Musings…

Have you ever wished you could curse someone so bad and they just drop dead the next instance? I mean really, really DROP DEAD? Yeah, I know cursing for someone to die miserably, excruciatingly, horribly and repeatedly (if at all that is possible) is against any religion but at times like these, I’m tempted to throw all sense of conscience and religion out the window. Put it simply, my car got broken into about more than a week ago before I left for Korea, and my laptop stolen - my laptop which equals a lot, and I mean A LOT of hardwork, tears, blood, assignments for my job, one in particular which I have been working on for the past year, all contacts - personal and work related alike, email correspondences in my Outlook Express, investment profiles, pictures collected over the years, music (loads and loads of them, my own compositions included)and other miscellaneous items I might have missed out so far to boot. Oh, what makes it worse, the backup portable harddisk was stolen together with the laptop (I had the harebrain to put the backup device in the laptop bag as well, never thinking anything like that could happen to me - that makes me a great ignoramus I suppose), so I was quite so essentially dataless and so very, very unbelievably lost for a while back then, especially since I use my machine to work day in day out. I still am right now, and reliving that trauma the first few days after the break-in makes my blood boil somewhat and there’s an itch somewhere that can’t quite be eliminated with however much of scratching. I am still toying around with the thought of getting a bomoh or resorting to whatever black magic there is just to make the bastard pay double, triple, ten times, one hundred times what I have suffered ever since and am going to suffer until all data is restored. It would take a lot of time yet, that much is for sure. Particularly the presentation for my company, which is due for launch at the end of the year. Most of the data there was written by me, coupled with a freaking heck lot of hyperlinks (the entire file fits just nice into a CD - that’s how big it is), and with the backup lost, there’s no way around it except to rewrite and relink everything all over again. Oh, what frustration I feel just thinking about it…and dreaded indeed are the days to come when I would have to slog over my pc to redo what I have so painstakingly done over time - with a deadline to chase at that. What a lowdown no-good @&#^%&^%!@$&@*#$ that animal is, and I hope you soooo burn in hell for your no-life, no-benefit existence. Even the bloody scum in a shithole at least serves its purpose as foodstock for whatever microbes that live there…but I seriously wonder what your purpose here is in this world if you are to go around stealing what’s not yours for easy cash. Calling you a f***king piece of stinking, loathsome shit is a total insult to the shit honestly, and you’re so much a waste of good air and space on earth. I wonder if ever there was a time you had the conscience to wonder what inconvenience and heartache you have caused me and doubtlessly a number of others..likely not since you’re such an unscrupulous prick in the first place. Raaaggghh!!

And Eunice’s string of bad luck period is back or so it seems. A few days after that, the phone got resetted, and my recent contacts from April 2006 onwards were wiped out. So if you’re a new friend or someone I’ve exchanged contacts with recently, please be so kind as to forward me your number and details once again. Really appreciate that and thanks in advance.

Oh, and last night after returning from Korea, I had the bad luck to find out that my driver side window got crashed into once again…in the supposedly secure location of my condo parking lot. I wonder what the security people are doing. Heck, money out again to fix the damn thing and have it tinted. Seriously, this spell never ends once it’s got its steely grasp on you. Though, thank god once again for the people around me who made me feel that it’s worth it to trod on this prickly journey despite the thorns that injure…you know who you are. My dear Pluto, thanks for helping me fix my car window twice in a row and for consoling me when I was crying oceans over my lost machine. Oh, for taking me for that wonderful massage session too - very, very much appreciated really heehee…don’t know what I’d do without you. Siiiiggghhhh….anyway, no use looking back anymore and crying over spilt milk…I’ve got some to update on my interesting trip to Korea - actually I’ve got loads to update. It was a good trip, albeit being a little too cold for my liking and a little too tiring. Will do so once I shift myself into work mode to go laptop hunting once again. Lots of pictures to share too, so till next time, tatta!

