Birthday Wishes To....

Sabrina

What's Your Bloody Rush?

I was tired, hungry and craving chicken. Went all the way to Clementi in hopes that the store might still be open and was glad it still had something to offer. What ensued made me lose my appetite and almost made me lose my temper. So what happened?

This stupid woman working at the store kept shouting over other customers (in another language with a thick accent, thus confusing me) to get the next order. Now why was she in such a hurry to take the orders?
Running low? If you run out you run out, there wasn't anyone in line behind me and there were only 2 before.
Closing? If you're closing, then why are you frying up more food?
I don't think she realised she was being really irritating shouting past the other customers just to get to me. Then worse part was she kept referring to the board, pointing at different pictures and even before I can take a look and realise what she was talking about, she was incessantly asking me about something else.

Somehow, without answering, I ended up with fried chicken and rice instead of fries. Now looking at the picture, it's supposed to be fried chicken with fries and roasted chicken with rice. I ordered both, yet I ended up with two packs of chicken and rice. I honestly couldn't be bothered to talk to the idiot again. If pointing to pictures can land me with a wrong order, would speaking to her help? I lost my appetite.

Now this reminds me of another woman. What's with these idiots working at food outlets?

I was at SGH's Kopitiam and decided to have fried fish soup. So I ordered a bowl and turned around for a minute to look for my mom and when I turned back around I saw that the soup was really white. Rather lactose intolerant, I asked if she added milk into the soup to which she answered yes. So I told her I can't have milk and she had the cheek to say well the soup has milk in it. It pissed me off that she was so ignorant and so I said, it doesn't say anywhere that it has milk and that the picture shows a clear soup, not a white one. She goes on to reply that EVERYWHERE sells it with milk in it. Hello arsehole, do you only eat at ur workplace? I'm sure you do, because other places don't have to add milk to their soup as they've got better quality. Now if I haven't paid up already I would've just walked off and not bother. Well she's not going to get off so easily.

Birthday Wishes to....

Diana Tan

This all started 4 years ago. Can you tell I really do love the Care Bears?

Birthday Wishes to....

Jessica Wong

No Hablo Inglés?

The subject was posted in the papers recently when someone wrote in about hiring foreign workers as front-line service staff, and that all front-line staff should at least have some basic knowledge of English. I'm not too sure how the article was written and how it may have offended someone else but I do agree with the fact that front-line staff should have a basic knowledge of English, or at least are willing to learn, and thus, pick it up rather quickly. I'm fine with having foreign workers in the front-line. I actually work with a few foreigners and the first thing we tell them is that if they don't know how to answer or what they're being asked, just call for one of the senior staff to help you out. One reason why we do so is because we work in a rather fast paced environment and the more time u waste, the more frustration you create. Miscommunication also creates frustration, and not only with the customer, you get the wrath of your own coworkers.

Which reminds me...In another reply to the article, the lady wrote that it would be nice to get an answer for your simple queries. The very night I read the article, I had my own experience with one staff who couldn't answer my simple question which was "Do your pizzas have a thin or thick crust?" And I asked her 3 times; 1st try just orally, 2nd try pointing to the list of pizza choices, 3rd try gesturing the difference between thick and thin. She then goes into her native language (which I will not specify so as not to hurt the fragile hearts that the people of the same race might have) and asks if I could speak to her in that language. At this point her coworker comes along and I just asked for his help instead. English didn't sound like his first language either but at least I got my answer and even more information than required. Now in the first place, why do people assume that just because you're of a certain skin colour that u can speak a certain language? Why couldn't she just ask me to wait while she got another person to help me out instead? Well I'm sorry that I cut her off and just called her coworker over, but I was getting frustrated myself and thing is I don't even know how to say what I was trying to ask in the other language.

Wonder if she stays away from the tables she assumes she can't comprehend.

My First Time

Sent my mom for a massage appointment my cousin made today and because of some miscommunication, only one massage session was booked for 11am instead of 4. I wasn't involved with the original booking for 4 and so just went in expecting to read a few magazines while they had their massages. However with the mistake, somehow I got a massage booked for me as well.

Since I've never gone for a massage, it seemed rather exciting and yet I dread the part where they would have to massage the part of my back that was a little extra sensitive. Oh well, I'll just let the masseuse know where not to touch.

First problem I encountered? Disposable undies. They were waaaaaaaaay too small and even my mom had problems getting hers on. Imagine me trying to wear them... they at least got past my knees? Well after telling my masseuse that I had to wear my own undies or go naked, it was time to get on the bed and get myself oiled up... OOooOoooh... sexy. Hahaha!

The room was small yet it didn't feel claustraphobic and it greeted me with some gingery smell from a burner. The lady puts on rubber gloves and gets a big bowl of oil, supposedly infused with green tea. She starts with my legs and it's a really nice feeling especially since my calves seem to be sore these few weeks, but I didn't get why she kept pressing the back of my knee. It kinda started hurting but was still tolerable. Furthermore, the rubber gloves just made it weird, but I guess applying oil would be much easier. Then at one point she puts a little pressure on my butt and it actually felt good. I ought to take a chart and cross out points that matter!

Next bit was my back and I told her about the super duper sensitive area before she did anything. But what did she do, go right to that spot and knead her way up my spine! Hello aunty? Didn't I tell you that it hurts there? Just move up, don't touch the base. My shoulders need more attention. Yes! Yes! Use your whole weight on my shoulders but leave the base alone.

Once she was done torturing my lower back and trying her best to get the knots out of my shoulders, she whispered something and I thought that was it. My hour was up and .... oh wait... she said turn over. Turn over? Oh My Boobs! Hmmm... how do I do this? I'm also kinda stuck to the plastic sheet on the bed. Ok... quick plan in mind... I flip to the side and then on my back, and in one quick motion she covered me with the towel. Now why the hell am I afraid she'll see my boobs when she's been massaging my arse? Ok lady, just do your thing...I'm not bothered no more.

