51% Slut !!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Your above score was normalized against the average, so don't even TRY to disagree with us. Science is certain, and so are we: you are absolutely 51% Slutty.]




Take the test at www.okcupid.com/slut

Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot,
who calls you back when you hang up on him,
who will stay awake just to watch you sleep.

Wait for the guy who kisses your forehead,
who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sloppiest
who holds your hand in front of his friends.

Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares about you,
and how lucky he is to have you.

Wait for the one who turns to his friends and says, "...that's her."

After a restful Friday night (thank you Rosemary for the sobering – pun intended - advice), I had a terrible urge to “do something” on Saturday night so I went down to Alley Bar.

It was a weird mix, the crowd that I was with at Alley Bar. Well, there were the usual suspects – Rosemary and Shanghai Baby, and also a friend of Rosemary’s. But unfortunately, Human Teflon was there too. With an ex colleague of hers who kinda embarrassed himself right from the introductions, when he offered to buy us a bottle of wine and Shanghai Baby flatly refused.

Hmmm.. but yes, Human Teflon.

You might be wondering why I ever invited her to join us, if I disliked her company so much. Well, two reasons.

Firstly, when she asked for my number last week (see, we don’t even know each other that long.. huge mistake I know!), I did not expect her to be Miss now-let’s-talk-about-me-and-my-screwed-relationship-AGAIN. Second, I DID NOT invite her to join us. Specifically, the string of SMSes on Saturday went like this:

Her: What are your plans tonight?

Me: Dunno. Maybe meeting friends for drinks.

Her: What time?

Me: Not fixed. Why leh?

Her: I’m free at ten. Call you see where you are. See you!

Arghh…. Grrrrowl!

So anyway, poor Shanghai Baby ended up being the ears that ever-so-angstful Human Teflon clung onto the entire (and I do mean entire) night. Me? No way I’d be caught in such a situation.. ha.. unless the Teflon in question was male and desirable. After a year of training being Miss let’s-talk-about-me’s table mate, you acquire the gift to smell impending monologues a mile away. Furthermore, I’m just not as nice a person as Shanghai Baby is, if I were her, I doubt I could have resisted walking away.

TLC and MOS came to join me close to midnight, and that gave me good excuse to adjourn to their table for a breather. These 2 pals of mine from the WB era are pretty nice I must say – gosh has it been 4 years since I met them through Alvin?

And on the topic of earth’s scum, I failed to mention Alvin was at Alley Bar too. And I swear he saw me, though the bastard pretended not to.

This is crap. I’m the one who’s supposed to ignore and disregard jerks like him. Although to be very honest, I don’t bother even feeling angst about him anymore. But you know what I mean. Yeah, it took me a while after seeing him before I resumed banter with TLC, MOS and their friend who joined them ( group just multiplies..)

Enough words wasted on scums.

Moving on, the last addition to Saturday’s Alley bunch was Mantou, who made peace offerings of Moet and Chandon for being late. Bubbles are always nice. And for his generous gesture, I agreed to go down to Velvet with him “for a lil while” – I was dead tired by then, mind you.

And temporarily rejuvenated by a couple of round-the-world drinks at Velvet, I made a few rounds around the dance floor too. Before finally acknowledging my protesting feet and rumbling stomach and heading for the zouk-instituitional bak kut teh supper.

We all want to trust someone. Give ourselves the benefit of the doubt that they really care. But you know, sometimes its hard, especially when you’ve been careless with your heart before and there seems to be nothing left to protect.

God, he’s so sweet. But I’ll think: will it last?

Well, Andy/Buddha did say everything’s transient.

And so it is.

I’m going Bala again tonight. With Kiddo, Human Teflon (what a name!! way to go, Rosemary) and Rosemary – 100% sassy with her new mod crop (really nice)..

Another night of whites, tobacco and (I hope) not-bad bands.

Yup, I am not tired of it. Sure, there’s the all too familiar “I’ll-never-drink-again” post-Bala mantra I ALWAYS mutter as I struggle going into work. And the pre-Bala “I’m-going-to-watch-it-tonight” chant I do as I board Bus 97 to Bala land.

Truth is, the place cheers me up (most occasions anyway) after a lousy day at work.