It’s my favorite-st time of the year again - time to be merry and young and carefree enough to feel the magic behind a beautifully lit tree with colorful presents underneath,stuffed turkeys,Yuletide logs, and lots & lots of wine and champagne! Yeah, it’s really beginning to look a lot like Christmas now with all the twinkling lights on the holly and Christmas trees in the malls and hotels.There seem to be a faint jingle of bells and jazzy tunes everywhere about chestnuts roasting etc…and I’ve been feeling this sparkly sensation - like bubbles in a champagne bottle - for weeks now. What’s special this year is that there would be snow - we leave for Korea this Sunday, yahoo!The tree at home has been up for weeks now…and still the mad shopping around hasn’t quite ended…in fact it’s only just begun!Ahhh… seems like the year end gives me the license to overspend and so completely ruin my budget sheet haha.But I do so quite deliberately and happily…for where’s the splendour and joy in a festivity when you can’t splurge and go a bit out of your mind (or league)? Heh.

Oh, and here’s a shoutout to all my dear friends out there.Hope the gift of happiness and bliss will be with everyone this joyful season. I say ‘bliss’ because I know for a fact that some of you may still be grieving over what has been, wondering what could have been,and seemingly have arrived at a crossroad whereby there isn’t a clear view of the future but there are important and pressing decisions to make nevertheless.I know it’s not easy when there are so many uncertainties in life…and it is rather intimidating to know that the one choice you make may affect your entire life but still,maybe that’s what makes it all interesting in the first place…maybe we all just have to learn how to take the good and the bad together. Whatever it is, remember you have a friend in me and even though it may seem like I can’t do a mite for you, I’m a good listener and I have quite a sturdy (if small) pair of shoulders to cry on. Hopefully the magic of Christmas will grant you a peace of mind and strength in spirit to do what you have to do when you have to do it.Cheers all!

From the Writer’s Slate

(Oh, do check out my Xmas tree and goodies hehe..I’ve posted up some pictures of my fav reindeers and santa and snowmen…)

To my dear broken hearted friends. I remember writing on my wall when I was about sixteen: the saddest tale of the human heart is that of goodbye. There is no other word more potent, no other word more conclusive or final than goodbye. It marks the closing of a chapter. The shutting of a door to what we are familiar to thus far. The end of the road that we have traveled on for a certain amount of time. An ending, especially in the relationship department can be particularly painful, since we are bestowed with a fully functional brain capable of storing the most minuscule memory, however brief, however insignificant at that point of time. And at that, there is no way at all those memories would leave us in due time unless we get banged up pretty seriously in the head and develop an amnesia.

In tales of loss, separation or death, these memories can become a curse. It is what holds us back most of the time in the past, makes us yearn and yearn and yearn for what has been, and turns us into love fools wondering time and again how it might have been if only we hung on for one more night, one more time. In the dead of the night when we are alone in our beds staring up at the ceiling, we might find ourselves wandering back to the days of yore, capture an affectionate smile in the golden sunlight, a flash of happy moment suspended in time, picture perfect. We may hear the whispers of love and laughter long gone but not quite erased, grasp again the warm embrace and the familiar tangling of fingers intertwined. And get sucked into that compelling but dangerous world that only belonged to us and the person we held closest to our hearts. It is a dark, forsaken place to visit, especially when wounds are still raw and hearts are still bleeding. But many are drawn to the temptation nonetheless. Like fluttering moths to light, they race back to the sparkling ethereal joy that romance and love brings, even after that world ceases to exist but in their minds.

Yes, I’ve been traveling down memory lane for quite a bit of late…not necessarily my own, but that of the people near me. Transported back into time, I walked their paths, heard their stories, acknowledged their trials and tribulations, and understood their pain. There were dramatic tales aplenty. And in their rage and confusion, laced with alcohol in their systems, they asked why, why and why when all of the time the answers were staring back at them unblinkingly.

See me, the answers whispered and taunted. The world isn’t made of fairy tale substances. It is a wicked, wicked place interwoven by lies, deceit, violence, betrayal, scandals and pain. And just because we have a conscience and stand by our principles all the time doesn’t guarantee that we would end up with a partner who thinks and perceives things likewise. And unlike a perfect situation, good isn’t always paid in kind. And bad does not always end up the loser. At times, giving our very best does not insure us from heartache. Well, life isn’t always fair. I guess most of us know this quite intimately already by now.

