To Market, To Market, To Buy A Fat Pig...

...said 'fat pig' could very well be me, if my medical report results are anything to go by. On Monday I endured the indignity of a comprehensive medical examination at Prince Court hospital, the likes of which involve running on a treadmill (I lasted 9 minutes and 31 seconds before the test was stopped 'because of fatigue') and simulating a fireman putting out a fire by blowing in a pipe (I failed spectacularly). Anyway...I got the results and according to my report I'm fat. There's no other way around it, the doctor says I need to lose 11kg and gain 3 kg of muscle. My BMI is 'normal' but dangerously close to the 'overweight' range. My body fat percentage is 'morbidly obese' and my cholesterol has gone from 'below average' to 'above average'. But! On the positive side, my hearing is excellent. 

Yesterday---the actual day of my birthday!---I dealt with my humiliating medical report results by...having dinner at a restaurant that specialises in everything pork. *shakes head* And the vicious circle perpetuates itself...

August 21, 2013

To Market, To Market, To Buy A Fat Pig...

...said 'fat pig' could very well be me, if my medical report results are anything to go by. On Monday I endured the indignity of ...

Une, Deux, Troika (Sky Dining at Troika)

This morning, I woke up on a mattress in the middle of my childhood bedroom, with Nana curled up like a cat beside me and Michiekins happily snoring away on my bed above us. I also woke up a year older (and this time, at least marginally wiser) and to a flurry of birthday greetings; text messages, Whatsapp messages, Facebook posts, and adorkably cute voice notes from Sukins that I want to make my ringtone. Thank you everyone for you for your well wishes! 

My 'official' birthday party was last Saturday (I'm still editing the photos!) but yesterday the terrible trio got together for a day at the spa and dinner in the sky. Which is how my impromptu slumber party with Nana and Michiekins came to be; I literally sent them home only for them to pick up an overnight bag, ignoring their other half's pleas to "Stay home and sayang me" hahaha sorry it's my birthday. 

19 August 2013 . Starhill Spa at The Marriot and Troika Sky Dining

August 20, 2013

Une, Deux, Troika (Sky Dining at Troika)

This morning, I woke up on a mattress in the middle of my childhood bedroom, with Nana curled up like a cat beside me and Michiekins hap...

♡♡♡ Proposal At Tiffany's---David & Sheena ♡♡♡

Sheena! David! 此 blog post 是给你们俩的! Don't say I never do anything for you.

After eight years of paktor-ing, David and Sheena are finally engaged!


Photo from Musadek's camera, edited by me

August 19, 2013

♡♡♡ Proposal At Tiffany's---David & Sheena ♡♡♡

Sheena! David! 此 blog post 是给你们俩的! Don't say I never do anything for you. After eight years of paktor -ing, David and Sheena are f...

Sage at The Gardens

Pet peeves, anyone? Some of mine are; prehistorically-slow internet connection,  delayed flights, people with the audacity to lie repeatedly to your face and to themselves (and worse, think you're as stupid as them to believe their poor excuses), and Photoshop unexpectedly quitting every time I try to save (oh, the irony!). All of which happened in 24 hours, so needless to say I had to keep my blood pressure normal by indulging myself in a few of my favourite things. Good company, good food, and a good dress.


Louis Vuitton handbag (I forgot exactly what it's called) and dress, stolen appropriated from mummy's wardrobe.

Last night mummy, my camera-shy brother, his new girlfriend, and I had dinner at one of my favourites  in K.L, the ever low-key and unassuming but excellent Sage at The Gardens, Mid Valley. 




For starters, mummy had capellini pasta with trio of seafood and seven chilli pepper, lil brother had gruyere cheese souffle with cream bechamel sauce, and his girlfriend ML demonstrated good taste by ordering the same starter as me (haha), seared foie gras with dark grapes and red wine reduction.
 


The foie gras melted on my tongue like a dream, the sweet dark grapes were the perfect foil to the richness of the liver, and the wine sauce was mopped up with pieces of bread.


