I know I said I'm not all that close to J and I'm not backpaddling. It's still true. I mean, I don't like go up to him with my life's woes and yunno confess my deepest feelings and all that shite.

That being said, I'm gonna miss him still because he's a great company, the one I goof around with in the office. He's the one I like to share stupid lame jokes with.

He writes so he doesn't come into meeting but I have to. And once, something funny (IMO la) were mentioned in the middle of meeting and I wanted to curl up with laughter and just die. But I couldn't so I had to bite my lips and vibrate in my seat in an attempt to stifle my laughter for the entire thirty minutes.

Howie once was told me I'm one who can't hold my emotions in and alluded me to Sophie Kinsella. I know. Not the best of compliments there. But kinda true.

Anyhoo, once the Editor said, "Okay that's it, thanks," I leapt up and marched across the newsroom, past my own desk, all the way back to J's desk and tapped him crazily on his shoulders with my notes (only cos he always got earphones plucked in his ears even my loudmouth can't penetrate - Tried and tested.).

"Okay, okay, you got to listen to this. It's hilarious..."

And then of course I proceeded to read to him a couple of lines from the sked for tomorrow's publication. Ya I know I could just let him read himself, but anyone who even know me would know that I get a thrill from the reading-out-loud bit.

One time I think it was about how the people in Sichuan China had so many people donating clothes to them that they didn't know what to do with all that till they had to, GET THIS, use the clothes as mops!!!

Hahahahahahaha!!!

Not funny meh? I think funny lei. I was damn amused la. Imagine, out of your goodwill, you donated sayyyy your Zara top and then you see it on TV being used to wipe the floor!!! HAHA!

J got a kick out of it and after a couple of minutes of surrendering our souls to lame humour, I said, "Okay gotta go back to work now. Cya!"

And he went, "You came all the way here to tell me THAT?"

"Erm ya! Who else in this entire place would be lame enough to appreciate such things right?"

"Ha! Well thanks I appreaciate it," he chortled.

Another time, I got so mad at him because I texted him to buy me a happiness-triggering drink since he was already downstairs and I was feeling blue but he didn't reply at all.

When he came in, innocently smiling, EMPTY-HANDED, I hissed, "You know you suck can! What happen, did the lameness of your brain spread to your fingers?"

I know. I'm toxic. I can be a walking human pollutant sometimes.

He was all confused, fiddling with his cell, "What time was that?"

"Like the specifics even matter now..." I said listlessly, not taking my eyes of my comp screen.

"Okay no wait, number check pleaseeeee. ########??"

And true enough, I got one digit wrong. Sheepish... We had a laugh and I apologized for my tantrum.

"So which stranger did you sms, 'Hey babe, get me kopi?'" J asked, clearly amused still.

"More like 'Hey mat' lorrrr..." It's a consensual nickname we had for him, not because he's Malay but because he is dark-skinned (kinda like my skin tone) and walks around in an aviator shades.

"Cannot make me happy once and say 'Hey babe' ah?"

"Nope, for now it's Mat all the way. When you leave then I shall say 'Bye babe' k?" I said with glee.

"And a hug?" He asked, his usual cheeky self.

"Why not," I shrugged.

"And squeeze my butt while you're at it?" He asked clearly teasing.

"I shall let Emily have THAT fun. I'm nice. I share." And then we laughed somemore.

Conclusion of all these anecdotes is that J's good to have around the office. Without even realizing it, I've been accustomed to having him to chat and laugh with. And only when it's sorta ending did I begin to appreciate those silly exchanges, as what happens in life sometimes yunno?

I had the biggest crush (to put it mildly) once (and many times after) on this one guy I call McMoment. And there's a quote I associate him with..

"As happens sometimes a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment. And then the moment was gone."

At times, all you have are fleeting moments. And when they are gone, you hold on to the memory of the moments. Otherwise, I guess you can always blog about them... Heh.

Bye J Babe. All the best with life!
xoxo

(11:21 PM)

Process of Room Makeover is majorly stalled. Weekend had unforeseen circumstances coming my way, stuff I didn’t quite mind being distracted with.

Phase 2. We drilled holes into my walls on which I intend to put up a tribute to the Beatles. It sounds elaborate but it really isn’t when the tribute consists of framed up pictures of my favourite album arts of theirs.

