I am on a mission, ladies and gentlemen. I will lose those damn pounds, even if I have to eat cabbage soup (yuck). The stakes are now at RM200/pound. Goddamn why am I so gullible to challenges?

In a fit of spontaneity, I had my hair purged of its curls. So now I have straight (ish) hair. According to Ken, I no longer look like my english cocker spaniel. Ken can be a bitch sometimes.

Guess what I'm listening to as I write this: ABBA megamix, baby! If you think my penchant for ABBA is weird, well this will probably flush my reputation down the drain of "shitty taste in music".

San Francisco coffee has pretty darn good caesar salad. Had to camp in the office unexpectedly one night, when I had pre-planned to go get a soothing hairwash and massage. But noooo, had results to do. So I trudged downstairs and compensated by getting a caesar salad topped with extra extra smoked salmon for good measure. All charged to the company of course.


I was given a little wooden turtle as a good luck charm for my career. I named it Charlie. I had wanted to call it Richard initially, but decided not to since Richard sounds like a person who oft gets killed in battle. NOT GOOD OMEN. Much prefer Charlie, who sounds like the person who was standing next to Richard but had the good fortune of escaping unscathed.

But my turtle has a fucking pissy face. It's perpetually scowling at me from where it sits. Imma thinking of reconstructive surgery and carving a toothy grin on Charlie. Charlie's aren't supposed to have pissy faces. Maybe I should have named him Arnold?