time..."
And over my shoulder as I walk away
I see you give that look goodbye...
I still see that look in your eye...

So dizzy Mr Busy - Too much rush to talk to Billy
All the silly frilly things have to first get done
In a minute - sometime soon - maybe next time - make it june
Until later... doesn't always come

It's so hard to think "It ends sometime
And this could be the last
I should really hear you sing again
And I should really watch you dance"
Because it's hard to think
"I'll never get another chance
To hold you"

But chilly Mr Dilly - Too much rush to talk to Billy
All the tizzy fizzy idiot things must get done
In a second - just hang on - all in good time - wont be long
Until later...

I should've stopped to think - I should've made the time
I could've had that drink - I could've talked a while
I would've done it right - I would've moved us on
But I didn't - now it's all too late
It's over... And you're gone..

I miss you I miss you I miss you
I miss you I miss you I miss you so much

But how how many times can I walk away and wish "If only..."
But how many times can I talk this way and wish "If only..."
Keep on making the same mistake
Keep on aching the same heartbreak
I wish "If only..."

But "If only...."
Is a wish too late...

My best friend

My best friend is a beautiful blue eyed gay man.
He's flamboyant and larger than life.
He's intelligent, he's talented and gorgeous. (YES. he admits to having an agent whoring him for TV appearances and modelling jobs)
He's also a talented designer. He's funny, he's the life of the party..... I can't say enough nice things about him.

With all those wonderful things, he also comes with a load of insecurities. He's sensitive and very defensive. He puts up a front.

BUT I can count on him to be honest when everyone won't.
He's not afraid of hurting my feelings when it's good for me. I love him loads.

He rarely lets anyone in.
He's had a really hard week this week. One of his parents has advanced cancer. It's the parent who never came to terms with him being gay.

He keeps smiling, though. Like he did when he and his boyfriend of 3 years split up.
I'll be there for him.

Weddings, vibrators and food. Oh and Aussie version of Queer Eye..

This is a record for me. I haven't recorded my thoughts this many times in a month since scribbling "Dear Diary, Today I think he noticed me..." into my pink Hello Kitty Diary 20 years ago. I am just bursting with things to say to my laptop right now, in my usual ad-hoc kind of way.

A few items to blog about this lovely balmy Sunday morning.

First on the list: Despite being down in the dumps and making stupid purchases, I spotted something sensible in Myer: the Braun hand held blender (if you ask me it could definitely double as a female pleasure apparatus).

What do you think?

Second item: Weddings. One of my girlfriends is getting married- She is a truly lovely person with a big heart. I'm so happy for her because she's doing it her way, not her parents/inlaw's way.

She is having a crouquembouche!


____________________
Croquembouche recipe from that domestic goddess/white collar criminal: http://www.marthastewart.com

Makes 1
The name of this classic French dessert means "crunch in the mouth." Make the caramel and assemble the dessert as close to serving time as possible.

for pastry puffs
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1 1/2 cups sifted all-purpose flour
7 large eggs

for pastry cream
6 large egg yolks
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup sifted all-purpose flour
2 cups milk
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 ounces semisweet chocolate
2 teaspoons instant espresso powder mixed with 2 teaspoons hot water

for caramel
2 cups sugar
2 tablespoons corn syrup

1. Heat oven to 425°. To make the puffs: In a medium saucepan, melt butter in 1 1/2 cups water with salt and sugar. Remove pan from heat, and add flour. Return pan to heat and, using a wooden spoon, beat vigorously for 2 to 3 minutes. (A film should form on the bottom of the pan.) Cool slightly, and add 6 eggs, one at a time, beating vigorously.

2. Make a glaze by beating the remaining egg with 1 teaspoon water, and set aside. Using a pastry bag fitted with a coupler and a 1/2-inch-wide plain tip, pipe out mounds that are 1 inch high and 3/4 inch in diameter on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Brush with egg glaze, and smooth the tops. Bake until puffed and golden, 20 to 25 minutes. Cool on racks. (The puffs can be made ahead and frozen until ready to assemble.)

3. Make the pastry cream: In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat egg yolks, gradually adding sugar, until mixture is thick and pale yellow. Beat in flour. Scald milk, and add in dribbles to egg mixture, reserving 1/2 cup. Place mixture in a clean pot over high heat, and stir vigorously until mixture boils and thickens. If it seems too thick to pipe, add reserved milk. Remove from heat. Using a hand whisk, beat butter into egg mixture, one tablespoon at a time.

