un nouvel an

So much happened in so many minutes and moments, it's pointless recounting them all at one go, so from now on, one trivial excerpt/anecdote at a time (to hell with the importance of being blog earnest).

An eventful night over at Gene and Wee's place, practically spoilt me to bits with their wonderfully and deliciously thoughtful gifts. Just adore the couple, whom I care for most and who are in turn. Witnessing everything that they're through and feeling like an Aimee Mann number, the Judge in Trois Couleurs: Rouge, hands tied, watching a disintergration...

Then, next day at noon, off to the GNC sale. Fucking disappointment - filled with (v)alleys of dolls catered to Macho Marys, felt like walking into a candy shop peopled with narcissistic bodies of bulging insecurity and relentless vanity. A least I grabbed a large bottle of Triflex and Gingko for the road. Out in a giffy.

And then a stroke of genius. "Oi, I'm around the Kallang area so wanna have late lunch-early dinner at that ultra delish place you been yapping about since the mammoths died?" But the damn rain from Spain came and we got trapped near Jackson's Food Market, so we whiled the minutes away sliming those poor bastards at those stupid count-downs and other bitching tidbits.

Quite a cool evening - Lock brought us to that Old Airport Road Hawker Centre, the largest in the land. And the place is HUGE man, so many mindboggling stalls to choose from.

First, rojak. Scandalously expensive and sickeningly sweet. Blurgh.

Next, wanton mee. Not too bad. Stall very stylo, even got electronic counter display - so cheesy.

Last, le plat de resistance: his aunt's pengkang fish (OI, DUN even think of anything scandalous from that description ok). We jibed whether stingray is even a fish at all or something else. But who cares? The barbecued swimming-thing happily dead and tender and lying under a blanket of toxic chilli is the best I've tried. Even the chinchaloh is tasty. Mmmmm...

And then one talk leading to another and it was the "curry rice" that hit the note. Felt wrong to tell Gene and Wee about it as they've got enough bees in their bonnets, but I got my audience on New Year's Eve. I think he was really surprised, and last night being the 10th anniversary occasion too, yeah it's been a while, quite appropriate really, a ghost of that song ringing once in while...

And on leaving, bumped into John Clang with Eline and his parents. Lock sharp as a hawk trapped him first. I didn't even notice him, usual blind bat me. Lost much weight, him, and me, lost much interest about him so I beat us a hasty retreat.

A short walk to Geylang - lots of birds and bird-catchers out to play - and voila, that Taiwanese fried fritters and soya bean place. Lock was there in utmost discomfort and chagrin cos he simply ABHORS anything Taiwanese and contains soya bean but I'm eating so take it or leave it!

Got a table quickly cos the usual crowd busy getting stupidly drenched at Sentosa but served by the most PMS-in-his-blood shitface of a coolie from Malaysia which made Lock even more prejudiced against the place but whose annoyance promptly backfired in his face so serves the moron right.

A nice round-off there and headed home by 10, the earliest NYE so far.

Usual token SMSes jamming up phone, quick shower and nice tuck into The Rule of Four (NOT 'as good or even better than Da Vinci' as the blurbs holler about), usual TV fanfare (yawnnnn), and was undecided about The Lover or Sideways and thought something funny would be nice.

So bloody languid, Sideways, like a drowsy pinot noir on celluloid. Didn't finish so let my sis to do the job and drop to bed.

Yawnnn, bloody new year's only means one thing - more bloody work.