And recently, there have been many of those lousy days.

When I was in sec 1, I thought the world of my seniors. I even had a crush on some of them. To me, they were worldly, experienced, or at least smarter than me.

Unfortunately, one of them is my good girl friend’s current flame.

And to put salt on my wound, as is the recipe nowadays, she chose him over me.

Whatever happened to gurl power? Or that elusive belief that we should, as our best line of defense, stand by our girl friends no matter what?

Bullshit I say.. life is life. And they were only honest when they said “life’s like that”.

Probably one day I too, will be guilty of ditching my friends. And gawd, do I hope that day will come when a guy matters so much.

Till then, I guess I can live with my own younger guy being infatuated with me.

Yes. Pure infatuation. As how transient all things in life are.

I thought I’d feel upset. About being a failure, about being left behind amidst the matrimonial bliss in Noah’s Ark. About being stuck in a rut. About the fact that I could have been married too, had Roy stayed around. About the talk about babies – how we should have more, and not terminate their lives prematurely.

About friends, whom I hold dear to my heart – and whom perhaps I still do, for all the disappointment it brings me. About how there will never be a day for me like there was today for Pling – when my friends gather to wish me well, and extol the great friend I am or ever was for them. About how all that would mean that I have not lived, loved and been a friend.

But weirdly enough, I feel genuinely happy.

For this dear old friend of mine, who although detached herself through my warped years, through my darkest moments when I lost grip on reality and through my self-destructive moments… Gave me the benefit of the doubt that I was still..or could still be the ELIS that she once knew.

At twelve years of age, in blue uniforms and yellow scarves. Climbing trees, crawling in drains and slipping down waxed ropes. Camping in haunted huts, drinking well water and roasting sausages in mud pits. Sharing tents, thoughts and fears.

I’m so sorry…

For being angry at life’s freak accidents that were no fault of yours. For distancing myself because proximity makes me feel inferior. For getting so pissed drunk on Friday I didn’t turn up for the ceremony. For being weak… because I can’t face the demons in my head.

But thank you so much. For having me as your friend.

Thank you. For making me feel like the old Shubin again tonight.

“ Day is done, gone the sun,
From the lake, from the hills, from the sky;
All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.
Fading light, dims the sight,
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright.
From afar, drawing nigh, falls the night.
Thanks and praise, for our days,
'Neath the sun, 'neath the stars, neath the sky;
As we go, this we know, God is nigh.
Sun has set, shadows come,
Time has fled, Scouts must go to their beds
Always true to the promise that they made.
While the light fades from sight,
And the stars gleaming rays softly send,
To thy hands we our souls, Lord, commend.”

The hen party I planned for pling was cancelled. Because pling went M-I-A. Without telling me. Yes I heard from another colleague.

And in the manner of SATC and Bradshaw, I thought of what Carrie would say:

“Think about it. If you are single, after graduation there isn't one occasion where people celebrate you. ... Hallmark doesn't make a "congratulations, you didn't marry the wrong guy" card. And where's the flatware for going on vacation alone?”

Yes, I am offended. And a little hurt. Because as much as I tried to share in the matrimonial bliss of my friend of fifteen years, it turns out she just doesn’t care. Disinterest, just like three years ago, when I told them I was marrying nottiimp, and all they could say was: are you sure?

Where was the champagne?

At least I cared enough to offer.

We really should not, as a rule, expect the worst to happen. Why fret over whether he’ll call? What is it about morning afters that freak us out? Why write the potential cupcake off even before we’ve had our first bite?

For all the shit that happens, maybe we should award male homo sapiens that element of the benefit of the doubt. Who knows, that self-fulfiling-curse/boon might just ring true.

Just spare me the dense yongs of the world who mar the landscape. And totally un-self-aware at that. Or over aged pilots who still want to play the field.

Instead, fill my life with dear eccentric girl friends who are not ashamed to rant at the world. Or, in a suggestingly gay manner, worry about your well-being such that they dream about you. And let's not forget the Shanghai Babies you'll never fight with over this commodity they call men.

Afterall, it ain’t easy being a single girl in this noah’s-ark-inflicted world. And a good girl friend, rather than a torturous pair of tottering stilettoed pair of manalos, might well be what tips you from being angstful, to insightful.

