Who Is Lisha?

Launched!

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 01:07:00 +0000

My online portfolio is finally live. It's been a time consuming process, mostly due to the fact that I can be so fickle when it comes to the customising. In the end, I decided to keep it clean and minimalist, but chose strong, bold colours.

I LIKE PINK AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT.

I should put that on the site. Hmm. Anyway, here it is.

http://alysiasong.prosite.com/

Sneaky Little Thing

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:04:00 +0000

So. Here's the thing I don't get: men sneaking around behind their partner's backs. And I'm not talking about men sneaking around to sleep with other women. Because that's just plain cheating in anyone's books, even if the relationship is as open as Paris Hilton's legs.

I mean things like smoking behind your partner's back, lying about going for a drink with your close friends of the opposite sex (and I'm not talking about 'special friends'), telling her you're going for a 'work function' when you're really going to the strip club with the boys. That kind of sneaking around.

I remember having a conversation with Justin on this topic quite awhile ago. It went something along these lines.

"Why do some men feel that they have to sneak around behind their girlfriends' backs, or lie about something that they've done?"

"Because sometimes, it's better for you not to know. And as much as they say 'honesty is the best policy', you women don't appreciate it when we tell you the truth. We still get into deep shit for it. If a woman told a man about something he had done, he would appreciate her honesty. Women get pissed if you tell them. And they get pissed if you don't. So might as well not tell her."

"Well, would you tell me if you did something?"

"Would you want to know?"

"Of course I would want to know."

"What if you can't handle the truth?"

"Then it's probably something you shouldn't have done in the first place."
"Good point."

I don't think some people realise the simple truth. Sneaking is cheating. If you're hiding something, you're probably hiding it for a reason. You'll probably say, you're protecting her by not telling her, but really, you're just protecting your own balls. Although, in situations like this, I'd say you don't have any, or probably don't deserve to have any.

I'm not saying you should have your balls (I seem to be liking that word today) chained to your woman, unless bondage is your thing. In which case, go all out. But, have enough respect for her to not sneak around behind her back. Aren't relationships about compromise? Of course, when a woman says "Let's compromise", she really means, "It's my way, or you can join the Rascal Flatts on the highway." Jokes aside, if it's something that can't be compromised, then she probably has a good reason for it. Unless she's as reasonable as Naomi Campbell on cocaine, in which case, you should just make your life easier and dump her ass anyway.

If you respect her and care enough about her feelings, whatever it is you're sneaking around for probably isn't worth risking the relationship. So before you embark on your misadventures, just think, is one night of fun worth two weeks of hell? You'd be lucky if it only lasted two weeks, really. The silent treatment, plate-throwing, death stares, abrupt outbursts of emotions, knife-sharpening. And then you wonder why you've got the runs after eating that scrumptious stew she just made for you.

Sure, we women do our fair share of sneaking around. We don't tell you how much we REALLY spent shopping online at Asos. Or that we weren't really just having coffee, but come on, Sass & Bide clearance sale? Hellooooo? See. The difference with our sneaking around is, it just breaks the bank. Not a relationship. Well, unless we max out all your credit cards, and you find that your savings account went from five zeros to one because we just haaaad to have that Hermés Birkin bag. That would break any normal middle-income relationship.

The topic of strip clubs came up in conversation with a couple of girl friends. They said they don't mind their partners going to the strip club. I was surprised and intrigued. I'm selfish like that. My man belongs to me, his eyes belong on me, and his ermm... belongs in me. If I wanted to share, I'd make him a gigolo and take 30%.

So I asked, "How is it that you don't mind your men going to the strip clubs?" They said their men belong to the small minority who don't see the point in it. That's not to say that they don't like it. They're just not that keen on it.

Which got me thinking. It's true. I didn't mind the idea of my exes going to the strip club, because I knew it just wasn't really their thing. One of the girls then quipped, "Actually, that's true. I didn't like my ex going to the strip club because he was the type who liked it."

And I realised, it's not about the strip club, it's about the intentions. Kind of like how you wouldn't mind giving your wife your credit card if you knew she hates shopping, but you wouldn't let her hold it for a second if she was anything like, well, me.

Sadly, I know a few guys who sneak out to the strip club without the knowledge of their partners. Truthfully, I find it grotesquely disrespectful. Not because they're going to the strip club, but because they're doing it with the knowledge that it would upset and hurt their partner. That's basically saying, "You are the sun, the moon, the light of my life, but naked chicks are more important to me than you, my love."

Bottom line. Russell Peter's got the right idea. "Be a man. Do the right thing." If you're sneakin', you're cheatin'.

Public Love

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 12:29:00 +0000

Why is it that it's acceptable to publicly display anger, hate, disappointment, dissent, and other similar emotions, yet some find it inappropriate to publicly display love? Correction: romantic love. And when I say publicly declare, in this context, I mean your choice of social media weapons; Facebook, Twitter, Bebo, MySpace, Friendster (is that still going?), you get the picture.

It's cute to publicly declare love for your niece / nephew / godson / goddaughter / little cousin / any other being who doesn't yet know what a penis can really do.

