The Omnivore's Hundred From Tym... (which originates at Very Good Taste)Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.Bold all the items you've eaten.Cross out any items that you would never consider eating1. Venison2. Nettle tea3. Huevos rancheros4. Steak tartare5. Crocodile6. Black pudding7. Cheese fondue8. Carp9. Borscht10. Baba ghanoush11. Calamari12. Pho13. PB&J sandwich14. Aloo gobi - maybe15. Hot dog from a street cart16. Epoisses17. Black truffle18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes19. Steamed pork buns20. Pistachio ice cream21. Heirloom tomatoes22. Fresh wild berries23. Foie gras24. Rice and beans25. Brawn, or head cheese26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper27. Dulce de leche28. Oysters29. Baklava30. Bagna cauda31. Wasabi peas32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl33. Salted lassi34. Sauerkraut35. Root beer float36. Cognac with a fat cigar37. Clotted cream tea38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O39. Gumbo40. Oxtail41. Curried goat42. Whole insects43. Phaal44. Goat's milk45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth US$120 or more46. Fugu47. Chicken tikka masala48. Eel49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut50. Sea urchin51. Prickly pear52. Umeboshi - not on it's own but possibly as an ingredient53. Abalone54. Paneer55. McDonald's Big Mac Meal - not that I have anything against a Big Mac meal, but I just know I would never be able to finish this, and therefore would never order one56. Spaetzle - maybe57. Dirty gin martini - does a sip count?58. Beer above 8% ABV59. Poutine60. Carob chips61. S'mores62. Sweetbreads63. Kaolin64. Currywurst65. Durian66. Frogs' legs67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake68. Haggis69. Fried plantain70. Chitterlings, or andouillette71. Gazpacho72. Caviar and blini73. Louche absinthe - don't know about "louche" though74. Gjetost, or brunost75. Roadkill76. Baijiu77. Hostess Fruit Pie78. Snail79. Lapsang souchong80. Bellini81. Tom yum82. Eggs Benedict83. Pocky84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant85. Kobe beef86. Hare87. Goulash88. Flowers89. Horse90. Criollo chocolate - maybe91. Spam92. Soft shell crab93. Rose harissa - maybe94. Catfish95. Mole poblano96. Bagel and lox97. Lobster Thermidor98. Polenta - maybe99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee100. SnakeAs you can see, there are a lot of things I would never desire to eat - all falling into the cheese and dairy family. I was a little afraid I would end the meme with the whole list struck off - thank goodness for honest to goodness foods like Pocky.I don't think I deserve to be labelled an omnivore... maybe I'm a partvore. One generation evolution A friend commented to me earlier, You know, if I saw you along the street and didn't know you, I'd think you were not straight.!!! Is she saying I look gay?!?Ya, these days you're always looking so sharp and polished.!!!Very corporate gay.!!!I suppose that explains why the cute butch at work has started to smile at me. Learning to be loved This has been on my mind for the past two months, but I've never been able to articulate myself properly. Perhaps it's because I've been afraid of offending my closest friends, but as they have been honest with me, it's only fair that I be as honest with them.When I first started going out with The Girlfriend, I had imagined that my best friends would have been supportive - simply because they had shown such great support towards some other friends of ours. It took a combination of unpleasant encounters/remarks and some heartfelt conversations before I realised that they were not supportive of my decision.I was crushed, but I don't hold it against them, because all of us are entitled to our own opinions and beliefs.The Best Friend told me bluntly, I don't understand why you are with her.As a person (disregarding gender), The Girlfriend is quite the opposite from my usual "type" - which if I had to describe in as few words as possible would be witty (i.e. sweet talking/smooth/has a way with words) and inevitably, emotionally unavailable - which translated into exciting/challenging/interesting - as I tried so hard to make him like me, but always, failing in my enthusiasm and search for reciprocity. For some strange reason, I was always attracted to the "wrong" man - and by "wrong" I mean that they could never reciprocate my feelings.It got to a point where my feelings became secondary. It didn't really matter if I got hurt in the end, as long as I was happy, at least initially - or perhaps I should rephrase it as "as long as he made me happy by being witty nevermind that he was emotionally unavailable".And then I met The Girlfriend. For once, I didn't have to triple-somersault-backflip-touch-my-toes to get someone to like me. She just