And so, I found myself surrounded by a deep sense of solemnity and dejection as the broken hearted struggled on to find their inner peace:

How could one be so cold? So unfeeling? So harsh? So lacking of conscience? How could someone we love so much hurt us so much? How could a person just love and leave…built up a world together and watched it crumble in front of their very eyes without so much as a blink?

I could only gape back in return and offer them my silence. Words would slice, I know. And how could I advise on the delicate matters of the heart when I am not involved and it is always easier said than done? I’ve been through my fair share, enough for me to know that it is easy to tell someone to forget the past and move on. But magnificently harder for one to really destroy the emotions that have taken root for quite some time and leave everything behind. Worse, there is no right or wrong. No black or white. But multiple shades of gray. Solutions one can never quite put their fingers on no matter how much they try.

At the end of the day, all I could offer is that love never promised to be a bed of roses all the way. And though it is hard, we should learn to take the bitter with the sweet. We should see love, like life, as a journey mapped by our memories through the years…memories with the different people we have shared our lives with at one point or another. We all arrived in this world alone, and when we leave, we’d take no one and nothing but ourselves. And during our lifetime, not one person really belongs to us for us to carry forth forever or however long we wish to. People come, and people go, individuals with their own rights and own mind, and at that, own paths. Paths may meet and paths may diverge. But we need to walk on and on until the end and hold on to the faith that if we moved on, we would find other interesting characters to build our memories with, characters we might never have the chance to meet if we were too blinded by the past and what has been. After all, the closing of a chapter means the starting of a new one. The shutting of a door would lead to the opening of either a window or another door. And the end of the road beckons us to find a new, possibly enchanting path, the way travelers had long before there were roads.

So my dear broken hearts, be gentle with yourselves. Grieve or cry if you have to. You are entitled to. But don’t beat yourself lowdown. Leave a bit of vitality and faith to move along the tide of life as best as you know how as soon as you can. And hopefully we’ll all keep building memories – good ones – all the way to the end. God bless all.

            You know there are times in my life when I really REALLY wonder what era we are living in. Human beings have come a long way from those cavemen years whereby men dragged their women by the hair and dominated most of everything that there was to dominate. A few centuries later, the same seeds of dominion still exist in society today, whichever way you look at it. Which is a bloody sad fact for the fairer sex, really. I’m not getting all feminist here.

            It’s just that I am sick (read S I C K) and tired of being suppressed in most of everything I do just because I do not have two balls in my pants. At the publisher’s earlier, I was told that I could not be paid the price promised for my manuscripts…no why, just a statement I had to digest and accept. Oh, I was expected to accept that with grace too, imagine. The director threw quite a fit when I reacted by asking why. Obviously I was not quite so picture perfect then, but wow, that was news. After the bastard stormed out on me and left me with his assistant, I was asked by this woman “Why do I behave like a ‘jantan’/male?” I was stunned into silence. According to this lady, let the old man fume and rant and act like a psychopath if that was what he wanted. And *gasp*…I get the impression the silent filler was “because he is a man, he is entitled to”. Or in other words, “because you are a woman, you should take a step back.”

            “Let him do what he wants laa…why must you react like that? Be more womanly laaa…be more flexible and receptive…” Be more womanly? I suppose she was referring to our traditionalist point of view where women should be soft, gentle, unassuming, tolerant and submissive. By this time I was circulating in my head a series of expletives I was hoping did not get past my mind and onto the tip of my tongue. And then, I wondered if he would have dared done that to a man and risked getting himself flogged in the a$$. This was discrimination. Just because I looked soft and small and unable to fight for myself or stand up for myself doesn’t give anyone the right to do this! Nor for that hare-brained woman to brand me names and question my feminity just because I took the initiative to speak up and be heard!

