Saturday, March 12, 2011

I AM No.26

In mathematical terms of rounding up numbers, i would be 30.
But thank god the accurate calculation according to my birth certificate is still within the vicinity of a just-turned (longoverdue) happy (barely) healthy (hopefully) 26 year-old which came to pass about 2 weeks ago.

In the midst of scouring through an early life crisis, uncertain future thinkings, and insomnia, the lovely lovely people around me managed to pull me out of despair and slip in some much appreciated fiesta fun i had been desperately craving for.


There was song.
There was dance.
There was frolicking and clandestine touching.



...and there was Bieber.


and me.


and Scott Pilgrim.

At the end of the day every humans had smiles imprinted on their faces.
...except for a minor snafu when the housebunneighshoy dropped precious money all over the unknown land of can't remember where. poor thing. money rocks ok?!
it sucks when ur rock is missing. :(



the superhumans i owe my thank yous to.

~

Also had steamboat with the ex-colleagues++.


which was followed by jellycake blowing after.


with Feb-ulous Februarians.

and a very nice constantloudobnoxiouscontinuesknock on door at 12midnight of 27/2....


..for this.


from Housemates of Rainbow.

i is a lucky lucky man.

I have no wishes accept that whatever challenges/risks that may attack me this year, god please make the payoff/cheque worth it....



Wednesday, March 09, 2011

THE SMELL OF AGONY

OMG u do not know pain until u have had someone fiddle 2 hospital contraptions down(up?) your nostrils and proceed to shear/tear away excess flesh while you are completely conscious watching the good doc do his thing on a 21 inch monitor in front of u.

His thing meaning your thing.
Specifically your nose.
Or rather, the insides of your nose.

I swear it was agonizing as hell and i cried like a baby.

So this is the immediate aftermath of the entire ordeal.



and this is the reward i got to take back for my bravery.


It's the loving tubes that spent a week inside me.
Holding my fragile nose in place.
Sculpting my mashed up insides so that my humanly proboscis may yet stand a whiff at life.


Pretty fascinating no?
With the dried up blood + mucus still intact.
Doc yanked the whole set of twins out in 1 mighty pull.
i was literally still tearing and bleeding while telling the nurse i wanted to keep the tubes.

The conversation went something like this:

me: "can i keep those?"
nurse: "yes darling. I'll wash it and then give you later."
me: "no need."
nurse: "oh no need to give u?"
me: "no need to wash."
nurse: "err..... oh..... k............"

Raw and Rugged.
That's how i roll.

Ptui.
*spits into bucket in cowboy macho badboy manner*




Tuesday, March 08, 2011

DIRTY DEEDS OF MINE

Oh the wonders a night of insomnia(ma) can do to your stagnant list of to-dos can sometimes be so friggin satisfying.

I was tossing and turning in bed and when the lids refused to transport my mind to slumberville, so I decide to hop back up and actually started paving my online portfolio - which by the way - i have been begging and hammering and urrrrg(h)ing my procrastinatively stubborn conscience to do since the pre-dates of dates.

One thing led to another and it sorta became a lil obsession of mine for a certain time frame of 3am - 5am. u know... like how your heart beats fast and your palm turns sweaty and your leg can't stop taping and waging like you're high on something at 4am? Ya. It's like that. i managed to get some forced shuteye after 5. Then yanked the lids open and jumped straight into it again from 9am - 2pm.

before i knew it, it was done!
kinda.
sorta.

Still trying to figure out some minor details (ok maybe not so minor cuz i bloody hell want it to be perfect and cant stop OCDing about it) like how to canggihfy the header; how to add in segments so there's a more systematic navigation going on; how to add in a link to my contact details somewhere and how to infect other cooler, awesomer portfolio sites with virus - BUT overall it doesnt make me wanna puke at my own shit. So it's passable. I leeched off tumblr's free themes so i dont have full reign over the layout. (And also because i know shit about html.)

Go take a look at my baby HERE.


Go see. Go see.

Pains me to say this but....
Thank you, insomnia.

Urgh.




Sunday, March 06, 2011

MY NOSE JOB

So the story goes that one was admitted to Tropicana Medical Center with the excuse that not only was he experiencing slow death by massive massive sneeze waves, but was told after numerous visits to the doc, that his nose bone was indeed mutating into something that was blocking his breathing passageway and causing internal inflammations to occur.

So howdydoo what better way to tackle the problem at hand but to admit one's self to a quickie simple basic surgery that would change one’s nasally problems for good right?


WRONG.