This time she starts with my shoulders and work down my arms. Feels good but not as good as my calves... that's until she got to my fingers and gave them a much needed yanking. POP POP POP... all of them releasing their tension. MMMmmmm.... what's next? Exposing my tummy? Hmmm... I haven't had my tummy rubbed since I was a kid... I was wondering how it would feel... and what did I feel? I felt TICKLISH! The whole time she massaged my tummy I held in my laughter until I couldn't, almost knocking her bowl of oil down in the process.

Thank goodness she was done and moved down to my legs. Once again it felt really good but I realised that I was more ticklish than I thought. Everytime she massged my thigh I wanted to start laughing again. Worst of all was when I got a cramp from holding in my laughter... what a waste of her efforts. Hahaha.... Then the final bit when she was almost done with my legs was to press some areas near my crotch. OH NICE! That was a giant shocker!

Then she walks behind my back and I'm wondering what other surprises she has for this massage virgin and then she removes the towel over my eyes to give me a head massage... OOOoohOOhoOHooh that was the best part. Now if only she massaged my head at the stsrt, I would've told her to just do my head and shoulders for the whole hour. Finally she asks me to sit up and does a final attempt on my tough shoulders before she gave up and left me alone to get dressed.

So the verdict? I think I would consider having a head and shoulder massage but other than that, I don't see a point in getting massages on a regular basis.

Worn Out

Funny how things reveal themselves when u can't figure the problem out in your head. For me, it was listening to a song to make me realise why the hell I've been so down and out the past week. At first I thought it was shouldering the burden of other people's problems as I felt like I didn't want, and couldn't listen, to anyone anymore. Even after I griped about it, I didn't feel better and something was still irritating me from within. Then listen to a song and everything floods your mind, telling you what's wrong. Reminders of the past pull you back in time, sometimes good, sometimes bad, and in my case, bittersweet.

One song I haven't heard in a long time, one of the songs I was listening to all the time when the situation got bad. Then it was another song that made me realise what is it about this person that is irritating me. And of all the things I didn't expect, I realised I actually missed the good times. I actually MISS the good old days I had - yapping about life on the Palm, watching countless movies, drinking the night away watching people dance weird, walking without care in the pouring rain - stupid, silly, wastes of time that gave my life a big jolt of fun. Fun which I miss a whole lot. Fun no one else has been able to replace.... YET!

I thought I'd be sad, that I miss the person. But no. I don't miss the person, I miss the fun. I'm angry with the person, for all the bullshit and disrespect. I'm glad that you're out of my life just because you won't be able to cause more shit. But I hate that you decided to end a good friendship when it wouldn't have mattered whichever way she entered the picture. But it was your own stupidity that flushed it down the drain and ur stupidity that made the final cut when it was still hanging by a thread.

Now after realising what the problem was, I know where to go. I might even take this advice that came out in yesterday's IS magazine.

""What makes a river so restful to people is that it doesn't have any doubt," wrote columnist Hal Boyle. "It is sure to get to where it is going, and it doesn't want to go anywhere else." Your assignment for the rest of 2008, Libra, is to do whatever's necessary to make yourself fit this description. The nest eight months will provide unprecedented opportunities to turn yourself into a river flowing toward your destiny with surprisingly sublime freedom." - freewill astrology, Rob Brezsny

I shall be the river and take where my life leads me (and I see a lot of travelling involved).

Birthday Wishes to....

Mei Mei Fat Fat

Birthday Wishes to....

Desak

Birthday Wishes to....

Uncle Shane, Chloe, Ndyalan

My Ears Are Giving Me A Headache!

Will the day that I start charging for counselling sessions ever come? Can listening to someone's sob story be held only in the closed room where no one else will find out about your little secrets? Where I'd finally be ready to actually listen to the crap u got stored up inside?

Sometimes I wonder how much money I'd be making if that was the case. I'm fine listening to your problems if you're a friend, or at least someone I've known for a bit. But these thoughts pop into my mind when some total stranger can come up to me and tell me their sob story.

How the hell do I get myself into such situations?

I can be waiting for my mom to get her groceries and somehow that's an open invitation to tell me their life story. It's amazing that they come up to me at the supermarket rather than at the hospital.

I meet them for the first time and they start getting emotional, telling me their problems and that somebody pisses them off. Some even go almost to the point of crying but I wonder if it's just the alcohol talking then.

Is it just me?

Am I too nice, smiling too much? I don't even smile enough at work!

Am I too sympathetic, empathetic? Do I care too much even though I try my best not to care at all? In the end, the problems that people have would kinda stick with you for a while and that's when the cesspit of problems starts giving me a problem. So if I care too much, I'd end up having major problems myself, just like now when I'm pissed off with the situation.

Do I have a some sort invisible sign on me that only people with something heavy on their hearts can see? Some weird sign that says: "I'm a walking listening ear! Come tell me your problems and let them leave your heart." Can some of you just ignore the sign? I mean how open can you get? Walk up to a total stranger and start a conversation telling your life's story. Honestly, have you spared a thought for the listening ear? That maybe they might not be interested? That they might think you're a bloody psycho? That it shocks the hell out of them because they're just not ready to have that kind of assault?

Yes it's an assault. It's rather horrible having to listen and dread the minute you decide to ask; "What do you think about it?" or "What do you think I should do?". Was I even supposed to take you seriously and listen to every word you say? Who the hell are you in the first place? I don't even know your bloody name and you expect me to listen and analyse your problem?

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

How I wish I can switch the sign off with a wiggle of my nose.