Confessions of a Drama Mama

My upcoming D&D theme is "Kampong Retro". Don’t ask me why. I have no idea. To me, and about 98% of staff (the other 2% being committee), kampong is kampong, retro is retro. They argue that the definition of retro is anything from the past. Which is true, according to Mr Webster. But we live in Singapore and as Singaporeans we have been moulded into believing that retro = 80s. Retro music = Brother Louie Louie Louie, Love in the First Degree, Together Forever. You get the drift.

Since I knew I couldn’t influence the theme in any way, I thought I would do something against the grain. Like I always try to. I know that many would go in big polka dots and bellbottoms, so I decided to opt for the kampong option.

First I thought ok maybe malay man, singlet, sarong, slippers, songkok. But then, songkok is religious and I wouldn’t want to start a racial riot. Samsui woman? Not bad, not bad. Keep as last resort. But then I finally finally decided on 1960s policeman. Wear shorts kind.

I managed to find a place that rents costumes (go check out PA website. Cheap and good) and yesterday I even bought a set of handcuffs, baton, sunglasses, gun, badge. With thick moustache even more better! And where else would sell but my favourite Mustafa. And I’d buy green khaki socks and whistle from army market, and make my "Inspector Singh" nametag. The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. I would walk around with a swagger, swing my baton, blow my whistle and handcuff people. And if someone called me "Eh, mata!" I could march over. SO FUNNY!!!!!!!!!

But today a certain male colleague who has certain powers of influence decided for us (a group that has no right to refuse his ideas) - we will all go Bollywood style. Apparently Bollywood was just starting in the 60s and it would be so funny to go dressed in 60s style. Oh… yippee …doo.

And with that, my excitement level has since remain close to ground level. Not that he will bother that I already bought my props you know.

I hate it you know. It’s a social function and you cannot have any political influence on people at a social function. I mean, did I, the organisor of my wedding, force you to wear a certain type of clothes?

I mean, how can you say "This is my idea of fun, let’s all do it and let’s all have fun." Ya but what about OUR ideas? What about our plans. What about our PROPS that we have already bought??!!

But anyhow, I have no say, I just have to follow. So whatever la. I’ll go, and I’ll be a Bollywood man and try to have fun.

Well at least I know the handcuffs won’t go to waste la.

The designs are so cute la. I really like. I already have 5 I think. Hehe. And only one of them is authentic. Double hehe.

But I really really regret not buying a backpack from Bangkok Now I’m searching high and low on ebay and Yahoo Auctions and they’re so bloody expensive Wanna use for gym. For those of you who go gymming - a backpack is much better than a sling bag. Cos you put alot of pressure on your lower back when you sling; a backpack evens out the weight on your back and legs.

Hmm. In exchange for this piece of information that will save you much pain in terms of backaches, will you buy me a Lesportsac backpack? I really like these:

Please?

Some of you may remember my moment of pride when I stood up against an auntie in the train.

Today something else happened. I was walking around Waterloo hawker centre deciding on what to eat. And you know when you walk and look, you concentrate on the stalls rather than what’s in front of you. I mean, you know how to avoid tables and chairs but people, sometimes you don’t see.

So exactly at the chicken rice stall, a lady with two glasses of sugarcane bumped into me and said "Oi, xiao jie!" AFTER she bumped into me and spilt some sugarcane on my arm. I said oh sorry sorry. And then she mumbled something and walked off. It took me a second to recover and then I said, not yelling but loud enough for people to hear, in Chinese no less, "Well you weren’t looking either were you!". She just walked away.

It felt good.

Don’t think you auntie in taichi gear you can bully me ok. Basket.

I know why men have affairs. They get married and
after a year or so, the fun-loving carefree girl they married becomes a
woman who no longer finds dirty socks rolled up at the front door a
cute habit.

Wife tells husband to pick up after himself,
husband gets pissed and calls wife a nag. Wife gets upset at being
called a nag because she thinks it’s his fault because if he didn’t
give her a reason to nag, she wouldn’t have to nag.