Little did one know the magnitude of mayhem one was getting one's self into.
Here are some recollections....

my cozy accommodation for the night.

my 5-star bed controller

My golden 2-day pass around the hospital grounds

blood stains on the curtains.
makes one wonder what gruesome stories these stains could tell...


A couple of noteworthy mayhems to remind one's self:

1 – Anesthesia does NOT make you feel high. It makes you feel like crap.

I woke up with a splitting head + neck ache. My insides wanted to be outside. But the experience of post anesthesia really does feel like you’re fading in and out of a dream state. You hear the muffled voices. You zone in and out of the ceiling hospital lights in your face. And soon as you know it you’re back at your nice hospital bed with an excruciatingly bad ass nose sting.

It was weird. I dun even remember KO-ing. A moment the doc was explaining the process of it whilst pumping in the oddly cold meds into my veins and covering my airholes with a mask. And then the next i remember dreamland. literally. i was dreaming (or not?) while doc was operating me on the table.

2 – Always ALWAYS bring extra reading material if u are admitted.

I brought magazines and finished them by midnight. Which left me another 12 hours before the next doc checkup. Time passed soooooo slowly I was waking up from my sleep every 2 hours hoping it was at least 6am which only brought forth disappointment when I came to realize it was 2. I was tormented in boredom.

3 – Hospital patient uniforms are NOT sexy

You can never feel enough awkwardness whenever a stranger in uniform tells you to “wear this” and “underwear also take off, ok?” followed by a polite smile. Especially when it's said in a room full of fully clothed people.

The Operation Uniform had a 1 piece skirt slit so high cheongsams would look at it and detest in freakout-conservative-mum-manner going “Oh no young lady!!! if YOU think you’re wearing THAT to the party you must be joking!”

Not sexy yo.
Not even close.

Plus I felt naked.

see or not?


4 – Paying the hospital bills before u head home sucks if you have NEVER paid such a astronomic amount before in your entire petty poor life.

You see, my bff’s - stupidity and ignorance - told me my debit card would be able to cover the whopping 10k bill (YES. Muthafuthafriggin 10K!) at one swipe, but 4 rejected swipes and 2 fruitless calls to Maybank Customer care later, I knew I had to think of other means to settle the payment.

So I had to put on my boyish charm, flash my milliondolla smile, and request the direction of the nearest ATM.

Turns out. It was at the gas station opposite the road. Fine.

I tell them to hold on to my bags.

I stand up in upmost pride. Walk out the door. Cross the road. Get to the station. Withdraw my novel-thick cash. Walk back in. Hand the cash to the counter. Only to realize I had miscalculated the amount and was doomed to repeat the entire process of walking out and risking my life crossing the 马路入虎口road. A-friggin-gain.

I know right? FML.

Post-surgery nose was bleeding and oozing mucus blood the whole time.


ANYWAY.........


Was a good experience.

1st time being admitted and 1st time going under the knife.

Till this day I wasn’t sure if the jittery butterflies in my stomach during the wait in the Pre-Op room was of fear or fascination.

It’s exactly how it is in the movies. You get carted into the rooms. All you see are the florescent ceiling lights flashing across your sight like names going up on a credit page after the show ends.

I could not taste / smell anything after the surgery. So every single meal that appeared before me just felt like chunks of tasteless things I had to devour to end the hunger. OH WHICH REMINDS ME: another noteworthy point!.........

5 - Always sneak in extra sachets of FOOD when you’re admitted.

As if boredom wasn’t bad enough, my humanly desires to feed were at full swing and making a wracket the WHOLE in-between-meal time. I could’ve sworn my tummygrowls scared the shit out of the kids at the pediatric ward next door.



the slender ergonomic presentation sure works up an appetite, doesnt it?



checkout my macho hand tubes (and unknowing random patient's leg in backdrop)



hospital food revealed

The visitors and their awwww-poor-thing faces.

I was telling them to flash me their best kelian expression but somehow
Papa CANNOT STOP smilling...... I’m glad my agony brings you joy, papa.

Really.


-__________-


Ok honestly. This pic is kinda freaky.

this is my makeover look. Very Gaga-inspired i must say.

And so i return home with my MC in hand and my optimism in mind that after all this pain and moping and bone-sawing that i will walk out of this a changed nasal. That i will no longer have the desperate need to spread my explosive projection of bodily discharges as often as i used to. That my heart can rest assured that my noisy breathing pipes no longer make others suffer above my suffering.


my boxes of medication and Tropicana Med Center souvenirs.

and of course....

my battle trophy.

(rooaarrrrr. Shiver in fear of my terrifying nose bone cutlets
in light hospital sauce and sunshine bottle lid.)


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