Was going in the direction of favourite albums (musically) only when it occurred to me that the White Album (my all time most favourite the Beatles’ record) has dreary aesthetic value and do absolutely nothing for my walls.

I say WE drilled holes because my self-proclaimed “tough cookie” trait falls short right before the very scary and violent act of drilling. I’m damn scared I might actually drill my own hands. Seriously. I get nightmares of such thing. Shudders..

This only reaffirms that dads are also very important members in any family. They kill bugs, carry heavy stuff and they drill. Dads are wonderful to have around, especially mine. (But as nature would have it, dads grow old, which is when HUSBANDS take over. The sole reason I think I should marry really. Haha. Joke people, JOKE.)

Shan is very disapproving of my room embellishments plans and made sure her opinions were heard when she accompanied me shop for room stuff. Anything which requires extra cleaning she feels I could do without.

I think she will find those hospital cleanroom her heaven-on-earth given that the air entering a cleanroom from outside is filtered to exclude dust. If ever I strike it rich, I’ll get her one of those for her birthday. I offered a maid but apparently, she doesn’t buy into “modern version of slavery”. *big shrug*

Once again, as a sequel to the wardrobe-painting episode, the mum flipped out that I’m now “vandalizing” my walls. She went off like an ambulance when she saw them. It’s quite impressive because she doesn’t even take any breaths. Seriously, no breaths. It’s like she should totally have been a diver. Phelps will be impressed.

Anyhoo I spent an era calming her down, convincing her that art CAN be pleasing to the eyes. (Times like this, I doubt if we are related even though I love her more that anything, and I do mean ANYTHING, in the world.)

I think it was a good thing I refrained from asking “What is this, Auschwitz?”

(9:19 PM)

Yesterday night when Beckham drove away with the torch on that transformer-esque London double deck bus, I breathed a sigh of deep, pure relief.

We had good times mucking around in the newsroom despite the many early mornings and the late nights thanks to the Olympics.

Like one morning for instance, Dave hollered over at me, "Ehy your man's on TV!!!"

And although I can just peel my eyes off the comp screen and simply glance up because I'm positioned directly in front of the Sports TV, I literally jumped out from my seat and made a quick dash so I could be closer to the TV screen. Now you know why I'm terribly myopic.

Cause of my excitement? Non other that the very raved about, Michael Phelps.

Emily scoffed, "I don't know why you like him lor! The guy's butt ugly!!!"

"I don't heart him for his looks okay! I heart him for his greatness!!!" I fiercely defended my choice of being in the American's already humongous fanbase.

But afterwards as I assigned his picture from the wires to a story, I found myself humming to a familiar tune and stopped dead in my tracks upon the realization.

"Oh my gawd!" I turned to Em, "I'm plonking Phelps's photo onto the page and singing John Mayer's Your Body Is A Wonderland at the same time!!!"

The people around who overheard me started bursting into spontaneous fits of spluttering coughs. Everyone else was deep in their work so it was obviously totally inappropriate, but it was like some kind of hysterical reaction or something. Basically, that incident ended the arising suspicions of my asexuality.

Subconscious lusting hur hur. Well, I reckon a bod with abs more exciting than Disneyworld is meant to be ogled at lor.

On to other news...

Today I was heading towards the pantry when J called out my name and beckoned me to his desk. He then told me excitedly under his breath that he got this other job so he would tender soonish.

I was genuinely happy for him although that would be one fun colleague gone. I knew about J's desire to take flight since I first came in la! He was one of the first few people who was nice to me.

Anyhoo, he was giving me the lowdown and I was all psyched for him, I squealed, "Yay!! You're finally leaving!!!!!!!"

And of course with me and my constant brushes with sueyness, the big boss had to walk by right on cue while I was still somewhere in the middle of that string of exclamation marks.

He looked totally deadpan, with a neutral expression frozen on his face, like Morticia Adams.

Then there was this moment in which the whole awkwardness of the situation seemed to be making the air thickened.

The two of us, J and I, we just stood there stiff, like we were having the life slowly sucked out of us.

After an eternity, we defrosted ourselves and J immediately sorta barked at me, "If things don't work out and it turns out that I have to stay and suck his cock for the rest of my life, it's all YOUR fault!!!"

