how foolish can one person be?
how could i have built up so much upon so little?
castles built on sand collapse for a reason; dreams dissolve because they are meant to be transient.
what on earth was i thinking? ruefulness over being a fool brings a sharper pain then regret ever could.
more fool i.
i am starting to think that luck runs in cycles, or would that be, clusters?
everyone at work has been having the most horrendous run of bad luck for the past week.
(nb: i work at a handbag/ luggage store, therefore the title ‘handbag-ers’)
Scenario 1. My manager rang the store today to tell us that she would be delaying her return to work for another week. Her reasons were…interesting… to say the least.
Her: Can you do my shifts for rest of the week?
Me: OK, but I may have to reschedule some of my other stuff. Is everything alright?
Her: *in tears* No, I’m afraid that my grandaughter’s going to lose her leg!
Me: What do you mean ‘lose’? *weird vision of leg coming loose and gadding about by itself*
Her: Her big toe’s swollen from the cellu-litis-stuff.
Me: Umm…cellulite-is?? Are you sure? Is that what the surgeon said?
Her: Yes, i think so. Anyway, she’s going to lose her leg, I just know it! *renewed sobbing*
Me: I’m so sorry to hear that…*inwardly trying to come up with something non-trite yet comforting*
Her: *in an outraged tone* They had a plastic surgeon operate on her toe!
Me: Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Her: Why would they need a plastic surgeon? No one’s going to be looking at her toes anyway! She needs a real surgeon.
Me: But a plastic surgeon is a surgeon. Maybe they are hoping to decrease scarring and increase the likelihood she’ll regain full range of motion for her toe. *damn, that wasn’t the most comforting statement of all time, was it? smacks own forehead really hard*
Her: What?
Me: *shit* Ummm….maybe it’s so the incision won’t scar and become stiff…and she can still….like….wiggle her toes when she gets better? * a little better, but still pathetic*
Her: She’s never going to be able to move that toe again! They’re going to amputate her toe/ leg, I just know it! *more sobbing*
Me: I’m really, really sorry. I hope she gets better soon. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do. *feeling utterly helpless*
Scenario 2: Since my manager’s delaying her return to work for another week, I ring another team member, T., to see if she can take over some shifts.
Me: Hey T.! How are you? Listen, can you work tomorrow?
Her: *sounding grumpy* No I can’t!
Me: Oh…are you OK?
Her: I went to a party over the weekend and guess what? I stepped on some glass from a beer bottle and cut my foot.
Me: Please don’t tell me the cut was on your TOE?! *please, please, please, we cannot afford another potentially amputatable toe scenario here*
Her: No, it’s on the bottom of my foot and I think there’s still glass in it. I can feel it when I try to move my foot.
Me: *euuwww* Oh…can you walk?
Her: Not really…my foot’s all bandaged up.
Me: Like a mummy huh? 
Her: No jokes Michelle,or I’m going to have to come over here and and kill you.
Me: I thought you said you couldn’t walk? :p
Her: Why you…..!!!!
Scenario 3: I ring another team member, K.to see if she can work *fingers crossed*.
SHE CAN’T WORK EITHER.
She’s busted her shoulder. Or rather, someone else has busted her shoulder.
Some incompetent masseur has managed to turn what was a sore joint into full-blown tendonitis with an overzealous deep tissue massage session and a little misguided acupuncture.
*crap* Looks like i’m going to be doing 6 shifts this week.
Scenario 4. Three pricey Guess handbags were nicked from the store today, barely an hour into my shift. Great, just bloody great.
Me and the other team member, H. got a tongue lashing from our regional manager that we won’t forget in a hurry.
*sigh*
We did what we could. Damn those bloody shoplifters and their smooth moves.
I hope their bloody sneaky shoplifting hands develop gangrene and drop clean off their arms! Get a load of that, you thieving bastards!