            I’m like, hello, woman. When it’s about business, I have no sex, no gender. I am not a woman nor am I a man. Take me as a bloody hermaphrodite or a sexless human being if need be, but in this case, I am a business associate. Where is the respect I deserve?

            It is appalling how many women are still living in the ancient times in mentality when it comes to this. And being someone who is not so conventional, I get a lot of flak all the time for not behaving like I should. I’m either too impulsive or hard headed for my own good, or at least that’s what they tell me. Not only in cases such as these, but also in other situations more personal. Some of my girlfriends tell me, refrain from being so direct and outspoken (refrain from crushing ballooning egos, in other words). We are women. No matter what we still have to listen to the men in our lives. It is our fate to do so. They even say that when they end up being left behind or treated like a doormat. Submit to fate. If you have chosen a husband who is violent and abusive, that’s your choice. And so on and so forth.

            A good thing I never believed in fate or predestination. I was swayed of course that few times in my life. Mild discrimination like the ones we see on an everyday basis in our lives has a tendency of hiding behind a nicer word: tolerance. Bite your tongue and tolerate when you end up having to wait for the men in your life as they engaged in things that made them happy even if it took all day and even if it killed you of boredom and unproductiveness. Tolerate their infamous egos and be prepared to have yourself shot down and dragged through the mud just to make them feel above you or better than you even if they are not. Tolerate when they need their time out and come home drunk/abusive and wreck up everything in sight. Tolerate when you are told what to do for no reasons at all but just because they said so. Tolerate despite not getting what you want when you want it most. Tolerate when all you want to do is speak your mind and tell the truth but the truth would be a painful pill for them to swallow. Tolerate when you have a few questions to ask but in return they get all defensive and tell you in a nicer way you should just shut your gap and trust them whatever it was they did.

            Yes, tolerance is a nice little word. We all want to be tolerant. It is a good characteristic after all. But what of suppression? And the freedom to be who you really are or want to be? And to speak what you really mean? How many times can a woman in our country today look into the mirror and see their true reflection instead of the person moulded by society’s views on them?

            So I am not very feminine. So I am not exceptionally gentle, or submissive or soft. Yes, I am outspoken, I am hardheaded. I may have two imaginary balls and a lot of testosterone to most people I know. I work like a man. I handle my household like a man. I argue like a man at times. But I am only fighting for survival in this harsh world and for my right to be me and stand up for things I believe in. I may not be a regular conventional woman living a conventional life, but with all due respect, SO BLOODY WHAT?

Damn, do I regret taking only one photo of my hyper bunch of ex-college mates during the gathering last Friday. Was moving in a daze after a busy,busy day of work and only remembered that I had a camera in my bag when we’re about to leave. Blame it on the aging brain cells. But wow, it’s been a long time now hasn’t it? Good to see how everybody has changed..or not,in different aspects..all has flourished in their careers,great to know (and some also in size..heheh).And it’s been nice catching up with two of my closest mates during college, Karen and Amy.. and poignant indeed to reminisce the times gone by when we were just a bunch of teenagers with no certain aims whatsoever in life, beside playing pranks on people,painting the whole town red and being overwhelmed by our love lives back then..fast forward to now, Karen is getting married to her college sweetheart Will in December and Amy is engaged, both flashing their blingblings on the fourth finger and getting squeaky and excited to finally being able to take the plunge. *Sniff*sniff*. Aww man where has Time gone? Wasn’t it just yesterday we were ploughing through the dark corridoors in Sunway Pyramid on a shopping trolley in the middle of the night, upsetting the security dogs? Sigh.Miss those times.It’s true isn’t it the phrase: youth is wasted on the young ? We never knew well enough how to embrace the moment and appreciate everything that we had back then,the good and the bad…a little bit of fuss here, a little bit of grudge there, a whole lot of complaints everywhere, and the years have flown by bringing us to today,as we come together and fondly remember our yesterdays, cherishing the bitter along with the sweet, longing for that trip down memory lane.CMP rock-ed big time,didn’t it? Here’s three cheers to our 8 years of friendship and to the many,many reunions that would come along in the near and distant future. Don’t any of you be a stranger now,ok? *wink*wink*

"Noooo…you go back there now and buy the ring for me…buy the ring, THE RING for me…get it?" a voice reiterated with a lot of passion.

