Archive for September 2009


I failed in dispelling all belief that Patrick Jane has a love interest.

Come on, the close encounters, the you-gaze-and-I-gaze-into-our-eyes moment… Classic! Jane should be sent straight to Love Drunk Hell. The man obviously has feelings for his psychiatrist.

Should I be upset? Distraught? On the verge of a mental breakdown? I should consider…

Emotional outburst aside, today’s episode of The Mentalist truly blew me away thanks to the result of two happenings: Deborah Ann Woll guest starred and talk about altering one’s morality through technology surfaced. Ok, so out of the two, the latter was way more captivating. Why? Find out in a few. 😉

Today, Jane cracks a case which is dear to his heart: one involving his psychiatrist AKA suspected love interest. How does it all link up? See, his psychiatrist quit her job to become a scientist working on a research on morality alteration through breakthrough technology. However, the sticky and tricky parts come when her research partner is “suddenly” poisoned at a convention.

Hmmm, smells like conspiracy.

So the rest of the episode goes like this: Jane’s recollections on his time of recovery (from depression I suppose?), the whole breakthrough technology was all a sham (turns out a year of research has been falsified) and lo and behold, Miss Deborah Ann Woll winds up dead half and hour into the episode. Shame she only scored 75 seconds of fame throughout the series and no promise to return (they killed her).

Well, True Blood made up for the loss. Thankfully. Jessica is such a pleasant and carefully complex character to watch. 😀

And hence the episode rounds up with Jane planting a soft kiss on his (suspected!) love interest’s “cheek” (actually, it was a fingertip away from her lips). “Goodbye Sophie.”

Ah, farewell unrequited loves. 😀 If, you guys know what I mean.
(Coughs, Lisbon and Jane, coughs!)


I understand that citizen-journalism has been popular of late. Hence, allow me to journalise away.

At around 12.48am, I happened to hear a shrill noise over a pair of earphones that were stuffed into my ears. True to my guess, it was due to a killing of brakes. Then, the worst case scenario played out in my mind: Was I to peer out of the window and catch a glimpse of a lifeless body thrown 2 metres away from the point of impact? (Of a car, I supposed.)

Luckily enough, the killing of the brakes followed by a sharp thud (Potentially the meeting of 2 cars; tail of one to the head of another.) were 2 cars, one a cab, that met a minor accident. Peering out of my window did not exactly give me a full view of the scene, thanks to the obstruction of nature (Pfft, trees.), so I brisk-walked out to my balcony for a clearer one.

Lo and behold, the 2 drivers were already out from their vehicles and thankfully not heatedly involved in a negotiation. In fact, they seemed very calm. Maybe it was attributed to the fact that their accident happened right in front of a Neighbourhood Police station.

I know. What are the odds?

So the cab driver began to snap photos of the driver’s car he harmed (It was a black car. The damage was pretty unclear, considering how it was shrouded by the darkness of the night.), while the driver walked about. Calmly.

Could I have not emphasized the calmness more?

Then, miraculously, a police car turned into the driveway of the police station. At that moment, the black car driver made the first move by briskly crossing the street to the police station (The accident happened on the opposite side, as you would have guessed by now.). He seemed more anxious now.

The cab driver followed suit.

Thereafter, the men were involved in some negotiations with the police (2 as well). It took some time but they returned to their vehicles anyway. The drivers went straight for their seats. Not to take one though. They were getting something.

The cabby grabbed a notebook, while the other… I was not too sure. (The night can be such a cruel shroud.) The cabby then jotted some notes down while noting the driver’s license plate number.

After which, I have no idea what transpired. Maybe the men hugged it out and made peace? Maybe the driver reversed, further damaging the cab’s front?

Well, I did hear some screechings when I was in the midst of writing this post. They could have driven off to claim insurances which would mean I, could be merely suffering from a case of fertile imagination.

Though, a little speculation cannot hurt, can it?

Update: I checked. They are really gone. Looks like another ugly settlement, averted. ;D

As I brought up the topic of Take That (famous 90s pop English band) with my mom today, she commented that the band was not the same without Robbie Williams. Initially, I begged to differ. Later, I decided that Everything Changes sounded less exuberant without Robbie. I guessed that since he was the lead singer for the song, naturally, it would sound different without him.