They HAD to come in when we were at our busiest - stock arriving, customers purchasing a whole load of unwieldy luggage, H. just happening to be in the back room replenishing stock etc.
oh Bloody *Oath*! * just insert whatever oath you fancy here*
On the personal front though, apart from minor annoyances like the occasional back spasm and inverting the contents of my bag onto the floor of the bus etc, things haven’t been too bad, but they haven’t been great either.
I’m stuck in soul-searching mode - i have searched, but have not found. I don’t know what I want, I don’t know what I need, I don’t know what is good for me.
So much for simplifying my life post-breakup.
What would you do if your heart and your head never agreed on anything?
How can you expect someone to choose between their happiness and a future?
*sigh*
Anyways, blogs out. Will keep you updated on the Curse of the Handbaggers, amputated toes and all.
Disclaimer: Above phone conversations are approximations only/ have been summarised. Details have been changed but the gist of the conversation remains the same. No laws of privacy have been breached and no identifying details released. Names have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals mentioned. 
In short, no one’s cover has been shot to pieces :p
you and me, me, me, me baby
ain’t nothin’ but mammals
let’s do it like they do on the Discovery channel
(The Bloodhound Gang)
vs.
Birds do it, bees do it
Even educated fleas do it
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love…
…Romantic sponges, they say, do it
Oysters down in oyster bay do it
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love
Cold Cape Cod clams, ‘gainst their wish, do it
Even lazy jellyfish, do it
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love
Electric eels I might add do it
Though it shocks em I know
Why ask if shad do it - Waiter bring me
"shad roe"
In shallow shoals English soles do it
Goldfish in the privacy of bowls do it
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love
(Cole Porter)
what a difference a couple of decades make - same idea, different modes of expression.
i really shouldn’t be complaining about my job - even though they do expect us to be as chirpy as perky cheerleaders on uppers there’s much much worse out there:
hi everyone, i’m michelle/shin yi and i’m a closet insomniac.
there. i’ve said it.
i’ve admitted i have a problem.
in the words of Ned Flanders, yessiree, i yes-indeedy-do.
my body clock has been totally screwed up since the exams (on a side note, damn you, cursed examinations, the scourge of the student population *shakes fist in air*).
and to add insult to injury, i actually had to study circadian rhythms and sleep cycles for psych. ironic, no?
as a result, i am running on minimal sleep and maximum energy expenditure as i am doing my manager’s shifts this week while she’s on annual leave.
and as a direct result of sleep deprivation, the following has happened to me:
1. i exhibited the contents of my handbag to the entire commuter population of my bus this morning. my motor reflexes are avenging themselves on me in amounts proportionate to how much sleep my body isn’t getting.
therefore when the bus took a sharp left, so did my handbag and my goddamn neurones went on strike and refused to fire and my reflexes failed.
my handbag fell on the floor, the zip split wide open and my water bottle, my wallet, my mobile, my keys (home and store), random loyalty cards and miscellaneous bits of tissues came shooting out. thank god there were no unmentionables in there.
and what was i doing at that precise moment in time you may ask?
READING MY BOOK.
yup.
how ineffectual was that?
i had to act like nothing was wrong, scramble down into the aisle and cram everything back into my bag.
and naturally i was wearing my uniform because i was on my way to work, with my company’s insignia embroidered prominently on the front.
all the passengers must have found that pretty funny.
i could just hear them thinking:
"aha, not only do they train their retail assistants to SELL handbags, they train the assistants to HURL them as well!"
" i must remember to get those girls to do a HURL test on the next handbag i purchase from their store, just to test for durability, you know?"
*smacks own forehead really, really hard*
2. i’ve had to perfect (although mine are far from perfect still!) the fine art of fibbing.
why, you ask?
because i am too bloody chicken to come out of the (insomniac) closet at work.
my manager is notoriously unsympathetic when it comes to sleep deprivation, especially when you have no obvious reasons/ legitimate excuses (actually i do, but that’s another story, break-up, anyone?)
i found out the hard way when she asked me why i was had eyebags (a recent development) and i replied i only got 5 hours sleep last night.
well, that wasn’t a reason apparently, because when HER kids were babies, she only got 4 hours sleep and five SHOULD BE PLENTY for ‘you young people’, thank you very much.
she then made me unpack 17 boxes of stock, to ‘wake me up’.
so now, when she asks me why i look tired, i simply resort to the unoriginal strategy of let’s-change-the-topic + weak smile.
result: i only had 5 boxes of stock to unpack.
for all the closet insomniacs out there, when in doubt/ in fear of reprisal from your superiors, lie, or at least attempt to fib. worked for me.