4. In a double boiler or heat-proof bowl set over simmering water, melt chocolate and espresso together until smooth. Add chocolate mixture to the pastry cream; let cool completely. Just before assembling croquembouche, fill a pastry tube fitted with a 1/4-inch-wide tip with pastry cream, insert tip into puffs, and pipe in cream to fill.

5. To make the caramel: In a medium saucepan, combine 2/3 cup water, sugar, and corn syrup, and bring to a boil over high heat. Do not stir. Cover pan, and boil until steam dissolves any crystals. Uncover, and boil 5 more minutes, or until syrup is amber in color. Remove from heat. Dip the bottom of each puff into the caramel, and arrange puffs in a pyramid.

6. To make a spun-sugar web to wrap around the croquembouche: Cut the looped ends of a wire whisk with wire cutters, or use two forks held side by side, and dip the ends into caramel. Wave the caramel back and forth over the croquembouche, allowing the strands to fall in long, thin threads around it. Wrap any stray strands up and around the croquembouche. Serve.
____________________

I hate weddings, I have hated them ever since my own blasted three-receptions-in-three-hotels-in three-cities-two-countries-travelling-circus-wedding. I needed a holiday after the whole shebang, but I keep all my planning records of the event well preserved.
I had 4 dresses in cream, light pink, ivory and white. Not neccessarily in that order.

Third item: Aussie Queer Eye For The Straight Guy has been announced.
It's exciting because I DO know Brendan.

ME day

Went to Mecca Cosmetica, the one in Galleries Victoria during lunch hour today.
I think salesgirls can spot people with bruised egos from a mile away.
I ended up spending a couple of hundred dollars on Prescriptives products.

I didn't feel like spending my lunch hour in a consultants meeting.
I left it up to the 2nd architect in charge, the eager-beaver new graduate that he is, jumped at the opportunity of going to a meeting.

The wanna-be american TV stations here in Australia screened the Sex And The City final episode recently.

I love the episode where Carrie needs to raise money to buy her apartment. She gets depressed. She and Miranda go shoe shopping.
Carrie is tempted to buy a 400 dollar shoe.
In she same breath, she asks Miranda "I've made money over the years. Where that money has gone?"
Miranda, who owns her own apartment in Manhattan and is a partner in a law firm, asks her "How many of these shoes do you own?"
Carrie answers.
Miranda does the maths and says, "There's your down payment right there."

I asked myself: am I a Carrie, Samantha, Miranda or Charlotte?
I think I'm a combination of Miranda and Charlotte.

I own an inner city Sydney apartment that overlooks water. It's in my name. But my father's money bought it for me. Just like Charlotte's Park Avenue place.
AND I'm an aggressive career bitch just like Miranda.

Many girls (and some men) out there fancy themselves as Carefree Couture Carrie.
Yes, I've been visiting Malaysian blogs again.
Tell ya what: I feel sorry for the Carries who still live with their parents, yet spending up big on their restaraunt bills, Prada shoes and Hermes bags. (OK, maybe not an Hermes bag, by the looks and sounds of it. Maybe about as much as an LV bag.)

Meeeeeeeoooooowwwwwrrrrrr. Ssssssssssstttt.
I can get bitchy in my down time.

Burn out

This is a post about nothing. After staying up to ungodly hours, we submitted our group project.

My current opinion of the validity of MBA courses is not good.

Everything that is a test in life seems to throw you in group situations and seeing whether you sink or swim. Has anyone seen The Apprentice?

Toodles- I'm off to nurse my poor ego...........

My adventures on a day off

I'm convinced that I'm blogging more because I've been at home these past few days.
Home is in an inner city waterside suburb of Sydney in a slick urban residential building that has more angles than it has straight edges.

It's been a rainy and miserable past few days, which makes me feel better about staying at home to work on the group project today.
I don't know how to work our Gran Gaggia coffee machine *sheepish*..... my husband makes the coffees at our house. I just drink it.
Ack. That is the most frou-frou thing I've ever said.


Silly me. Today, I walked down a street in our neighbourhood in search of a Latte.
There isn't a Starbucks or Gloria Jean's anywhere near our neighbourhood. It's too goddamned trendy for those. *mumble mumble*

I walked into the CBD in less than 15 minutes. I found myself in a queue at one of the CBD Starbucks. I saw one of the directors from my office that queue. ON MY DAY OFF.
"Hello", he says cheerfully- "wagging school today, are we?"
I went bright red (I know this because I could feel my ears burning) and said a series of things that went "Well I er...", "Um, NO....", "Actually....", "Pardon?"......
Before I could say anything else, he grabbed his Flat white and was on his way out, smiling.
I walked home with my latte mumbling to myself.

