So it has come to this

The day had finally come when we had to settle our differences. The issue of the toilet seat to be lifted and to be put down after had finally surfaced after nearly two years of living together. Besides the usual trivialities, I have finally mustered the willpower to sign myself up for basic driving theory test. More money to come out of the meagre savings account. The sudden decision and determination to start driving had stemmed from 1) the recent bout of Initial-D watching and 2) having decided to forgo the Perth trip.

So how? Like that lorh. Damn fucking sian (DFS). And I have a sneaking suspicion that the private driving instructor I found in the carpark near my block is trying to rip me off. 24 dollars an hour, 2 hours per lessons, and he tells me it'd take 25 lessons to master manual. (supposedly average number of lessons estimated to be required for female drivers. 22 for male. Stupid misogynistic institutions). DFS.

Not to mention that my blogoddess is gonna quit her blog for a while. There goes all motivation for my online existence.

Who wouldn't be the one you love

It's a "Be-Nice-To-Jiahui" day, it might as well have been my birthday except I'm sure my birthday will be a bigger blast. heh. In any case, someone(s) really made my day today. I was about to leave home to go to school to meet a professor who was leaving NUS this semester. But Mr. Postman (anybody else like the song?) caught me just in time. He had this really big box which felt surprisingly light when he handed it over. At first I thought he must have made a mistake since I don't remember having ordered anything from the internet recently, until I saw the label that said United States Postal Service. At this point in time there were question-mark party pops going off in my mind-- Rasheel? Val? Steph? Bryant? Who?

Hee. And then I saw Austin, TX. Bryant you big little sweetheart. A present and a card to wish me happy 21st birthday, to quote him, WAY before my birthday, not because he had gotten the date wrong or that it was the off-peak season and thus cheaper to mail things, but because he would be travelling by the time my birthday comes round and he wouldn't be able to get the stuff to me in time. heh. What can I say. You made my day. I can't believe you bothered haha.

And just when I thought the day couldn't get better, I met up with that professor and he gave me a dvd of one of my favourite films (Motorcycle Diaries) as a farewell gift. Aiyoh. Moved to tears dey. Almost heh. Well like I was telling the boyfriend, I didn't know I was loved by others until today. It's like Be-Nice-To-Jiahui day. (to be followed by much uncontrollable sniffing in a bid to hold back the tears)

All these wrapped up with a very value-for-money dunch (dinner-cum-lunch) at Clementi's S11 where I had convincingly good tempura fish don (I really meant to order the breaded chicken fillet don but didn't realise I matched the wrong names to the pictures) and where he had possibly the cheapest unagi don (any cheaper you have to make it yourself) in Singapore all for the price of $5.50 and $6.80 each. The miso soup wasn't all that kickass though but it was part of the set, along with bland agedashi tofu but never mind about the irrelevant details.

My day is made, and no bland tofu can thwart the feeling.

Strawberry fields forever

I have in my possession the most powerful cough syrup I have ever come across in my soon to be 21 years of life. It calls itself "Procodin Syrup" and I am to consume 10ml of it 3 times a day. And after a few days, I'm convinced that having 30ml of this swimming around in your system all day lets you achieve the utmost blessed state-- sleepful wake bliss.

I awoke at 2pm from my morning dose to drowsily stumble about the kitchen looking for something I was trying to remember. Oh yea. That's it. Lunch. I gobbled 3 danish butter cookies hungrily and eyed the durian kueh as I downed my last. And in my concussed state, I made myself a cup of milo to wash down the medicine with before heading back to my room in preparation for the next wave of round-the-clock sleep-bliss.

Hm. Procodin. And my grandma said to ask for more when I finish this one because it seems to have really cured my 5-month long eternal chronic cough that had seemed like it was here to stay. hehehehehhehehehe. Strawberryyy fields for everrrr.

And at night. I have double dosage of sleepiness when I take Chlorpheniramine with Procodin. This drug may cause drowsiness. If affected, do not drive or operate machinery. Avoid alcohol. Yea. No alcohol. Like that shit combined is not enough to kill you already without vodka.

Head-hunting Curry Fish

Who would want to eat steaming hot curry fish head in such sweltering weather? Turns out we did. And all the way to Kinta Road in search of the famed Soon Heng Fish head Curry we went. As I stood in front of the map in the MRT station trying to figure out which direction we should be headed, I tilted my head to one side, trying to rotate the damn confuddling map in my head. And he reached over with a hand, patted my tilted head and guided my head to rest on his shoulder. That moment captured in a mental picture reminded me of why I loved him. Because we're so great together.

Too hot too hot, we were perspiring buckets by the time we walked from Little India MRT to Kinta, where Farrer Park station was apparently nearer to. Doh. And just as we eagerly rounded the corner to see the big signboard of Soon Heng, we also saw them scrubbing the floors, bowls stacked away neatly after what must have been the dismemberment of hundreds of fishes. Uh. So they're closed? Already? B..butbutbut it's only 3pm! Not wanting this trip to be wasted, we backtracked to consider the tens of shops advertising curry fish head as their specialty, finally settling for Muthu's, since it's one of the more renowned ones.

The interior resembles that of a French Indo-Chine restaurant. Almost posh, almost exquisite but not quite there, and a bit tacky. And nothing comes free there: White rice costs you $1.50 per serving, no ice water but (in what I can only assume to be a North Indian accent) Mineral water one dollar, you want?, so we settled for lime juice. Since we're paying, why not get something better? Other than serving the most expensive rice I've ever had, they also served up rather disappointing curry fishhead for $18. First off, it was luke warm. Curry should be steaming hot and thick as all good food should be. Muthu's was luke-warm, thick and salty. But all in all it was still a rather satisfying meal, it's like psychological comfort for having come all the way.

After feeling like we've been ripped off at lunch, we proceeded to Mustafa's where we gawked at the large array of goods on display. You name it, they got it. You know the shelves of cereal and milk and detergent in Cold Storage, the ridiculous extent of range Mustafa's offers can be encapsulated in this: imagine one shelf of equal length as those in Cold Storage holding razor blades and shaving creams of all shapes and sizes to suit your shaving needs. This was consumer sovereignty at its best.

It was like we travelled to a different country. Or at least it felt that way.