3. i had to witness an unidentified person’s public urination session at 3am in the morning.
yes, instead of being tucked up in bed and dreaming the weird, disjointed, claustrophobic sequences which passes for my dreams these days, i had to be in my living room watching infomercials (because i couldn’t sleep), listening to this person relieve his bladder in the public alleyway.
lovely. just what i needed.
you see, yesterday being Australia Day and all, my neighbour decided to have some friends over for what turned out to be a beer-fuelled, bottle-smashing, maximal-yelling-and-screaming, music-blaring, screw-the-noise-levels-and-the-neighbours party to end all parties.
and the queue for their (solitary) bathroom must have been pretty long, because he (neighbour/ drunken guest) decided that the alleyway running along our respective backyards was the perfect place to let it ALL go.
and i mean ALL.
the sound effects were of a pretty respectable decibel and went on for a good couple of minutes. this was followed by a huge stream of you-know-what coursing down the alleyway, narrowly missing my back gate, which is unfortunately, downstream to theirs.
*curses*
when i went to clean up this morning, i found four of them (neighbours? guests? dates? random people off the street?) in their backyard, sitting in an inflatable kiddie pool (for those in the northern hemisphere, it’s currently summer in Oz, which explains the behaviour), clutching a beer apiece, while having a smoke at the same time. and this was at 10.30 in the morning.
happy australia day, anyone?
4. i lost my new ring at work. no biggie, it was just some junky costume jewellery ring that was, of course, not real, and too loose on my finger.
i was standing at the counter after putting through a sale and i looked down at my hand and it was GONE. *poof* just like that. it might seem like some glitzy magic trick, but really i think i must have had a second of microsleep of something.
and of course the ring’s all sold out so i can’t get another one even if i want to. i am convinced i’m going to find it in the shop one day, probably in some improbable place, like inside a suitcase/ handbag or something.
but meanwhile, i still feel like an idiot.
5. i’ve had to resort to listening to brain-numbing schmaltzy muzak to get myself to sleep.
i have also discovered that the radio stations here are fond of playing Mariah Carey over and over in the wee hours of the morning.
so yes, i listened to Mariah for about 3 hours and slowly…felt…like……i………. was………….finally……………..going…………………to…………………….. SMASH THE RADIO!
sigh.
i need to get some sleep.
i’ve tried hot showers.
i can’t try hot milk because i’m lactose intolerant and no one has suggested that hot rice/ soy milk has the same effect.
i’ve tried counting sheep.
i’ve watched hideous infomercials touting ultrasonic fat zappers/ motorised nose tweezers/ industrial-strength leg shavers/ bloody torturous ab crunchers/ computerised vegie slicers that can also fly a plane for hours on end.
i’ve tried reading the most boring thing you can lay your hands on - my washing machine manual/ warranty booklet (i still can’t sleep, but i now know how often i should change the lint catcher in the washer)
i have even tried blogging (which doesn’t work, i mean i’m still typing and haven’t fallen asleep during this blog yet, have i?)
but sleep still eludes me.
I don’t want to be here.
My grandad is going blind and requires surgery within the month.
This is the second procedure he’s having in as many years because the glaucoma’s progressing really quickly. And of course, grandad beng as stubborn as he is isn’t as conscientious about his medication as he should be.
Right now I’m so angry - but there’s nothing and no one to direct that anger at. It’s not like I’m going get stuck into him for not applying his eyedrops as often as he should have, for heaven’s sake.