did. And it felt good. I don't expect my friends to understand how I feel - and I don't know how to explain it to them either - sometimes I feel (or, if I'm really honest, they make me feel) like I'm settling - you know, giving up my search for the man who will fit all my criteria (although, I never really had any fixed criteria), because to be honest, there are no fireworks (unless we argue) in my relationship with The Girlfriend, and I'd always believed that I would find someone to share fireworks with all my life.But priorities change. I don't need fireworks anymore. I appreciate The Girlfriend for the commitment and stability that she provides - all the more so because I know what it's like not to have them. Isn't it ironic that in my search for love, I had always overlooked the one basic requirement of being loved? The Girlfriend makes me happy in many small ways and as we get to know each other better, I find myself appreciating her in ways I previously couldn't.I know my friends wish I would find a good man and be happy with him. In the meantime, they have assured me that they will always be behind me. But you know, I don't know how long "meantime" will be, and while I am grateful that they will always be behind me - I really wish they could be beside me. Ringing it in The Girlfriend asked why I hadn't bought her a ring yet.Must buy ring to show my love meh?I knew I had said something wrong because The Girlfriend was stunned into silence.So now I have to go buy a ring. Mothers always know (best) ... or so they say.For a while now, I've been suspecting that my mom knows about the relationship between The Girlfriend and I. She's met her a few times, and they've spoken briefly, but that's about all the contact that's happened between them. Which is why I'm finding it a bit hard to believe that mom could really know.It's all in the small things she says.Like the time I went away with some colleagues and told my mom she didn't have to pick me up from the airport (my parents are the kind who will insist on picking me up from the airport - not that I'm complaining at all) - and all she said was "Sarah picking you up is it?"Then there are the times she'll just ask "Meeting/going with Sarah is it?"Just last week, mom handed me two tickets to the Singapore Garden Festival and said "You can go with Sarah."Apart from the fact that mom may really know, what freaks me out even more is how calm and non-plussed she seems. Gosh, I may actually have a cool mom after all!!!And maybe even cooler than me. I'm no expert, but... I would have thought that after a nasty misunderstanding (for which I accept half the blame), The Girlfriend would have made an effort to talk to me the day after but no, she chose to go to sleep instead. If you can't buy insurance, go find yourself a rich husband So I'm kinda bummed out. Ok, so "kinda" is kinda understating how I feel - but that's not the point I'm trying to make so let's gloss over it for now. Now is Story Time.When I was young(er), I was unduly influenced by my parents who thought insurance was a scam cooked up by insurance people to well, scam people. It was only when I was hmm, 26/27 that I started to think that maybe I should be thinking of purchasing some insurance. You know, in case I die, at least my parents would have some money. And if I don't die before them, then I would have some form of savings in my later years.So I got myself some endowment policies covering death, permanent disability and critical illness. I'm pretty sure my agent explained the policies to me - I remember sitting in the food court having my brain shut down and eyes glaze over at the mere mention of "surrender value" and "benefit illustration" - and I seem to remember him asking if I needed a hospital/surgical plan, to which I "cheyed" him and said no.Fast forward to 2005 when I found myself admitted to hospital not just once, but twice, and I soon regretted my past cavalier attitude towards insurance. Ownself pay hospital bill is very painful one.Fast forward again to the past year - I have so far been rejected by two insurance companies in my attempt to purchase H&S insurance. This is despite submitting medical reports stating that I am currently healthy. I'm not sure if I want to waste my time trying the rest of the insurance companies, but the thought of being uninsured makes me very uncomfortable.So anyway, the moral of the story is: BUY INSURANCE WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG AND HEALTHY. For once, I'm not happy to have received a returned cheque in the mail. Honey coated lips have I Today The Girlfriend was very pleased with my sweet talking skills.Me? Sweet talker??? What is the world coming to! See no evil, hear no evil, smell no evil You know, sometimes I really don't understand them "artistic" types. Specifically, designers