About Me
Contributors
Friends
- Ee
- N|cholasC
- Adjay
- Gary
- Phui Mun
- Cynthia
- Kel
- Dave
- Li San
- Aerox
- Azel
- Koross
- Fael
- Ray
- Stellar
- Yoshi
- Eupho
- Alydia
Links
- PostSecret
- Overheard in New York
- Overheard in the Office
- Waiter Rant
- Opinionistas
- Dooce
- Mimi in New York
- A New York Escorts Confession
- The Virtual Cubemate
- Sudoku
- Orisinal
- Superdickery
- Giant in the Playground
- PVP Online
- Penny Arcade
- MacHall
- No Pink Ponies
- Copper
- No Rest for the Wicked
- 30 Day Artist
- Celestial Order
Archive
- January 2005
- February 2005
- March 2005
- April 2005
- May 2005
- June 2005
- July 2005
- August 2005
- September 2005
- October 2005
- November 2005
- December 2005
- January 2006
- February 2006
- March 2006
- April 2006
- May 2006
- June 2006
- July 2006
- August 2006
- September 2006
- October 2006
- November 2006
- December 2006
- January 2007
- February 2007
- March 2007
Other
Monday, February 20, 2006
Oh dear
Feeling intensely curious one day, I decided to google up the ingredients of the hoity toity food I had the "chance" to sample last Monday. If anything, now I feel very guilty. Take a look at what I found:
Saffron - The most expensive spice in the world. The Saffron filaments, or threads, are actually the dried stigmas of the saffron flower, "Crocus Sativus Linneaus". Each flower contains only three stigmas. These threads must be picked from each flower by hand, and more than 75,000 of these flowers are needed to produce just one pound of Saffron filaments, making it the world's most precious spice.
In my head I imagine entire forests being destroyed in order to satiate the hunger of 10-15 tables of people, who merely looked at the brown jelly, popped in a mouthful, spit it out and refused to touch it ever again. *headdesk*
Edit: Dammit, I keep forgetting to post this. Check out my colleague's blog for her hillarious review of the dinner.
Saffron - The most expensive spice in the world. The Saffron filaments, or threads, are actually the dried stigmas of the saffron flower, "Crocus Sativus Linneaus". Each flower contains only three stigmas. These threads must be picked from each flower by hand, and more than 75,000 of these flowers are needed to produce just one pound of Saffron filaments, making it the world's most precious spice.
In my head I imagine entire forests being destroyed in order to satiate the hunger of 10-15 tables of people, who merely looked at the brown jelly, popped in a mouthful, spit it out and refused to touch it ever again. *headdesk*
Edit: Dammit, I keep forgetting to post this. Check out my colleague's blog for her hillarious review of the dinner.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Fear factor
"Hey you three," my boss calls out to us. "We're short of people for this event at a hotel. So you have to leave early, dress nicely, and go for it. GM's directive."
"What??" one of my other designer colleagues exclaimed. "But....but....we don't have any proper clothes to wear! And why do we have to go anyway?"
The boss sighed. "The person in charge of the event wants ten people from our company at the event," he explained.
For those not in the know, our company employs about fifteen people. That quota basically took up two thirds.
"We don't have much of a choice," he continued. "We'll let you go home early to change. It's a formal event, so you have to look presentable. Wear a dress or something."
"Grreeeatttt. I left all those back in my hometown," the other designer grumbled. "That's two hours away."
I flashed a wicked grin. "We'll go if you sponsor those dresses for us," I said.
The boss shoots me a dirty look. "Fine, just wear something, as long as it looks good enough it should be ok. Just tell them you're journalists, they'll understand."
Drat. So much for a getting a free dress.
Due to some unforseen circumstances (to me, anyway), we arrive late for the event. In fact, we arrived just when they start serving the first course. We were all too petrified to go in, so one of us made one of the editors come out to show us to our seats. The moment I stepped into the ballroom I started panicking. Almost everyone was dressed in suits and ties. Our company of people was apparently split into two tables, so the three of us had to sit on a table with two of our other colleagues, the rest of which were strangers to us.
