I have a confession. I am a baking junkie. I always find excuses to bake something over the weekend. Sometimes it's cos I'm going over to my mother-in-law's and 'I couldn't possibly go over empty-handed now, could I?'. Sometimes it's cos I just found a new recipe and every inch of me is itching to try it. Sometimes it's cos my brothers want to eat that certain something over the weekend. And sometimes it's just as simple as 'I really feel like having <insert a certain baked item> this weekend'.
My favourite thing to bake is fairy cakes. They're easy to make, they taste good, you can spruce them up any way you like and they are well loved by my family.
Sometimes there are success stories and sometimes there are tragic stories. This week it was the latter.
For the longest time, I've been looking for the perfect chocolate cake recipe. I mean those really rich, gooey, chocolatey, moist cakes. The kind that just makes you have one after the other. So I found this chocolate cake recipe that claims to be the perfect original chocolate cake recipe. That certainly had my hopes up. I tried it out and I found that I didn't like it. Neither did my family. I even made vanilla frosting and topped the cuppies with swirlies and chocolate chips soI could trick them into believing that they feel they really want to eat them. But it didn't work. Looks like I'll be tossing them into the bin afterall.
Ah, elusive Perfect Chocolate Cake Recipe....why must you taunt me so!
On a different note altogether, just like failed baking attempts, Life can sometimes put you in cringe-worthy situations.
'Saying "I know" in embarrassing situations can save your dignity (or make you a fool with a stain).'
When I was ten, I was an awkward, self-conscious kid. I didn't like being put in embarrassing situations (then again, who does?). Especially when it involved boys. And in large numbers.
During my school days, recess was a solitary affair for me. I'd buy my food, find an empty seat at the school canteen and quietly enjoy my meal before the bell rang. This was not to be for the day Caveman Auntie antagonised me. See, Caveman Auntie is this big chunk of elderly lady with a stern face and a booming voice to match. Caveman Auntie works as an attendant at my school. Everybody feared Caveman Auntie. That fateful day, Caveman Auntie chose me as her sacrificial Protoceratops. I was walking around with a bowl of hot noodles in my hands, looking for an empty seat when she stopped me.
Caveman Auntie : *screaming a string of unintelligible Chinese dialect*
Me : Huh? I don't understand what you're saying?
Caveman Auntie : *screaming more unintelligible Chinese dialect and pointing to a bench nearby*
Me: (oh shit! she thinks I'm a hazard walking around with this bowl of hot noodles!)
Caveman Auntie : *screaming more unintelligible Chinese dialect and pointing adamantly at said bench*
Me: Sit? Sit here? *points to bench*
Caveman Auntie : *screaming a string of unintelligible Chinese dialect, punctuating with a nod of approval and walking away*
So there I was, feeling like I had my freedom of choice (of canteen bench) stripped away from me, I sat at that bench like the docile creature I was. It was then that I noticed the group of twelve year old boys sitting at the other end of the bench. They were pointing at me and shoving elbows into each other going 'You tell her' 'No, you tell her'. This went on for a while until one of the boys walked up to me (much to the giggles of his compatriots). I bet they hailed him as a Hero for his efforts that day but I digress.
Boy : You know you're sitting in bird poop right? *laughs hysterically backed up by hoots and more laughter from behind him*
Me: (bird poop?!) *puts on the best stoic expression I could muster at the time* I know *continues eating*
Boy and his compatriots : (silence)
So you see, because they failed to get the reaction they had hoped to see (by embarrassing me to hell and back and having a kick at it) I walked away from the incident with my head held high, my dignity intact, and my school pinafore stained with fresh bird poop. I guess Caveman Auntie wasn't so bad afterall. Well, she did try to warn me. She should've gone with the softer, friendly caveman approach.
So really, sometimes saying 'I know' could save your dignity. Or it could just leave you with a dirty school uniform. Personally, I prefer the previous.
My favourite thing to bake is fairy cakes. They're easy to make, they taste good, you can spruce them up any way you like and they are well loved by my family.
Sometimes there are success stories and sometimes there are tragic stories. This week it was the latter.