who tile bathroom floors with marble. Shiny marble.You know, it wouldn't be so bad if the cubicle partitions were floor to ceiling. Then the marble would be classy. But when the cubicle partitions are a foot off the floor... then that's just crassy.I don't know about you, but I definitely do not appreciate having images of the person in the next cubicle pulling up her skirt/squatting on the seat/wiping her ass reflected off the dark shiny marble floor. Especially when accompanied by auditory and olfactory assaults on the senses. I got exercise, ok? Saturday afternoon saw me uncharacteristically indulging in a spot of Wii Fit. Even though my BMI is normal, I was horrified to learn that my Wii Fit age is 46!!!Despite my creaking bones, I was a natural at Wii Hula Hoop. Come to think of it, I used to be really good at real hula hooping when I was a little girl (parents even bought me a hula hoop to play with) and I could go on for ages. This time round however, I was exhausted after 2 games and this morning I woke up with sore stomach muscles.The other game I tried was Wii Tennis, which proved rather fun especially when all I did was sit on the sofa and flick my wrist whilst the rest jumped around the living room like real pros. I don't think they were very amused when I beat them.Still, I don't think my Wii Fit age (or fitness level) is going to improve anytime soon. Unfortunately, I have absolutely no desire to start working out or exercising. I don't know what happened to the girl who used to run twice weekly and play touch rugby with the guys just a few years ago.And no, I don't miss her either. Stories of The Girlfriend and I The Girlfriend surprised me this weekend by arranging a surprise pre-birthday lunch for me with her friends (whom I've met several times). What touched me even more was the fact that her friends had gotten together earlier in the morning to bake me PINK cupcakes! Then I asked The Girlfriend how she had contributed to the cupcakes (visions of her donning an apron and slaving away in the kitchen swam across my mind - which would have reduced me to tears of joy and love if true) and her reply was that she had organised it.***But I suppose that was as good as it would get, seeing how I was the subject of The Girlfriend's bitter complaint to a friend the other day.The Girlfriend: You know, the other day I asked her if she missed me.The friend: Oh that's sweet.The Girlfriend: And you know what she said? She said she'd just seen me the day before and therefore didn't miss me!!!Then she turned and looked at me, Isn't that right honey? as I busied myself with my apple crumble. This apple crumble is very good, you should try some.***Note to self: If in doubt, lie. Making The Girlfriend happy is more important than the troof. Death by annoying uh-huh It never used to bother me - other people being late and disrupting class as they settle down - but these days it really bugs the hell out of me. Unfortunately for me, half the class was late this morning (some even half an hour - half an hour!!! - late) and I was bugged out of hell.Then this chubby - fuck the niceties - fat guy comes in and sits next to me, which is fine, except for the fact that he was spilling over into my personal space, which again bugged the hell out of me.But what bugged the most hell out of me, (apart from the stupid questions he asked) had to be his annoying habit of audibly agreeing with the lecturer - ya, exactly, mmn - in that I-so-totally-know-what-he's-talking-about-see-how-clever-I-am way. This would have been (just ever so slightly) more acceptable had the lecturer been talking about rocket science, but most of the time the concepts he went uh-huh-uh-huh to were about as complex as 8*14=112.*roll eyes*By the time class ended, I was in an extremely foul mood. Plus I was nursing a headache. My original plan had been to return to work to clear my emails but as you can imagine, I just wasn't feeling up to it. Have been encountering morons at work and it is a HUGE exercise in self-restraint sending them emails when I'm feeling bitchy.*deep breath*I need to cleanse myself of all this negative energy. Lego is so cool!!! The Brother has tasked me with a puzzle. Apparently, this used to be a Lego car.The challenge is for me to reassemble it. I managed to stick a few pieces together but then I got stuck because duh, I don't know what it's supposed to look like. Unfortunately, Lego doesn't have assembly instructions for obsolete models so I'll have to look elsewhere for help.