I sat down, and glanced at the people sitting at the same table whom I didn't know. They stared back at me. I couldn't take it. I gave my colleague sitting next to me a pitiful look that said all of "HELP MEEEEE!!!"
He laughed. "Don't worry, just enjoy the dinner. After all, it's free food." Then he lowers his voice and whispers, "but to be honest, the food's weird."
Uh oh.
"What food is it?" I ask him.
He hands me the menu. "Umm," he looks puzzled. "I don't really know. Just look at the menu."
I take a look. Parmesan 'taco' with Woodside goats curd, golden beetroot, white asparagus, baby herbs and apple balsamic caramel. Didn't sound too bad. I looked at the plate in front of me. Two spindly stalks of asparagus was arranged in a parallel manner on the plate, with a small piece of taco which looks like it has some sort of vegetable stuffed into it in the middle of the asparagus, and four tiny round balls and fruit arranged each in one corner. A bit sparse, but my stomach was growling. I cut a piece and put it into my mouth.
It tasted......weird. But still, I was hungry, and it wasn't too bad, so I ate most of it. Little did I know that was a glimpse of things to come.
The second course, according to the menu, was foiegras and truffle terrine with a black fig tart tatin, potato galette and summer truffle oil. Huh? I had no idea what the hell all that was. Except the foiegras, which is goose liver. I took a bite of the foiegras before promptly attempting to wash it down with wine. Bad idea. Foiegras + white wine = no no. It made it WORSE. I downed huge amounts of water instead, before handing my foiegras over to another one of my colleagues, who seemed to be enjoying it. Some time later my boss came around and asked if we ate the foiegras. We had all passed ours to the same person. Our boss nicely informed us that the tiny piece we ate was worth about RM100 apiece, maybe more. Oh. My. God.
By now we were growing wary of the food, and when the third course came it became clear that it wasn't going to get any better. It was scallop carpaccio, lobster and saffron jelly with white tomato and champagne sorbet, osteria caviar and finger limes. What I saw on the plate was this smooth white flat base, with some brown jelly-like thing on top and a scoop of sorbet on top of that. The smooth white base tasted raw. Which was fine, because it tasted like sushi. Then I bit into the jelly and cringed. It was the saltiest thing I have ever tasted in my entire life. I took two more bites out of that before I gave up and decided to attack the small bun they had put aside on the table. I swear, bread has never tasted so good.
"We don't even need to get onto Fear Factor," my colleague mumbled.
By this time, everyone was swearing that they were going to the nearest mamak stall after the dinner was over. So when they announced that the fourth course was lamb, there was a huge sigh of relief from everyone attending the event. Finally, something edible! The lamb was rare, but very good, and thankfully the dessert (meringue) was alright, even if it was a tad too sweet.
The next morning the boss saunters over with a grin plastered on his face. "So, how did you enjoy the event?" he asked us.
Cue endless bitching about the food.
"I'm never going. Ever. Again," my colleague swears.
I wholeheartedly agree. Fine dining is just not for plebeians like us.
"What??" one of my other designer colleagues exclaimed. "But....but....we don't have any proper clothes to wear! And why do we have to go anyway?"
The boss sighed. "The person in charge of the event wants ten people from our company at the event," he explained.
For those not in the know, our company employs about fifteen people. That quota basically took up two thirds.
"We don't have much of a choice," he continued. "We'll let you go home early to change. It's a formal event, so you have to look presentable. Wear a dress or something."
"Grreeeatttt. I left all those back in my hometown," the other designer grumbled. "That's two hours away."
I flashed a wicked grin. "We'll go if you sponsor those dresses for us," I said.
The boss shoots me a dirty look. "Fine, just wear something, as long as it looks good enough it should be ok. Just tell them you're journalists, they'll understand."
Drat. So much for a getting a free dress.
Due to some unforseen circumstances (to me, anyway), we arrive late for the event. In fact, we arrived just when they start serving the first course. We were all too petrified to go in, so one of us made one of the editors come out to show us to our seats. The moment I stepped into the ballroom I started panicking. Almost everyone was dressed in suits and ties. Our company of people was apparently split into two tables, so the three of us had to sit on a table with two of our other colleagues, the rest of which were strangers to us.