Yes, for every floppy-haired charmer and unattainable director, there’s a faithful girlfriend. And simple arithmetic, that’s two shoulders to cry on, for every rogue you meet.

As declared tonight, the secret to the universe is to love yourself…. and your mates who care.

But of course, still believe in that occasional gem that might just cross your path. Don’t kill that idealist in yourself, no matter how jaded.

Life is well.. life. And as far as possibilities and non-possibilities go, trust that voice in your heart that tells you “he might be the one.” Sure you’ll make mistakes left, right and center. But nobody learnt how to cycle before seeing red first.

Hugs and wishes of luck,
Drunken one post-Balaclava

Balaclava. Four whites and a one-for-one Asahi.

A senior from DHS – a brother scout @ that. And the most desirable back at 15 years of age. What is it about Chinese names that stick in my head? And promises of meeting up for karaoke night {“very soon”?

And what then, to make out of best friends I hold close to my heart who find him cute too.

Or ex-fucks who don’t even bother coming by to say hi even though his mate bumped into you unfortunately.

All in all, not a bad night. Getting in touch with my sensuality. No, no chance I’m gay. Catching up with the Barney’s and other purple kind hearts of the world.

But my heart can surely do with easier handling.

A ll our hearts would appreciate that.

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

You scored 40%
Pinot Noir
In another life you were probably Colette. You obviously have a kind of sensuality that governs your outlook on life (and on men -- but that's another story). For you, the most satisfying wine of all (and if one isn't satisfied, what's the point?) is pinot noir.

You scored 20%
Zinfandel
We hope that no one's ever tried to hold you back, because clearly you have your own idea of how the world ought to run (or at least your world). Your gusto and love of life are clear and clearly mark you as a red zinfandel drinker.


You scored 20%
Sauvignon Blanc
Well, it's pretty clear -- for you, the problem with conventional wisdom is that it's conventional. And so, when it comes to wine, it's no surprise that you're a free spirit. Who cares if everybody else is drinking chardonnay? You're different. Sauvignon blanc is more your style.

You scored 20%
Riesling
Being amenable to most things, wine in general makes you happy. But your obvious romantic side means you're the kind of woman for whom the lacy elegance of Riesling is irresistible.

By Jessica Hulett

On a recent vineyard tour, my friends Jen and David and I really tried to get into the spirit of wine tasting -- swirling the wines in the glasses, trying to decipher their complex flavors and pick up on their nuances. We were still working our way through the reds when David suggested we try a merlot.

I thought long and hard about merlot, specifically about why I didn't want to taste one. Merlot isn't a bad wine, per se, just one I've always found rather unremarkable. If someone brought a merlot to a dinner party I was hosting, I would no doubt drink it and enjoy it. Would I ever bring a merlot to someone else's dinner party, though? Probably not. I'd opt for something more exciting, like a shiraz or a viognier.

All of these reasons for my anti-merlot stance were running through my head, but instead of voicing them, I blurted out, "You know what merlot is like? Merlot is like a really nice guy who you keep on dating because he hasn't given you a reason to dump him. He seems like a great catch, but really, you're just not that into him."

Truth be told, a girl could do a lot worse than a merlot. Moms love merlots. Merlots won't embarrass you on the dance floor, provided you're not doing anything crazy like a tango or a salsa. Merlots will go to chick flicks with you, and they won't entirely hate them. Merlots have stable jobs and make good fathers and husbands.

So what's wrong with a merlot? Nothing. That's why the fact that, no matter how hard you try, you still don't want to tear his clothes off is so distressing. You know he's good for you. He's just not sexy or exciting or any of the other things that make your pulse race and your breath quicken -- you know, he's not anything like the guys who are bad for you.

Speaking of guys who are bad for you...

The Pinot Noir
Anyone who has seen the movie Sideways or taken a wine class undoubtedly knows that the pinot noir grape is one of the toughest grapes to grow. It demands a climate that is just so, and large amounts of tender loving care. It is a complex and fragile grape, but one that promises a taste well worth the wait.