Wife asks
husband to sweep the floor. Husband pretends not to hear or be busy
with something else. Wife gives up because she knows, based on past
experience, if she reminds him again, he will 1) ignore her 2) then
sigh and say sarcastically ‘I heard you the first time’ and finally 3)
call her a nag. So she does it herself. Tired as she is after work
(because these days, women have to work too), she has to do the
housework. Automatically. Without being asked. Because she knows that if she doesn’t, he won’t. And she doesn’t really fancy walking around the house with disposable footwear, crime scene style

So over the
years, she holds her tongue and not nag at her husband for fear of him
leaving her because of it. All that pent up frustration ages her
prematurely. And they drift apart because of the lack of communication.
Because she knows that if she talks, all the years of build up will
flow and that would send him packing.

And when he notices the
lack of communication he’s forced to go out and look for a sweet young
thing. One who’s fun and carefree, like his wife used to be. And while
he has his affair, each time he returns home, it’s to a clean house
with clean laundry and clean floors. And he continues to leave his
dirty socks rolled in a lump by the front door.

So affairs are all wives’ faults, aren’t they?

Disclaimer: All characters are somewhat fictional. Even though there may be resemblance to someone you know, dead or alive

IMPORTANT POSTNOTE: Max wants me to say that this entry was not inspired by him and he does not leave his socks or any piece of clothing rolled up by the front door.

I have a colleague who’s been wanting to go to Amore with me. So she finally did last week for the most hiong cross training class I’ve ever attended. And she decided to sign up as well. And I was pleasantly surprised when I was given a $100 spa voucher as some sort of thank you present under the friend recommend friend scheme. I never knew such a thing existed. So, happy la. Free what. I love freebies

Anyway. Enough about my auntiness. I was damn happy reading through the spa brochure. I love reading spa brochures. I really had difficulty choosing one because there were so many and they all sounded so good. Finally I decided on an 80 minute Thai massage today, and I saw that they had a foot massage as well. Super happy!! Cos so many places have foot reflexology. I don’t like that. Very painful usually. I LOVE foot massages. So I took it.

Royal foot retreat they call it. Hmpf. Royal retreat, my foot!

The brochure says:
Be pampered with a royal treat that comes with a peppermint foot polish to exfoliate dead skin cells. Soak your feet in a vibrating warm water tub infused with essential oils before a thorough foot massage using botanical soothing lotion.

Sounds damn shiok right? For $58, I did not expect to spend HALF of the 40 minute session soaking my feet in a tub. The scrub before and the massage after were sorely disappointing. It was like a slow moving movie when you say ‘come on, get to the good part dammit!’ and that supposed good part never arrives, and when the end credits come out, you say ’shit, THAT’S it?’. Soak my feet for 20 minutes in warm water, I also can do it at home, plase!

Worse, the therapist said ‘When was your last facial?’. I said last week. "Oh, would you like to go for another one after this?". For those of you not familiar with the whole facial process, people usually go once every 3 weeks. So I said no thanks cos my husband was waiting for me downstairs.

She didn’t give up. "Do you know about our facial products promotion?". I said yes, my regular therapist at the Simei branch has told me. "Oh, then you know about it. Why don’t you buy from us here?". I said no thanks, because I’ve spent too much money already, and even if I wanted to buy anything, I promised I would get them from my regular therapist.

She had the cheek to say "But it’s the same what, you can buy from me here.". The nerve! Backstabbing colleauges, my least favourite people in the world!! I don’t remember what I said to her but it was curt enough for her not to press on anymore.

Oh wait, maybe the worst part is that I wasn’t even given a personal dark and quiet and relaxing room for this. It was done IN THE WAITING ROOM. Like they couldn’t wait to get rid of me. $58 to be treated like crap.

After the really lousy "royal foot retreat" (puke), I had the $100 voucher but had to pay the remainder right? They asked me in their usual fake spa receptionist voice, "Hi Adora, so how was your massage, Adora?" (I don’t understand why they always see the need to repeat your name so many times. Once is enough to let you know that they remember your name. That’s nice sometimes. But to keep repeating just irritates me).