But he got me cookies a little after so I'm guessing he isn't mad at me anymore. (Unless of course the cookies were made with some extra weight-gaining ingredients ala Mean Girls la.)

Still feel bad though. Anyhoo. This perplexes me. I don't always talk to J, I mean not a lot la. There are other people in the office I'm closer to, but each time we talk, it just so happens that the big boss would, without fail, walk by.

It's creepy and I'm beginning to be paranoid that he might think there's something going us between us. I shared my concern with J.

With a stupid grin on his face, he said, "If he ask, just tell him 'don't worry about office relationships, my boyfriend's leaving the company anyway.'"

-_-

So. Not. Funny.

(8:09 PM)

I'm gonna blog about my room improvement efforts.

And about the same time as I put the period to that sentence, I think about why I have to do an introduction on what I'll be blogging about when in the next few sentences you'll figure it out already.

I mean, I'm assuming here that my readers are fairly smart and can infer for themselves without the verbal GPS.

Okay clearly the blabbing is a recurring trend. This is what happens when you imbibe caffeine too late into the day. But what are you supposed to do when you hang out with people you haven't seen in awhile right? You sit down over coffee and talk. It's one of those social conventions I'm more than happy to succumb to.

Anyhoo, it has began. Room makeover phase one. They got to be in phases because unlike those designers/decorators you watch on TV, I actually have a freaking job aside emulating the likes of Martha Steward.

Actually bothered to remove the panels, the doors, the drawers, the whole she-bang. I did everything by myself and the only help from my dad was the drive to the paint shop for well, paint duh.

I'm keeping the theme of orange and white alive so the wooden oak-ey wardrobe had to go. I did it outside along the corridors, intoxicating my poor neighbours with the sweet ol' smell of paint. Two coats of white brush-on water-based primer, a coat of paint and another after overnight drying.

It's a HELLA work. I don't think I've slogged so hard in my life. Honest. At first it was therapeutic cos I was just brushing with the iPod plugged in my ears. But that night when I crashed, suddenly my entire right arm started acting up! I almost wish I could amputate myself.

It hurt soooo bad. Miraculously managed to get some shuteye after being numbed to the pain but I woke up an invalid. Could not brush my teeth cos it was so fucking painful. With the new-found understanding of how Jason Street from FNL must have felt, I cried like a baby in the bathroom. Only when I've composed myself a tad did I try to brush my teeth with my LEFT hand. *sobs*

Dark moment of my life there.

Afterwards, was the major healing bit with the help of about a million koyoks. Yunno, those medicated plasters? We call them koyok/s where I'm from. Love those stuff. Koyok to me is like condoms to some people, a total necessity. Ha.


It got better so I finished off with my last coat of paint. By this time my mum had gone deep into her abyssal speech about how women in general have our physical limitations and I should not have been so kay-kiang and stubborn and think I'm so strong yadablah. You get the gist.

But I blardy did it. Such an achievement. Full picture to be uploaded when the full makeover I've envisioned materializes okay?

Yunno what's the most brain-wrecking bit though? This below!

The truckload of things I had to remove from the cupboard. I know. It's kinda embarrassing. The main cause of my mum's distress really. Clothes, books, memory boxes filled with class pictures, prom pictures, letters, postcards, clothes, playscripts, art supplies, Roxanne my guitar, more clothes, the Quran, music scores, first aid kit, toiletries, did I mention clothes?

There were so much shit I had to spend the night outside in the living room cos my bed had got new occupants. It's vulgar really. Sigh.

(1:19 AM)

The nice men are ugly. The handsome men are not nice. The handsome and nice men are gay. The handsome, nice and heterosexual men are married. The men who are not so handsome, but are nice men, have no money. The men who are not so handsome, but are nice men with money, think we are only after their money. The handsome men without money are after our money. The handsome men who are not so nice and somewhat heterosexual don't think we are beautiful enough. The men who think we are beautiful, that are heterosexual, somewhat nice and have money are pigs. The men who are somewhat handsome, somewhat nice and have some money and THANK GOD are heterosexual are shy and NEVER MAKE THE FIRST MOVE! The men who never make the first move automatically lose interest in us when we take the initiative. NOW, WHO IN THE WORLD UNDERSTANDS MEN? Men are like fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and it's our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you'd like to have dinner with.