You will know a pinot noir instantly. He will be woefully strumming a guitar or brooding in a coffee shop. Big brooders, those pinot noirs. They will spare no details when it comes to the heartbreaks they've suffered, the hardships they've endured. The moment you meet a pinot noir, you will instantly want to save him, to cater to his every need and erase all of his pain with love and baked goods.

Then you wait for your pinot noir to blossom into the man only you understand he's capable of becoming. And you wait. And then you wait some more. While you're waiting, the pinot noir will be eating all of your food and hitting on your friends. Not because he's a jerk, mind you, but because he has issues. If you're like me, he'll also leave you with a migraine when he's all gone.

The Chianti
The Chianti, he is romantic, yes? Chianti, made primarily from the sangiovese grape, is earthy and smoky. In a word, the Chianti is all man, save for the slight fruity aroma of dark cherry. Some have a harsh and bitter aftertaste, and that is what you need to watch out for.

The Chianti does "manly" things -- he rides motorcycles, plays pool and can sometimes be found beneath the hood of his car. He is often sweaty, muscles bulging out from beneath his white tank top. (A little known fact: Chiantis are the only men who look good in white tank tops.)

The Chianti is like a breath of fresh air. He's confident, he's sexy, he's spontaneous and, most importantly, he knows how to treat a woman. Chiantis will carry you into the bedroom, pick up the tab, defend your honor and shower you with flowers, gifts and compliments. A Chianti will make you dizzy with romance.

The Chianti, he is perfect, yes? Well, ask his other girlfriend how perfect he is. And possibly his wife. Remember that aftertaste warning?

The Pinot Grigio
On to the white wines, then. The pinot grigio is a crisp and dry wine with high acidity. Like a white starched shirt, really, which you should not be surprised to find your pinot grigio wearing. Often.

One is most likely to meet a pinot grigio at the gym. The pinot grigio likes to stay in shape. He likes to look good. In fact, you might even meet him at the nail salon, getting his eyebrows waxed or getting a manicure. The pinot grigio is not afraid to wear pink, if pink brings out the color of his eyes. He probably has more expensive hair products than you do, and his apartment is really, really clean. He does not sweat or emit foul odors, ever.

In short, the pinot grigio is a metrosexual of the highest order. So much so that it may make you uncomfortable. You will wait on the couch with your hair done and your face on while he models different outfits before deciding on what to wear to dinner. He will dip into all your beauty products "just to try them out." You will be forced to pluck and/or shave unwanted hairs from his immaculate body on a fairly regular basis. On the upside, you'll always have a man at your side who looks good, even if he looks better than you do. (Hmm, did I say upside?)

The Chardonnay
Chardonnay is one of the most popular white wines. It is mainly grown for immediate consumption, best while the wine is still young.

You will know a chardonnay shortly after meeting him because he will mention his high school football days or his college fraternity. The chardonnay was at his prime in his youth and spends his later years reliving it. If you think you can handle a chardonnay, be prepared for tales starting with, "So this one night, we were so wasted..." or "So this one night, we beat the pants off of Cherry Valley."

The chardonnay probably makes a decent living, due to his social connections and hero status in the town where he was raised. He will mention how much money he makes. A lot. You will dine in extravagant restaurants, where he will get drunk and berate the waitstaff while you hang your head and mumble apologies before confiscating his car keys and ushering him out the door.

Don't be surprised when you attend your high school reunion and notice that the guy voted most likely to marry a cheerleader is displaying chardonnay tendencies. If he tries to flirt with you, turn your name tag around and flee.

The White Zinfandel
It shouldn't shock you if when you tell people you're dating a white zinfandel they look surprised and say, "Oh really? You're dating so-and-so? Wow, honey, she's dating so-and-so! Huh. How's about that!"

It will all make sense in a few years when you, your white zinfandel and his boyfriend are having brunch together and laughing hysterically about the fact that you two ever dated in the first place.

Wine comparisons aside, Jen, David and I really did have a lovely merlot while we were touring the vineyards. Heck, we even had a nice white zinfandel. My favorite, though, was the pinotage, though I've heard they'll break your heart every time.

Mr Director joined us at INK last night. It was unexpected. And disturbing to the little inner peace I have salvaged since the affair a year ago.

I miss him. His intuitiveness. His impossibility.