Brother drowning his creme souffle with bechamel sauce, just to be doubly sure it's dead.

For mains, mummy had herb crusted halibut with rice wine and hakame broth and ML had the most fearsome looking lamb shank with provencale vegetables. Brother and I both plumped for wasabi crusted wagyu cheek with a side of flat beans and carrot puree.

It was of course divine. I won't bother insulting it by trying to describe the taste with meager words. 
Just do yourself a favour, go down to Sage and order it for yourself.




The empty plate speaks for itself.

For pudding I was slightly let-down by the wasabi souffle with milk ice-cream which tasted bland, like air that once dreamt of wasabi although the ice-cream was gloriously creamy. ML kept it simple with Earl Grey ice-cream, brother's ginger and lime creme brulee was deliciously fiery, and mummy found a winner in the ever dependable Belgian dark chocolate fondant with Earl Grey tea ice-cream.




Dinner ended predictably with petit fours and tea, just how I like it to. I wanted a glass of champagne but mummy forbade it because I was the designated driver. Has one, just one, glass ever done anyone wrong? Sigh. Please tell her that.

Sartorially speaking, I'm somewhat lazy and spend most of my time inadvertently dressed like an old lady (maxi skirts and unintentionally clashing prints will do that). Whatever energy I have is invested in drawing and bergolek-golek so when I do 'dress nice', attention must be paid. This doesn't happen often.  


I love that this dress is too tight in the chest, binding and minimizing my bust. Ironically when the zip is undone to just above my rib cage it has the opposite effect, creating the "Look ma, no hands!" corset effect that will no doubt set tongues wagging in speculation of the authenticity of my female assets. Heaven forbid I burden you with that.


It's nearly midnight and I'm going to eat some durians in my room to annoy my mother (she hates the smell) and read Thick Face, Black Heart. Trust no b*tch, fear no man.

xx

August 11, 2013

Sage at The Gardens

Pet peeves, anyone? Some of mine are; prehistorically-slow internet connection,  delayed flights, people with the audacity to lie repeated...

A bit of Isle-Wight (Alright)

I met Percy on Thursday. It was a little past midnight, we were at a table downstairs at Le Baron and I was sitting cross-legged, barefoot, with my loafers folded neatly behind me. It had been a night to grieve; just before Le Baron I was at the 'launch' of Voodoo Vault---which, by the way, was as dead as the crypt it was named after---in the club formerly known as Salon formerly known as Le Baron. Is that space cursed or what? Ever hopeful, we moved on to our trusty standby, Maddox. However a departing Molaroid and his flock of corseted females duly informed us of the futility of seeking any such amusement there, as it was d-e-a-d, dead-er than my love for The Box

And this is how I found myself downstairs at Le Baron, not even bothering to put on my dancing shoes or really any shoes at all. As my loafers poked my back, I gazed out at the dance floor. It was devoid of all that we loved about London nightlife; our friends (can you all please come back from Dubai/Paris/your full-time relationships?), the electric magic, and...something, perhaps the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a once easily pleased ingenue new to the London club scene yet to be jaded by endless rounds of free tables, free drinks, and scores of men begging to dance with her.

So Percy and I introduced ourselves and we talked; about mutual friends, about his label (PPQ), about the gentrification of Shoreditch, while I lifted my glass of champagne and toasted, sardonically, to the strangers on the dance floor. London. "When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life." I don't think so. I still love London, I'm just tired of the same-old same-old parties, the blah nightlife and dying clubs...

Happily, last Saturday a brief respite from London was offered when Percy texted "Be at yours with Benjamin in an hour. We're going to my country house." Of course nobody would tell me where we were going. They did solemnly suggest that they were going to France to sell me into slavery.

Thankfully the truth was far less exciting, we were in fact spending the weekend at P's country house in Ventnor, on the Isle Of Wight. 

Kindly excuse the poor quality of the photos; I left my Leica in London and had to make do with my iPhone. And Photoshop...lots of it.

July 02, 2013

A bit of Isle-Wight (Alright)

I met Percy on Thursday. It was a little past midnight, we were at a table downstairs at Le Baron and I was sitting cross-legged, barefoot...

