having my Cake, eating it – and not counting every last calorie

of Leos, Tiger beer and toygers March 24, 2007

i ain’t no quitter. but when your husband comes back with enough KFC buckets to feed 557 tyrannosaurus rexes and their mothers, you’d be so ashamed, you’d wanna stop telling the entire world the daily contents of your stomach especially when they lack the recommended daily 2 servings of vegetables and fruits each.

since i am so results-oriented regardless of the methods employed to get to the actual goal, i’m gonna post a half-naked pic of myself one fine day, one fine year, when i am finally back to 58kg. and stop the daily meal publishing – didn’t i say it wasn’t gonna last?

so i don’t have to spend time in absolute agony trying to remember everything i ate – and can spend more time telling you about the dream in which Leonardo DiCaprio kidnapped me (yes, kidnapped me), then proceeded to stick his tongue down my throat and slide his hands down the crack of my juicy ass.

for someone who does not think Leo’s cute (although he’s infinitely talented), someone who has a thing for manly (not macho) men and not boyish men, and is still waiting for that dream where Kiefer Sutherland clubs me on my head with the femur of a rhino, then drags me back to his cave – this dream registered a big giant “huh?” when i woke up.

you know how you sometimes go back to sleep to resume the dream and it almost never works? what a bitch.

i wanted to be able to say, “yeah, i’ve done Leo.”

but that privilege remains within the superdupertroopermodel circle, not to be rationed out to those who eat KFC chicken pieces out of a bucket. although like many superdupertroopermodels, i too wanted to retch after eating 4 pieces of chicken.

it was easier to just spread myself eagle on the sofa and groan.

many Singaporeans of Dubai gathered at the JW Marriott Deira last night for Malam Singapura 2007 (“Singapore Night” in Malay). Lynda told us it was semi-formal, and luckily i jumped on Ravi to put on something better than his black linen shirt and grey sneakers because almost every man at that dinner and dance had a jacket on. some even had bow-ties, they must have thought they were meeting a Sultan and his harem of luscious, young subjects.

and i’ve observed that some older women tend to gravitate towards extremely shiny dresses, perhaps to reflect light back onto creases on their faces so the deep trenches appear shallower. a few wore heavily sequined dresses specifically made to hypnotise the lay observer, distracting him purposefully away from waddles. within this group, there was an even smaller group who might need to pay a visit to their optician to get new eyeglasses – blue eyeshadow and vermillion lipstick would attract many a “how much?” offer or scare little children.

90% of the older ladies present were so elegant, poised and articulate, i quietly wished to myself that i too would age gracefully and not give in to the Call of the Sequins when i reach 55. if people who feast on KFC ever reach 55.

when the doors to the buffet line were opened, the waft of familiar Singaporean food smells assaulted my nostrils in the same pleasurable way i’d like Leo to abruptly capture and molest me again.


  • tempura seafood + aubergines
  • sushi
  • smoked salmon
  • stir fried beef, chicken + noodles
  • arabic bread + dips + salads
  • toast (?!) + bread/buns
  • oxtail soup
  • french onion soup


  • steamed white jasmine rice
  • Chinese rendang (have never heard of Chinese rendang before, only Malay/Indonesian rendang, but it wasn’t too bad)
  • sambal sotong
  • roast chicken with brown sauce
  • chicken satay with peanut sauce
  • chicken dumplings (tasted more like fibreglass dumplings)


  • kueh dadah
  • ais-kacang
  • naga sari
  • a double-layered brown/white kueh that looks like putri salat
  • apple crumble with vanilla sauce
  • “assortment of french pastries” said the placard

for a hotel thousands of miles from South-East Asia, the food wasn’t too far from what real good rendang or sambal would taste like. the chicken dumplings and the ais-kacang were the biggest disappointments.

the emcee was hilarious, it’s great hearing Singlish jokes across four languages and that familiar Singaporean lilt. and jokes on familiar everyday Singapore scenes like line dancing and tai chi.

we made new friends and met old ones.

some had Tiger beer.

what i found strange was the number of non-Singaporeans (who aren’t married to Singaporeans/Residents) who were present at the event. but in a way, that was nice too, that we do not close ourselves off.

we had a great time, although once again, i won nothing during the lucky draw. i was hoping to win a scanner.

look at this cool cat. look at those paws. that chin! those eyes! the stripes. the colour.

NG - Toyger

i’m all for stray cats and kucing kuraps (if you only knew how many cats i had when i lived with my parents) – you can’t, just can’t love a stray cat less than a pedigree – but Toyger‘s a dream come true for those who’ve drooled over tiger/lion cubs clumsily falling all over themselves on Animal Planet or NG. apparently, proceeds from the USD3K price tag go into conservation efforts of the endangered Sumatran Tigers whose numbers are frighteningly low at 250.

hail, hail, i say.


2 Responses to “of Leos, Tiger beer and toygers”

  1. katrina aftermath Says:

    kueh dadah?? what is kueh dadah? is it legal to serve them to public?

  2. dali Says:

    kueh dadah/dadar – we also had to tell “i am Hussein from Syria” that dadah meant “drugs”, so he’d better look out for a high. haha.

    alaaa … those green pandan rolls with grated coconut and palm sugar inside?

    or you can go to this blog i like

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