Run Rabbit Run

The weekend kicked off with a gruelling session with my trainer. I was shattered but felt about 5lbs lighter. Yay! My nephew turned one and we all had to be home to take photos, cut cake and partake in red eggs and noodles. I did not have noodles and made myself a delicious but anaemic looking beef salad with lemongrass, mint and basil dressing instead. After lunch, I had to rush off to meet G&T homo to view the show unit of the ridiculously expensive Troika. True to Norman Foster's design, I thought it looked a lot like a commercial building on the outside. On the inside, the space is well thought out, promising magnificent views cleverly angled to weed out the ugly around the area. At rm1000psf, you better have fucking excellent views. The show unit tempts you with a lifestyle most would envy, from key design pieces of furniture to the pretentious rows and rows of cooking products that one would only use for decorative purpose. In other words, people who have shit loads of money and travel so much that they are never actually long enough in the country to "live" in the apartment. Ah, now I know what it feels like to be the window cleaner peering in.
When I got home, we had guests round for birthday cake. Finally, I indulged in a slice of orange marmalade cake with chocolate ganache and frosting from Just Heavenly. What I like about their cakes is that they taste as good as they look. Not like Piece of Cake. I think her figurines are really cute but her cakes need some serious attention. When I go out to have cake, it has to bloody taste better than what I can bake at home (I think lack of carbs is making me cranky). I digress, back to the tea at home. I suddenly felt exhausted and had a nap only to wake up half an hour later to get ready for cocktails at Flo with Hot Date (I'm taking the piss because Hot Date is actually more like Cold Fish but he is the only one who asks me out these days so therefore he is Hot Date!). Many bottles of Cloudy Bay and 2 dozen oysters later, we made our way over to Jake's in Starhill. I enjoyed my lamb steaks eventhough they were barely a mouthful after I removed the fat and bone. What I was really sinfully delicious was the cashew brittle. It tasted more like fudge than brittle really. Mmmm, it was so yummy. I'm so glad we were sharing a small plate because I would've finished it all given the chance!
Hot Date was pretty hammered by the end of dinner and left us in the cold. What a slapper. We were all geared up for some tragic love song singing at Club De Vegas! Somehow Lian and I ended up crashing the Le Prestige party at Shangri-La. I don't think I've crashed a party since... a long, long time ago! It was alright, free drinks innit. Lian stayed over. Now that really made me feel young again. We curled up in bed (not in a lezzah sort of way) and talked about exs, potentials, men in general, blah blah blah... Except, when we talk about them now, its tinged with cynicism. I couldn't sleep that night. The conversation left me wondering, lonely and sad. The next morning Lian and I had an early start and went shopping. When all else fails, shop! I found my ankle-breakingly high heels. 4 inches! I am a bit wobbly in them but must persist in manner of Mariah. Who needs fuck me heels when I've got don't fuck with me ones. Yes, someone give me a plate of happy carbs right now before I stick my 4" heels into my flatmate's fiance's eye ala single white female.
I made roast chicken stuffed with rosemary, thyme and oranges for dinner. I am a great believer of permeating flavours from within. Its subtle. I like subtle. I also roasted some happy carbs in the form of yams. Mine was lightly doused in olive oil. For the rest of the people at home, a huge dollop of butter and liberal amounts of sea salt. Guess which one they liked better? I feel so alone in my quest to be thin...


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