Chuck a sickie

OK. I'm going to have to take a few days off work because my MBA project group members have been pulling their weight and I haven't. So I've volunteered to do a chunk of the work in the past week. I haven't really had a weekend this weekend.
I need a few more days.

I admit I've taken on a bit too much this year.
I've heard so many "I told you so's".
Not feeling great about myself. Having PMS doesn't help either.

What to do to raise my spirits?

1. Hot giant mug of hot chocolate with loads of melted marshmallows.
I'm partial to pure white marshmallows. (Read into that what you will!)

(Hey, before anyone gets on my back about this, I have a fast metabolic rate! I weigh about 48kg and I'm 165cm tall, mmmm-kay? Kay? OOOOOKAAAAY?)

2. I remember reading Iyanla Vanzant's "One day My Soul Just Opened Up" and being a faithful follower since. Re-read my favourite chapters.

3. Put on my favourite 80's song. (Hey, don't knock it til you try it)

"99 Red Balloons" by Nena

You and I in a little toy shop
buy a bag of balloons with the money we've got
Set them free at the break of dawn
'Til one by one, they were gone
Back at base, bugs in the software
Flash the message, "Something's out there"
Floating in the summer sky
99 red balloons go by.

99 red balloons floating in the summer sky
Panic bells, it's red alert
There's something here from somewhere else
The war machine springs to life
Opens up one eager eye
Focusing it on the sky
Where 99 red balloons go by.

99 Decision Street, 99 ministers meet
To worry, worry, super-scurry
Call the troops out in a hurry
This is what we've waited for
This is it boys, this is war
The president is on the line
As 99 red balloons go by.

99 Knights of the air
ride super-high-tech jet fighters
Everyone's a Silverhero
Everyone's a Captain Kirk
With orders to identify
To clarify and classify
Scramble in the summer sky
As 99 red balloons go by.

99 dreams I have had
In every one a red balloon
It's all over and I'm standin' pretty
In this dust that was a city
If I could find a souvenier
Just to prove the world was here...
And here is a red balloon
I think of you and let it go.

Incredibly uplifting. I could go on and on about 80's tunes that inspire me.
Pssst. Just don't tell the other members in my project group.
"Gasp! How can SHE get an MBA?"

Another few days at home in front of the computer and my face in books.
My couture for the event: Bonds sleepwear.

Back again, y'all!

My company sent me over to Singapore for a few weekdays and a weekend. I managed to spend two days and one night in the family home in "the hilly affluent suburb of KL", but I want to cover that in another post.

While in Singapore, I caught up with our counterpart architects on a project that isn't exactly mine, it's designed by the master of steel structures in our office, "R". And no, he's NOT our big celebrity architect boss.

In fact, "R" isn't even an RAIA registered architect. He's been with the company for more than 10 years. From the looks of him, he's in his early to mid forties and he has a razor sharp mind, wit and tongue. According to my spies (yes, architecture offices are also stages for espionage), his annual salary is only 10K more than mine. I've only been in this company for 5 years.


"R" believes in the lofty ideals of architecture. He designs like he means it. I believe in it as a business- I know exactly how many townhouses to put on a site in Sydney to yield a profit that will bring a smug smile to a client's face. I make the $$$. I'm nowhere near his talents and his eloquence in architectural expression.

Here's the twist: "R" has resigned.
I returned from my trip on Tuesday morning and heard about this.
I haven't yet formed my angle on it. That's how shocked I (still) am.

It's Saturday night and I have a group meeting tomorrow. I am reading up like crazy or Organisational Behaviour, but none of it is going in.
MBA commitments are a drag.

I'm going to take a break and watch the Iron Chef on SBS.

Confessions of an ex CBNer

I spent 5 years in Convent Bukit Nanas (aka CBN to Malaysians from KL).



Looking back, that was a strange school environment, where some girls like me would be dropped off and picked up by our chauffeurs in Mercedes, BMWs, Volvos etc. We had to be in the top classes, either B or U... maybe even K or T, otherwise we didn't count. We had to either excel in a sport, be a totally hot cheerleader in one of the four sport houses (Go Pauline House! Go the Blues!!) or be in a cool club like Interact. I like to think it groomed me for my neurotic or socially awkward phase.
During trips to other cities in Asia for work or holidays, I like to spend a few spare days in KL.
I see these same girls around Bangsar and Sri Hartamas- I meet up with some of them over coffee sometimes. Most of them turned into lawyers (one is a doctor) who practice in KL and they all married well.

