On my mind today

heartbreakVanityFairaromatherapysleep
fallseasonlaptoprepairbookstore
Starbuckstoiletcleaning
ChristmasshoppinglistDVDmarathonMarks&Spenceropeningbankerrands
peanutbuttermeaningoflifeandliving
grammarselfloathing
eyebrowtrimmingacne
peeptoebootsdepression

An Inconvenient Truth

Whenever I go on out-of-town trips, I try not to use anything from the mini bar (unless it's complimentary) in hotel rooms because everything costs ten times more than its regular price. If I ever take anything at all, I make sure to replace it right away by buying from the nearby stores.

On a recent trip to Hong Kong with my father, I found out one day that he opened a bottle of Evian water. Evian being the expensive water from the French Alps that it already is, was of course more exorbitantly priced in the hotel. So I took it upon myself to brave the rains that day to search for a one-liter Evian water to replace the one consumed.

It turned out that all the stores nearby sold only smaller or bigger bottles. No one-liters. So I had to walk 500 meters more to get to the next nearest supermarket to find it. Fortunately, I did!

I got back to our room, quickly transferred the hotel's price tag on the new bottle's neck and was pleased with myself.

My father then made a sudden comment on the irony of how we're willing to spend on overpriced clothing and overpriced meals, yet refused to pay for an overpriced bottled water. Same difference, he said. And I just had to agree.

On the day that we left, while reviewing our bill in the airport, I was to find out in the manner of one who's just been duped, that all of the 65HKD cost of that water was still charged to us! Why? I don't know. The housekeeping staff probably found out that the water cap had already been twisted open even if I'd made sure it was, or at least appeared, tightly sealed, and that the bottle was refilled to its original amount of fullness. Or maybe she tasted it. Or kept a record of the product's serial number. I really had no idea.

I didn't know whether to laugh or feel sorry for my wasted efforts. I just had visions of the housekeeping lady drowning herself smugly in that bottled water I paid for, laughing at yet another scrimpy hotel guest who ended up paying more than she had to for not knowing better.

By the way, EVIAN spelled backwards is NAIVE.

Go figure.

The Other

I do not know who, or what, lives upstairs right above us. In the first two of nearly three years that we've moved in our house, we've had to deal with daily sounds of drilling, hammering, screeching and all sorts of other noises that suggest house renovation or repair; causing us not a few distress. Since we worked at night and slept during the day during those times, we had to alternate between the two rooms in the house each day, choosing the one farther from the noise.

One time, my brother reached the end of his tether, complained to the building admin and asked them to look into it. They came back with the news that the culprit was from a unit on the 18th floor doing renovations which was weird because we live on the 10th floor. Unless the building owner was superstitious and thought the numbers 11 to 17 unlucky, thus deciding that 18 should be the floor next to 10, we're positive that the noise was coming from the 11th! But we made no further fuss about it since admin personnel assured that the perpetrator was already advised (warned) to keep the noise under control, which he/she/it actually did. So we enjoyed relative peace for a few months.

This year, the tormentor suffered a relapse and decided to go back to its first love. Not only that, it got bored with fixing the house and took on a new hobby: rearranging furniture, which shouldn't be so bad except that it's always done midnight onwards (how did it know that we now sleep at night?) at intermittent intervals. The poltergeist, which I've started to believe is what it is, would start pushing a chair, table or cabinet and wake us from sleep, or cause us insomnia for the rest of the night if we're just getting ready for bed. (Yes, they take place right above our bedroom!) For variety, there would also be occasional sudden loud thuds; like the pratfall of a heavy ass, or that of a watermelon dropped on the floor, each time causing our ceiling to threaten to fall on us. My dad once joked that we should be careful because our ceiling already has these cracks on it and they might just rain all over us one day. With what the one upstairs continues to do, I won't be surprised if my father's joke turned to a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I am again tempted to approach the admin to warn this poltergeist to stop its tricks that are far from funny. I'm just a little terrified of what this evil entity might do after the complaint. I don't want to see a dead cat on our doorstep or a warning letter written in blood ink on my mailbox after that, you know. So I'm thinking of buying a little more time, hoping this ghost will exorcise itself. The question is till when?

The first step

to losing weight is to break my daily Starbucks habit.

Come to think of it, it's not all that hard since I'm not really big on coffee itself (except that whenever I order, I usually go for the cold, flavored ones which overflow in calories). I go here for the quiet and cozy environment to read which is a bit ironic because the place can get very noisy too, especially during busy hours.

It is part of the Starbucks culture, as a barista once told me, to allow customers to occupy their tables and chairs and not order. Nobody will come lurking around to harass or embarrass you into ordering.

So I guess I can still hang out at this favorite place without putting my girth at a risk of growing bigger. Or as my cousin suggested, there's always tea as alternative.

The Devil Wears Prada...and Sunglasses

Anna Wintour — WTF?
by Joel Stein
http://time-blog.com/live/2008/09/anna_wintour_wtf.html

I knew she was the fashion lady with the sunglasses who apparently is a lot like the devil and enjoys Prada. That much I knew.

What I did not know is that she's absolutely crazy.

I've seen her at just about every event I've been to for three days and I offer this as evidence of her insanity:

Fact one: She wears sunglasses all the time. The lights during fashion shows are not that bright. Wearing sunglasses inside is just weird.

Fact two: As soon as a show ends, she runs as fast as she can for the door as if there were a giant delicious chocolate cake right outside and she was a person who would eat cake. I don't know if this is supposed to imply that she's super-important and another show is waiting to start until she gets there, or that she's super-important and can't stay and talk.