    In case you’re wondering, no I did not overhear a conversation between an overzealous woman trying to milk her partner dry for another precious stone on her finger. I’m sitting in the cyber cafe, shooting like colored balls in my game of Chuzzle as usual to pass my lazy Saturday, and to be quite honest, cannot help feeling a little amazed by the world of games, gamers and all those mythical creatures that only exist in their world.

   "Faster.." the person persisted. "Or else i g.g already ***tooting g.g I tell you..hawhaw…do you know what you’re doing? Oh my gord, there’s the banshee…a banshee, u know?…a woman ghost…OH, OHHH, I die already…faster revive me…"

    I stifled the laughter bubbling up my throat. A series of guffaws erupted followed by blood curdling screams……from the bunch of young MALE adults sitting on the row opposite mine…presumably the team has ‘died-ed’ murdered by the banshee or whatever woman ghost they were battling…

   "Hoi…bloody cheating man…the killer is waiting by the base to toot***toot***tooot me…"

    Mirth oh mirth…I shake my head in amusement and roll my eyes. It’s a wonder how people like me from the ‘outside’ world could ever get used to that twisted (arhmm…I mean magical) journey gamers indulge in every once so often…nor could I get used to the transfixed faces once the game begins…the kind that translates to "smash my car into pieces for all I care so long as I’m playing…or cut my nipples and feed it to the pigs…as long as you don’t disturb my game…" You’d wonder whether the soul has flown away leaving just the pulp that’s the body. Oh, and did you know it is the biggest sin EVER to leave an online game that’s ongoing? Arrgghhh-exasperation…But then what would a non-gamer know,I’m thrown the question a gazillion times…yeah, you’re right, what would a person who only thrills in shooting like colored balls know now would she? Erm..I’d say I know something about…reality maybe…and realization that the whole world whizzes by while the game is ongoing…

    Admittedly, it’s kinda cute at times though, especially when I’m an observer like I am today with nothing to do to pass the time…here I am witnessing the so-called ‘male-bonding’ session first hand…amidst the heehaa and hoohoo and toottoottoot litany of curses, I could almost feel the easy camaraderie between the big boys. It reminds me of youth and a sense of being carefree somehow…god knows I need to be reminded sometimes in this rat-race life…

   Anyway, I’m just posting to pass the time and also to let those people who are wondering what’s happened to the crazy blogger know that I’m still alive and kicking…too many vacations…too many agendas…and too much moving about makes lazy bones I must say. But it’s been all good. After Phuket, there was PD, and then, there was Genting, followed by Penang. Time to settle down before the big vacation of the year early this December…Korea Korea here I come! Yippety hoo! :p Rightey then, cheers everybody…don’t be sadsad, Raya Hols are over & time to start the engines and get some serious work done before the year end festivities get you into a lazy hazy mood yet again. Muahh muahh.

Dear Friends,

In case you’re wondering why you cannot find the pictures I said I’ve posted, they’re in my blog. You won’t find them in my profile. Just posted the pics for Eddy’s Wedding & Mark’s Bday. So you know where to find it when you want to. Cheers people! N have a spanking good day!

ET

Looks like it is, as some people are really taking the liberty in piling up ‘nice’ little tidbits about me in my testimonial column I see…tsk tsk tsk. Aww come on, people, give this girl a break, will ya? I’m just an innocent soul, sipping my afternoon cup of tea, and suddenly…whoa, bombardment of the year piles on me! 

            First of all, Jess made a comment that I’m an old hag…ok, point taken because if my age should be judged by my crazy shivvying and jiving around here, there and everywhere in the night spots, that’s quite so the thing of the past…I don’t dance much anymore. Creaking bones don’t allow, what to do? So fine, I’m OLD but at least I’m growing old with grace hahaha. And purreezzee…I don’t pole dance in public…not that wild and crazy laa…you’re smearing my *angelic* reputation, so I need to cook up some sort of retaliation to that. (In other words *Smacksmack hithit kickkick* for possibly getting me into hot soup!)