Nonetheless, take a listen to these 2 versions of Everything Changes and determine, for yourself, if the lack of Robbie kills the exuberance:

The official music video of Everything Changes (When Robbie and his cute hair were around).

The 4-men band and their rendition of Everything Changes on the Beautiful World Tour.

Apart from that, their energy and vocal quality have not differed much throughout the years. More videos of the English band after the exclamation mark!

Sure. Look out for the kooky netted tops on the boys. Not to mention Gary’s. Does he not look adorkable?

Pray. Probably the only song I can confidently sing-along to. Pretty shamelessly too. (Dancing included.)

Relight my Fire. Very disco-pop. Again, look out for the boys’ dressing. Love Mark Owen’s in this one. 😛

Back For Good. Bring on the waterworks people. This has to be the most nostalgia-inducing song by Take That. It also reminds me of that episode (3rd? 4th?) in the korean drama, Coffee Prince. You know, the one where the male lead prepares a mini picnic for his sweetheart at his cafe.

Apart from the creepy stalker of a woman in the music video, I considered the band’s rendition of How Deep Is Love the best by far. This only proves that sans Robbie, the group is very much alive and awesome.

Thank god for Gary. Thank god.

“It takes a crane to build a crane
It takes two floors to make a story
It takes an egg to make a hen
It takes a hen to make an egg
There is no end to what I’m saying

It takes a thought to make a word
And it takes some words to make an action
And it takes some work to make it work
It takes some good to make it hurt
It takes some bad for satisfaction

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life goes full circle
Ah la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la

It takes a night to make it dawn
And it takes a day to make you yawn, brother
And it takes some old to make you young
It takes some cold to know the sun
It takes the one to have the other

And it takes no time to fall in love
But it takes you years to know what love is
And it takes some fears to make you trust
It takes those tears to make it rust
It takes the dust to have it polished, yeah

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la la life goes full circle
Ah la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la

It is, it is so
And it is so

It takes some silence to make sound
And it takes a loss before you found it
And it takes a road to go nowhere
It takes a toll to make you care
It takes a hole to make a mountain

Ah la la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la life goes full circle
Ah la la la la la life is wonderful
Ah la la la la la life is meaningful
Ah la la la la la la la life is wonderful

Ah la la la la la la it is so wonderful
It is so meaningful
It is so wonderful
It is so meaningful

It is wonderful
It is meaningful

It goes full circle

And it takes a misstep to cause a sprained ankle.
In my case.

In any other case, life is indeed ponderous. We have had moments when we would drown out the voices and sounds of the world, and simply block out that time to recollect, reminisce and reflect. Ah, life can be that complicated.

(While I typed that sentence, I knocked the wind out of my electrical fan. Literally. It was knocked to the ground and then it ceased to operate momentarily. Yup, I am such an appliance abuser.)

However, if you intend to simplify it for just one day, so take a listen to Jason Mraz. He such packs a punch of words in one song. Come on, rhythm and poetry in one tune? Blast that funky music white boy!

Oddly enough, I returned home from camp with a better complexion. I guess the camp was _______________________.

Sworn to secrecy yo. As there are 4 other batches who will be attending the same camp, divulging any camp contents would leave my body contents, emptied.

All I can say is that I attended a leadership and empowerment camp by a talent development programme of Ngee Ann Polytechnic. Any other from that, my lips are still sealed.

Have fun future campers! 😀

Awkward, awkward, awkward
is how the beginning of the episode should be aptly commented on.

Seriously. Egg-licking, undressing and Maryann snugly fitted in Sookie’s Grandmom’s wedding gown? Ok. I knew that Maryann was twisted, but I never knew how twisted she could become!

The episode kicked off with the mysterious egg which turned out to be nothing more than an ostrich egg. Apparently, an ostrich egg is supposed to represent fertility and such. Hence, the choice. Meanwhile, Lafayette screams at Sookie to undress (most awkward moment ever) so that she could slip in into the bridesmaid dress. Thereafter, she is told to be the key figure of the ceremony (Maryann’s marrying “her god”.). After all, Sookie in distress always meant Prince Sam in some shifter form will come to the rescue.