*****The Brother very cleverly kindly pointed me to this website. So I spent the better part of this afternoon playing with Lego. And I present to you -Ta-dah! Lego Go-Kart model 854-1. I'm missing 2 pieces but what do you expect from something that's been lying around for almost 30 years? Note the cool front wheels that can turn from side to side. The inclined driver's seat is also movable up and down! As you can tell, I'm a little too old to get so excited about Lego but... playing with Lego is FUN!I think I'll head down to Toys 'R' Us one of these days. But I'm the girl!!! So, I think I'm starting to get the hang of this "lesbian thing". Feedback from The Girlfriend indicates that I'm up the learning curve and have "improved tremendously". And while I was pleased to hear that, to be honest I had no idea what I had done to deserve such lavish praise.It's not too surprising then, that I'm still struggling with certain "issues". Imagine a situation as such - me (a girl, expects to be treated like a girl) and The Girlfriend (a somewhat boyish girl, but also likes to be treated like a girl). Sidetrack - ok, I admit, it took me a while to understand this, simply because I couldn't help assigning the "guy" role to her.And that's the problem. She wants to be treated like a girl, but so do I. And sometimes, you just can't have two girls treating each other like girls.As illustration, I cite a recent example whereby we went to watch a movie. It was winter in the movie theatre, and I was glad for the sweater I had brought along. The Girlfriend, however, had not brought along a sweater, and was unfortunately starting to feel cold too.Now, if I had been with a guy, I wouldn't have given a damn. I mean, you're a guy, be a man and freeze. My sweater is all mine mine mine. But now I have a girlfriend - I can't possibly let her freeze. So we ended up sharing my sweater, and I was cold. Because I treated her like a girl, I had to sacrifice being treated like a girl myself. (I mean, a real man would have rejected my offer to share the sweater to protect his honour and dignity.)My friend thought it was really funny, and his brilliant solution was a typical You two need a man which earned him an eye-roll but seriously, how do two girls treat each other like girls and still be the girl??? Wherefore art thou, LMD? I have not been writing, and I have not been writing for many reasons. And of the many reasons, I will let you know that one of them is that I've been feeling that I am no longer LMD.Of the few key words that I used to associate freely with LMD - alcohol, cigarettes, men, sex and dog - only the dog remains familiar these days. I'm not sure why or how it happened, but LMD cannot be LMD when she shuns alcohol in favour of tea and actually does not like the taste of alcohol anymore. And while I wouldn't say I've quit smoking completely - I still have the one occasional cigarette depending on the company - I'd say 5 cigarettes or less this entire year almost makes me a non-smoker.Then of course there is The Girlfriend. Don't get me wrong - I'm not complaining at all - but being with The Girlfriend automatically means there is no man, much less men, to erm, engage in activities with.Which leaves... the dog -who makes it increasingly difficult for me to write about her when she deems me worthy only of photographing her backside.But the biggest change of all, has to be the fact that I don't miss the old LMD. I like coming home straight after work and chilling out at home. I like going to bed before midnight and waking up fresh the next morning. I like my no-alcohol-no-cigarettes lifestyle.I don't know if this is a permanent change or if I'm just going through a phase. Whatever it is, I'm happy now. She didn't say a single word! It seems that I have lost my voice.So maybe I did have a very slight cough yesterday and maybe I did wake up on Friday/Saturday feeling like a sore throat was about to erupt - but which I managed to suppress/kill - but nothing really serious and to be honest I feel fine.Which is why I was very surprised to wake up this morning and open my mouth only to hear some strange unfamiliar croaking.And I suppose there are worse things than having a meeting with my boss and his boss and his boss on the day I just happen to lose my voice. So I just sat there and smiled. And looked serious (when appropriate). And laughed (when bosses made jokes - although, I don't think any sound came out).I decided I should then see a doctor about my mysterious loss of voice. After listening to my chest and shoving a torchlight down my throat, the good doctor was just as mystified and could only advise me that the infection/inflammation was probably further down where my vocal chords are, which explained why 1) I don't feel a thing and 2) I have no voice.I turned down the good doctor's offer of a medical certificate because I had yet another meeting in the afternoon, and this time I was required to actively participate and I have to say it was a very frustrating exercise. Ok, it's not like I can't talk at all, it's just that after the first 5 or 6 syllables, my voice just dies into