            Next, I’m an intimidating ogre… RRRrrraaawwwwwrrrRRRR…that’s your cue to run and hide behind the bush, Joel and Paul ahahhaha. But come on, I ain’t no man-eating beast. I’m just doing moderately well in my career…thinking of giving up writing in fact because I’ve hit some sort of snag and I’m quite brain dead when it comes to writing, alas. So does that make me more approachable? *wonders*

            Oh, that part about me freezing in the cold is quite true though, along with being patchy and purple when the temperature dips…bad blood circulation laa, what to do?…Don’t remember the cold making me moody though…Val knows me well hahaha. And I’m impressed you still remember what I said so long ago – that my greatest fear is to die a cold, cold death buried underneath the snow. Haha. But of course, imagine every part of your body frozen but you are not brain dead yet, and you’ll know what I mean. Ok, so the part about me being a scaredy cat is true too, I’m sure many are hopping in their seats, ready to pounce and give me their bit on me being a scaredy cat…can add another one here, scared of people like you guys spilling my innards for all to see on my page hahahaha. Just you people wait until I hand you one in return, so start getting individual profiles of your own and stop hogging on Vince’s account!! That’s an order!!

            And Kevin. When did I ever rant, cry and laugh in a few seconds? That sounds like the perfect character…for Psycho 3. I’m not that emotionally mal-balanced laaa. You’re melodramatic enough to be a best-selling author, friend! You should try it some time hehehe.

            Paul, you just scared away the remaining good men within 50 m radius of me. The shmack in the face was for the drunkard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself, remember? Whheeewww, glad I have that clarified now…

            And Pris, you’re right, I’m a wuss…I puke at just about anything…you remembered hahaha…how…moving indeed. Suddenly, my stomach feels like it is…moving…hrmm…

            Anyway, nice to hear all these quirks about myself…anybody has anymore quirks to share? I’m compiling 1001 quirks of Eunice Tan, since it is take-a-jab-on-me week. If you have something more private to share, don’t do it here on my blog comment column or on my testimonial column…PLEASE PM me…or I’ll have to do you in once and for all. *Blekkkk*

Understanding the words gone unspoken

Deep faith that promises made would not be broken

That even in absence, they will remain true

Conviction without question whatever hardships to pull through

And then there’s the quiet in the aftermath

Of patience and tolerance and restrained wrath

Holding back spews of fire meant to wound

Knowing well things would get better soon

Laughing over jokes others fail to comprehend

Soothing disappointments with a touch of the hand

A pat on the back in way of congratulations

Recognition for rising above one’s trials and tribulations

A smile when no words could penetrate the darkness

A simple bear hug to signify forgiveness

A tender moment when only eyes communicate

Unwavering emotions that need not be said

A kiss of reassurance when inferiority rules

An acknowledgement that mistakes and imperfections are not only meant for fools

A whisper of the breath to rekindle passion

Intertwined fingers for a shared vision

A gentle massage when frustration reigns

A moment of solitude to reflect on losses and gains

A bow of silence in respect of one’s failure

The graveyard of broken dreams he must endure

Yet many are not privileged to discern

That sometimes the best words are those left unspoken

And silence is more potent than anything else one can say

It is what equilibrates all the clamor in the world today 

Over last weekend I had a pretty horrific experience with a hair salon. Late last Saturday, I had a little bit too much time in my hands and being stuck around the SS2 area, I found myself loitering in of all places, Atrium, after Mr Smartypants told me it was the way to go if I had a few hours to kill. Unfortunately, I finished coursing through every corner of Atrium within 15 minutes – there was nary anything interesting to see at all.

Alas.

So I thought, I needed a hair treatment pretty badly because after gallivanting under the sun and in sea water in Phuket two weeks back, my highlights were quite so wracked.