It's heartwarming to publicly declare love for your grandparents / parents / aunts / uncles / other family members who will fill up the seats at your wedding, regardless of whether you want them there or not.

It's sweet to publicly declare love for your immediate family and close friends.

It's nauseating to publicly declare love for your other half. The exception here is if you just got engaged, married or are speaking at your wedding itself.

Is romantic love something we should all hide, like underwear, only to be revealed behind closed doors? Is love purer if kept between two people, undiluted by the perception of others? I certainly don't think so. Perhaps, it is because it makes others feel excluded, that they cannot or should not comment on your declaration of love. Hence, it's deemed an anti-social action in social media. I'm just trying to dissect the possibilities here.

The hidden romantic in me believes that love is something that should be celebrated, and if you are lucky enough to have found it, then hell, why not shout about it? You gloat shamelessly when your team puts a ball in the net. So why not gloat shamelessly about your happiness?

Because before you found this happiness, you bet your ass you went through a lot of shit to get there. The heartbreaks, tears, unsent letters you wrote but didn't have the guts to send, the jealousy, the developments of stalking skills equivalent of a PI, the bi-polar moments of "I hate you, fucktard!" to "Why did you leave me?", the "Let's just be friends. It's not you, it's me. No, wait. It's you, not me. Haha." Okay, I'm going off tangent here. That didn't really happen. I'm just sayin'...

So why do we sometimes feel the impulse to publish love notes on Facebook? It's simple.

When a guy does it, to put it simply, he's saying, "I want the world to know I am yours and I don't mind other women knowing."

When a girl does it, to put it simply, she's saying, "I want the world to know you are mine, and mine only. Stay away bitches."

Okay. So maybe all that 'let's celebrate love' was just bullshit. No, but seriously. It's just another way to make your other half feel appreciated and loved, and being claimed under their 'territory' is like a signboard that says, "You belong here." And that's why we search the world over for that perfect partner, no? That sense of belonging, with the person we can look at and feel like you're home.

Random Friday

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 03:42:00 +0000

Do you ever ponder over how the weather has the ability to affect us so? While the wind is howling outside, whipping tree branches mercilessly, and the rain lashes in the face of the determined or those without a choice (suckers!), all I want to do is stay in bed all day with a hot mug of hot chocolate, someone to cuddle to and a good movie / book. The thought of trying to do any more than that just seems like too much effort.

There was absolutely no point to that entire paragraph. If you did not notice, this post is titled Random Friday, for a reason.

While soothing my cold body with warm, spicy kimchi soup during lunch with Justin, I was telling him how my record of Vietnamese 'pho' demolition in a day was five bowls. He gave me this look: -___-"

"What?? That was in a whole day, okay. From 12pm - 8pm. Five bowls isn't thaaat much..."

"Mmmm." o_O

"It's not!"

"Mmmm." -__-

Okay, to be honest, it was more like between 2pm to 8pm, but whatever. Minor details. Pfffft.

Behance, Enhanced

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Tue, 31 May 2011 05:06:00 +0000

I am totally loving the new Behance ProSite. I think it's about time they finally launched it, and I must applaud the fantastic job they've done with it.

Some of you are probably wondering what planet I'm on, and what language I'm speaking. Behance is a platform for all creative people to display your work to the community, and anyone else who's interested enough to browse through. They've finally come up with a highly customisable site, for which you pay a low price to publish online.

I'm having a ton of fun with it right now. These are examples of what you can come up with:

I'm very excited with the possibilities.

Okay. Time for the highlight of my day; Justin coming home from work.

Catching Up With Myself

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Thu, 26 May 2011 10:01:00 +0000

I hate saying this, because it makes me feel so old, but boy, has time flown by! It's already been nearly three months since I hauled my ass over to the Land of the Long White Cloud, also known as Auckland.

So a brief breakdown of the last three months:
- Hauled 124kg of my life to Auckland
- Invaded the apartment and took over like a mutating virus
- Started working part-time at Massey University
- Went on a dolphin & whale tour
- Training to be a 'tai tai'

Not exactly the most fulfilling three months. I do not recommend putting yourself into unemployment.

I've had a few people ask, "So how do you like Auckland?" Hmm. I try to be fairly diplomatic when answering this question (to avoid having feijoas thrown in my face) and say, "It's alright." And that's the truth. It's alright. To put into comparison for the Aussies, it's comparable to Adelaide.

I'm adjusting to not having trams, and have yet to learn to take buses; it proves to be a challenge when you're as directionally retarded as I am. I mean, firstly, you need to know how to get to the bus stop. Then, you need to know which direction to take it in. Then, there's having to know where to stop.

Only now do I realise how spoiled we are in Melbourne; everything you could possibly need is in the city - shopping, diverse range of awesome food, bars and cafes every third shop you walk by, clubs, supermarkets, Coles Express, Myers, David Jones, Big W, Target, Asian groceries, Chinatown! I miss having a Chinatown!

One other thing - almost everything is more expensive, especially groceries except mussels (it's crazy cheap!). I feel a stab in the heart every time I look at the price of cheese,vegetables, milk, etc.