I said "The Thai massage was good but the foot massage was not worth it".

Shocked expression from receptionist. "Oh what do you mean?"

Me "It was hardly a massage"

"Oh but if you wanted a massage, you should have gone for the reflexology session"

"No I don’t like reflexology sessions and I was very specific over the phone that I wanted a foot massage"

"So you didn’t like it?"

"You asked how I liked it and I gave you my honest opinion. I don’t think it’s worth the $58 you are charging".

And then they IGNORED my comment, and continued processing my payment. Guess what? I will not back down!!! I’m already phrasing my complaint letter. Really, women go to a spa to feel relaxed. The worst you can do is to make them more tensed up than when they stepped in.

And because of that, you have failed as a relaxing spa boutique, Amore Day Spa at Bugis Junction. I choose foot massages at Makboonkrong any time over you

I was writing to my mother in law, telling her about the area and I thought I would blog about it cos I really do love the place so much. 

Disclaimer: I’m writing about this because I really love my new place, which also means that I love the area more than any other in Singapore, so if you love your place and think you would be offended, then don’t read ok? I’m not dissing any other area, just my own feelings on MY blog. Hor.

The Tiong Bahru area is one of the most
quaint in Singapore, and I think we are really the envy of many to have gotten
a flat here. Heck, I would be envious of anyone living here had I been living somewhere else. It is considerably bigger than other 3-roomed flats. These flats
were amongst the first of government (public) housing to be built, thus
the size.

We are about 88sqm, compared to other 3-room flats that range
between 59-72sqm. Our old flat in Ghim Moh was 59sqm. It was really
tiny. And the best thing is that if there are any bills that are categorised by flat type, we pay the same rate as any other 3-room flat

Maybe for Max it’s just a nice area to live in but to me, it’s really really special. My Ah Ma used to live 10 minutes
away at Henderson Crescent, and every other weekend when I was a child we
would visit her. And we’d
always pass these flats and I would always look in and wonder what they
were like inside. The way they are built is very special. It looks to
me that alot more thought went into how the people living here would
actually live, rather than how many people can squeeze into a long
block without any character, like how most flats are now.

Our main door doesn’t open to face another door or a busy corridor, and we’ve got so much greenery and palm trees and nice areas to walk in. It’s really like going back in time.

Every day I come home, I feel so lucky to have found this
flat. For those of you who do not know, we found it in the classifieds, after seeing maybe about 10 other
units (very tiring) and 2 agents - they couldn’t find what we wanted,
and we were fated to have seen the advertisement. Also, because we
didn’t go through an agent, we managed to save some money on agent’s
fees! I think it was 5% of the purchase price. Which was $283,000. 5%
of which would have been significant!

By the way, for those of you who are not in the life situation of buying a flat, just so you know, the price is pretty good for a flat like this
because of the size and because we’re very centrally located. We could
have gotten a unit in other areas at maybe half the price but the
travelling to work or on weekends would have killed us.

This is a website that a very creative property agent has done up. Most
agents just drop flyers in our letterboxes but this one has done an
entire website dedicated to this area in which we call home.
http://www.tiongbahruestate.com/ it’s quite interesting.

The famous Tiong Bahru market where it’s exceptionally clean (even the wet market), and the porridge at Stall 163 (that’s the name) is fantastic. I hear the lor mee is good too but I’m not a lor mee fan.

Oh I love Tiong Bahru And you know what? For those of you who haven’t been here before, please do make the time. You’ll really feel like you’re in a different time. And by the way, I think the photos don’t do this place justice

You know how hot it’s been the past few days. It’s even worse for us because they’ve chosen the hottest month of the year to re-roof my block. Apparently every HDB block has some kind of cooling slab on the roof, to keep the flats (especially the poor top floor units like mine) cool.

And they re-roof once every 10 years or so. Yes it will be cooler after the new slabs are on but in the days that they remove the old ones to place the new ones, it’s so bloody hot you wouldn’t believe. Like when I open the front door I can actually see wavy hot air in my living room. It’s not even cool in the living room with the ceiling fan on because it’s the same hot air moving round and round. At night we turn on fan and aircon still hot.