a whisper, so I have to stop and clear my throat and continue where I left off, then stop and clear my throat and pick up where I left off...I have another 2 meetings tomorrow. The good doctor has assured me that I should get my voice back "by the weekend". Whee. What joy. I wonder how I'm going to survive till then. Never stinge on food, Dad used to say My parents were having a conversation over lunch the other day. Dad had commented he'd ordered dumplings from a colleague so Mom asked him how much they cost.I don't know.What do you mean you don't know?I don't know - I didn't ask. I just know got discount.Why didn't you ask?Ask for what? So if it's $7.50 I won't buy but if it's $7 then I'll buy?! (Dad was getting a little agitated by now)No, but you should always ask the price what.Mom then goes on to present several scenarios in which Dad could casually ask the price of dumplings.Dad, by this time, had given up and was concentrating on his food.I thought their conversation was funny not just in itself, but because it's never been so clear to me that I take after Dad whilst my brother takes after Mom.Every so often I'll buy some snacks home - potato chips, chocolate, whatever - and Brother will ask how much it cost.Dunno, would be my usual reply.What do you mean dunno?Dunno la. I never check.Why never check? Don't go and buy expensive $10 potato chips I tell you ah, it's DUMB....You see, I operate on a "what's reasonable" logic. Suppose I buy a pack of potato chips and a bar of chocolate - for which the total bill comes up to $8 - that registers as "reasonable" on my shopping radar and the individual prices don't matter. Which explains why Dunno is my usual reply.If, however, the total bill came up to $30, then my shopping radar would go off and only then would I check the receipt... and then try to justify the ridiculously expensive $10 potato chips and $20 Belgian chocolates. Which is when I can tell my brother those blue-but-not-very-tasty-but-you-better-not-waste-them-because-they're-expensive potato chips cost $10....I just hope I haven't inherited Dad's "If you like it, buy it" motto when it comes to shopping... "My son got married today!" ... so said my Dad to the young girl who was jabbing his foot with gusto. As part of the (China) tour, all of us were being tortured by a horrifically tear inducing enjoying a good foot reflexology session after a long day's sightseeing.Sorry, what did you say? Your son? asked the girl incredulously, looking at my brother and then back at my dad in puzzlement, no doubt wondering what a just-married was doing getting a foot poke rub in a room full of middle aged women.Ya, my son got married today, beamed my father.It had been a most entertaining marriage ceremony, I must confess. Especially when the bride and groom had to bump each other with their behinds... apparently a traditional marriage "ritual" for the people of the Dai tribe. Everybody was screaming with laughter and my hands shook so much I could hardly take a proper picture. Dad had initially been invited to partake of the mock ceremony but he had wisely declined - I don't think I would ever get over the trauma of seeing my dad shake his booty. Occasionally, the nipples still stand These days, I'm really enjoying the ability to luxuriate in the nice tingly chill of a 24 degree celsius air-conditioned room (i.e. mine). I am pretty sure many of you would find this a tad warm... but for the past year or more temperatures in my room have hovered between 25 - 26. I am, afterall, known amongst my friends as the-freak-who-wears-a-long-sleeved-sweater-to-cook-in-the-kitchen.On my recent China trip, the family and I found ourselves in Tong Ren Tang - made famous when it's founding doctors managed to prolong the lives of the Emperor and his family. This is Traditional Chinese Medicine at its best.I was initially skeptical (actually, I still am) about the doctor's diagnosis of my problem(s) - something about irregular periods (unfortunately, it comes like clockwork every month to torment me) - blood clots - something drying up - and if I don't "fix" it... infertility. Of course, this got mom all worried, right, *roll eyes* and she made sure the doctor prescribed medicine to "fix" me, despite my protestations that I didn't need it.I have been taking my medicine though, not because I worry about becoming infertile, but because I think it will help me improve on my low blood pressure*. And if being able to tolerate, no, enjoy, a nice chill in the air is proof that it's working - then I am quite happy popping those nasty looking black pills every day.