filled my tank up just now and came back to check my transaction on maybank2u to see they billed me RM200.

yes, it’ll be credited back to me within 3-14 days, but damn, son, that ain’t cool.

since i’m no longer the young bird/cat/chick i was 5 years ago, the adult thing to do next it to get a place and move my freeloading ass out of my family home. the one consistent theme in the many reactions to this is: “ask your boyfriend to buy you a place”

of course i know i’m a fragile, frail, inept, needy, weakling female and wont to need assistance with every step i take.

but why, oh why must my boyfriend sign 30 years of his life away to buy me a home? is it his manly responsibility? did i just strike it lucky being born without a penis? do men really have nothing better to do? is pussy juice worth a few hundred grand?

maybe my colleagues can get an office collection going and pool some extra cash to buy me one, it makes about as much sense as placing the burden arbitrarily on a boyfriend/husband.

i was warded 2 days last week for my surgery. and boy, was that horrific. i didn’t wake up all chirpy and renewed with new gall-less vigour as hinted by my surgeon. nope, more like 24 hours of cramping around each of my incisions; a chance meeting with a freshie nurse who tugged wrongly at my branula, squirting blood all over my nice hospital gown like some tarantino movie; a bout of UTI, which meant hourly trips to the washroom (it was either that or a catheter since bedpans apparently don’t exist on the 5th floor).

now i’m home sweet home, i realise i’ve taken too many things for granted. getting out of bed on my own? a thing of the past. the stitches force me into a posture that makes me want to burst into song. and i’ve (of course) been experiencing coughing and sneezing fits aplenty. nice one.

can’t wait to get these coverings and stitches removed and get back to the grindstone.

me, skin crawling: do patients wake up during surgery?

doctor: i really prefer they don’t do that. they tend to ask a lot of questions.

i was terribly disappointed that he’s self-proclaimed “old skool” and won’t be making me a dvd recording of the keyhole surgery (that’s laparoscopic surgery for those of you who care) to watch with a bucket of popcorn. though, he did promise to pass me the, erm, specimen inclusive of all the little buggers so i can “string them up and make a necklace”.

after a lengthy q&a aka nervous grilling, there are a few things i can safely conclude:

1. 11 out of 10 persons on the street can’t tell the difference between the gallbladder and the kidney
2. the same 11 persons dispense interchangeable advice
3. after 3 consultations, i’m even more confused why the gallbladder (and while we’re at it, the damn appendix) even exists
4. people who get gallstones are supposed to be Female, Forty, Fat, Fertile
5. hospitals have late check-out charges just like hotels

my “social” calendar is now strangely full and i feel happening in all the wrong ways. thursday, BAT karaoke. this weekend, krabi. next week, surgery and after a week-long medical leave, minion and i are getting some ink done together. all just before i pop over to the new agency.

totally random, but assunta girls all just give out the same vibe. i can smell them a mile away sial.

instead of telling you i could see its little heart beating, sad to say those are just lots of little stones. the biggest just 3.5mm in length or some shit.

the gastroscope was less scary than my chicken shit self anticipated. more painful was the hole-making (small veins, remember) where the nurses literally had to “milk” my arm for blood. ma heard me laughing from outside the ward and thought i had lost my marbles. 5 seconds later  i was groaning at the top of my lungs, while under sedation mind you.

wtf. how freaky.

next step? sit and wait for the countless meds to work. OR. surgery.

yeah yeah, just please get it done by may, when my ING guarantee letter expires. thanks.

Was showing ming my new camera effects. What better subject than his highness.

“Look at those sculpted cheeks without makeup.”

Has it yet occured to you that the biggest ode to commitment is something we’re so desensitized to that it’s such a non-issue?

It’s just amazing when two people one day think “hey, you. I like you a lot. Let’s stop splitting hairs and start splitting genes. Let’s bring our DNA to the table and see what happens.”

Then BOOM! MOTHERFUCKER! Nine months later, there’s an irreversible, this is it, bundle of (what we fervently hope is) joy. No returns, no exchanges, no “sorry ma’am I’ve changed my mind”, no money-back guarantees.

Simply a-fucking-mazing. And of course, I haven’t quite yet decided if I’m terribly impressed or appalled.

I have the sweetest friends and colleagues.

3 birthday meals (lunch, lunch, dinner) presents and failed surprises.

Lot of laughs and jibes about me being 24. You’re all too kind <3

With liy’s words of warning ringing in my head, I was super wary about giving manja a bath.

Would she bite, scratch, hate me for life?

She mewed piteously: “I knew this day would come…” but she was a good girl.

Now time to get the stench of shampoo off.

this just warm fuzzy feeling all the way to my toes. how can it not, really? after a whole day looking at retardes (HANGOVER!) and weirdos, to be greeted by sweet kitty innocence…

have i become “that cat lady”? i think photos of just one cat hardly counts.

am reminded again of how badly the blackberry camera sucks.

when i started as a wee green grasshopper, taking home a tenth (i wish) of what i’m making now, i had oodles of cash to splurge around on unnecessary things like nintendos and shark pouches and cow-printed shite. i could also drink myself senseless and cab home later like a rawkstar. that’s right, bitches. nothing but teksi premium for me.

now so many things stand between me and that short-lived glow obtained only from purchasing useless shiny stuff. and shoes. things like insurance, phone bills, car instalments & servicing, taxes and the other mundane yet terrifically important stuff.

i guess with adulthood comes more than just imagined laughter lines and crow’s feet.