They sent a surveyer to look at my house before the re-roofing started, to look at my walls and ceiling. So that they have some backing in case I realise there are cracks after and try to claim from them. And the girl I spoke with said ‘oh it will be very hot. Like an oven, you know?’. Please lor. Just say hot can already la. Not a very nice way of preparing someone. It’s like when you go for facial and before they squeeze the blackheads on your nose, they say ‘on the nose is more painful one’. We will KNOW it’s more painful, but you saying it makes it even worse.

But anyway when I came back today it was nice and cool. Which means that the roofing works have been completed. Yay indeed

And if the gahmen is investing in our block, it means that we probably won’t have to worry about it going enbloc for another 10 years of so. Double yay!

The other day at the hospital having lunch with my parents after visiting Ah Ma, my mother said out of the blue, ‘It’s sad to be an orphan isn’t it?’.

There are several words that people tend to avoid when a loved one is in the hospital. "Death" is one of them. "Funeral". But "orphan" never seemed to be on the list. It’s funny how people often associate the word ‘orphan’ with kids who lost their parents in a tragic ski accident in Whistler. Very Sweet Valley High. But Webster’s dictionary defines it as "one who has lost one or both parents to death".

This morning my dad sms-ed at 630am to tell us that Ah Ma had passed away. Then max and I stayed awake and talked a bit cos we couldn’t fall asleep. It’s funny how I feel. I can’t describe it. If I said I’m sad, that would borderline on hypocrisy. If I’m not sad, then I would feel guilty about being so. I guess ‘dazed’ is a good word.

I learnt that one can never feel numb about death. It hits you in different ways. I remember when ah kong passed away, I wished I could have kept that little piece of cloth pinned on my sleeve so that I wouldn’t have to explain the sober colours or why I’m not my usual chirpy self. Sometimes people are not too sensitive and ask all kinds of stupid questions. That little piece of cloth will explain so many things without having to say anything. But like at Ah Kong’s wake (which was less than 2 years ago), we all had to leave the cloth behind to recycle for the next person to use.

It is as funerals that you learn many things about your family. You see who steps up to assume responsibility. You see who refuses to partake in any decision making and yet makes the most noise when a mistake is made. You see who tries to make everyone busy by finding fault with everything. You see who doesn’t even bother to show up. People grieve in different ways but I really wonder what kind of grieving includes sitting in a corner plugged into an mp3 player. Anyway. Best to keep one’s mouth shut in such situations.

It is as such situations you find out your relatives real names. That Ah Meng was Ah Beng all along, and why some aunts names do not ‘follow the pattern’. You find out that there are mysterious godsons and goddaughters, but also that no one knows his/her name. And even though you probably have never seen him/her, he/she is supposedly going to be really pissed if he/she isn’t included in the obituary, or spelt wrongly.

Funeral wakes are funny things. You sit around, not knowing what to do, trying to keep busy. Then people come, peer into the coffin, eat some peanuts, drink some water, make small talk about how the deceased passed away, childhood, political situations, anything. You’re busy for a while entertaining them with drinks, peanuts and kueh chee. When the topics run out, everyone stares into space or at the white plastic table cloth. And then they say ‘ok we better make a move’ and you make sure they have their obligatory red string, bid them farewell and clear the table.

Oh well. Better sleep. Tomorrow is another day.

For those of you who would like to know the details, the wake will be held at Block 827A, Tampines St 81, and chut sua day is on National Day at 12pm.

I don’t remember if I wrote about Max finding Toutou on the stairwell when we were still living in Ghim Moh. She was the cutest little thing with a face like a schnauzie. This morning Max found her lying on her back and not moving and we realised quickly that she had passed on.

We called her Toutou, which was a pet phrase for ’stuffed toy’.

It’s funny how some people will probably be saying ‘how can you be so sad when it’s just a hamster?’. Even Max says that there is a financial limit when it comes to lengthening the life of a hamster. But is there really?