            I scouted around for a bit, and in the end, passed by this salon that had a few of its workers standing out in front of its door, beckoning potential customers to come in. Hmhh, a good marketing gimmick, I thought, as the lady explained about what I could do and checked at a few strands of my curls. And it didn’t cross my mind at all that the only reason they were standing outside was because there was hardly any customers at all inside. Being in the cosmetic/ haircare line, I thought, how wrong could it get? I just need them to slap some treatment cream on my hair and put it under the steamer and walla, I was done for!

            Boy, was I wrong. As soon as I sat down, I had shampoo poured onto my scalp as though to trap me from leaving. We haven’t even discussed about which treatment I was going to take. And I haven’t discussed if I wanted to have it done here! This feminine guy came out and explained in his long winded way about something called the color treatment. It was 3X more expensive than the normal treatment for damaged hair. After contemplating for a while, I declined. Didn’t need a color treatment, I told him, since I was planning to get another highlight soon. The man didn’t look pleased and handed me over to this young Malay girl, who told me she just ruined her own hair a day ago because she over-timed the rebonding treatment. Oh, very reassuring indeed.

            And so the treatment cream was applied none too gently, and the steamer used. Soon, it was time to rinse and style before I could be on my way. Sadly, that was not to be. The lady apparently did not know how to style wavy hair, could you believe that? She COMBED my hair with a small-toothed comb for chrissake! And then, she was blowing with the hairdryer as though I had straight hair. So I told her, no, you’ve got to use some styling gel and crunch from the bottom up. Halfway through that, Mr Feminine arrived and started to take over. It was so obvious they were chasing for time because the girl told me they closed for the day at seven and it was already 745.

            Oh, Mr Feminine, he was NOT gentle at all, I tell you. This crazy **** pulled here and twisted there as though he was playing with a mop instead of a human head. While working, he asked the Malay girl to join in. “Follow what I’m doing,” he said. And she did. Only she was this SLOW learner who couldn’t adapt what she saw. So in the end, she styled small curls for me on the right side of my head, while the man styled big waves on the left side of my head. I was livid when he even had the cheek to ask me to check how it was in the mirror when it was all over. Like was he blind? Or downright retarded? I had a lion’s mane, the curls were all so blown out of proportion. Not only that, right side was small curls and left was big wave.

            Seeing my reaction, he had me wash off all the styling cream at the back to restyle again. To cut a long story short, we went through that FOUR f88king times before I lost my cool and started to show my ogre face and growled so hard even he balked. Ok, I did not growl. But imagine this, by then, I had been in the salon for 2 hours for a treatment that only took 15 minutes. I was freezing so much because the Atrium Management decided to switch the centralized air conditioning to Arctic mode. And I was fuming angry. Mr Feminine would not even oblige with shampooing and conditioning my hair even though I asked him. The idiot put enough styling gel on my head to kill an entire colony of ants! The strands were so hard and sharp they were enough to poke through a marshmallow I swear to God. And he was so rough that half my hair ended up on the floor instead of revitalized.

            In the end, I had to restyle my own hair, standing up to do the work with water dripping down my clothes to make my blood freeze more. I was nagging a lot and was so irritated I couldn’t even express myself properly because it was so cold my teeth were chattering and my facial muscles were twitching beyond my control! Ranting mad, I asked for a discount and that fool had the cheek to tell me, normal price applies. For his wretched lousy ass DISservice and unprofessionalism, I had to pay him the normal price. If I were younger and bolder, I would have told him to his face to have a stick up his arse. Incompetent fool, I hope your business fold up! I gave him the eye, used milder words of course but something that had the same acidity, flipped my dead hair and walked off. So much for a treatment when all the blowing and drying and rewashing and restyling have negated the effect!!

            So truly, if any of you are around the area and are thinking to do anything at all with your hair, be it style or treat or cut, watch out for this signboard WAYPOINT STYLISTS. Once you see it, pick up your socks and bolt hundred miles and hour in the opposite direction. Even if you totally have nothing to do in Atrium and wanted to kill off hours like I did last Saturday, and even if all the other hair salons are closed, refrain please. Otherwise, you’d learn the meaning of the saying “idle mind breeds evil” very intimately, and that I guarantee.