But, Auckland does have it's pros. I've found the Kiwis to be friendlier. The landscape is so much greener and prettier. NZ oysters are way more awesome! Angus Steak House is definitely worth a mention, if you crave a chunk of delicious steak. And well, I'm looking forward to exploring more of the NZ, and not to mention, experience powder snow!

So yeah, it's alright. =)

Muddy River Mouth

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 02:59:00 +0000

I believe that's what Kuala Lumpur means. But my Malay is as shoddy as my Maths, so feel free to correct me.

Quick updates on the last week.

A last minute decision was made for me to come back for Chinese New Year, seeing as practically all my cousins are back this year. And we are quite the clan, so it's kind of a huge thing for us. Thus, to add to the statistics, Daddy Dearest flew my ass back.

The moment I landed, I remembered why I was so eager to leave the country. The pollution. The indifferent attitudes. The inability to comprehend the idea of a queue. The chaos and absolute lack of system.

But then, I got home and remembered why this is still home. The three Fs - food, friends and family. I kind of went a little insane on the food in the first few days. Oh wait. Correction. I'm still a cow pigging out, as Tina so eloquently put it. When the topic of Chinese horoscopes came up, she literally guffawed when I told her I was born in the Year of the Pig. -__-

I'm really looking forward to having all my cousins gathered together during Chinese New Year. It's going to be a blast!

On another note, things are finally moving forward somewhat. I have been tossing the idea of moving to New Zealand back and forth, and when to do so. I can finally say that I will be making the move in the first week of March. Let's hope job hunting is a little more fruitful over there. This is a record. Moving countries twice in six months.

Much to look forward to already. I'm liking 2011 so far.

Menstrual Monday

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Mon, 31 Jan 2011 02:20:00 +0000

Why do people find the idea of growing old together a romantic notion?

If you really sit down to think about it, it's like having bare-butt sex on the beach. The idea of it sends thrills down your spine. But the practicality of the situation is a far cry from what you visualise in your head. No matter how careful you are about it, sand has this magical ability to get into all the places it doesn't belong. When you're shitting sand, you'll wonder what on earth possessed you into doing it in the first place. (I'm simply describing what I imagine it to be like, but of course, now that I've said that, you're going to be even more convinced I'm speaking from experience.)

If you didn't get my elusive metaphor (okay, I kind of suck at those), sex on the beach represents the union (no shit), and sand represents all the little problems that eventually get under your skin and turn out to be one irritating level of hell.

But romanticism has no place in a world of ration and logic. And so, we continue to ignore the reality of marriage and delude ourselves into believing in that goddamned concept of 'happily ever after'. Thanks, Disney. Really. You are possibly the cause of half the divorces in this world. I mean, how will men ever live up to my expectations of a chivalrous prince on his white horse (in this case, a white Fairlady for me), fighting dragons to save me, and all trials and tribulations ending when the princess says, "I do." Then it's all rainbows and talking animals celebrating. Okay. That part, I can get over.

Thinking about it now, I guess now I know why fairy tales all end when the protagonist couple gets married. No one wants to know what happens after that. A wrinkly old princess croaking, "Who is that?" and her senile old prince - hard of hearing - shouting "FOR THE LAST TIME, YES, YOU'RE AS FAT AS YOUR MOTHER WAS!" And then, the fight started.

Having said all that, I still remain a romantic at heart. So when Justin says things like, "I want to grow old with you", the 27 year old in me disappears, leaving a giggly schoolgirl still caught up in fairy tales going, "Awww." Melt. Giggle. Blush. All that disgusting range of emotions that make people want to reach for a bucket and empty their lunch into. Because, deep down, I still hope that fairy tales weren't entirely made up. And I am now a firm believer in 'The One'.

Trust No One

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Thu, 20 Jan 2011 13:53:00 +0000

Not even yourself.

Trust. A simple word. A simple concept. And yet, possibly the most complex moral code.

To be continued...

Mee Pok / Bak Chor Mee Recipe

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Tue, 18 Jan 2011 04:20:00 +0000

Bryan Y made an awesome version of 'mee pok' last night. I had previously tried a recipe from Food Made With Love, which was really yummy too, though, possibly not quite as authentic. Before my infamous goldfish memory kicks in, I thought I'd write it down and share it. When I say share, I really mean, more people will be able to cook it for me. That really did not need to be said. Pfft.