As per other CBNers of my age, we all went through the mandatory pet sister phase. What's a pet sister, you ask? This very astute blogger writes about it here. I often wonder what I would have become if I never grew out of that phase? As juniors, we all really fancied the senior girls at the time- as role models or idols (maybe more?). This was before I had my first boyfriend from Victoria Institution.

I don't think the idea of falling in love with a woman is out of the question.
BUT I am rambling on quite a bit here.
Don't we all have our moments of ambiguous sexuality?

Indulge me for a while

Why not? This whole blog is about self indulgence anyway.

I went through a time in my life which I liken to groping around in the dark for the light switch and never finding it- this coincided with the grunge movement in the early to mid 90's. I liken phases in my life to music I listened to at the time, the clothes I wore..... Instant trigger that brings back memories. Kate Moss the waif was the woman of the moment.

I look back on those years fondly. It seems like another life.

My boyfriend at the time, J, whom I had been with since my days in a girls school in the middle of KL and part of my high school and university days in Australia, was sent to an American university in a small mid west college town near Detroit, Michigan. I used to make two trips a year to the USA. Sydney-Narita, Tokyo-LAX, LA-O'Hare,Chicago. If I took Northwestern, I'd fly straight into Detroit.






I especially loved our road trips:
We took I-75 from Detroit right down to the tip of Florida, at Key West where route-1 stops.
And we took I-80 from Chicago to San Francisco, then we drove along the coast down to LA. It was breathtaking.

I made friends over there in his circle of friends who were Malaysian students. I loved eating with him at Denny's. I got used to grocery shopping at Kroger and buying ranch flavoured chips...... the mid west felt so down home, so comfortable.
This doesn't sound dark to you? Wait, I'm getting to it in a minute!

We split up amicably after 4 years in different continents.

So, where did I choose to spend my holidays after that?
Kuala Lumpur and a shopping trip or two with mum and dad to Europe. Back on the social circuit, girl!

A snapshot of the times:
There was a restaraunt nearby Hard Rock Cafe that I really I loved called Moomba.
I er, had a father figure fixation, and dated men who were much older than me. I liked being their trophy girlfriend. I loved being at the right parties, being seen and at the same time, I loved partying all night and felt like I was born to dance.
Iguana at Bangsar Shopping Complex had just opened.

I was trying to find me, find out who I am, what I am.
I had an on-off relationship with a divorced man A, who is a known businessman and personality in KL.
He gave me every material thing that my father could give me.... but he cheated.
The end was painful, angry, unsettling.... the kind of break up that makes you want to leave town for a good couple of years.
During those off times in the 2 years we were together, I dated other single older men because they were wiser but found them bitter and jaded instead.
"There must be some reason why they're still single..." said my mum and confidante.

I think somewhere along the way, I began hating men. I think I still do.
Men are all the same was written all over me.




























"Oh make me over
I'm all I wanna be
A walking study
In Demonology

Hey, so glad you could make it
Yeah, now you've really made it
Hey, there's only us who made it now

Oh look at my face
My name is might have been
My name is never was
My name's forgotten

Hey, so glad you could make it
Yeah, now you've really made it
Hey, there's only us here now

When I wake up in my makeup
It's too early for that dress
Wilted and faded somewhere in Hollywood
I'm glad I came here with your pound of flesh

No second billing cause you're a star now
Oh Cinderella, they aren't sluts like you
Beautiful garbage beautiful dresses
Can you stand up or will you just fall down

You better watch out
Oh what you wish for
It better to be worth it
So much to die for

Hey, so glad you could make it
Yeah, now you've really made it
Hey, there's only us here now

When I wake up in my makeup
Have you ever felt so used up as this
It's all so sugarless
Model/actress, hooker/waitress
who'll just go nameless

Honeysuckle
She's full of poison
She obliterated everything she kissed
Now she's fading somewhere in Hollywood
I'm glad I came here with your pound of flesh

You want a part of me
Well I won't sell it cheap
No, I won't sell it cheap"

Celebrity Skin by Hole.
Lyrics by Courtney Love

I had the luxury of escaping to Sydney when holidays were over- back to being single and dating again.
Dated some white guys (not my cup of tea) and even some younger guys (fully recommend this, ladies- their idealism heals your heart).
Then I found my husband.

Did I/ do I feel the same way as this woman Courtney Love writes about in the song above?
Definitely not.

But I do think it's poetic.
There's something incredibly redeeming about hitting the bottom and coming back up.
Going through pain cleanses you, puts you in touch with your self.
I know myself pretty well now, but I'll constantly learn something new and grow in so many ways.

Here's my Oprah moment: I'M STILL THANKFUL FOR MY LIFE SO FAR.