(1:29 AM)

If there was one night of just hopelessly ghastly photography, Tuesday night would be the definition of it.

Death Cab for Cutie was performing and Esplanade had clearly plotted so that the concert hall would be the least condusive place in the universe for any decent photo-taking to be done.

Clarity being the sole criteria, the best picture of the night goes to this one:

Yes, not even of the band. This was Howie texting me because it was virtually impossible for me to hear him though the crowd and the music. It says: "Ben Gibbard looks a bit deranged."

Hahaha!!! Well ya. There's some truth to that. Gibbard look like on of those crazed kids involved in a high-school shooting. Like somebody ought to take him to a correctional facility or something. (But I heart him)

Howie said Death Cab is not worth taking pictures of anyhoo considering they are "not that attractive". He was merely being kind, cautious and tiptoe-ing around karma here. They are fugly really. (But I heart them)

Well except this Chris Walla below whose presence in the band help its physical factor go up to 0.25. This is also the second best picture, sad right?


Only possible out of the million photos of him I attempted to take.

I love their music. Sometimes rocking, sometimes emo. Emo in a good, just sad, tolerable way, not My Chemical Romance kinda emo, with all do respect to MCR fans out there. Those I'm-so-in-pain-I-could-die kinda lyrics I cannot tahan, so ain't my cuppa tea.

I should talk about it a little more but I'm tired. Work has been crazy with the Olympics and I did the unthinkable un-adult thing of playing truant from work for no rhyme or reason.

I just woke up, rolled over to shut my alarm, and thought, there was no way I could bring myself to get up and get ready for work. So I pon work. Way to go me. So much for being a responsible member of the society.

Excuse me now while I go back to my books and eat my mooncakes. Ahh, good times.

(2:47 PM)

I think this blog's due for an emo post, don't you think?

Oh come on. It's been awhile. A girl gotta be morose and wallow in her deep depressing thoughts sometimes.

But before I take you on a journey to Barferia Lane, I wish to report that it was a productive trip made to the end of the Earth where Expo is because I got me seven books which amount totalled to merely thirty plus buckaroos!

It's a major steal if you ask me and I silently made a personal vow to myself that I'll never buy books ever again unless it's from fairs like this. BTW, I was so happy there I think I almost wept with joy at the sight of those boxes and boxes of books.

Geekfest confession here: Whenever I stumbled upon something good and grab-worthy, I honestly felt like jumping and shouting, Yippie Yayyiyay! But of course I didn't because I'm not that far gone in the direction of uncool.

Anyhoo..

Not speaking from an isolated case of manic-depression, I'm very pro-lyrics. Even leaning on obsessive at times. But I think this one by Death Cab is just soooooo pertinent, well to me at least. Themesong of the moment no doubt.

Okay, it's about yunno, drifting. How it just inevitably happens in life. Some people you meet, no matter how significant, how close, are just meant to stay in that brief moment, and not to follow you through to the following phases of your life. I shan't say more, because any more and this will turn into a greeting-card cliche. And I don't really want to make my readers terminally nauseous.

The lyrics bear it all in its stark honesty, depicting the life of you and me. Music's accompanying in the background.

Enjoy the sadness.

We're not the same dear as we used to be.
The seasons have changed and so have we.
There was little we could say and even less that we could do,
to stop the ice from getting thinner under me and you.

We buried our love in a wintery grave.
A lump in the snow was all that we made.
But we stayed by its side, as the days turned to weeks.
And the ice kept getting thinner with every word we'd speak.

When spring arrived, we were taken by surprise
that what flows under our feet bled into the sea
and nothing was left for you and me.

We're not the same dear and it seems to me
There's nowhere we can go with nothing underneath.
And it saddens me to say what we both know was true
That the ice was getting thinner under me and you.
The ice was getting thinner under me and you.

(10:42 AM)

My schedule tomorrow is packed, I'm talking IT-fair-kinda-packed. Breakfast out with dad and then a dash off to the Borders Books and Movies Fair at the Expo. I better be there when the doors open.

If I'm not lugging too many purchases, I need to go get white paint and primer because I'm itching to paint my wardrobe white. Then I gotta run and do grocery. Afterwards, gotta rush home for a cook-in with my sis and bro-in-law, in prep for our tradition of watching the Parade together.