I've combined the best of both recipes and come up with this one. It may look complicated, but it really is very simple. Unfortunately, the pig that I am, I scoffed everything before I managed to take a photo. So, I've stolen this image from Ugwug.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Minced Pork:
500gm minced pork
2 tablespoons sesame oil
1 tablespoon soya sauce
1 tablespoon oyster sauce
Ground white pepper

Marinate the minced pork with all of the above ingredients. Leave it to marinate whilst your soup is boiling.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Soup:
1 stalk of spring onions (roughly chopped)
A few slices of ginger
1 tbspn of tung choy (Tian Jin preserved vegetable)
2 chicken marylands (or 800g chicken bones)
App. 10 cups of water (2.5 lt)
Salt to taste
Sliced champignons (button mushrooms)
Fish balls (substitute with pork/beef balls if you wish)
Fish cake

Bring the water to a boil. Throw in the chicken, spring onions, tung choy & ginger, cover and let it boil on medium heat for a good 45 minutes. The longer, the better. Add salt to taste. When the soup is ready, throw in the button mushrooms, fish/pork/beef balls and fish cake. Let them cook for about 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, using a fork or teaspoon, scrape small bits of the marinated minced pork into the soup. This creates small lumps of mince which will later be placed on top of your noodles.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Noodles:
Fresh flat egg noodles
Splash of fish sauce
1 tablespoon chilli oil / bottled garlic chilli
2 tablespoon black vinegar
1 tspn oyster sauce

For each bowl you serve, combine the fish sauce, chilli, black vinegar and oyster sauce and mix. Using your hands, loosen the egg noodles. Bring a pot of water to boil, then throw the egg noodles in for about 45 seconds before draining. Mix the noodles with the sauce.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Serve it up:
Get soup bowls ready and serve the soup, along with the fish/pork/beef balls, mushrooms and minced meat. Or, if you're feeling hardworking, sieve out the ingredients and place it on top of your noodles, serving plain soup on the side.

Done. Easy peasy, japanesey.

Cooking time: Approximately 1 hr 15 mins

Under Renovation

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 00:48:00 +0000

Fickle being that I am, I have already grown out of the previous design. Especially since it is not mobile web-friendly.

Lisha's Good Food Guide

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 03:38:00 +0000

No. I am sorry. I am not about to post up a whole list of recommended places to eat. I'm not feeling that selfless today. Instead, I'm talking about me. After all, this whole thing is about me, isn't it?

Every now and then, I get people asking me about my strange and complex food preferences. So I decided to have a little think of it, and came up with a little guideline for my psychoanal tastebuds.

Chilli Queen
I believe tabasco, chili and sambal are gods of their own. Rarely do I eat a meal that does not involve me adding some form of chili to it.

Oysters are almost never to be eaten without tabasco.
Neither should pasta and pizza. So, shoot me, Italiano. You say, "That is an insult!" I say, "Franculo."
Sambal belacan is a must for all forms of fried rice, even if it's belacan fried rice or tom yum fried rice.
Soup noodles must be accompanied by some form of chili, and it has to be the right kind of chili. Don't give me pickled green chili for 'pan mee'. I keeel you.

Fish Are Your Friends. Not Food.
When people ask, "Do you eat fish?", I find this difficult to answer. I generally go with, "Only if it's not fishy." This section ties in closely with the above.

Deep fried fish is generally okay, especially when there's chili or sambal to accompany it. Fish & chips are an exception - tartare sauce is accepted.
Steamed fish really depends on the sauce, but no matter how awesome, still requires fresh cut chili to go with it.
Raw fish is A-okay, with wasabi, of course.
Anything made of fish (fish cake, fish noodles, fish balls, fish paste, what-the-fish) can go into the next bowl, thank you. For this reason, steamboats are not a particular favourite of mine unless I get to order additional meat.

Condimental Meals
I believe:

Fries should go with chili sauce, or aioli sauce. Mayonnaise just doesn't cut it.
Laksa should always have a squeeze of lime.
Nasi lemak should only be wrapped in a packet, not served on a plate or packed in a styrofoam box. What's with that? Did you run out of banana leaves? Grow more trees, goddammit!
Pies and pasties can't be eaten without tomato sauce. I'm Aussie like that, I apologise.
You can't have chocolate mud cake or a brownie without some ice-cream or cream. I go for both because I'm an unabashed glutton.

Sweet & Savoury
I am simple. Your main course is meant to be savoury, and dessert is meant to be sweet. Don't screw with the simplicity of that.

Sweet & sour. One word - gross.
Savoury pancakes & crepes is something I have yet to be able to bring myself to order. It just seems so unnatural. It's like a chimpanzee trying to be a house cat - confused.
Cheese platters as dessert is something I have yet to comprehend. It's like rolling me in mud, and then giving me a mud bar to wash it off. It doesn't make sense.

That's just a little preview. I love my food, and I am not afraid to love it a certain way. Fusspot, I am. But I promise I won't pull out a gun on you if things don't go my way. It'd be too heavy in my purse, anyway.

Anal, much?

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 23:00:00 +0000

Time and time again, I've been called 'anal' or 'OCD', much to my objection. I prefer the words 'organised' or 'neat', except that it's sometimes organised chaos as opposed to freakishly neat.

I mean, what's wrong with counting the sheets of toilet paper before tearing it off and folding it neatly according to the perforated lines? Or, arranging jars & bottles so that their labels always face outwards, and in accordance to height? I don't see anything wrong with washing my hands 20 times a day (hygiene, duh). Or even, segregating my food into neat sections so that they don't touch, my rice remains in a neat little circle, my food looks presentable and the sauces don't mix, goddammit! Okay. I admit, maybe that last one is just a teeny little overboard.

