I wore white and he wore black
Then bang bang, my baby shot me down.
So after two weeks of being dropped and picked up again, this girl right here was almost a D.O.A. case. Friday morning, Ju decided to pick up the gun and put the bullet right through my head. Good thing though, I couldn't afford a 4-year coma. Just a good cry (and a good excuse to leave the office earlier than usual) in the late afternoon at home for about 15 minutes, and then cussing my luck of being woman - it really isn't fun putting on concealer again on your eyebags, especially after crying - and then I literally skipped to meet Angela(h!) at that Singaporean eating joint for teh tarik and popiah.
I guess the issue here isn't really about whether or not Ju was a jerk. Rather, it was a case of "Michelle, you've been punk'd!" Being in a yo-yo relationship with a terribly indecisive boy can only be a joke. Turning away other uncomplicated fish to remain in a yo-yo relationship with a terribly indecisive boy is pure stupidity.
But that's all water under the bridge now. The truck did a killer swerve round the corner and turned-turtle. I got up from the crash site and checked myself in at Emergency. I wasn't even warded like I how I was two weeks ago. Just a few scratches, bruises and a couple of evil plots to wake him up at 7.35am on a Sunday morning to get back my stuff from his apartment. Anyway, I know I won't be getting into any auto-vehicles for awhile.
This time I paced myself with medication. Spaced out over 2 hours, consumed with good company (female friends and 40 year old uncles with B/O), and in full, approving view of the ex's posse, the recuperation process started well with poise, grace and a liberal dose of vodka redbull, whiskey cokes and margaritas.
It continued with waking up at 8 the next morning. And despite having only 4 hours of sleep, the healing took for an even better turn as I started the day by walking along Shanghai's premier shopping street to attend a weekly coffee meeting that I never could wake up to, since I got here 3 months ago. Reprieve also came in the form of an exquisite home-cooked lunch at "uncomplicated fish's" apartment - not quite Naked Chef though but it was comforting and entertaining all the same. And more therapy after that by way of a full-body massage and foot reflexology for under SG$20, a Japanese barbeque dinner, and a crazy housewarming party back at "uncomplicated fish's" pad, where my services as a translator/entertainer were often needed. By 4am Sunday, the recovery was almost 90%.
What more can I ask for. Especially after being "punk'd!" (thanks Angela-h! Where were my brains then?), did I really deserve to receive so many treats within 48 hours?!
Keep 'em coming!
So after two weeks of being dropped and picked up again, this girl right here was almost a D.O.A. case. Friday morning, Ju decided to pick up the gun and put the bullet right through my head. Good thing though, I couldn't afford a 4-year coma. Just a good cry (and a good excuse to leave the office earlier than usual) in the late afternoon at home for about 15 minutes, and then cussing my luck of being woman - it really isn't fun putting on concealer again on your eyebags, especially after crying - and then I literally skipped to meet Angela(h!) at that Singaporean eating joint for teh tarik and popiah.
I guess the issue here isn't really about whether or not Ju was a jerk. Rather, it was a case of "Michelle, you've been punk'd!" Being in a yo-yo relationship with a terribly indecisive boy can only be a joke. Turning away other uncomplicated fish to remain in a yo-yo relationship with a terribly indecisive boy is pure stupidity.
But that's all water under the bridge now. The truck did a killer swerve round the corner and turned-turtle. I got up from the crash site and checked myself in at Emergency. I wasn't even warded like I how I was two weeks ago. Just a few scratches, bruises and a couple of evil plots to wake him up at 7.35am on a Sunday morning to get back my stuff from his apartment. Anyway, I know I won't be getting into any auto-vehicles for awhile.
This time I paced myself with medication. Spaced out over 2 hours, consumed with good company (female friends and 40 year old uncles with B/O), and in full, approving view of the ex's posse, the recuperation process started well with poise, grace and a liberal dose of vodka redbull, whiskey cokes and margaritas.
It continued with waking up at 8 the next morning. And despite having only 4 hours of sleep, the healing took for an even better turn as I started the day by walking along Shanghai's premier shopping street to attend a weekly coffee meeting that I never could wake up to, since I got here 3 months ago. Reprieve also came in the form of an exquisite home-cooked lunch at "uncomplicated fish's" apartment - not quite Naked Chef though but it was comforting and entertaining all the same. And more therapy after that by way of a full-body massage and foot reflexology for under SG$20, a Japanese barbeque dinner, and a crazy housewarming party back at "uncomplicated fish's" pad, where my services as a translator/entertainer were often needed. By 4am Sunday, the recovery was almost 90%.
What more can I ask for. Especially after being "punk'd!" (thanks Angela-h! Where were my brains then?), did I really deserve to receive so many treats within 48 hours?!
Keep 'em coming!