i’m such a big fan of Audrey Kawasaki‘s work that i decided i couldn’t simply remain a distant fan and ordered two prints from her late last year, “Lydia” and “Mia & Mai”, both shown here. i thought it to be logical before eventually buying an actual oil-on-wood. the biggest jarring disappointing thing is, they still have not arrived.
we receive letters and parcels from everywhere else, but not the most eagerly awaited (and most expensive) one from USA. before we ordered, i was concerned that perhaps a topless illustration, if you will, would offend customs officials, but then we realised our concerns were unfounded because they are pretty liberal here and hardly blinked at our DVD collection when they ripped the box open, and a limited edition print sure is not for mass colour photocopy and distribution (read: public mental/moral corruption that will result in mass orgies). they are, after all, shipping crates of weapons and tanks into Abu Dhabi for an exhibition due to open in a few weeks.
but that was back when i thought the prints would be sent at least as up-to-door postage like cheap parcel services back in Singapore. i am not familiar with US services or postal theft in USA or UAE, but i thought that spending USD40 on two very light, rolled pieces of archival paper would mean the prints would arrive fine. USD40 delivers a whole bunch of books weighing a few kilos from USA all the way to Malaysia if you shopped on Amazon. some of our neighbours receive some pretty crazy parcels too.
where have my prints disappeared to?
the friendly, helpful Kawasaki shopkeeper had despatched the prints on 12th Dec, a few days later i’d asked about the prints as i had not heard from them for a while cos they were so busy, and she assured me they’d sent it out a few days before, that it takes 3-5 days and to be expecting my shiny new prints anytime soon!
i got excited and started browsing for carved frames online. then hours turned to days, then two weeks, and i told myself “be patient.” but after too many weeks, even a bumblebee could tell something’s gone wrong. the shopkeeper has generously offered to send replacements, but that we’d need to “exhaust all avenues” before they send 2 more limited edition prints.
the only way to check was the one way we couldn’t exhaust, the shopkeeper was unable to locate the receipt of the international postage for our prints, we can’t track-and-trace even if we had the receipt because it was sent as international mail. i had thought of visiting Emirates Post and waving my arms wildly in the air like a lunatic, demanding for my prints even if they were never lucky enough to have touched Emirati soil, but reminded myself there could not be a worse idea to get my luscious ass in a cell quicker and still not get the prints.
two friends thought the fact that the receipt is missing is dodgy in itself, i could see another one think it, but didn’t say it because he didn’t want me to feel worse which could not have been possible. i, however, believe somewhere along Murphy’s Law instead, and pray to the Tribunal of Intergalactic Warlords that they’d punish the perp accordingly and just please, please, please oh God, let my replacement prints arrive because Audrey Kawasaki paints so beautifully and magically, and i have been giving thanks before every meal (and only sometimes midway through meals).
unless of course the roll dropped out of a truck and rolled into a drain, in which case, O Great One, please don’t punish the truck driver unless he is an ass or through a series of assy factors all his own, that the roll really did roll out of the truck to provide shelter for a rodent somewhere. and spare the little guy in the lock factory who makes those locks.
i’m only a little more disappointed (which is almost up there along with the time my Grade 2 teacher concluded that that thieving bitch in my class did not steal my eraser, then proceeded to brazenly rub away in front of me the next day) that Lydia’s all sold out and i’m gonna have to pick another chica to replace her coveted spot on our cream wall.
but i know, there are worse things in the world – like as though we can actually compare anything to the horrors that are famine, rape and/or (depending where you are) genocide. like how does stuffing that last fry down my throat actually help global starvation? or how about Saudi Arabia‘s Deera Square, which, might i add, i am not feeling averse to at the moment because i do want my perp to be all chop-chopped.
Ravi has just left for Singapore and the self-flagellation immediately commences. i started off with 7 Lindt Dark Chocolate Swiss Thins, 3 Marks & Spencer Butter Mints, 2 chicken mortadella tortillas with cheese, mayonnaise (low-fat, i swear) and mmmm curry ketchup. i’d tried to entice Ravi to skip the Singapore meeting (resulting in possible unemployment) by announcing i was cooking chicken green curry and stir fried vegetables with oyster sauce, but since he boarded that plane full of asphyxiated stewardesses in corsets, i rolled meself a couple of sinful mortadella tortillas and completed one of those rubbish online IQ tests.
when i discovered my IQ had dropped by 6 points, that’s 1 point per year since the last IQ test taken out of teen boredom, i bit into my butter mint and filled my molars with hardened candy which i am still licking because it’s almost as good as licking my injured ego.
i forgot to give thanks for all the butter mints.