We all have our little idiosyncrasies. I know someone who plans out her wardrobe colours for every day of the entire year in her little journal. I find that somewhat sickeningly disturbing. And no, she's not a Virgo.

My point is, I did not think I was anal. Until just now, when I was in the midst of putting away all my folded laundry and realised, "Holy shit. I categorise my underwear. Is that normal?" I have one of those drawer organiser boxes, and I'm afraid I do arrange my underwear, according to types - the boylegs, the bikinis, the cheekies, the laceys and the thongs.

I also organise my socks according to type. If you're thinking to yourself, "There are sock types?", you have much to learn. Of course there are different sock types. In the world of Lisha, there are the wooly Explorer socks, crew socks, ankle socks, sports socks, dress socks and leg warmers.

With this realisation, I'm slowly starting to see the light. The bright flashing neon light that screams 'ANAL'. The kind you see outside seedy strip clubs. Except, if you saw this sign outside a strip club, it's an entirely different meaning altogether. Don't ask me why I always steer the topic to sexually related matters. It's a talent.

So yes. To my dearest Justin, whom I will be moving in with in the near future, you and I can be the freakish anal couple everyone finds crazily weird. Sweet anal love. There, I did it again!

Counting Down with Armin van Buuren

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 04:01:00 +0000

With the arrival of the new year (and the fact that Justin stumbled across one of my old blogs), I felt it appropriate to take a walk down memory lane and reminisce on some of the rubbish I've blogged about over the last seven years, and trust me, most of it really is rubbish. It only led me to realise how poor my memory is, and how I've managed to block out a significant number of events. I've decided that I'm going to try to continue recording events in cyberspace, so that in five years time, I can still look back and think to myself, "Wow. How retarded was I then? No wonder I've kept it in my 'repressed memory' locker."

This is the first time I've ever spent New Year's Eve in Australia, in all the nine years I was here. Counting down with Armin was a pretty good decision. Good one, Lisha! Although, if I was still 19, I would have liked to have gone for Summadayze as well, to see Justice and David Guetta. Alas, I am not so deep in denial to think I could survive two events back-to-back.

Ally, Bryan, Siok & I got there at about 9.30pm. We waited anxiously for Armin's grand appearance on stage. We waited, and waited, and waited... until 11pm. Everyone went wild when the screens opened to reveal the stage; a singer suspended in the air, a full dance troupe, guitarists and Armin himself.

The screens open to reveal the stage

Armin appears on stage

Lynn provided great entertainment as she tried to fend off a random Afghan guy, who was a full head shorter than she was and clung to her like Glad wrap, whilst taking the liberty to grind his crotch on her thighs (too short to grind her ass). Afghan guy would not take the blatant hints for him to get lost.

"I think you should go meet other women!"

"I don't want to meet other women. You're the most beautiful woman i've ever seen!"

"You're too young for me, honey! You're only 21. i'm almost 30!"

"I don't care! You're beautiful!"

Ally and I couldn't help but piss ourselves laughing as Lynn put her arms around us, "Why do i always get picked up by psycho guys?". Afghan guy continued to cling and grind from behind. This is what you get when you try to score free drinks without reciprocating.

All in all, a very memorable New Year's Eve. I'm really looking forward to more good times in 2011. I feel it in my bones. It's going to be a good, good year!

Secretly married to each other - Bryan & Ken

Bryan & Ally

Keat Mun & Ken

Me & Drama Mama Lynn

Me, Jevon & Rika

Bryan's failed kawaii pose

Sunset outside Etihad before Armin started

Lynn, Keat Mun, Kit, Ally & Me

Calling out for Armin

The masses of Armin fans

Me & Ally

Bryan, Ally, Pat & Ken

Pat, Rika, Me & Ally

Stupid Tongue, Kit & Lynn

bye bye 2010!

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 06:25:00 +0000

time is such a relative thing. how does one measure time? the standard practice is to measure by seconds and minutes. but sometimes, i think we should measure time by circumstance.

for example, five minutes is an eternally long time when you're waiting to find out if your loved one is going to live or die. a week is an excruciating time to be away from your lover. two months is too short when you're travelling the world. three years is a blink of an eye when you watch your children grow up.

this year has gone by devastatingly fast, and yet, a lot has changed in these short twelve months. i went from a freelancer to employed to being unemployed. i've moved countries (again), left a relationship for a new one, learnt so many things from so many people. and yet, i still feel like time is secretly cheating me and it's really only April.

the shit thing about time is, once it's gone you never get it back. where's that damn rewind button? there are many things we all wish we had done differently, but hey... suck it up, move on and look forward to the future, i say!

here are some of the good memories i've had in 2010.

