waiting to exhale

For our last 2006 iftar dinner together, Stinky and I went to Marche at The Curve last night. It was a lovely experience, though we both thought that the pizza was over-priced and that it was prolly better without the topping. The sauteed mushrooms were amazing though, and the chocolate mousse soothed any grumblings we had over the pizza.

Stinky balik kampung this morning. I sent him to Hentian Duta bright and early with a heavy heart. He didn’t even give me any duit raya! He did get me the Vanity Fair DVD ‘so you won’t go crazy, sayang’ but little does he know that barely an hour after dropping him off at the bus station I went mad already. What else do you call painting your toenails a terrible shade of bright red that glitters and shines and blinds with every movement of your foot? Why why why did I deviate from my normal pink/white?

K, my hairdresser called (I just love saying ‘my hairdresser’ and making Dali laugh and roll her eyes). He wants me to know that they’ll be open tomorrow in case I need something done before Raya. Thanks K, for putting more tempation my way. I’m already trying to resist going to the spa again. Now you put the thoughts of haircuts and highlights my way. *sigh*

The house seems darker without Stinky. When he’s around, I’m okay with just the living room lights on. Now it seems gloomy and dark and not at all cozy. Blah, I hate being so needy. And I hate the fact that George yowls non-stop at door when he’s away. Eh, tak cukup ke only the human is fucked up? The cat pun nak ikut sekali?

What did I say about the pineapple tarts not lasting till Deepavali? I was riiiiiight.

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