All this time, not forgetting to watch the Olympics, swimming in particular at 6.30pm. Go Michael Phelps!!!

Busy, busy! But good busy.

Okay on to more important things. Nominees for the 2008 Man Booker Prize for Fiction is out! Yay.

The titles are:

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga
Girl in a Blue Dress by Gaynor Arnold
The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry
From A to X by John Berger
The Lost Dog by Michelle de Kretser
Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh
The Clothes on Their Backs by Linda Grant
A Case of Exploding Mangoes by Mohammed Hanif
The Northern Clemency by Philip Hensher
Netherland by Joseph O'Neill
The Enchantress of Florence by Salman Rushdie
Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith
A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz

Shortlist will be announced on Sept 9th and winner will be announced on October 14th.

Back in the days, I had the luxury of sitting down and maybe even go through the entire list. Now I'll be lucky enough if I could complete even five books by the end of the year. Sigh. Time, oh time.

I doubt I'll be getting any of these at the book fair tomorrow. Even a walking four-leaf clover won't be so fortunate me thinks.

I hope I find treasures in the form of (many) good reads and maybe some exciting DVDs.

That's my Personal Legend tomorrow.

(12:45 AM)

Second AND last and Singfest will not be mentioned again ever. Promise. Not until awhile la.

Howie insisted that I send the picture I took with Jamie Scott to him. Insecurities would not let me. Exasperation filled him, it seemed to be.

I would relent if my photoshop works okay so I can blur my face or something but it's kinda jenky now. It is forever stopping midway asking me to activate the software so I can never edit anything completely. It's hella annoying.

He asked me to use Paint, the program, not the liquidified color stored in cans. I'm nice and obliging so there you go:

Hahahaha! He looks worlds apart from his MTV righttttt??? Maybe he went under the knives! Suddenly so chiselled only!! Hmmph!

FYI, I actually attempted to draw a smiley face on the red square covering my face but Paint ain't as savvy as Adobe and the final product resembled more like an artwork of a preschool kid. *sheepish*

A Jamie Scott trivia. Do you know that Jamie Scott wrote a song for our very own Taufik Batisah??? The song's called "Missing You Always". Ditcha know that, ditcha, ditcha??

I could not get Jason Mraz so got to make do with his BFF.

Toco Rivera!!! Haha. He's so onz right?

Honestly I don't why I did the whole Jappy peace sign thing. -_- I think I felt I had to do something with my hands because he was.

A Jason Mraz trivia time! Do you know that beloved Jason is an avocado farmer in California and that he is a raw foodist, meaning dude only eats uncooked and unprocessed foods?? Ditcha know? Ditcha, ditcha? Haha. Okay I'm gonna quit being annoying.

Frankly, I'm quite disappointed he didn't write about his performance at Singfest on his journal. But the day itself, he put out the recipe for his very famous Chocomole alongside yummy looking pictures. Was all that done in a hotel room on our island you think?

And finally, our Meet and Greet with Miss Alicia Keys!!! YAY!!!

This one no need to cover my face cos it's so tiny there anyways. Yes sadly, group shot but I'll take it. She's rushing to perform shortly after seeing us so they could not afford to let us each snap a picture with her.

I can see Fiza swooning with Alicia's arms around her! Haha. And that goofball of a boy next to me? He tried to reason with the organisers about the rules and I bet it's because of him that we had to surrender our bags!

Okay, when they say Meet and Greet, they really mean meeting, greeting and then scram you bitches! Haha.

This was how it rolled. She shook our hands, our sweaty sweaty little hands, said her hello. I told her she's pretty and she went, "Aw you're pretty too.."

I obviously wasn't and isn't which goes to show she's damn nice.

Then we took the shot and the organisers shooed us away. Haha. Well I said something while we were backing away but now I can't remember what.

See I told you it was a retarded conversation!

And now, to continue with tradition, to not mess up the on-going pattern, an Alicia Keys trivia..

Did you know that Keys was recently declared by conceptual artist Sleepless Beauty to be the most beautiful woman in existence, a title previously held by actress Catherine Zeto-Jones?? Ditcha huh huh huh? Ditcha know that?? ; p

(I is a goofball.)