And Velvet, why did he join me there? Knowing he does not know my friends. Feeling as weary of the place as he is. Well aware it would spark excited tea-time conversations amongst his subordinates who were at INK.

I really should stop dissecting last night’s happenings.

Do you ever feel like breaking down?
Do you ever feel out of place?
Like somehow you just don't belong
And no one understands you

Do you ever wanna run away?
Do you lock yourself in your room?
With the radio on turned up so loud
That no one hears you screaming

Welcome to my life

Do you wanna be somebody else?
Are you sick of feeling so left out?
Are you desperate to find something more
Before your life is over

Are you stuck inside a world you hate?
Are you sick of everyone around?
With the big fake smiles and stupid lies
But deep inside you?re bleeding

No you don't know what it's like
When nothing feels alright
You don't know what it's like to be like me

Welcome to my life

No one ever lies straight to your face
And no one ever stabbed you in the back
You might think I'm happy
But I'm not gonna be ok

Everybody always gave you what you wanted
You never had to work it was always there
You don't know what it?s like
What it's like

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked
When you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
When no one's there to save you
No you don't know what it's like

About Floppy Hair, I can only console myself with this:

"Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road.
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why.
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs, and still frames in your mind.
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time.
Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial.
For what it's worth, it was worth all the while.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.

It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life."

- Greenday - Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life) Lyrics

Has it only been 5 days? Already, I feel integrated into the sheer diversity of Brit culture. From the Camden punk, to the Canary Wharf banker, to the East-end curry seller, to the Oxford Street blond diva, to the Mortmer coffee/Whittard tea drinking lady.. to the Sir Norman Foster-worshipping architect.

God save the Queen, Prince William, and the salt beef bagel seller at the corner of Bricklane.

Back home, Bala invitations have been streaming in. And while I do miss my friends back home, I cannot help but feel glad to be away.

For one, away from the booze. My over-worked liver thanks me for its 5 days of rest. Second, away from the feeling of being alone while surrounded by family and friends. At least here in London, I am expectedly solitary - independent even - and introspection is given so much more free reign.

Day 1 (Sunday) - The East end, with its cockney-brit raw appeal, painfully-pierced punks and curry-smelling streets - Columbia Flower market, BrickLane (gem of a place - found a pair of 2nd hand Bally sandals in mint condition at £12!) and Spitalfields market (totally over-rated). oh, and getting wasted with Pat in the evening before our meal at Jap-junk-food place Wagamama. The whole 'organic' experience deserves a separate post by itself (watch this space).

Day 2 (Monday) - Lunch with Lirong at butt-freezing alley table of Pret-a-Manger (excellent sandwiches though - crayfish mayo!) and eye-opening grocery experience at ready-to-eat supermarket Marks & Specs (the microwave's your best mate). An afternoon at the Brit Museum. And my TV dinner from M&S.

Day 3 (Tuesday) - Leisurely brunch of hot panini sandwiches from italian bistro off Camden High Street. Then off to Knightsbridge/Cromwell to settle the airfare matters. Getting darned good at reading bus maps and shuffling around town on my own (credit to Guides - oh, did I mention I went past Baden Powell House). Victoria&Albert Museum, Science Museum, Harrods (all 5 floors/330 departments of overpriced merchandise), Harvey Nichols (I love all that I can't afford), H&M (Finally, prices down my alley!). Royal Ballet at Covent Royal Opera House with Lirong & Pat at night. Hmm.. Think I was surprised by how much I liked the ballet. *Bricklane salt beef bagel for supper! yum yum.

Day 4 (Wednesday) -Spent the day browsing through dusty second hand and antique book stores along Charing Cross, before hopping over to the hustle and bustle of Covent Garden - gawd I love the place - colourful is the word that comes to mind. Soho and Chinatown - funny chinese restaurants displaying sultry-faced waiters (according to pat, the attitude is an indication of the food's authenticity) and solitary braised hanging ducks.

I'm finally going! Yippee!

The Blower's Daughter
Artist : Damien Rice


And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me
Most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze
Most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...

Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to
Leave it all behind?

I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind off you
I can't take my mind...
My mind...my mind...
'Til I find somebody new