For the longest time, I've been looking for the perfect chocolate cake recipe. I mean those really rich, gooey, chocolatey, moist cakes. The kind that just makes you have one after the other. So I found this chocolate cake recipe that claims to be the perfect original chocolate cake recipe. That certainly had my hopes up. I tried it out and I found that I didn't like it. Neither did my family. I even made vanilla frosting and topped the cuppies with swirlies and chocolate chips so
Ah, elusive Perfect Chocolate Cake Recipe....why must you taunt me so!
On a different note altogether, just like failed baking attempts, Life can sometimes put you in cringe-worthy situations.
'Saying "I know" in embarrassing situations can save your dignity (or make you a fool with a stain).'
When I was ten, I was an awkward, self-conscious kid. I didn't like being put in embarrassing situations (then again, who does?). Especially when it involved boys. And in large numbers.
During my school days, recess was a solitary affair for me. I'd buy my food, find an empty seat at the school canteen and quietly enjoy my meal before the bell rang. This was not to be for the day Caveman Auntie antagonised me. See, Caveman Auntie is this big chunk of elderly lady with a stern face and a booming voice to match. Caveman Auntie works as an attendant at my school. Everybody feared Caveman Auntie. That fateful day, Caveman Auntie chose me as her sacrificial Protoceratops. I was walking around with a bowl of hot noodles in my hands, looking for an empty seat when she stopped me.
Caveman Auntie : *screaming a string of unintelligible Chinese dialect*
Me : Huh? I don't understand what you're saying?
Caveman Auntie : *screaming more unintelligible Chinese dialect and pointing to a bench nearby*
Me: (oh shit! she thinks I'm a hazard walking around with this bowl of hot noodles!)
Caveman Auntie : *screaming more unintelligible Chinese dialect and pointing adamantly at said bench*
Me: Sit? Sit here? *points to bench*
Caveman Auntie : *screaming a string of unintelligible Chinese dialect, punctuating with a nod of approval and walking away*
So there I was, feeling like I had my freedom of choice (of canteen bench) stripped away from me, I sat at that bench like the docile creature I was. It was then that I noticed the group of twelve year old boys sitting at the other end of the bench. They were pointing at me and shoving elbows into each other going 'You tell her' 'No, you tell her'. This went on for a while until one of the boys walked up to me (much to the giggles of his compatriots). I bet they hailed him as a Hero for his efforts that day but I digress.
Boy : You know you're sitting in bird poop right? *laughs hysterically backed up by hoots and more laughter from behind him*
Me: (bird poop?!) *puts on the best stoic expression I could muster at the time* I know *continues eating*
Boy and his compatriots : (silence)
So you see, because they failed to get the reaction they had hoped to see (by embarrassing me to hell and back and having a kick at it) I walked away from the incident with my head held high, my dignity intact, and my school pinafore stained with fresh bird poop. I guess Caveman Auntie wasn't so bad afterall. Well, she did try to warn me. She should've gone with the softer, friendly caveman approach.
So really, sometimes saying 'I know' could save your dignity. Or it could just leave you with a dirty school uniform. Personally, I prefer the previous.
So I finally gave in to the temptation of starting a blog. Anyone who knows me will probably tell you that I'm not one who's very much into the whole www pop-culture hullaballoo - I don't own a friendster, flickr, mySpace or facebook account. Why? Not that I'm backdated, fear getting 'poked' on my userpage, have testimonialphobia or ride a high horse, it's just that I never got to the 'cheese and crackers! I think I'ma start one of those accounts!' phase. I do enjoy reading other people's blogs though. A lot. There are a lot of funny and witty blogs out there that make my day. So in that sense, I guess you could say I'm somewhat a closet blogger (or a stalker, whichever way you choose to see it...it's all a matter of point of view).
That aside, you're probably wondering why I'm starting this blog now (and I'm wondering why you're still reading this at this point). I guess I'm doing this for myself. Self-preservation, my friend tells me. They say penning your thoughts serves as a good stress-buster and I sure as hell wouldn't mind having one of those. So here we are.
Since I'm at it, I thought I might as well impart some Life Lessons along the way.Though these 'lessons' are not to be taken seriously. Seriously. It's me we're talking about here and I'm no counsellor.
'Be a shitty individual and you'll one day find yourself ankle-deep in shit (literally).'