Fact three: She has bodyguards. I've interviewed a lot of celebrities and you know who has bodyguards? Nobody. Not Jessica Simpson, not George Clooney, not Leonardo DiCaprio.

I walked up to one of the bodyguards and asked him if she indeed has two bodyguards. "At least," he said. He was a pretty big guy and seemed amused by his stupid assignment, so I asked him if he could handle a client who needs bodyguarding a little more than Anna Wintour. "I think so," he said. "I have."

I asked everyone why Anna Wintour would need a bodyguard and someone mentioned that PETA threw paint at her once. So I asked Lisa Lange, senior vice-president of PETA if she was the reason Anna Wintour has a bodyguard. "I think she has them because she supports cruelty to animals and as a result has been the focus of protests, but I think she also has them because she's a wretched person who's made herself very unpopular in many circles."

I don't know about that. And for all I know she has a stalker and is claustrophic and has some weird condition where she's sensitive to light. I just know it all comes off as really weird.

Still, I like that she publishes Jeffrey Steingarten.

Veni Vidi Zara

I do not understand why I continue to get lured to the shopping trap that is Zara when oftentimes the quality of their items leaves a lot to be desired. I'd swear it off each time I spot yet another one of those recurring defects that usually come in the form of holes.

And then there are the shoes that are mostly pretty to look at but practically unwearable if you consider the calluses, blisters and pains that you have to endure while or after wearing them. I once made the mistake of wearing this pair of ankle boots (which scream pain the moment you step into them) to show a visiting friend around — meaning 90% of the time is spent walking — and ended up on the verge of seeing a podiatrist after weeks of painful feet.

I live near Times Square which is also where the nearest Zara branch is located. I go here at least once a week and it is unavoidable that I pass by the Zara store too. In spite of my repeated vows never to step foot in their store again, I'd always end up telling my sister, "We'll just have a look and try the clothes for fun. We're not buying because we're not going to fall for their trap anymore." And then we'd both come out an hour later with big and small bags.

I guess Zara's irresistible charm is its quick turnover of stocks that are trendy and quite affordable. By affordable, I mean not putting a huge dent on the wallets of average people like me. Sure there are also stuff that can be ridiculously expensive, like their bags and shoes, but whoever said you have to buy them on regular price? That's what the SALES are for. You wait for them patiently, and when they come, you patiently wait some more — for the third markdown because that's when the prices are their lowest. Of course there's the risk of having that shiny item you fancy not making it to the sale because someone else who doesn't care about money already snagged it. But really, who would buy a pair of sandals for 500 renminbi (around US$75)? At least not me and my small income.

Here's a confession: I unleash the "shoeholic" in me that I painfully repress for the most part of the year during sale periods and take home as many as six pairs in just one buy — sometimes for only the amount of one pair on regular price. The drawback is you have to wrestle your way through a huge crowd of frantic shoppers. The chance of getting an immaculate pair is also slim since most shoes have most likely been trampled on or tried by a million other feet. I don't really mind though because I'm cheap that way.

I admit I find it hard to cure my Zara addiction. But what about the holes and the shoes that torture the feet? I'm still not saying that the quality of their clothing has improved. It's more of an increased consciousness to inspect before checkout on my part. As for shoes, I now go for flats or sandals. You can hardly go wrong with them.

LINT, LINT GO AWAY

One of my major household peeves is lint, especially in clothing. Nothing is more pesky than finding most of my favorite clothes lint-infested. Worse is when a newly-purchased sweater pills after one wear. The lack of remedy is not much of a comfort. I've tried using lint rollers, lint sheets, and even shavers, all to no avail.

I read somewhere that friction is one reason why some clothes pill. Then there are claims of improper use of washing machine like loading too much clothes causing them to crowd on each other hence not rinsing properly; using powder instead of liquid detergent; or not cleaning the lint filter regularly: all causing lints. I've also heard that "infected" articles should be separated from the others because they're at risk of "contamination." Except for shifting to liquid detergent, I've already taken all the precautions. I've even resorted to handwashing but still, they didn't keep the lints at bay.

Would anyone have more effective solutions or preventive measures?

Weighing ScaRe

Seven pounds heavier + full panel pants + elephant-size thighs + disappearance of collarbone + frightfully huge appetite + lack of/little exercise = WEIGHT DISASTER

No one can help me but myself.

I am hopelessly helpless, and helplessly hopeless.

What They Meant

Not Regular Nor Diet

Stir Fried Crushed Garlic Written In a More Creative Way

Beefs Don't Have Forks, Or Porks for that Matter

In Short, Don't Order These

Lost in Translation

Last night, in the cab on my way home, the driver suddenly spoke to me in Shanghainese reacting to something said over the radio.

I cut him short and asked "what did you say" in Mandarin hoping he'd understand that I don't speak Shanghainese and shift to Mandarin.

But he seemed to take my question for incomprehension of what he said earlier and went on to talk animatedly in between laughs. I found myself responding in both laughter and affirmation; acting as though I understood and agreed with every word he said.

He could've said I'm going to kill you and I would've sat there nodding and laughing my head off.

My sister, who was with me, said I looked stupid.

So much for understatement.

Croc-ism

No offense to those who love Crocs — to each his own — but I was delighted when Tim Gunn had this to say about the shoe I found most hideous from the start:

It looks like a plastic hoof. How can you take that seriously? I know it's comfortable; I understand that. But if you want to dress to feel as though you never got out of bed, don't get out of bed.

I've never seen Project Runway. But I love Tim Gunn already.