Picture Post.

OZOC SAC ballet flats with lace detail, i got thrifting...
at an unbelievable THREE DOLLARS. XD

And a lot of other flea stuff but those will be at my new blog.



Also, cleaning out the mother's shoe cabinet has its advantages. NEW SHOES! These are some of the nicer pairs that i've repossessed. XD

The pictures don't do justice.... But oh well late at night plus dark room, so. :(





Black pumps. I like the chunky block of a heel. Mummy says its too high for her, I say my feet are still young. XD



Bruno Magli wedges. Love?
=) Yes.



I'm kinda.... hmmm with this pair. Either love it or you don't. I guess they'd go with vintagey dug-out-from-the-attic outfits really well.




I had a pair of Doc Martens in sec sch before. I wore them till they cut into the back of my heels, size 5 feet squeezing into a size 4. So I sadly stopped wearing them. =(

And then..... I unearthed this! These aren't Doc Martens, but they come close. Hush Puppies! I like how they're clunky and clumsy like a block of wood. And they're comfy too! Major plus point.

You can't see them clearly here, but I promise you'll see more of them. At my new blog anyway.


If you're one of those geeky technical people who are wondering why my bed is slanted, its cuz the wooden panel on the side fell off. If you're one of those utterly impeccable everything-must-match types, I'm not the one who buys/changes bedsheets. if you're wondering why the mirror is on the floor, I dragged my dressing table mirror down.

and for the rest who are normal. =D
black clunky shoes: Hush Puppies. (the green tag says its a 355 something.)
tweed skirt: DIY-ed + fleamarketed.
white collar shirt: the mother's wardrobe.
black patent belt: bugis V.
black stockings: off an online seller.

The tweed skirt... I altered from the long-ass prude one below. I got it fleamarketing too, at TWOBUCKS! I can make another skirt with the leftover material. Except, I have no use for two identical skirts. But still! It's like $2 for 2! Okay that's the auntie in me talking.





Some of you guys already know where's my new blog. Not that I mind, but the juicy stuff ain't up yet. ;) Expect to see a lot more of food, streetstyle fashion, and the random crafting that i do. (i just made a sushi ring today!) Yeah, and lots of my usual rambly nonsense.

And of course, an older me. lickmybellybutton has been the transition, the stepping stone from juvenile xanga.com/intoxicateddevilspawn. Lol. Remember that one?

This hiatus-from-a-blog-hiatus has been pretty fun. For one, I've started to type properly with capital letters, did you guys notice? Heh.

Anyways. It was fun being here. One reason why I decided to move was because I hated how people were just copying what I said or literally copy&pasting from me. And by people here, I mean people. Not just one or two persons. I'm not the most original person in the world, and neither do I claim copyrights for what I say/do/think. But you know, if you copy at least have the decency to not let me come across it.

Also, I don't mind people reading my blog, I just would like to know if you are. So comment, if you haven't. The new blog's not ready yet, I'm only properly working on it after As which I'm sure would do most of us here good. And don't think about asking me IRL or over MSN because it annoys me that you're too lazy to comment. Then again, you can go be a sneaky stalker if that's what you want.
(retracts bitchy claws)

I'm saying goodbye to a whole lot of things here...
The person who wasn't sure of herself. The person who was falling apart and just watched herself come away instead of doing something. The person who tried to please everybody and balance everything. The person who felt sorry for changing, even though deep down she knows it was inevitable. The person who pretends to act dumb and feign ignorance, and in the end having people treat her like a fool. The person who doesn't think she can do it.

Now I know better.

Bye bye bye.







and here's wishing you an early

Pics from Grad Day.

OEI, where was I when this photo was taken... Bitches! XD

Caryn's Law of Downpours.

I have this theory that you should never run when you get caught in the rain.

With those raindrops falling and you running, you'd be like a human bucket rushing to catch them all. So sometimes when I see people scurrying about in a downpour, I scoff silently to myself and think "ah, if only they knew better."Maybe this was how Einstein felt like when he saw apples falling and invented gravity.