In the company I used to work with, toilet-related issues were a constant source of woe for me and my colleagues. One of the major issues was the lack of (or rather, non-existent) washroom etiquette in the shared office toilet. Somehow, after years of human evolution, the ability to flush properly after using the toilet seem to evade my boss and his adult sons (and this follows down the generation, I later learn but that's a different story for a different time). Regardless of if they'd just pulled a number 1 or a number 2, they never fail to leave residue for the next unfortunate toilet-user to revel in. I've resorted to signs advising to 'Please flush properly after use' and 'Please keep toiletbowl clean' but they never work. Which is why I always end up mentally willing my bladder/bowel to not have the need to relieve itself if the last person who just used the toilet is my boss or any one of his sons. This is so the unfortunate next toilet-user who would end up having to flush the residue would not be me.
So one day, as is his habit, my boss walks into the toilet with a newspaper in hand and I'm thinking 'oh great. i might need the toilet and he's pulling a number 2'. Some 20 minutes later, he opens the toilet door just a crack, peeks out from behind the door and goes (my boss isn't the best English-speaking boss btw) 'the toilet stuck'. This of course mattered zilch to everyone else in the room. And it took all I had to not go 'and we should care because...?'. Everyone just kinda spared him a nanosecond glance and went back to work. My boss being the person he is of course went 'the toilet stuck' again to which one of the nicer guys in my office went 'stuck?'. And my boss goes 'ya. stuck. the water coming up'. It was hilarious how after posing that question and getting that answer, Nice Guy just pretended he didn't hear anything and went back to work - lest he'd be the chosen One to clean the aftermath *shudders*. Finally my boss goes 'Buy for me plunger at hardware shop. Opposite road. Later I pay you back the money' then he smiles this oopsydaisyIjustmadeamess look - really cute on three year old girls but doesn't work on old men. Trust me. So yea, the plunger got bought. The toilet got cleaned. And no employees were harmed in the incident.
So you see, be a shitty individual and you will land yourself ankle-deep in shit (literally).
That aside, you're probably wondering why I'm starting this blog now (and I'm wondering why you're still reading this at this point). I guess I'm doing this for myself. Self-preservation, my friend tells me. They say penning your thoughts serves as a good stress-buster and I sure as hell wouldn't mind having one of those. So here we are.
Since I'm at it, I thought I might as well impart some Life Lessons along the way.
'Be a shitty individual and you'll one day find yourself ankle-deep in shit (literally).'
In the company I used to work with, toilet-related issues were a constant source of woe for me and my colleagues. One of the major issues was the lack of (or rather, non-existent) washroom etiquette in the shared office toilet. Somehow, after years of human evolution, the ability to flush properly after using the toilet seem to evade my boss and his adult sons (and this follows down the generation, I later learn but that's a different story for a different time). Regardless of if they'd just pulled a number 1 or a number 2, they never fail to leave residue for the next unfortunate toilet-user to revel in. I've resorted to signs advising to 'Please flush properly after use' and 'Please keep toiletbowl clean' but they never work. Which is why I always end up mentally willing my bladder/bowel to not have the need to relieve itself if the last person who just used the toilet is my boss or any one of his sons. This is so the unfortunate next toilet-user who would end up having to flush the residue would not be me.
So one day, as is his habit, my boss walks into the toilet with a newspaper in hand and I'm thinking 'oh great. i might need the toilet and he's pulling a number 2'. Some 20 minutes later, he opens the toilet door just a crack, peeks out from behind the door and goes (my boss isn't the best English-speaking boss btw) 'the toilet stuck'. This of course mattered zilch to everyone else in the room. And it took all I had to not go 'and we should care because...?'. Everyone just kinda spared him a nanosecond glance and went back to work. My boss being the person he is of course went 'the toilet stuck' again to which one of the nicer guys in my office went 'stuck?'. And my boss goes 'ya. stuck. the water coming up'. It was hilarious how after posing that question and getting that answer, Nice Guy just pretended he didn't hear anything and went back to work - lest he'd be the chosen One to clean the aftermath *shudders*. Finally my boss goes 'Buy for me plunger at hardware shop. Opposite road. Later I pay you back the money' then he smiles this oopsydaisyIjustmadeamess look - really cute on three year old girls but doesn't work on old men. Trust me. So yea, the plunger got bought. The toilet got cleaned. And no employees were harmed in the incident.
So you see, be a shitty individual and you will land yourself ankle-deep in shit (literally).
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