Ah, Yahtzee. Now, who else could this game be tagged to but Sophie-Anne, Queen of Louisiana? As usual, she disgusts me with her dramatic and lofty performance, punching out all true maturity to the character. This time, Eric takes the place of a recently departed Bill (he returned to Bon Temps for Operation Save Bon Temps) in the game of Yahtzee. Teasingly, the Queen says that the game is played till a player reached “five million”. To make matters worse, Eric is on a losing streak. Things get nasty and shaken up when the true Queen’s intentions are revealed.

Not before she mounts on Eric and plants a wet one on his lips. Yuck and double yuck when she has her mammoth-like fangs out. Hmm, possibly horny Eric revealed his fangs after the smooch.

Triple yuck.

Moving on, believed to be conspiring Sam and Bill finally arrived at the scene of mayhem: the lawn of Sookie’s residence. Then, Bill was the one to offer Sam in exchange for Sookie’s safety which distresses the lady even further. Desperately clawing at Sam’s hand, it became seemingly difficult to reach especially when Eggs had a firm grip on the man and was dragging him away. All that misery and chaos could not have made Maryann happier.

The scene continues with Sookie shrieking “Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam! Sam!” which Bill firmly holds her back. Later, he assuredly whispers “Use your own powers, Sookie.” when she cried “Use your powers Sam!” before Eggs stabbed Sam with the sacrifical knife. Consequently, Maryann smears a streak of Sam’s blood down her neck. Ugh.

Gosh. Those were the worst minutes in the episode, ever. I was nearly bawling when Sam turned pale and spoke to Sookie telepathically. He sounded frail and close to the Ripper’s front gates, so that made me prepare for the worst weeping session.

“Sookie, Destroy it.”

With that, she used her fairy powers to topple the ugly and smelly offering (the one made with human organs, some Bon Temp resident’s finger, and stuff from nature) and pretty much everything in her capacity to ruin the procession.

Did I mention the awful, vaguely tuneless and imminent sounding wedding march played with violins at the beginning of the procession? Oh, it nearly spoilt my dinner.

Anyhow, Sookie kind of saved Bon Temps from evil Maryann. She diverted the maenad’s attention (from the procession) and raced through the woods while helplessly calling out to Bill. I wonder why she entrusts her safety in that man. Some more Eric and Sookie action could spice up the finale…

However, it was good ole Sammy. He appeared as a bull to fool Maryann into thinking she has finally met up with her god. He proceeds to impale her with one of his horns, reminding me of how awesome rated dramas are. All the unadulterated gore and violence. HBO for the win!

Sam scores… And he wins. Returning to human form, he tunnels his arm (which was the horn that impaled her) out from Maryann’s chest with a ragged breath. Presenting, a bleeding Maryann (black and bloody) and Sam throwing her freshly dug out heart to the ground like a touchdown. This goes to show: The good always triumphs the evil.

Subsequently, Sookie embraced Sam in a sigh of relief. The man is alive. Plus, may I say, what a tender moment that was. Sam; hero, sweetheart and such a dear.

Tender moment was ruined shortly after when Bill stumbled out from the woods looking paler than usual. It turned out that Sam drank plenty of him. Well, Sam should have drained him while he could.

With Bon Temps returning to normal, Sookie instructs Jason and Sam to round up all the residents at her lawn and get them home. Gah, another reason why small towns remind me so very much of kampungs. Full of community spirit, that’s what.

Simultaneously, Eggs is busy rubbing blood out from under his nails and from his hands in Sookie’s kitchen. By his side was Tara, worried as a mother about his frazzled condition. Eggs was not taking the whole event easy. Interestingly, he speaks about “looking for Maryann”, probably for help, but my gosh, has he even been alive for the past few weeks?

I cannot help but believe Maryann has been intensively possessing him to the extent where he was lost all his roots of rationality and mental analysis. Thank god for Tara sticking by him. She seems to be the only clear-headed survivor of possession.