Or maybe, maybe this is just plain sluggishness. =P

I also make sure I walk along the sides of the road, because this is where puddles of water gather and where they are deliciously ankle-deep. WHICH brings me to another theory. If you don't want rainwater and bits of gritty gravel in your shoes, you need to step and wade in puddles. Because only when you swish your feet through the puddles, or stomp on them, would you get moving water which washes away those nasty bits of stone and dirt caught in your shoes. The water can't be stagnant, else the sand is just gonna nestle nicely in between your toes.

Of course, the above explains why I don't take Physics, and would probably fail it if I do anyway. Hehe.

Another reason why I like downpours is because there is no such thing as good hair, when there is rain. Your locks are soaking wet and plastered to the sides of your head a la helmet style, and its goodbyeeee frizz and hayhair! =) So when anyone peers at you, you can shrug nonchalently and go all, "oh no, not me, i don't have bad hair... you know, it's just this ugh, annnnnnnoying rain." (insert casual flick of hand)

The rain equalizes everyone! Wavy hair, curly hair, slick-straight rebonded hair, afro, they all become equals under the cat and dog showers. There would be no such thing as bad hair because everyone has bad hair. Of course, the notion of seductive busty women slipping out of swimming pools flicking their butt-length hair left right left and left right left again, doesn't come into play here. Good rain ensures your hair clings to nothing else but your head and neck. You can just try flicking until your neck gets sprained and the cows go home. (Whaat stop looking at me like that, its not like I actually tried to do the flick.)

And of course, you can't forget to include the frosty fogged-up specs to complete the Drenched Chicken look. Little specks of Qoo droplets on my lenses, casting irridescent circles of sequins in my vision when I look at the street lamps. They make me feel like I'm looking out of a snow-flaked windowpane, at the blurry landscape of winter wonderland.

Not that I have actually looked out of a window at the snow*, but you know, this is how I would imagine it to feel like. =)))

* yes yes i'm deprived. my experiences with snow extends only to indoor, synthetic, expensive ice. but then again, i have seen many things that many others haven't. like a picture of jason tan's naked butt.

Smithereens.

I suppose I should mark today down...

Today, two cars collided less than 6metres away from me. The specifics; two Comfort cabs, the traffic junction near the AIA building, abooooout 10am in the morning. And no, I wasn't the cause(contrary to popular belief) nor a casualty(duh, else I wouldn't be here blogging) in it.

I don't know the technical term to call it... Forgive me, I can't tell a car engine from an aircon ventilator. But basically, one cab ran into the other on its side. The windscreen smashed into smitheroons and flew everywhere. Cubed bits of glass, cuz the smash-proof windscreens work too damn good.

I didn't feel anything. I was just like, *blink blink* oh, an accident happened. A slight gust of wind, the screech of tires, I looked at the drivers to see if they were pointing middle fingers at each other, that was all.

So now on retrospect, I am thinking...
Why didn't I take down the car plate numbers to buy 4D or something?
Why didn't I even think of telling anyone?
Why didn't my heart rate accelerate?
Why didn't I break into cold sweat and feel relieved that I didn't get hit or something?

Its not everyday that two vehicles run and hug each other passionately infront of you. And its scary how I don't feel anything... What's wrong with me? Desensitized maybe. Getting old maybe. I had this dream once about knowing that I was gonna get raped and I felt surprisingly calm and didn't feel anything about it. (Jialing always uses this to shoot me, and says its a reflection of my inner desire to get sexed. Pooh pooh.)

As I grow older, I just feel less and less. Maybe thats why adults cry less. And laugh less.

Dear Francis,

thanks for all the attention you have given me; those little slips of love notes telling me to meet you for a little morning rendezvous at the main gate; those letters that I have written... (nevermind that you choose to call them apology letters) I hope you keep them tucked away in a box somewhere near your bedside table so that thirty years down the road, you can take out those yellowed pages of cursive writing and be reminded of me, as I will of you.