And I have this hideous churning mixture in my gut of fear and guilt and regret and frustration that I’m not there with him. My sister says he’s been asking for me, but he understands why I can’t be home this CNY.
I want to go home. I want to spend CNY with my family.
You don’t need to fly me to the moon, home would be enough.
Australia Day vs. Invasion Day
Caucasian/’White’ vs. Indigenous/ Aboriginal/ Koori/ ‘Black’
Colonisation vs. Invasion/ Dispossession
Terra Nullius vs. Traditional ownership of the land.
‘Vermin’ extermination vs. Genocide
Education vs. Indoctrination/ Enslavement
The betterment of a people vs. The Stolen Generation
Denial of culpability vs. Demand for an apology
Dominance vs. Extinction
98% of population vs. 2% of population
Lamb chops on a barbie + beer vs. Prevalent alcoholism
Street parades with token didgeridoo player vs. Quiet despair
Male life expectancy of 77 years vs. Male life expectancy of 56 years
Female life expectancy of 83 years vs. Female life expectancy of 63 years
99% of students at tertiary institutions vs. 1% of students at tertiary institutions
It’s all a matter of relativity.
for everyone who agrees that Starbucks should be amended to StarSucks, here is one more reason to hate their guts.
after my recent break-up, i feel like everything is conspiring to point out that couple-dom = desired state of nirvana and singlehood = fate worse than being banished to the lowest levels of hell.
it has taken me awhile to get used to being single again, but i am definitely NOT entertaining thoughts regards all that reconciliation crap. no way, no how. and i’m not into sour grapes either - definitely am happy for my attached friends, as long as they’re happy and the relationship’s working out and no one’s getting hurt/ doing anything bad to anyone else.
i had 3 years together with the same person, some of it good and a lot of it not-so-good and though i am damn pissed at the way it ended, if it’s broke, it’s broke and it’s going to stay that way.
what i do not need is people pointing out to me the need for/ (relative) merits of couple-dom/ my lack of completeness without couple-dom.
for example:
1. Moderately close female acquaintance:
"It’s much easier to buy a house on two incomes, you know?"
(Yes, since I can add and multiply and I passed my Primary 3 math exams, I am aware of that fact)
2. Female acquaintance whom I wish was not an acquaintance:
"Aren’t you lonely? Don’t you want to have beautiful Eurasian babies? I do."
(Okkkkkaaaaaayyyyy.
First of all, yes, I am lonely, but I am doing OK. If i continue to do OK, then the loneliness will fade with time (that’s the plan anyway). Better to be lonely than to be trapped in a bad relationship.
Secondly, don’t you think the baby talk is getting a little ahead of yourself, since you’ve only been with your current squeeze for 2 months?)
3. My store manager 6 weeks post-breakup:
"So, have you met anyone nice? Why do you want to stay in Aus permanently? Aren’t there more Chinese boys to marry back home?"
(what can you do when someone says something like that to you?
all i could do was to acquaint her with the fact that (in order of descending importance):
a. marriage isn’t really a top priority for me right now, or in the near and foreseeable future.
b. my decision to live in Aus (dependent upon the Dept of Immigration,of course) is based on reasons other than the availability of potential partners.
c. a shared genetic background is hardly the sole basis/ predictor for marriage/partnership.
this coming from the woman who is prepared to tear her family apart simply because her son is marrying someone who is not Caucasian, never mind that she is Australian-born, bred, educated and has a kick-ass degree and family connections to boot (since my manager weighs in heavily on having the right ‘pedigree’ and all that la-di-da stuff)
incomprehensible.
i only have one thing to say: save yourself (and your money/ sanity/ logic) and give this one a miss.
I spent $10 and 2.5 hours of my only day off on this flick, and I live to regret it.
So, don’t watch it, don’t stand in line for it, don’t even buy the illegal/ pirated VCD/ DVD version of it - letdown is the most polite term I can come up with.
To add insult to injury, the book is definitely on my list of perennial faves and to hear the actresses mangle the dialogue crosses the line separating the pathetic from the grotesque.
blah.