Yunno, the entire experience is just so much fun. I'm over the moon that I got to be there to soak it in.

Next gig: Death Cab For Cutie.

(1:13 AM)

Singfest was a blast. I had the funnest time despite being baked to crisp under the hot hot HOT sun.

They sold food and drinks for sustenance so the whole lot of us would not all pengsan from dehydration and lack of nutrition. But props for the loo. I went first thing and it was beyond decent. Those portable things were clean and smelt nice even! Of course, I never peed again after.

First act: Stacie Orrico. She's quite a fleshy hottie I must say. Voice was fantastic. No one knew her new songs though. Lucky for her, she was first, so we still had all our energy in us.

Howie calls her Moley. So evil. Could not even see her mole from where we were lor! The crowd was livelier when familiar tunes like "More to life" and "Stuck on you" were sung.

And next, Jamie Scott!!!! He was so dreamy! He looked nothing like on his MTV at all!!! I thought at first it was some body double stuntman until he sang and he sang goooood.

Saw him on the side of the stage later in the night and took a picture with him. Yes, like literally. And I would so have posted it here if not for the fact that I looked completely gross, glistening with sweat, next to Jamie McDreamy Scott, who of course, was as fresh as dew. Sigh.

Oh and I took a video of his exclusive song but the clip will be posted on another post cos I'm teethering on a narrow rope for this one already, with the shitload of pictures I've posted up. Blogger please do not screw up on me yet. I've got quite a fair bit to report.

One Republic!!! Ehy, ehy! Ehy, ehy! *to be sung in baritone, ala Timberland*

Brent Kutzle made everyone wish for a moment they have had picked up the cello instead.

Had to take a pic of this dude, member of One Republic also, whose name I clearly don't know, because of his Obama shirt. He had the crowd cheering and chanting, "Obama, Obama!!!" Crowd had a great vibe. Hilarious!

I'm not even a fan but Ryan Tedder proved to be a baggage of talents. He can sing live, contrary to what critics have said before.

Plays the piano, in the most thorough way I've seen someone playing the piano. I bet him and the piano? They are so doing it. And you heard it first here! Remember that! Haha. It's a JOKE. Lighten up.

And he also plays the guitar. *hails* Anyhoo, the whole fedora thang, very IN amongst the celebs lately ehy? I thought for a moment, Mraz came onstage a tad too early.

Erm, okay random, but see the band member in red? He wasn't in any of the other songs previously. He's like their roadie so he does soundcheck and whatnots for them. But for this one, he came out and heh, let's just say he played a part in the premature death of my camera.

A closed-up so you'll understand why I now have like a mini porfolio of his pictures.

Panic at the Disco proved to be a massive hit amongst the younger crowd who have obviously poured over their CD sleeve a million times. Those kids can sing every freaking word okay, cover to cover, even midway when the mic screwed up and Brendon Urie's vocals was unheard.

He makes a good lead vocalist me thinks. Had the whole rockstar-look going on. Of course, it helped for the image also the fact that he puked a little onstage. I know. Ew.

And now we know why and what the puke's main ingredient was.

But Ryan Ross was my favourite because boy was so pwetty. I mean look at him! He's prettier than ME!!! Damn him. You can't see it from here but the shirt he had on has got cute tiny flowers on them. Boy knows how to primp ehy?

And the man I waited for, the one I stood under the sun for the past afternoon till my legs ached for, the man I think I would drop everything for, my dreamboy, JASON MRAZZZZZZZZZ!!!!

See how further back I was at first...?

See how much I progressed? We shoved and we pushed and we rubbed sweaty skin against other sweaty skin, so we could jostle our way forward as front of possible. And it was sooooooo worth it. He was amazing.

He's not just a singer, he's an entertainer. He made us laughed and we played a little game of "Mraz Say" where everything he made us do, we actually did. We, reserved people born and/or bred in Singapore, were for once successful at an artiste's attempt at audience's participation. We dutifully followed, syllable by syllable, pitch by pitch and gesture by gesture.

Oh his music was so fun to party to. Well, at least my kinda party la. We sang and we danced and we might have even stolen something there. Right Fiza? Heh.