*LMD's theory of low blood pressure is that it causes a person to feel cold because there is not enough blood being pumped around the body to keep it warm. Genius-ly stupid I was wondering why my blog is so boring when it hit me that I haven't been writing. Talk about Duh.As my friend Skates put it so eloquently (and whose phrase I shall shamelessly plagiarize) - I am a genius when it comes to being stupid. Goodbye After a week of tramping around in dirty China toilets, I decided against bringing home my trusty pair of peenk phlower shoos. ...I am now suffering inexplicable pangs of guilt for throwing you away. Almost two years of good use for only $19.90 - you were indeed a very good pair of shoos. I will miss you. :( Peenk phlower shoos among pebble rocks Relatively speaking, my Mandarin is excellent My brother's Mandarin is so bad it's actually funny. For some strange reason, he decided to brush up on his Mandarin during the trip and kept bombarding me with questions like What's XXX in Chinese? What'd he say? What's that mean?It so happened that the coach we were travelling in had several extra passengers in the form of buzzing flies. I guess they must have annoyed my brother enough for him to ask me What's "fly" in Chinese? to which I replied fei (1) and so he started chanting fei (1) fei (1) fei (1) before some ancient light bulb went off in his head and he said, Are you sure??And then there was the visit to Fubo Hill which sparked his curiosity enough to ask me What's fubo? to which I replied bitter uncle. Then I got chided by mom for teaching him wrong thing. :(But still, nothing beats him running to me insisting that the roadside vendors were selling dog meat sausages because while he could read the Chinese word for "dog", he could not recognise the accompanying Chinese word for "hot".Obviously, being a genius runs in the family. Off for some cheena immersion Travelling again, this time to China with the family. Was quite surprised Dad agreed to come along (he hates travelling), and I suppose it will be a bittersweet reunion with his motherland - this will be the first time he's returned "home" after fleeing the Japanese invasion in the 1930s.It's been years since we last went on a family holiday -- the last time being to London for my brother's (or was it mine?) convocation. I'm quite sure I won't be stumbling back to my room drunk this time round.It's been a while since the family's been excited about something together, although I can't help worrying that Dad might find all the sight-seeing a tad too tiring. Maybe I will have to piggy-back him in the end. Discovering my lesbian side Over dinner with some of The Girlfriend's (lesbian) friends, conversation veered round to lesbian stereotypes. It all started when one of them noticed how sandals - in particular, Birkenstocks - were the preferred foot gear of the night. Extremely tongue-in-cheek, but here's the stereotypical* profile we came up with:Preferred Car - Hyundai (Tucson, Getz), Rav 4Preferred Footwear - Birkenstock (more on this later)Preferred Wallet - Braun BuffelPreferred Bag - CrumplerPreferred Clothing - Cargo pantsPreferred Watch - Tag Heuer, G-ShockI can't remember what other stereotypes we came up with, because The Girlfriend and I had launched into a mini-argument about how "lesbian" I am. Not that it really bothers me (the labels, that is) - but I still do not consider myself "lesbian", something The Girlfriend attributes to "denial".Anyway, The Girlfriend was teasing me because I recently bought a pair of Birkenstocks.See, you're turning lesbian.No I'm not.What's that you're wearing on your feet now?I bought them because I thought they'd be comfortable!Doesn't matter, you still bought them....*Yes, we know these are just stereotypes, so please don't come running crying bloody murder if you're straight and happen to drive a Rav 4 or carry a Crumpler bag, ok? I guess I must be doing something right The Girlfriend: Honey, how would you like to be my slave?LMD: ... Of course not!The Girlfriend: ... But why not? It'll be so good to be my slave.LMD: ... "Slave" and "good" don't go in the same sentence.The Girlfriend: I'm sure you'll be a good slave!You know, I can't decide if it's a good thing or a bad thing that The Girlfriend thinks so highly of my slave competencies. I am a hero in my dreams Dad likes to remind me he's getting on in years, and teases me about having to "piggy-back" him in time to come. I always nod my head in affirmation, although we both know he would never expect or even want me to piggy-back him in reality. My sub-conscious, however, won't let me forget my promises that easily.In my dream, Dad was driving. I was feeling uncomfortable, because his vision isn't good enough to drive. Before I could voice my concern, however, the roads suddenly turned into rocky dug-up cement tracks. We were on the ground, crawling commando style on spotlessly clean white strips of cloth.The sun was sweltering and I looked back over my shoulder to see how Dad was faring. He was hot and looked very very tired. Alarmed, I