TY's birthday

Lucideas 'creative getaway' @ Serendah

Cameron Highlands with a few K.A.R.A.T.S.

reunion of the DFSes

a Lucid birthday

Lucid welcomes, birthdays & farewells

got chocolate?

one of my long standing buddies - Su

my lovely Yayas - Kha Yen & Bass

more Yayas - Charlotte & Lynne

ATV quad biking with mummy dearest

celebrating my birthday with my other DFS

birthday dancing

rekindling 15 yrs of chemistry with Justin

my cyber lesbian lover - eunice

photoshoot with my whacky family

roadtrip to Rotorua & Taupo in NZ

part of working at Lucideas

the Directors plotting strategy in a Lucid water fight

i'll be ushering the new year to the groove of armin van buuren. see you all next year!! have an awesome one.

one year older, none the wiser

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 02:31:00 +0000

to be perfectly honest, i was really not looking forward to celebrating my birthday this year, because most of the people i'm used to celebrating with were not here with me. not to mention the whole planning stage, which was all up in the air right up to the very last minute. that does not bode well with someone who likes things to be as organised as i do. very unsagittarius-like of me, i know.

but all worked out fabulously in the end. after all, what could possibly go wrong with delicious food, good company, alcohol and decent music? we had dinner at Trunk before heading down to Bass Lounge.

Ally, Reb & Patrick

Jeremy, Me & Bryan

Mediterrano pizza

Pasta Bake

Raspberry meringue

the middle section of the night was a blur to me. i don't remember who fed me what shots. all i know is, ewan bought me the shot that killed me; ABC. mixture of absinthe, bacardi 151 and chartreuse. straight after that shot, bryan tapped ally's shoulder, "i think you need to take her to the toilet." how well he knows me! ally thought she'd gently lead me to the bathroom, but i had other plans. i bulldozed my way through the crowd and dragged her along.

i thought i'd made it just in time. this is proof that alcohol clouds your spatial judgement. i was half a step away from the toilet bowl when i did a projectile that landed right before the toilet bowl. ooops! not very classy.

six years ago, i asked ally, "eh. why don't we click ah?"


i definitely need more female friends in melbourne

my newly recruited CP

Jin Min & Patrick

Danny & I

"it's going to be a good, good night!

CP & I

Agwa shots with Bryan & Danny

my ghetto cousins: Jin Min, Jin Eu & Patrick

no idea what's going on here

that didn't stop me from dancing / skanking (depending at how you look at it) until the music stopped and the lights came on. i was stoked that everyone got along so fabulously (i'm starting to sound like kimora), especially ewan, bryan and ally. thanks to everyone who made my birthday so much better than i had expected!

update: i just realised i can be quite a belligerent drunk. i told a bunch of girls to get off our seats, smashed the door in some guy's face, and stuffed ice down ewan's nicely tucked-in shirt. *giggle* i apologise for my drunken behaviour.

living up to my astrological sign: the pig

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 23:00:00 +0000

i think i may have an eating disorder. an excessive-eating disorder. i am going to eat my future husband dry. and i do not mean that in a kinky way, whatsoever. okay, maybe a little of that too.

sunday went something along the lines of this:

12.00pm: yoghurt

01.30pm: chicken rice

04:00pm: chilli bratwurst with sauerkraut

06:30pm: 8-course degustation

i basically stuffed myself silly in a span of about six hours. the reason why i ate so much prior to dinner was because i did not realise we were doing a degustation. to welcome mili back, we went to Cutler & Co. two thumbs up for the casual atmosphere and excellent food. my three favourite dishes were the king fish, duck leg and wagyu beef. the desserts were pretty delectable too.

anchovy pastry wrapped in i-can't-remember-what-cured-meat

salmon with roe & capers

cured king fish, avocado, octopus and pickled cucumber

baby beetroot salad, goat's curd, apple & walnut

'mandarin duck' crisp leg, smoked fillet, foie gras parfait and lentils

wood-grilled sher wagyu, smoked corn, mushroom, onion and young garlic

sheep's milk yoghurt, granola and rhubarb granita

violet ice-cream, chocolate ganache and sour cherry

ally, mili & i

vum, mili, bryan & danny

all photos stolen from ally's camera. thanks to bryan and ally for the early birthday present! you popped my degustation cherry.

fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la!!

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 00:00:00 +0000

*gasp* only eighteen days left to go? here are some bits and pieces for some christmas inspiration.

the stag night trap

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 00:55:00 +0000

most men see their stag night as their last taste of freedom before getting married. kind of like a man on death penalty getting his last wish. personally, i think most men believe it's a get-out-of-jail-free card to cheat.

this goes back to my post about 'the sum of men and alcohol'. give a man a load of booze, get his testosterone raging, throw some strippers / hookers into the picture and you can imagine what's likely to happen. men think we're unreasonable when we say we don't approve of strippers in the picture. i quote a friend, "well, you've already paid for their services. might as well use them! there are only two men they will screw. the one who knows the strippers, and the groom-to-be." and you wonder why women have no faith in men.

it's not so much the fact that there are naked women shoving their tits in your face, rubbing their vajayjays in your face and putting your hands on their bodies. okay, i lie. it kind of is. but what is more disturbing are the possibilities of things going beyond that. this is when 'bros' make a sacred pact to never reveal anything to the hen and her counterparts.