And the dude we always see next to Mraz. I can pronounce his name but I would not even try spelling it. Mraz's main wingman, who I also took a picture with. And the picture is with a friend now and ain't here only because, as mentioned, camera totally went into a coma after Jason Mraz's performance. I seriously took enough pictures to make a museum gallery of Jason.

So sexy right? What wouldn't I give to be that guitar he's caressing... Sigh.

He came and he left and I bravely said goodbye despite wanting to bawl and beg him to stay. Too short, Mraz, way too short!!! More! We want more Mraz!!! Actually my friend said his set was substantially long enough, but you know who don't think so? ME.

No Pussycat Dolls' pictures because see that tag up there? It says "M & G" and "AK" which really meant Meet and Greet with Alicia Keys. Ohhhh yeahhhhhhh. It happened while PCD was performing so we only caught a bit of PCD which was fine really. A fine trade-off if you know what I mean.

It was mind blowing to be in Alicia's presence. She was gorgeous, like a real life Barbie and I engaged in some very retarded small-talk with her. Hey I was the only one okay who bothered okay! The rest of them there didn't even attempt. Gimme some cred.

The explicit report will come alongside the picture we took with her as soon as I get it from the organisers who would not let us use our own camera. Oh wells, mine died anyways.

But, it revived for one last shot of Miss Keys doing her thang. Her set was the longest and it was simply awesome. I really have no other words for it. Her voice was immaculate. The band was fantastic. Everyone was dancing to "No One". Could not have asked for a more ooommph curtain call to the festival.

So this is the lowdown in brief. We came at 11am and the Fest ended at 1am, which if I'm doing my maths right, we have stood, even jumped and danced with very very minimal sitting down for fourteen hours! FOURTEEN. One mean feat and Fiza is convinced it's worse than her 10km Standard Chartered marathon.

I was icky sticky, my knees were wobbly, the balls of my feet were sore and at one point while waiting for Alicia Keys, out of sheer desperation, we stole a bottle of drink from the camera crew. But would I do it again next year?

Hell freaking yeah!

(11:30 PM)

Today I’m happy I managed to hook my friend, Fiza, with tix to the sold-out Singfest Sunday for only a hundred buckaroos. Somemore managed to snag a weekender pass for her. Yay!

On other news, I’ll be the first to admit that I am mighty kiasu. If I want something real bad I’ll queue for it, and I won’t mind the waiting if say I’m first or one of the first in line.

Like how I was for Coldplay’s gig. (Remember Madhz? That was fun shit, we had shifts and stuff. There was some major organizing there mannn.) That and for some other many bands I am not so eager to be associated with now that I’m older and less of a gin nah.

But queuing in the middle of a freaking forest atop a hill like our Fort Canning is a bit more of a challenge.

Maybe I’m just ignorant of the venue so if any of you reading this right now are more equipped and familiar with the area; shed some light on the matter for me please.

Because right now, I’m pretty wary of being in line for that long hours just so I can see clearly when Mraz contort his face into some unappealing expression like he’s been known to do when he sings.

The most basic human sustenance is a problem.

Say we are hungry and thirsty for instance, do we like go down the hill to buy food and come up again? Because I’m thinking that no matter how much I like my ass to be toned, all that climbing and sweating will be a major bitch.

Then say if even you’re lucky and you’ve gotten yourself a minion to do the bidding of getting meals for you, what if you are suddenly overwhelmed with the need to pee? Or worse, shit?!

Cos I know there’s a pee-hole right inside where the SDT is, but I highly doubt we can go mark our territories on its facilities prior to the gig right?

So how? Pee in the bush? Dig a hole when doing the number two? Yunno, I was and still am the kid who held her pee in for three whole eternity-liked hours while at Cambodia during her
freshman year because she just could not make herself pee in the jungle amidst the trees okay!

So what? Wear adult pampers?!!! How much are those ah BTW?

So yes, as you can clearly sense, I’m getting all crazy jittery about the queuing for Singfest this weekend.

But the bigger problem comes down to the fact that Mraz only performs close to seven pm and can I really just man my post at the barricades till then? What if nature calls? Then I have to go to the loo, leave my post, leaving all the queuing from dawn an utter waste.

Believe it or not, I’m quite stressed about this more so than I am of work.

Howie, think of something!!!

(12:11 AM)