Scenes later, Sam sits by Sookie’s porch, forlornly staring at a deer in the woods. He shed a tear. Hmm, for all that time in True Blood, that is the first time I am seeing the man breaking down. Don’t get me started on my bawling session now.

Days later, oh yay! Merlotte’s Bar and Grill has resumed business and Sam is increasingly being looked upon as “a man who can wear his jeans”. Hot stuff. Sookie has no idea what she is missing. More talk on Mountain Dew and even more unabashed Lafayette ensues. Yes, he is back. Hallelujiah!

More Sookie-and-Sam hugs too. Man, I am starting to get used to it.

Talking about Sam, he goes back to his adoptive parents to find out more about his heritage. Turns out, his parents are “bad” and people he “would not want to know”. So terrifying, it sends shudders down my spine. However, his adoptive dad (now bedridden) cuts Sam some slack and illegibly pens down his biological parents’ name and address on a piece of paper, which is handed to Sam.

I sense trouble.

Maybe Tara was right about feeling sick about lingering trouble (at Bon Temps?).

Ending was fairly feel-good between Jason and Andy but I could be speaking too soon. Trouble is, Jason shot Eggs (out of defending Andy) and Andy is taking the rap for it. Oh-oh. Tara bursts out from Merlotte’s with a strangled voice, screaming, “No! No! NOOOOOOO!”

Ending also includes Bill bringing Sookie to French restaurant (humans love it) with the intent of a marriage proposal. Tragically, Sookie had to ponder in the ladies’ room. After many pondrous moments later, a pair of black gloves move swiftly to wrap a silver chain around Bill’s neck, pulling him off the chair. Sookie exits the toilet, runs to Bill with a “yes” but is greeted with a wrecked dining room instead.


This brings us to: Does he live? Die? Does Sookie get to successfully deliver her “yes” to the groom? Is Eric behind the strangulation? Did Eric sense Sookie’s feelings about Bill’s proposal and send for someone to wipe him out? Could it be that Bill’s inquisitiveness on the V trade getting him into hot soup?

Hem. Hoping for the best but expecting the worst… Watch out for True Blood Season 3 coming to TV screens at 2010.

Till then, speculate away! (That’s what keeping the forums busy.)

Before I run off to another True Blood banter or how odd I view the Evan Rachel Wood and Alexander Skarsgard rumoured romance, let me fill you in on what is going on in the world of the girl-with-the-endless-banter-about-TrueBlood:

  1. Elementary Watson, Elementary I know when I have crossed the line to become a full-fledged impulsive buyer the moment I talked myself into signing up for the Watsons Loyalty Card. However, in my defense, the card allows me to earn bonus points which will eventually translate to rebates. Other than that, it is a green, hard plastic card that makes me purposefully when I do my regular shopping at Watsons.

    After all, I am a loyal shopper. Might as well fashion my loyalty into a card.

    Cheers to more impulsive spending  and shopping binges.

  2. Seek mom’s advice I shall For being a bloody rebel, I failed to heed my mom’s advice on using clay masks on my (entire) face. That costed me… A lot. Now, I have scaly skin on a few spots on my face.

    I am beginning to feel like cicada undergoing molting. Guess I should have sticked to T-zone.

  3. The wonderous search for a suitable pair of cropped pants If there is any time to refuse using the word “perfect”, this would be it. I know deep in the recesses of my mind that I will probably never own designer pants so I will cut myself short right this instant.

    It cushions the fall and lessens the pain.

    As for the search, I have been scourging Uniglo (I seriously doubt their clothes are made from Japan. Hello? Quality speaks, and it is telling me plenty.), departmental stores (Chanced upon a pair going at S$130 at Isetan. Had to hold on to pillar to catch my breath thereafter.) and Bugis Street (Daisy-duke shorts seem to rule the world now. So much for them I am not interested in, sadly.). All of which is to no avail.

    Ah well. I was seriously considering Uniglo, but I might have second thoughts. I strolled past Giordano at the Takashimaya outlet and lo and behold, I found a S$29.90 pair. Colours are ordinary (e.g. Black), but who cares? I go for basic colours anyway. All the best to mix and match tops.

    I might be saving for it. Might. (My Watsons shopping impulses might empty my pockets quicker than I expect.)