I sat down, and glanced at the people sitting at the same table whom I didn't know. They stared back at me. I couldn't take it. I gave my colleague sitting next to me a pitiful look that said all of "HELP MEEEEE!!!"
He laughed. "Don't worry, just enjoy the dinner. After all, it's free food." Then he lowers his voice and whispers, "but to be honest, the food's weird."
Uh oh.
"What food is it?" I ask him.
He hands me the menu. "Umm," he looks puzzled. "I don't really know. Just look at the menu."
I take a look. Parmesan 'taco' with Woodside goats curd, golden beetroot, white asparagus, baby herbs and apple balsamic caramel. Didn't sound too bad. I looked at the plate in front of me. Two spindly stalks of asparagus was arranged in a parallel manner on the plate, with a small piece of taco which looks like it has some sort of vegetable stuffed into it in the middle of the asparagus, and four tiny round balls and fruit arranged each in one corner. A bit sparse, but my stomach was growling. I cut a piece and put it into my mouth.
It tasted......weird. But still, I was hungry, and it wasn't too bad, so I ate most of it. Little did I know that was a glimpse of things to come.
The second course, according to the menu, was foiegras and truffle terrine with a black fig tart tatin, potato galette and summer truffle oil. Huh? I had no idea what the hell all that was. Except the foiegras, which is goose liver. I took a bite of the foiegras before promptly attempting to wash it down with wine. Bad idea. Foiegras + white wine = no no. It made it WORSE. I downed huge amounts of water instead, before handing my foiegras over to another one of my colleagues, who seemed to be enjoying it. Some time later my boss came around and asked if we ate the foiegras. We had all passed ours to the same person. Our boss nicely informed us that the tiny piece we ate was worth about RM100 apiece, maybe more. Oh. My. God.
By now we were growing wary of the food, and when the third course came it became clear that it wasn't going to get any better. It was scallop carpaccio, lobster and saffron jelly with white tomato and champagne sorbet, osteria caviar and finger limes. What I saw on the plate was this smooth white flat base, with some brown jelly-like thing on top and a scoop of sorbet on top of that. The smooth white base tasted raw. Which was fine, because it tasted like sushi. Then I bit into the jelly and cringed. It was the saltiest thing I have ever tasted in my entire life. I took two more bites out of that before I gave up and decided to attack the small bun they had put aside on the table. I swear, bread has never tasted so good.
"We don't even need to get onto Fear Factor," my colleague mumbled.
By this time, everyone was swearing that they were going to the nearest mamak stall after the dinner was over. So when they announced that the fourth course was lamb, there was a huge sigh of relief from everyone attending the event. Finally, something edible! The lamb was rare, but very good, and thankfully the dessert (meringue) was alright, even if it was a tad too sweet.
The next morning the boss saunters over with a grin plastered on his face. "So, how did you enjoy the event?" he asked us.
Cue endless bitching about the food.
"I'm never going. Ever. Again," my colleague swears.
I wholeheartedly agree. Fine dining is just not for plebeians like us.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Aftermath
"I'm so fucking pissed," my friend M types. "I know him and he's not too bad a person, but how can he do that to her?"
M and I are chatting on MSN about her friend's emotionally abusive boyfriend. "We went to a friend's party and all she did was talk to a bunch of guy friends from class! And he drags her away to tell her about how she's making him 'look bad'. What the fuck. He doesn't even like it when she hangs out with her friends either. Hello, she's a human being too!"
"She doesn't deserve scum like him," I tell her. "You should just tell her to dump him, no one deserves to be treated like that. You should know."
"I DO!! And I did tell her to dump him. She won't. Because she loves him, and she's too dependent on him to leave." I'm facing my computer at work, but I can feel the sadness and frustration coming from her. "She's one of my best friends. It pains me so much to see her being treated like that. You have no idea how angry I was at the party. Sigh. You understand my rage, don't you?"