Wyndstock

On Saturday I went straight from Royal Ascot and embarked on what I can describe as a bit of a mission. An hour and half from Ascot to London Waterloo followed by a half hour tube journey to King's Cross (no Nothern line service, we're ready for the weekend!), and an hour train ride to Stevenage later I was picked up in a car by a very nice young man who I was meeting for the first time. (We were introduced on Facebook by a mutual friend)

And then we went on a three hour drive---shortened to 2 hours thanks to my insisting on singing Disney songs the whole way---to the grounds of Houghton Hall, Norfolk, for a midsummer party of sorts.

June 27, 2013

Wyndstock

On Saturday I went straight from Royal Ascot  and embarked on what I can describe as a bit of a mission. An hour and half from Ascot to Lo...

Royal Ascot

On Saturday I finally broke 'The Ascot Curse', said curse being that for the past 6 years since I've moved to England I've never quite made it to Royal Ascot for the races. Something always happens, it's like the universe is conspiring against me....or maybe it's as simple as 'scheduling problems'. I prefer to think of it as a curse, a little touch of melodrama never hurt anyone, and if not a melodrama Royal Ascot is really a pantomime of show ponies dressed to the nines. Oh, and there are horses too. 

June 25, 2013

Royal Ascot

On Saturday I finally broke 'The Ascot Curse', said curse being that for the past 6 years since I've moved to England I'v...

Balkan So Hard #8 Kotor Old City

The curtain closed on my week of Balkan So Hard adventures with a beautiful sunset in Kotor.

Fatigued by Porto Montenegro's rows of same-y looking yachts, supercars, and overpriced (but delicious!) restaurants that only expats and tourists could afford, H and I wanted a more 'real' experience of Montenegro. We took our most expensive cab ride yet---€15! I love this country!---and left behind the glossy glamour of the port for the old-world charms of the medieval city of Kotor.

June 23, 2013

Balkan So Hard #8 Kotor Old City

The curtain closed on my week of Balkan So Hard   adventures with a beautiful sunset in Kotor. Fatigued by Porto Montenegro's row...

Balkan So Hard #7 Bay Of Kotor

On Monday morning, H nudged me awake.
"Wake up, Disney princess! BK texted. He's taking us for brunch. You have half an hour to get ready." 

Half an hour and a full face of makeup later I was still not quite awake. Grumbling, I dragged myself out the house cursing and wondering why BK couldn't just pick me up from the front door instead of making me walk down to Purobeach.

And then I saw BK and H standing on a speedboat and thought, 
OK, fine, I'll forgive them this one time for making me walk down to the jetty. 

But still, they could've learnt a thing or two from The Wolfpack and landed the boat in the garden.


Like so.

So we left Porto Montenegro and drove to the Bay Of Kotor.

June 22, 2013

Balkan So Hard #7 Bay Of Kotor

On Monday morning, H nudged me awake. "Wake up, Disney princess! BK texted. He's taking us for brunch. You have half an hour to...

Balkan So Hard #6: Purobeach

Despite S insisting we forgo Purobeach for Almara Beach Club not one, but two days in a row I simply had to go, if only to see in person the iconic gazing man.

June 20, 2013

Balkan So Hard #6: Purobeach

Despite S insisting we forgo Purobeach for Almara Beach Club not one, but two days in a row   I simply had to go, if only to see in perso...

Just Flew Back to London.


I miss Montenegro. But it's good to be back.

More backdated Balkan So Hard adventures to come...

xx

June 19, 2013

Just Flew Back to London.

I miss Montenegro. But it's good to be back. More backdated Balkan So Hard adventures to come... xx

Balkan So Hard #5: ONE

Every (party) animal, even on a quiet vacation, needs a watering hole. 
I think I've found the ONE. Quite literally.

June 18, 2013

Balkan So Hard #5: ONE

Every (party) animal, even on a quiet vacation, needs a watering hole.  I think I've found the ONE . Quite literally.