The seven meme that might get me killed

Tagged by Kristen:

7 things that scare me:

  1. Cockroaches.
  2. Centipedes.
  3. Cockroaches.
  4. The hour after I watch a really scary flick.
  5. My computer dying.
  6. Cockroaches.
  7. My Cabbage Patch Kids coming to life (when I had them, that is).

(Yeah, I’m really terrified of cockroaches.)

7 things that I like most:

  1. Neil.
  2. Food.
  3. Sleep.
  4. The Internet for providing the ability to find truly weird shite.
  5. Good quality socks (for dolls).
  6. Music.
  7. My camera(s).

7 important things in my room:

  1. Eye mask to block out that damn flickering ceiling light.
  2. Closet with all my clothes in it.
  3. Doona.
  4. Bedside table with my mobile phone / alarm clock.
  5. The ensuite!
  6. Neil (but not his farts).
  7. The bed, but I’d like it better if it wasn’t rock hard.

7 random facts about me:

  1. I practically have no eyebrows — actually, I have two half-brows.
  2. I have no tattoos on my ankles or wrists (yet?).
  3. I wear my watch on my right wrist.
  4. I have eight ear piercings.
  5. I look dead dorky with a fringe.
  6. I think I look older when I wear my contact lenses instead of my glasses.
  7. My tongue piercing is slightly crooked.

7 things I plan to do before I die:

  1. Fix my myopia.
  2. Explore Europe.
  3. Complete my tattoos (not that there’s a plan or anything).
  4. Drive through the United States.
  5. See Indochina.
  6. Write a book (this does not equal ‘find a publisher’).
  7. Learn to surf.

7 things I can do:

  1. Annoy people by cracking my knuckles.
  2. Bending my elbows the wrong way and nauseating all present.
  3. Eat a hella lot of barbecue.
  4. Make sock dolls.
  5. Say fuck in Chinese (I just learned that).
  6. Say ‘fuck your mum’s smelly bits’ in Hokkien and Cantonese.
  7. Complain a lot (I’m Singaporean, it’s genetic).

7 things I can’t do:

  1. Sit still.
  2. Admit I’m wrong (sometimes it’s grudgingly admitted, but not often).
  3. Draw.
  4. Use a sewing machine.
  5. Eat chilli (well, that’s more a won’t).
  6. Programme anything in any programming language.
  7. Remember how to spell ‘manoeuvre’ (I just had to look it up).

7 things I say the most:

  1. ‘Like’ (unfortunately).
  2. ‘Apparently’.
  3. ‘I’m hungry’.
  4. ‘I want barbecue’.
  5. ‘What do you want for dinner?’
  6. ‘No, what do you want for dinner?’
  7. ‘How are we getting there?’

7 Celebrity Crushes:

  1. Drew Barrymore
  2. Jonny Lee Miller
  3. Angelina Jolie (from her Hackers days)
  4. Ryan Reynolds
  5. Katie Holmes (before her current… taste in men plummeted)
  6. Patrick Stewart
  7. Carly Pope

7 people who could do this:
I dunno. Anyone who wants to, I guess.

My first time

All my life, I’ve avoided a certain activity, something lots of other people do, something lots of other people really enjoy. There’s just always been something about it that makes me uncomfortable, that makes me feel like it’s a very wrong thing to get involved in:

the karaoke.

As a person who actively stays away from anything that might bestow any public attention on oneself (when I played drums in the school ‘rock’ band, I requested that I be positioned as far back as possible so no one could see me), doing anything that requires one to get up, hold a microphone, and be seen and heard is equivalent to asking me if I’d like a dose of gonorrhea to go with my Bloody Mary. In other words, I’m kind of shy.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not afraid of singing. I sing all the time. I sing along in pubs and clubs when it’s so loud hardly anyone can hear me, I’ll sing along to my CDs playing at home, I’d even been in the choir back when I had no other ECAs left to join. But to pick up a mike and croon into it? No thank you.

KTV bars in Singapore have also left me with the impression that they are mostly pretty seedy, full of lounge hostesses who, for the right price, will do pretty much anything for you — not that I’ve been to one in Singapore, but baby, the stories I’ve heard! If I ever have to listen to another tale about a KTV hostess giving a blowjob in front of assembled guests it will be too soon.

So it was with great trepidation that I went along to the karaoke this evening just past. It was in celebration of Winki’s birthday, and I felt that it would be kind of poor manners to excuse myself from the evening’s entertainment after a long meal at the Indian restaurant.

(I don’t think Neil shares the same feelings for the same reasons as I about karaoke, but since he only sings when he has surpassed the so-drunk-he-dances phase, he’s not its biggest fan.)

I saved myself (mostly) by being the only person who could read the Chinese characters on the keypad and computer screen, so I literally became the KTV GOD. And it was sort of worth it, because apparently, one line of Kylie’s I Should Be So Lucky is actually:

When you squeeze there’s no sensation

Dirty, dirty girl. Or dirty, dirty Stock, Aitken, and Waterman.

Yes, I sang along now and again. Yes, I pushed the mike away every time it was proffered. I may have popped my KTV cherry last night, but some things will never change.

(Photos.)

Blogging is public sex

Via Terry, it turns out that most London cabbies and other ‘barometers of popular trends’ have no idea what podcasting and blogging is; in fact, many think blogging is the same as dogging. If you think about it, it’s not totally inaccurate a misconception.

Everyone, meet Lucy

Lucy

Dear Lucy,

Please say Happy Birthday to Winki when she meets you tonight, mmm’kay? You were made as her birthday present. She wanted a Princess Someone-Else-No-One-Wants-To-Leia, but I can’t really make a second doll based on the same idea, so the idea of a raver kid came up and I had to work out how to make a few pairs of socks look like an electronically- and chemically-fuelled good time.

(Read more.)

Needles galore

I’m going fucking bonkers with this sock doll making. And I have lots of ideas for more. Insane in the membrane.

Everyone, meet Toofty

Toofty

Dear Toofty,

As the sock doll that was hot on the heels of the little savage, you are a little neglected… except in my heart.

Gag me with a spoon, will ya?

(Read more.)

Everyone, meet savage

savage

Dear savage,

You were made as a present — a birthday present. Gary was turning 32, and what do you get the bloke who has everything?

Gary is the youngest crusty old fella one could ever hope (or want) to ever meet, grumbling that any music other than Motown or Elvis Presley is a bloody row, and was amazed at 19-year old adolescents’ capacity for food. Savages, they were. One couldn’t get anywhere near the food when they were there.

Hence, Neil floated the idea of making a special little savage just for Gary, and you were born.

(Read more.)

This weekend I…

  • went to Gary’s birthday barbecue
  • got rained on getting home
  • went to check out a Chinese tattoo parlour with Winki, Lindsay, and Nicky (no thank you, their autoclave looks like a toaster oven)
  • shopped a little (those three shopped a lot)
  • had dinner at a Xinjiang restaurant (fantastic food)
  • had a hot chocolate at Javaromas
  • had a few drinks (mainly non-alcoholic!) at The Londoner
  • made a new sock doll
  • went on a mission for sock doll supplies (not socks)
  • ate pizza
  • met up with Winki and her siblings to check out the dog Mofo and the cat Tuna (they get along)
  • watched Without a Paddle

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