lifted his arm over my shoulder and carried him round the corner where I sat him down at a cafe and asked for water - which he promptly splashed over himself.... and he laughed, when I told him about my dream. This should be a forbidden movie As a fan of Jet Li, it was mandated that I watch Forbidden Kingdom even though I didn't have a clue what the story was about. I had probably settled down for about all of 5 minutes before the first suspicious thought entered my mind. Er, what the hell? Why is there such a sorry looking fella in the movie? It didn't take too long to figure out the rest of the plot (so predictable, really), and I have to say I now know why Jackie Chan had not been keen on taking on the project.First off, I have to say kungfu movies HAVE to be in Chinese. A true blue cheena girl at heart, I found the entire film cringeworthy. Actually, no, I take that back. The movie was alright (thanks to the single saving grace - Jet Li), I cringed only when the characters opened their mouths and spewed forth English. *gags in horror*Secondly, I can't for the life of me imagine why they chose such a sorry looking fella to be the "hero". He reminds me of Keanu Reeves and his mono-face. Needless to say, I found him totally and utterly unconvincing in his role. *pukes in disgust*Thirdly, I have to say I am NOT a fan of Jackie Chan. His (recent) movies exude a distinct corny/slapstick sense of humour that I can't appreciate. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, you can spot his jokes coming from a mile away - so at least I could brace myself for some bottom-feeding humour. *snorts in derision*There are very few films that have made me want to walk out halfway, and I am sad sad sad to say that this is one of them. Obviously not It is apparent the word "obviously" does not exist in Lily's vocabulary, because even after I told her (in all seriousness), Obviously, The Box is Too Small for you, she insisted on having it her way.She didn't believe me, obviously. Strike Two! Tried two new (to me) restaurants recently, both of which were disappointing.1) Ramen Santouka at The Central - which I'd read about in one of Mr Miyagi's reviews. Now I like my ramen, and I love a good savoury soup base that packs a full flavour, so I was really really looking forward to the ramen at Ramen Santouka.My friend and I both ordered their recommended Shio (Salty) soup base with the choice cheek cut chasu. When it arrived, however, I started to have second thoughts the moment I saw the thick layer of oil floating on top of the broth. I decided I shouldn't be so anal and stirred it in - thinking it would enhance the flavour, then took a sip of the wonderf... um, really very oily broth lor.The pork slices looked inviting however, so I bit into one, and was hit with the full flavour of... salt. Granted, the pork slices were oh-so-tender, but good grief, I thought the days of using salt to preserve food were long over?! I only managed 2 out of the 5? 6? slices of pork and half the ramen before deciding I really couldn't eat anymore of the vile oily & salty stuff meal.To top it off, the chinese tea was not free flow and I had to pay $4 for 2 glasses of hot tea - which I desperately needed to rinse out the oily & salty taste from my mouth.2) La Braceria Pizza & Grill at Ban Guan Park - which Tym had read about some time ago. Our starters were pretty nondescript. My pumpkin soup was ok and so was her beef carpaccio, although I would have preferred it if it hadn't been swimming in olive oil and lemon juice.For mains I had the proscuitto funghi pizza - and I marvelled at the elliptical shaped pizza before sinking my teeth into the moist juicy segment of gastronomic deligh... um, really very salty piece of ham lor. Maybe I'm biased because it seems I have a low tolerance for salt, so I removed some of the ham and tried it again, but this time it fell flat on it's face with hardly any taste. I don't know, are pizzas totally dependent on their toppings for taste?Then I decided to try their profiteroles because I thought maybe, just maybe, they would taste like the profiteroles at Valentino's (my all-time favourite Italian restaurant). When they arrived, however, my hopes were crushed. The chocolate sauce was thin and watery, nothing at all like the thick-yet-light-moussey-texture of the mind-blowing chocolate sauce that distinguishes the profiteroles at Valentino's. But never mind, let's try the cream puff. So I bit into one and... there's something strange about this... it's not... sweet... why is the cream not sweet?? ***I need revenge good food and I need it soon. And we're 4! And my blog turns 4 years old today! What better way to celebrate than with a PINK cake?!(Picture courtesy of Annie's Sweet Cakes - pity they're located too far away for me to actually order the cake!)