the only reason men ever tell their soon-to-be wives they can go wild and have as much fun as they want, is because they want the ticket to do the same. only difference is, men are more likely to go way over the line. chances are, a woman's 'wild night out' probably involves a male stripper dressed unconvincingly as a police officer and swinging his schlong in her face (which, trust me, does not quite evoke the same response as tits in a man's face) and running around town being picked up by random men. and that's really about it.

a little fun doesn't hurt, and we understand that. hell, we aren't going to be absolute angels on our hen's night either. but don't forget, boys. while you're enjoying another woman's body, you're disrespecting the woman you have asked to put up with you for the rest of her life. and when you're suffering from erectile dysfunction, she's the one who will still be there for you (you'd hope, anyway).

my advice? don't start a marriage built on a lie. and don't do anything you'd have to lie about. if you do, don't be stupid enough to go on 'Stag: A Test of Love".

side note: i'm really not on a man-attacking rampage, though it might seem like it. you can blame Dexter for this post. the scene of his stag night got me thinking and brought out the raging feminist in me.

the sum of men and alcohol

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Sun, 05 Dec 2010 02:00:00 +0000

maths has never been my forte, as most would know. however, i am fairly certain this is one equation i can formulate.

men + alcohol = horny and stupid

this makes a very dangerous combination, indeed. especially when they claim loss of memory and ignorance. who's to say they have not been out traipsing around with night tramps, only to conveniently forget?

i had a friend who was told by The Tramp's best friend, that her beau had made-out with said tramp. he insisted he had done no such thing. so confident was he, that he called up The Tramp and put her on speakerphone to clarify the situation. unfortunately for him, The Tramp merely confirmed that in his drunken state, they did in fact, make-out. true story.

my argument is, sure you can claim memory loss. with the amount of alcohol you stupidly consume, there's bound to be some brain damage going on. however, no amount of arguing could possibly justify your actions for this one fact: even in your drunken stupor, you know exactly what your doing.

so don't you say, "if i can't remember, it doesn't count." it sure as hell does, buddy, because we'll remember for the rest of our waking lives, and we'll make sure you don't forget it either.

someone once said to me, the reason why he drinks til he's wasted in his girlfriend's absence, was to ensure he went past the stage of 'tipsy & horny', straight to 'i-can't-get-it-up-even-if-i-wanted-to'. on some strange level, that is somewhat endearing. unfortunately, that won't stop you from tongue raping a willing volunteer should the opportunity arise.

they say a drunk man is an honest man. they forget to mention, they also become prone to acts of stupidity like say, urinating on post boxes in broad daylight. it seemed like a great idea at the time, until they got arrested. again, this is a true story. i have great friends.

put that stupidity with the horny factor in their intoxicated state, and you get men using their penises as a GPS. and trust me, this GPS isn't leading the way back home. lesson to be learned? nothing good comes out of being stupid and horny. so drink less, wank more.

if only maths in school was this interesting. i would have paid a lot more attention.

i wish i may, i wish i might

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 23:00:00 +0000

have some of these lovely things, within my sight?

december is my absolute favourite month of the year. no prizes for guessing why, really. and so, in yearly tradition, i have compiled a few things that i have fallen in love with. this is not a wishlist, i am simply sharing some things i find aesthetically appealing.

1. Double Landscape ring by Camilla Gough (A$6,395)
2. Bird Wing necklace by Katherine Bowman
3. Garland light by Tord Boontje (A$160)
4. Marc by Marc Jacobs wallet (US$198)
5. Diamond Trail ring by Vikki Kassioras (A$2,220)
6. Instax polaroid camera by Fujifilm (A$124.99)
7. necklace by Vice and Vanity
8. James watch by 666 (US$139.99)
9. laptop bag by Mobile Edge (US$99)

more than a handful is a waste

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 23:58:00 +0000

that's what men tell women with small boobs as consolation.

do you think our brains match the size of our boobs? we know darn well you don't really mean that. it's like women telling men, "it's not about the size of the wave, it's about the motion in the ocean." we're consoling you.

we have no delusions about men preferring small breasts over larger ones. there is no such man. and if he says he does, he's lying. the only exception to this is, when a woman's breasts are so large, they sag like overripe jackfruit, point in opposite directions and have nipples the size of my face. only then, can you believe a man when he says he'd prefer smaller breasts to these gargantuan mutations.

some may argue that shape trumps size. i'm still not entirely convinced. i mean, unless the boobs in mention are seriously defected. really? you'd give up the possibility of a titty fuck just so you can appreciate the shape? they're tits, not art.

so please, do not attempt to console us with lines like, "more than a handful is a waste." just tell us how great our ass is, instead. at the end of the day, chris rock is right. "There are only three things women need in life: food, water, and compliments."

a friend once said to me, "the key to being a successful womaniser is, to make every woman feel like she's the most special woman in the world." true story.

portobello mushroom burger

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 02:10:00 +0000

seeing as the weather has been fairly warm, i thought it'd be nice to have burgers. sure, it's been tropical thunderstorms, but hell, when i crave for food, i've damn well got to have it.

thus, the inspiration for this delectable burger, if i dare say so myself.