  4. Kiss The Cook Well, I am merely a Sous Chef, truth be told. No, I do not work for a restaurant (I wish!) neither am I whipping up feasts for house parties.

    I have been temporarily recruited as my mom’s Sous Chef. My mom being the Head Chef of course.

    Cooking has been one of my holiday resolution, so I have set my heart, soul and mind to it. One baby step at a time. Recently, I have been summoned by the Head Chef to prepare half the ingredients needed for a salad for dinner. Specifically,  I was told to chop canned mushrooms to teeny tiny bits and tomatoes (off with the seeds) into crescents. Also, I have handled a chinese cleaver.

    The experience was less than satisfactory resulting in two fresh blisters on an  index finger, but I still have the fighting spirit in me. It was owed largely to my lack of practice and skill.

    After all, I was far from a cooking whiz. (I do not burn my food but I sure can make a mess out of them.)

  5. Battle of the languages Another one of my holiday resolutions was to brush up my french as well as to pick up another language. Frankly, my mom intends for me to become a multi-linguist. (Aye-yai-yai.)

    More importantly, I wanted to practice my french because I am continuing in Basic French (now in the second level of the Beginners’ Level. I am making progress!) once my second semester begins in October. It is going to be an uphill battle for me now, considering how I have no “background” to speak of. (I was able to cope with the first level because I told a similar course in Alliance Francais. I took it again in school just as a refreshers’ course.)

    Wish me luck!

    Oh, the other language I am training in now is Bahasa Melayu. (Mom’s the coach.)

  6. I’m addic, I’m addicted to you…

    No, this is not some desperate cry to Alexander Skarsgard, telling him how much I love his portrayal of Eric and how sexy he sounds in Swedish…

    Then again, oops, you caught me.

    In fact, I am addicted to TV dramas once more. The rated, in-your-face, totally unabashed American kinds. I am, indeed, a Showtime and HBO girl. Atypical girl is what you can call me. Or at least atypical girl in her taste in series genres.

    Currently, I am glued to Dexter and Hung.

    (On Dexter) I got to admit. Internal dialogues are something I relate to… All the time.

  7. Ain’t No Sunshine Don’t say “ain’t” or your mother will faint and your father will trip over paint.

    Please refrain from flaming me. My mom told me about that fancy rhyme years ago. A short tongue twister to remind kids to refrain from using “ain’t”. It is consider improper in the English language and vuglar to some (people).

    With that said, what I meant to write about it my recent addiction to sunblock. Yes, I have taken beauty advices one step to far and slathered on plenty of that skin saviour cream to prevent premature aging and tanning. The beauty advice being to moisture (always) and apply sunblock whenever, wherever.

    Wrong move in our crazy climate. With humidity cranked up to the maximum these days, the supposedly “light” sunblock felt clammy minutes after application on my skin. To think I follow its directions on applying “liberally on affected areas”.

    Truly, the sunblock made me feel like a walking slime machine… Of some sort.

    Note to self: Plaster sunblock discreetly on skin for any coming outdoor activities.

  8. To camp, to camp, to camp we go!It has been a week since I have attended a camp. Now, I am merely 30 hours away from another camp.

    I wonder what mood I will be in after all the dust has settled. Till then, off to camp!

  9. To clutch, or not to clutch? You know, clutches can be annoying. Yup, those rectangular creations fashioned to fit the bare minimum for a cocktail party or casual events. Though I attribute my impatience to my hatred for them.

    They are extremely pleasing to the eye but cumbersome for the hand. At times when you struggle to manhandle a certain task (like carrying tons of grocery bags), the clutch gets in the way and you are simply forced to wear the strap around your wrist and risk looking like a cheap clutch wannabe.

    Or maybe I happen to have a very fertile imagination.

    Either ways, I worked with a clutch for a day and I have told myself, “Never again”. Unless I am attending an exclusive event and my outfit depends on the clutch, I will firmly refuse the use of the clutch.

    Impractical, cumbersome and loathsome.

Ah well. I simply must retire for the night. Got a 4th episode of Dexter Season 2 to catch. Bon noir!