the age-old question

the other day someone asked me what she should do for her birthday, and it struck me how OLD i've gotten in between the ages of 27 and 28. 27 was all about the clubbing and karaoke-ing and making new friends and trying to be cool, 28 is all about looking down on people who still club and karaoke, hating on new people who weren't cool enough to meet me back when i was 27, and simply knowing i am cool because i'm old and have self esteem enough to stop wondering and just start believing. 

and then i became OBSESSED, seriously OBSESSED with doing projects this weekend. whereas normally i melt into a pile of mush on friday night, doing absolutely nothing (save wakeboarding, which only justifies and exacerbates the whole escapade) but gluing my ass to the bed and eyes to the tv, this weekend i was on a rampage. went jewelry-supply shopping with my virginia on saturday, then grabbed afternoon tea pour une around my house (yes, the beauty of being OLD is that you can dine alone without shame), then got my nails done. when i realized i couldn't stud the shit out of everything without a studding machine, i made chain and ribbon necklaces and flailed about the house looking for stuff to do until loretta threatened to sedate me.

what i did in the ensuing day: bought a hammer, wire and hooks; looked over whole house for picture frames we never hung up despite moving in 3.5 years ago; couldn't find them, looked again; found them; hung up pictures. baked bread pudding from scratch which required two up-and-down-the-stairs trips for forgotten ingredients; invented a new dish called minced pork and snow peas with cold ramen (aka shit that's left in the fridge); cleaned closet of offensive fashion mistakes... ate a buffet AND got a massage. then got a tummy ache. 

anyway, stream of consciousness must end sometime, why not now. enjoy instead a random photo, because everybody loves photos, especially ones of yours truly. no? my blog. too bad. look at all these lovely items combined: my live-in H&M boots. The nine-year-old DKNY tuxedo jacket with oversized shoulders that I never wore because I intended to get it altered but it was quicker to wait for bold shoulders to come back into fashion. A HK$69.90 lace dress that obviously only cost that much because it itches me like a rash of poisonous mosquito bites. and yeah, guess where i wore this to? to eat at Fatburger and shop at high-end Park 'n Shop at Hopewell. But see, I can do weird stuff like get dressed up on a Saturday night to go grocery shopping. That's the beauty of being old and self-confident. See how I brought this all full circle?

fiending

water water everywhere and not a drop to drink. since i cannot wear proper shoes, what with the giant mass of dressing and netting formerly known as my left foot, i can't wear new shoes either. but they pretty, ain't they?

lefteye

i think my chi is wonky. i've had a weird allergic reaction in my left eye, resulting in a slightly uncomfortable swelling that makes my eyeball feel too small for its socket. a lovely visual, i'm sure, but it doesn't look at all different to anyone on the outside (unless perchance they choose to scrutinize the amount of iris showing with a measurement device). then today, flippantly skipping down the makeshift stepping stone that leads from my building, i twisted my ankle. the left one, naturally. at least i'm still in possession of a functional right side. knock on wood.

waves of mutilation

tropical storm soudelor foiled plans for late-afternoon apartment viewing, wakeboarding, and a birthday bbq. instead, we shopped at ifc. after feeling shunned by the affluently attired shoppers and the attendant shop assistants in lane crawford, it was down two floors to break the ban at aldo and zara, which led to the quick and deadly purchase of bags of gleefully reasonably priced goodies. the most amazing suede lace-up wedges, a pair of crazy-stringy reptilian-panelled chunky heels that are comfortable enough to be worn around the house most copiously, and a snake-print strapless silk dress that is inspiring jealousy from my other clothing because i love it so very much. oh retail therapy, how i've missed you. how very easy it is to fall into old patterns. pictures of the purchases, you say? if my love will indulge me with a camera session...

house

there's no place like home. i really like my home, and in particular my bed. this wednesday, repairs begin on the dysfunctional elevator, which will make my place a walk-up. so expect me never to leave the apartment again. long-distance travel will hereafter be known as the distance covered between bed and couch and refrigerator.