portobello mushroom beef burger with bacon & blue cheese sauce

blue cheese sauce
80gm blue cheese
1/4 cup of mayonnaise
1/4 cup of sour cream
squeeze of lemon juice
1 clove of finely chopped garlic

cut the blue cheese into small cubes. add in the mayo, sour cream, lemon juice and garlic. mash the cheese and stir everything well until it becomes a creamy texture. easy peasy!

the burger
burger buns halved
burger patties
streaky bacon
large portobello mushrooms
2 sliced onions
finely chopped garlic (3-4 cloves)
olive oil
cayenne pepper
salt
black pepper
oregano or italian herbs
thin slices of cheese (swiss cheese or mozarella is best)
worcestershire sauce

first, the mushrooms. preheat the oven to about 180 degrees. meanwhile, line an oven tray with foil to put your mushrooms on. gently break off the stem by wiggling it. rub a generous dose of olive oil all over the portobello mushrooms. they tend to soak up the oil. then sprinkle some salt, pepper, cayenne pepper, herbs and garlic all over. marinate them for about 15-20 minutes.

once the oven is heated, pop in the portobellos and let them cook for 10 mins before turning them over, and let it cook for another 5 mins. when that's done, put your cheese slices over the mushrooms (facing upwards like a bowl). pop it back into the oven to melt the cheese.

meanwhile, sautee your onions til they start to turn transparent. add in a few dashes of worcestershire sauce and some black pepper.

fry the bacon til crisp. fry the burger patties. butter your burger buns. put your burger patty on, some blue cheese sauce on top, the portobello mushroom and lastly the onions on top. cover with the other bun half. you can opt to put your salad in the burger as well, but i found the burger to be barely manageable as it was. hence, the salad on the side.

enjoy!

is there such thing as a simple life?

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 01:07:00 +0000

life is only as complicated as you allow it to be.

that's a bold statement, isn't it? how many of us can honestly claim to not have a complicated life? i, for one, was born into the world with complications. from having a hole in my heart (not an uncommon defect in newborn babies), to my parents arguing over my roman name and not registering it, which has resulted in a lot of minor inconveniences throughout my life.

not to mention the rest of it: divorced parents, multiple step-parents, being thrown around from house to house whilst growing up, not knowing how to address my mother whenever she came back from the other side of the world, growing up with a minor identity crisis, so on and so forth. (i'm really making it out to sound worse than it really was.)

so, it's only natural that the rest of my life is abounded with complications. and i think it explains why i constantly feel the need for change. which, brings me to this new look for my blog, but not the topic of this post. i digress.

i had conversations with a couple of people regarding the simple life. can we do it? by the simple life, i mean living in a world with minimal materialism. imagine life on a farm, or on an island. getting by on a day-to-day job with no worries of how to get a pay rise and that next promotion. taking pleasures in the simple things in life like having a stroll in the park or spending your day out in the garden.

for those of us who have had a taste of the luxury life, it's not so easy. but i don't believe it can't be done. i did, after all, spend some formative years on kangaroo island and believe me, there's not much to be materialistic about over there except how many acres of farmland you've got.

things are a lot less complicated there. until you find out your father is screwing your best mate's mother.

i shall continually strive for that elusive life free of complications. one step at a time. there are still so many steps to go.

the transitional year

noreply@blogger.com (Alysia S.) — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 09:09:00 +0000

it's been so long since i last wrote here, i could barely remember my own blog address. kind of like how i never lived in my own house, i had to store my address under 'Notes' in my phone. kind of says something, doesn't it? what exactly that is, i have no clue.

so here we are. the year twenty ten.

seven years ago, i had this whole ten-year plan drawn up with angela, also affectionately known as 'pole'. don't ask why... it's so lame it's not even worth wasting effort in explaining. if things had gone according to plan, by now i would have:

- taught english in japan
- taught english in dubai
- saved up AU$ 80,000
- gone backpacking
- created a fashion line

the closest i've gotten to the first and second is doing creative work for British Council. the closest i've gotten to goal point number three would most likely be on Facebook Texas Hold'em. traipsing around South East Asia for 4D @N holidays is pretty much the closest i've come to backpacking. and as for creating a fashion line, i just trekked down with Su down to the clothing wholesalers in Pudu, bought a whole bunch of stuff and sold it off online for not much at all.

so, i guess what i'm trying to say is, i really have not accomplished all the things i thought i would in my fairly realistic ten year plan. this is the part where i go, "oh, shit."

admittedly, the last three and a half years were never anything in my mind but 'temporary'. now that the time is nearing when i need to ship my ass back to the land down under, anxiety is starting to creep in because the time for me to start building a real life is looming up ahead.

but whoever said you had to live life permanently? certainly not Kris Allen as he's being killed by local radio stations singing 'Live Like We're Dying'.

i digress. this entire rambling of a post was just simply about me saying, "shit. i'm twenty-seven this year and i need to get my life on track." the part i have yet to figure out is, what does getting my life on track mean, exactly?

right now, i'm simply aiming to get to Europe before i hit the big three-oh. which right now, means working like an illegal immigrant in search of a better life.