The holidays are here!
The holidays!!
*Drops hands* I don't know why I put those exclamation marks up there.

Been reading White Oleandar by Janet Fitch after watching the movie on HBO. It’s got a lot of what I’ve heard high-minded critics call “purple prose”. I like it – wondering how far the author can go before she seduces her readers completely, and when, exactly, I’m supposed to “commit it then to the flames” and disagree with her so-called art. Ingrid is echoed, unintentionally, in Counting Crows’ Four White Stallions:

She had skin like a statue, milky white and pure
carved by an artist whose hand is demure
got a mind like a sabre
razor sharp and sure

I went to the HC production of The Odd Couple. The acting (of course! Duh!) was great, although, yes, perhaps the script wasn’t entirely appropriate for a JC production. Could not help rolling my eyes at “I’m not Spanish, I’m a frustrated American woman.” Oh yes, aren’t we hostile. My dear industrious Huixin must have slaved over that beautiful display and merchandise (merchandise?), and I cannot believe that they built the set entirely on their own. Mrs. Perry and her funky kids were sitting in front of us.
(Pink daisy, the milky sweetness/bitterness of teh-tarik ice-cream, the spicy, tart explosion of crystallized ginger.)
My eyes are still recuperating from the sleepover – watching movies until 2.30am with contact lenses on. Ouch. Should not have eaten so much. Until now, the committee still cannot agree on anything. Only now instead of venues and timeslots it is biscuit and potato-chip brands. Yu-Hsin insisted on conjuring ghosts out of the Botanic Gardens’ pond (apparently someone fell in as a child) and of course got freaked by a speeding, silent roller-blader. Jiahan claimed to have forgotten to come because the end of school rendered his brain blank with happiness. I wonder what that would feel like. I don’t think it would be healthy. So blank that we had to pepper him with pillows and cow cushions and bury him in mattresses the next morning before he would crawl out.
Of course, nobody wanted the ginger. (Do you, Cheek?) It will rot in my fridge until the next time Zhixuan loses Five Alive.

[Footnote: Now girls, if you think you are fat, there's this 5-year old in Georgia who weighs 63 kg. Eat that. (I know that wasn't funny.)]
[2nd footnote: I do so little.]