Is her life worth any less because we found her abandoned at the stairwell? Is Ah Huat’s life worth little too, because we bought him for $8 from Pet Centre at Holland Village? To me, a life is still a life (I’m even kind to snails, ok), and there is no such thing as a worthless life. Except maybe abusive drug addict men who rape children.

But it really made me think. Was I a bad surrogate mother? Was there anything I could have done? Was I wrong to think that she was a strong girl, because of the circumstances in which we found her? I think the girl led a tough life.

Because she would never let us pet her, we didn’t have the chance to hold her and to see the lump that was growing inside her leg. It got bad and she needed some help climbing into her tube. She loved being in that tube. I think it made her feel safe. When she finally died, I think she lay on her back so that we could see the lump. Poor baby, it was bigger than I thought.

Max always said that Toutou was such a girl. She’d keep her cage clean and tidy. Whenever we wanted to put her in the ball to run around the house, we’d have to coax her for a long time. It was almost like she was saying ‘mmm, tao yan, don’t want la, shy la.’. Even when eating, Huat would toss his food all around until he found what he wanted. She would move the pieces slowly around but kept most in her bowl. And she was so small she could sit nicely in her bowl while she ate.

For those of you who have pets, please treasure them. Don’t think that just because they can’t talk back to you like children can, that they have no feelings.

So now she’s in a little pink box (Max so cute, left some food inside for her too), and when it’s dark we’re going to bury her in the ‘garden’ downstairs. Apparently it’s illegal to do so but we don’t care. We’ll bury her and plant some flowers around her.

Rest in peace, my baby. And I’m sorry I was a bad mother. I love you

I’m proud of being Singaporean, I really am. I’m happy I live here. It’s safe, it’s clean, it’s efficient. But the one thing I cannot understand is why the National Day parade every year has to be so…. like that?

I mean, I really cringe whenever I see phrases like ‘we are Singapore’ or a poster of 4 people of different races in their ‘heritage outfits’ beaming. And why does the National Day song have to show people running in a kampong area? Are we trying to show that we’re living in the 60s or what?

How about the guy who’s singing and moving like he’s a rapper wannabe in CBD? What’s with that? Of course if you ask me what would be a better representation of Singapore, I wouldn’t know. I’m Singaporean, I only know how to complain, providing solutions is not my forte.

But seriously, don’t these National Day messages sometimes make you cringe? Sometimes I’m really ashamed if the commercials come on at home and Max is around. It’s sad but one of the things I definitely won’t miss about Singapore if I leave is the cheesyness of the National Day parade. I feel sorry for the poor guys who spend half their NS life training to be part of the NDP contingents only to be put on the same level as the cheerleaders yelling to the crowd, "Are you having fun? If you are, SCREAM!!!!!!!!!!!".

I think there are 2 breeds of Singaporeans - the kind that would queue overnight for NDP tickets (I know one person who I’m sure would do that. And she’d probably bring her own care pack to last the night. Julia, you also know her), and the kind who are grateful for a public holiday. Sadly, or not, I belong to the latter group. I can’t wait to have another day off. The last time I was at an NDP parade was when I brought Max. I thought it would give him a better idea of how Singapore was. Big mistake. Even I felt stupid waving the little flag, as I’m sure at least 25% of the crowd did.

It’s like most Channel 8 dramas. Alot of effort to try to be cool but still end up being mostly embarrassing.

I guess patriotism doesn’t need to be shown by the size of the flag you hang from your living room window. Or by the colour you wear on Aug 9. And you certainly can’t force people to feel patriotic by forcing them to sing songs they don’t understand (Di mana dia, anak kambing saya… Where are you my baby sheep?). It’s what they feel when they’re out of the country. They ultimately miss bits and pieces of their home country, the one they grew up in. The better the childhood, the more patriotic one would tend to be. So I say, scrap all these remedial classes and piano classes and compulsory after school activities and let kids be kids. That way they’ll remember having a childhood and not grow up hoping each day will pass quicker so that they can finally be of age to leave a life of suppression.

But that, as always, is only my humble opinion.