I do.
Love, unfortunately, is blind. It makes you walk down the path of Love completely oblivious to the dangers that lie on the way, or furthur down the road. The further you walk on that path, the more oblivious you get, until Love has binded you with chains and anchors so heavy that by the time you notice them, you're completely trapped. In despair, you don't see a way out. You cling on in fear and continue to blindly stumble down the road, despite getting trapped even further, simply because it has become all too familiar to you, and simply because you still believe in Love, even though it has ensnared you so.
The people who are lucky enough to get out know that there is a tiny fork in that road. One that leads you out of that path to your freedom. Unfortunately, that path is dark, lonely, and often filled with obstacles of their own. Some don't even realize that it's there, waiting for them. And even if you do get out, you will be irrepairably changed. Angry. Bitter. Pained, in a way that no one except those who have gotten out will ever understand, no matter what they say.
Abusive relationships leave a taint on your soul that you will never be able to wash off, no matter how you try. It is hard enough to leave, because you simply believe and fear that the pain of leaving is greater than staying. And when you do get out, seeing other people being treated the same way hurts even more. But the part that hurts the most is that you know there is a way out, but no one will ever be able to help them except themselves.
To the people who are in relationships like that, please LEAVE. It will be the best decision you have ever made in your entire life.
M and I are chatting on MSN about her friend's emotionally abusive boyfriend. "We went to a friend's party and all she did was talk to a bunch of guy friends from class! And he drags her away to tell her about how she's making him 'look bad'. What the fuck. He doesn't even like it when she hangs out with her friends either. Hello, she's a human being too!"
"She doesn't deserve scum like him," I tell her. "You should just tell her to dump him, no one deserves to be treated like that. You should know."
"I DO!! And I did tell her to dump him. She won't. Because she loves him, and she's too dependent on him to leave." I'm facing my computer at work, but I can feel the sadness and frustration coming from her. "She's one of my best friends. It pains me so much to see her being treated like that. You have no idea how angry I was at the party. Sigh. You understand my rage, don't you?"
I do.
Love, unfortunately, is blind. It makes you walk down the path of Love completely oblivious to the dangers that lie on the way, or furthur down the road. The further you walk on that path, the more oblivious you get, until Love has binded you with chains and anchors so heavy that by the time you notice them, you're completely trapped. In despair, you don't see a way out. You cling on in fear and continue to blindly stumble down the road, despite getting trapped even further, simply because it has become all too familiar to you, and simply because you still believe in Love, even though it has ensnared you so.
The people who are lucky enough to get out know that there is a tiny fork in that road. One that leads you out of that path to your freedom. Unfortunately, that path is dark, lonely, and often filled with obstacles of their own. Some don't even realize that it's there, waiting for them. And even if you do get out, you will be irrepairably changed. Angry. Bitter. Pained, in a way that no one except those who have gotten out will ever understand, no matter what they say.
Abusive relationships leave a taint on your soul that you will never be able to wash off, no matter how you try. It is hard enough to leave, because you simply believe and fear that the pain of leaving is greater than staying. And when you do get out, seeing other people being treated the same way hurts even more. But the part that hurts the most is that you know there is a way out, but no one will ever be able to help them except themselves.
To the people who are in relationships like that, please LEAVE. It will be the best decision you have ever made in your entire life.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Winds of change
I just resigned from my position. I feel so weird now. One minute I'm excited, the next I'm frightened. Happy, then sad. Reality is swimming before my eyes. The stars in the sky mysteriously realign themselves when I'm not looking. I see things from a different light. Sounds are muted. Butterflies flutter in my stomach.
I wonder if things will change at my soon-to-be former workplace when I leave.
I wonder how things at my soon-to-be new workplace will be like.
I wonder how much I'll miss this place after I leave.
Actually, scrap that. I miss it already.
I wonder if things will change at my soon-to-be former workplace when I leave.
I wonder how things at my soon-to-be new workplace will be like.
I wonder how much I'll miss this place after I leave.
Actually, scrap that. I miss it already.