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Showing posts from March, 2011

Bobbi Brown Lash Glamour Lengthening Mascara

MASCARAS are like magic wands for the eyes. Run them over the lashes, and your eyes are  pleasantly tranformed for the day. So it's never a bad idea to have too many of it at a time. It's interesting to mix and test different products to maximise lash beauty. When Mich handed me a bunch of the magic wands two weeks ago, I was grinning with glee as I took them :D I can never have too many of them, and in the following weeks, I found myself getting wasted in them. Having tested a few,  Bobbi Brown Lash Glamour Lengthening Mascara   became an instant favourite.    The mascara comes in a tube. A soft, metal-like tube, and I find it really interesting. Bobbi Brown Mascara is the first mascara to be packaged in a tube, according to the company. "Bobbi Brown has had success with this mascara because of the formula's characteristics—it functions well in a tube," says Estee Lauder and Beauty Bank package development vice-president Gary Korba. Well then. I guess tha

My Food Biography (Part 2)

This is a continuation from My Food Biography (Part 1) . 6) Ipoh Curry Mee Curry Mee One of the foods I sorely missed during my Uni days in Penang was the Ipoh Curry Mee . Penang was all good. I was away from home, and only my rules applied for everything in my life, food including. Yet I missed everything from Ipoh, especially the food (despite Penang always being referred to as the country's food haven :D. No offence, but I diagree). I grew up in a house, which was located opposite a Chinese noodle stall. So, on the mornings when we didn't get our Chee Cheong Fun, my brother and I crossed over to get our Curry Mee, and sometimes Dry Curry Mee. As a family, we also often went out for a good bowl of Curry noodles on Saturday nights at the hawker stalls in First Garden. The prawn (sometimes crab) base soup, with a light consistency was heavy in flavour. I missed that simplicity and familiarity when I was in Penang. When I am home these days, I never leave without my serv

My Food Biography (Part 1)

THANKS to Hsian for a link that inspired me on this two-parter post. Food and life are  inseparable, and for someone such as myself, who lives to eat, writing a chronology of my life using food as reference sounds delectable. From the time I'd discovered the joys of eating, I'd never compromised a good gastronomic experience for anything. Not for my lactose intolerance, or a host of other allergies that was born with me. Here's my Food Biography in 10 dishes (first 5). 1) Chee Cheong Fun I can eat this all day long, everyday No milk and cereal for me for breakfast. As children, my brother and I woke up to packs of Ipoh Chee Cheong Fun that my dad bought at the morning market. It was always a delight to slurp on strings of flat rice noodles, all covered in thick mushroom sauce, mixed with sweet chilli sauce to wake up the tastebuds in the mornings. Garnished with pickled green chillies, sesame and some drops of sesame oil, we'd lick our plates clean before we st

Feisty Faustino and Friends

SO last night turned out to be a night of surprises and laughter amidst a group of veteran footballers who were here for the EPL Masters Football Tournament. I hadn't expected it at all when girlfriend Esther and I decided to have nothing more than a quiet drink at the Doubletree Kuala Lumpur.  An hour into our chat, a group of four came in and occupied the next table. The ring leader, who looked pretty much like Seal, minus the scars (according to Esther), turned out to be former Newcastle and Parma striker Faustino Asprilla. A Colombian legend. Dressed in a fitted T-shirt and jeans, Faustino who was casually downing some brandy was the most vocal, although his English stood out  like the ill-fitting stones on an old cobblestone pathway - loose and broken. He spoke plenty of Colombian, or maybe Latin with his mates. To us, he uttered some keywords and phrases in English, with some animation. So we got what he said alright. When we didn't get him, Swiss Stephane Henchoz, for

The Harper Connelly Mysteries

IT'S a common practice to look up other books of an author who's written your favourite series of books. That's how I found the Harper Connelly Mysteries (HCM) by Charlaine Harris. After completing all of Harris' Sookie Stackhouse books, I moved on to Harper Connelly. Actually, I had already bought all four books under the HCM while I was on the 6th Stackhouse book! When you look at my book shelf, you'll see morbid titles reading from death  to dead and , graves. On the shelf below, you'll see more titles by Anne Rice and Stephenie Meyer, and other such books. I have a thing  for paranormal mysteries, provided the characters have tangible sides I can relate to, and the books are easy to read, without being too dark. Reading the HCM has been a pleasure. There are four titles - Grave Sight, Grave Surprise, An Ice Cold Grave and Grave Secret . I skipped prime-time TV every evening to indulge in the books because the mystery aspects are engaging like a real tim

The Bang Band and The Other Wig

I BECAME curious about wigs a few years ago when I realised that long hair-styles were not for me. A few shots at long hair-dos, I'd decided that short, pixie cuts suited me better. But it'd still be nice to feel hair against my cheeks and shoulder, and to hide behind it once in a while. Plus, I really liked the idea of being able to toy around with a few looks without actually having to commit to one style. I get bored too easily. A wig, at the point, seemed like it could take care of all that. So, I made my first wig purchase last December. It's an interesting and unusual piece, which comes with a hair-band attached to a black, synthetic bang (pic, right). You wear it like a band on the crown to have a perfect Cleopatra-style bang. Your natural hair is visible from the head top to the back. My uncle and mom who were with me when I bought it thought that the strange wig reminded them of a haircut I used to have during primary school - so they actually liked it on me.

Life Goes On

A Funeral DURING work at the University Hospital mid last week, I had caught a sight of the mortuary. So I took a moment to look and ponder. At the lobby, stood a lady concealed in an over-sized dark glasses, with arms folded across her chest solemnly. Another group of people had just arrived, making their way pass the glass door to the reception area hurriedly. I hadn't known their stories, but I knew it had something to do with death, post-mortem and grief. Their sorrow may not have been mine, but my heart went out to them. After saying a silent prayer for the living, I turned around and exited, not knowing that a couple of days later I would be there myself. Just less than a year ago, a lady friend of mine, had lost her son due to a hospital negligence. At 51, she had already buried her parents, and a 29-year-old son. Burying anyone is not easy, but to bury one's own child? That is something else. But I guess, she was pulling it together, with the support of her childre