Random Bits and Pieces

I’m going to be in so much trouble in the morning. I was out at Shan’s dinner till 1.30 in the morning. Des waited up for me, but the fellow is now upset at me. Apparently he was really tired and wanted to sleep, but I asked him to stay up a while more till I get home. Anyway, it’s not everyday that I go out till this late. I miss doing that actually, with no rules, no constraints.

I actually had fun today. I pretended to be all couture with Foo, joked around with the guys, mingled and socialised with the girls and last but not least, I relaxed. I had quite a few glasses of champagne too… haha! We had good food and a wonderful time. It isn’t often you hang out with “high society”.

It’s funny how my parents shun these people. When you catch them alone with close friends and family, they’re just your ordinary people. Shan and Foo, the two kids that I have been honoured to attend their 21^st birthday dinners blow me away with the amount of wealth and sophistication that their families have.

A little comparison between the two parties though. Foo’s party was all about sophistication. We were in an historical site, dining where British dignitaries once dined and drank. Foo’s party had music, dancing and a good set of dishes. The wine, it was well chosen, the champagne too. Foo’s family were very couture in a sense. His father had organised the party like a formal dinner, complete with a violinist and a belly dancer.

Shan’s party was more modern. It was organised by the hotel, it seems to me. Her dinner had wine, but not that good, but more selection of alcoholic drinks; champagne, white wine, red, and dessert wine. Her dishes were good, but not as snazzy as Foo’s Carcosa. When I mentioned this to Foo, he said something about heritage or what not. The wine wasn’t as tasty, but I think if I had did my research on wine, I would have chosen the right wine to accompany my champagne salmon.

Now, the after party. When I left Foo’s party, it was late. Shan’s, we piled out at 11.30 pm. After about 15 minutes, we piled into Mesquite ’52. I don’t know what the name’s supposed to mean, but someone, please educate me on the way people name bars. Anyhow, the only reason why I was there was to hangout with the birthday girl a bit more. I wasn’t that happy with the place though. Too boring.

Overall, I had fun tonight because of the company. The food was OK, but that’s as far as it goes. Sure, the salmon I had was great, but the overall dishes were so-so. I didn’t like the petite fours due to the amount of dark chocolate, neither did the chocolate cake appeal to me, I don’t really like dark chocolate. The appetiser was wild mushroom cream soup, Foo said something about adding more cream to it to make Crème la crème… haha! Just so you know, we ate at 3^rd Floor Restaurant at Marriott*.

On another note, why do Malaysians PRETEND to be so damn modest?! When I was studying abroad, when someone offers you a complement, you accept it graciously, thanking them then insisting that you could do better or something like that, if you feel it isn’t good enough. When I first came back to Malaysia some 12 years ago, I encountered an awkward situation.

I take pride in my art. I believe I can draw reasonably well, until my grandfather pointed out numerous defects when I tried to copy Van Gogh’s style. Anyway, that’s a tale for another day. It was art class that day, and we had just finished our drawings. As usual, the “popular” girls went around “Ooh”-ing and “Ah”-ing at everyone’s pictures. I heard the modest “No la”-s and just watched them approach my table.

Remember! I had just come back from a British Ed school and was used to their mannerisms. So, when the girls started their faux admiration, what does a girl like me do? I thanked them. I think I can never forget their faces of slight shock and the momentary silence in the group. I quickly countered by adding that so and so drew really well too, but I think the damage was done.

I have never been the super popular girl, part of the clichés that flounce around with a gaggle of boys wagging their tongues behind them. I was always in the group of girls that stood aside, with the boys, always with the guys, yet never really “girlfriend” material in their eyes. I used to envy the popular girls a little. It seemed nice to be able to flounce around and know that guys are crawling behind you.

Then came high school. A girl knows when she grows attractive, sometimes, she plays it right, sometimes she plays it wrong. I began to develop things that made the popular girls popular. But when you’re “one of the guys”, the guys find it hard to remember you’re a girl. It stayed that way for a long time. It wasn’t till I started to think confident and act confident that I managed to get someone. The rest? History.

I’m well aware that I may raise a few eyebrows. You may think, “You think you’re so hot?!”. I honestly don’t care what you think. For me to live daily, I have to believe in myself. Though my boyfriend thinks I’m hot, I know deep down inside, I may have my flaws (I break out in pimples at all the wrong times, I have cellulite, I have a huge ass and tiny upper body), but I have my good points too (I have good friends, I can adapt, I can still work my charm, I can hold intelligent conversations, etc…), and lucky for me, my good points outweigh my bad.

So next time someone compliments me about how I look, I’ll thank them graciously if I agree, I wouldn’t vehemently disagree. If I disagree, I’ll just point out why I don’t agree and let them open my eyes to something new that I never have noticed about me before (if the individual what praises me can’t validate their statement, they didn’t really mean it, and I’ll know…). That way, I can love me a little more everyday…

*I don’t mean to say your food sucks, I just don’t think I like bitter stuff all that much…

** dear, this doesn’t mean that every time you say I’m hot, I’ll agree. I very much an Ice Queen. And I still think I’m too skinny… can see my ribs le…

*** I wrote this at 2.30 in the morning but am only posting it now…