( i know you know that i was only late, because i wanted to meet you personally every morning at the gate. lolll i just realised that rhymed. )

I hope you treasure dearly, the skirt of mine and the many earrings that you have confiscated from me. ( I know that "confiscation" here is just an administrative term you are oblidged to use, don't worry, I understand honey ;) )

For two years I have been treated to morning assemblys of your husky gravelly vocals oozing with sex appeal. For two years, I have enjoyed the occasional morning spot checks that you conduct, whereby you inform our CTs to "surface the offenders". Okay, actually when you use that term I can't help but think of us as pond scum. You know, green, murky green colour, surfacing, pond, pond scum..... I digress. For two years, I have seen you constantly try to poach touchrug into girls' soccer. For two years, I have seen your fashion sense evolve from wheatgrass green shirt (as above) to uhhh, wheatgrass green soccer jersey. I have heard stories of how you missed the ball during a demonstration where you were showing the girls how to kick a penalty shot. Nevertheless, you will always be my idol.

Others refer to you as "eff-tong" or "Tong" or even your ever popular chinese name "Tong Chee Beng".

But to me, you will always be my Dearest Francis.

Love,
you know who.

okay i was actually pretty grossed out when i was writing this. hahaha... but i looove the photo. more pics from grad day which you will see in due course. =)

I did it.

Satin peep-toe at 4.5inches, stilettos baaaaaby. These can kill. Yum.

Yay, I'm looking forward to twisting my ankle at the Fullerton already. =)

Surprise surprise.

Since I haven't properly moved yet, and I actually spend a fairly integral part of my life in cyberland... I suppose an I'm Still Alive & Kicking! post would be apt. =)

The past few weeks have been nicely rounding up my College life. Amidst the peanut butter tension of Post-Prelims and Pre-Alevels, the little in-betweens have been so crucial in providing that life support. There's just about one more week of school left, which no doubt would hardly count for much since many are probably gonna pon. I guess I'm not quite sure how exactly I'm feeling.

A little bit of relief... no more condescending looks from the security guards (who labelled me a habitual latecomer! Humph, shouldn't Security Guard Vocabulary be limited to "kopi-o" or "IC, please" only?) No more dreary morning assembly or listening to the VP spew forth random "inspirational" ramblings in idunnowhatkindof Aussie accent. No more spot checks in the morning and the feverish hussle of girls trying to unbuckle their skirts to hitch them down. (It's a girl thing. Guys, don't try to figure this out.) No more avoiding the bulldoggy Daniel Ng, who seriously should direct his disciplinary efforts towards his weight issues. Yessss, for those who don't know, he is fat and always sweating. Primarily spotted with food and has conducted lectures using cutlery as paperweight. While other tutors mind their own business, he simply has to (literally) shove his weight around and catch students for the slightest reasons.

A little bit of nostalgia... for all that has happened. The vandalising in Year One, love declarations or "Bitch!" labellings in ZIG markers. The snacking in class, which can be anything from rojak to brownies to steaming hot pandan waffles (unleashing their fragrance into the classroom) to most memorably, an entire comb of bananas. I remember our math tutor Mrs Tan who always chided us girls for eating and telling us "later you all grow fat ah". Food. Those fads of sliced fish soup, or kway chap, or ban mian, or mango orange juice or chocolate ice kachang, mochi ice cream, the tinned biscuits, and on and on... I doubt if I would ever develop a liking for these, if not for being in TJ.

A little bit of reluctance. To mark the end of school, would be to put a capital T to the start of intensive mugging. As much as school can sometimes be a hell-broth of pressure and stress, the little snippets of conversation or even the whining to classmates were therapeutic.

I will remember PE lessons. I will remember Maggie Goh's PW. I will remember ponning classes and attempting to guerilla-walk our way to the next classroom without being spotted by certain tutors. Our plan flopped horribly anyway, because a whole line of us walked round the back of the classroom block, only to provide a parade of guilty ponners right down the panelled glass windows of a classroom in which Mrs Raj was tutoring. I'll remember the heated speculations of a certain male in our class who is suspected of watching porn.

And it's ironic, now that I think of the times that I have rushed about campus. Not including touchrug trainings or PE, more often than not the only reason why you see me rushing in school is because a) I am running away from Dear Francis. b) I forgot and left behind something, and am going to get it. Eh, I think it's primarily a TJ trait to stroll our way to classes or anywhere else, for that matter. =) We are cute little turtles complete with the murky green coat.

Okaaaaaay what am I saying.

Haha. Those were just off the top of my head, and I would probably have left out lots of inbetweens. But you know, that's the thing about memories. They're not all and contained in a neat little canister. No, they pop up randomly and unexpectedly, kinda like a forgotten cube of Cadbury lying about in the depths of your fridge, and they make you feel all fuzzywuzzy inside because you never thought you'd remember, and yet you know you won't forget. I won't forget.

I wouldn't go as far as to say that I have made damn good friends here in TJ. But I have met really amazing people and shared amazing experiences with them. ( Okay, a hot steaming pandan waffle can't really qualify as an amazing experience but hey- when your brain is de-juiced and your blood glucose levels scream REPLENISH ME!, it's a different thing k. ;) )

Touchruggers, friends from the 1st 3 months like Mel, Gwen, Allen, etc and my classmates.

hmmmm, Miss JL Cheong. I first heard your squeaky childish voice and was put off. And now, I see your chicken antics and am still put off. Haha... But okay, I can count on you to remind me of when I'm being too bitchy, or when my ahlian roots are starting to show. "You are damn hokkien lah..." I can count on you to lend me pads, for which I am eternally grateful. I can count on you to run away and make a quick escape when I am trying my best to bargain(for you!) in stilted chinese during China shopping. Those times we've shared yummy food or gossipy banter. And yesterday when we went running. This is the first time I've felt such affection for a chicken... ... XD Aren't you touched? Hehehe.

I would want to talk about my other classmates like Jiadi, Eyin, Cherylehhhh, Jeri, etc etc. But I'm gonna leave that for another day. All I want to say is, I couldn't be more thankful that I have you guys around to bitch and banter to. =))) One day we'll make Mutated Mars Muffins again, okay! And zapzap.

It hasn't been all fine and dandy. It's a little disappointing how the pressures of school and studying has changed some... It's fine to be concerned about grades. It's not okay when one crosses the thin line, and becomes ONLY concerned about grades. I just hate it when people interrogate me for my results, when they aren't showing genuine concern for a friend, but rather merely finding out the statistics to supplement the compeitive list they've charted up in their heads. It's kinda sad.

Speaking of results, I did quite okay for Prelims considering the amount of effort I put in. It still strikes a tender chord in my heart when I acknowledge that I am not going to study overseas. No money. Not scholarship material, 'nuff said. From P school till now, I have never had the ambitions of "getting _ points for Olvls" or "getting _ marks for this". I have never aimed for a certain JC.

I just wanted to unpack my Marks & Spencers groceries, and cook up a budgety student meal in the cubbyhole kitchen of a cheap rented apartment. To seek shelter from gloomy skies and grey showers in a red telephone booth. To wave to a cute British version of the ahpek. To immerse myself in all that culture, a simmering broth of stiff upper lip accents, English tea of clotted cream and scones, red bricks and Victorian-remiscent architecture.

But you know, reality is hard to swallow. I will do that in my life. Just not now, and not for my varsity years. Maybe one day, I'll get an overseas attachment (SMU!) there. Maybe one day, I'll do my masters there. Maybe one day, I'll get a job there. Maybe one day, I'll marry and end up there. Maybe maybe maybe. =)

Ah, long entry. I didn't intend to blog, so excuse improper expression or spelling mistakes or whatevs. Okay I should go, the grape stains on my shirt are distracting, and there's midnight shoppinggg later!

The next 25 days, here I come! I averaged about 3 hours per day studying, pre-prelims. Now, I'm gonna aim for 6 hours. Wish me luck!

***

belated bday celebration with the touchrugggggers! (and some old pics) it was totally unexpected. =))) the Z-cup bra is flattering. that is lying on my bead, and it already takes up more space then my pillow does. (i measured, each boob has to be the size of two human heads.) and the blueberry cake is goooood. touchruggers are domesticated!

sushi-making with Gwen and Mel!

Mars muffins! and u-Zapping.

... i didn't eat that much...

dimsummed with the class.

Okay, you can post comments. So post awaaaay, and sortof to lemme know who to inform when I move. =)