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How to tell if your hairstylist rocks

You know a hairstylist is good when he spends 3 ½ hours making love to your hair. I only wanted a haircut by the way.

But the end results are promising indeed, even though I felt a tad awkward walking down the streets yesterday. The cut is real sharp, starting at the left side of my ear slanting down towards the back and tailing off to the right side like a tick sign. Which means, I have an asymmetrical hairstyle. Let’s put it this way, if you look at me from the left, I look like your typical handsome English pageboy. From the right profile, I look like a bloody hot girl. Drop me a line if androgyny floats your boat. Hahaha!

Well, the verdict’s out with a total of seven compliments. I totally rock this new cut. It was three and a half hours well spent, I have to admit. My mate said it best among all. After checking out my new haircut, my mate says, “Nice, now you can go attract some sweet young things.” ROFL!

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Oscars surprises, I hate them

Why you, Penelope Cruz, how dare you tarnish Nate Silver’s predictions?! HE was my foolproof plan to win the office’s Oscars pool! Never trust one who does election predictions again.

And the bloody cheek of Sean bloody Penn. How dare he robbed me of the remaining 90% chance of winning the office’s Oscars pool. Mickey Rourke, I blame your chihuahua.

Reading the whole commentary on the Oscars earlier and one of the funniest quotes has ought to be Defamer’s remark on the Winner of Best Picture, SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE. “We believe that’s the brownest-looking Oscars stage we’ve ever seen.” You may chuckle now.

Anyway, the funniest bit of the whole four possibly terminal butt-numbing hours is hands down Tina Fey and Steve Martin’s screenplay-like presentation. Literally. Interior: Kodak Theatre… and the dig at Scientology. Oh and the chemistry. They should host the Oscars next year.

Here’s Ben Stiller taking the mickey out of Joaquin stoner Phoenix by the way.


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One of the best shows on TV today

Not to sound like an ungrateful twat or anything but just how amazing is 30 Rock and can they hurry up with the next season already. I know I’m a late bloomer and all since I’ve only actually sat down and seriously go through the episodes weeks ago. Anyway, just to be clear the recent McFlurry controversy of how it might be degenerating into product placement popcorn fluff has hardly caused a ripple in my consciousness. There, so producers, namely you Tina Fey, “everything that is right and good about America”, do hurry up with the next season, yes. You have one fan waiting here.

That video was after her acceptance speech at this year’s Golden Globes. Here’s the transcript because I can’t find the actual video:

“I want to say thank you to the Hollywood Foreign Press. I’ll always love the Hollywood Foreign Press and have all the Hollywood Foreign Press action figures. Thank you, Will Arnett, for that joke. But I want you to really know how lucky I am to have the year I’ve had this year and, if you ever start to feel too good about yourself, they have this thing called the Internet! You can find a lot of people there who don’t like you! I’d like to address some of them now! BabsonLacrosse, you can suck it. DianeFan, you can suck it. Cougar Lover, you can really suck it ’cause you’ve been after me all year. And to my husband, Jeff, I love you. Thank you very much! “

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Oddly addictive pineapple tarts

Today, being the 15th day of the lunar calendar and all, marks the end of Chinese New Year. Which means no more addictive but fattening snacks such as pineapple tarts and pistachio cookies. That is if you haven’t been greedy and finished the whole stash long ago.

Oh and I did my part in the last lo hei tossing, pomelo munching and chewing down of mini pink and white glutonious rice balls. All to celebrate, or mourn really, the end of Chinese Spring Festivities.

According to Beijing media Xinhua, the first penumbral lunar eclipse of 2009 will reach its darkest peak at 22.38pm so the moon will be rounder than usual and also bigger till then. No need for fancy telescopes or binoculars. Perhaps you can double check if the estimated distance of 365,000 km between the moon and the earth is correct then.

Somehow I imagine the moon to look very much like this lovely pineapple tart. Without the little buttery ribbon and brown filling obviously.

Awesomeness packed in one tart

Awesomeness packed in one tart

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Listening: Somebody Loved by The Weepies

Was too tired to churn out any sort of stuff resembling work today. Settled for taking copious amounts of cigarettes instead. Which I cleverly combined them into one long session. Fat lot of good it did to my overall health as evidenced from the lips still screaming from dehydration. Like I care. Actually I do because it means I have to smear Vaseline all over my lips now.

So my workmate / smoke-buddy M who was sick for like one week running finally returned. “Wanna smoke?”

The Imaginarator: “FK’s bench demands a hug. Maybe a kiss too.”

“Hahaha.” Cue puffs.

Rain turns the sand into mud. Wind turns the trees into bone. Stars turning high up above. You turn me into somebody loved. – Courtesy of Dirty Sexy Money

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I’ve turned a lighter shade of blue

I guess it finally dawned on me you’re gone. Well, maybe I can make it on my own. I don’t stay up wondering if you’ll call. Sometimes I don’t dream of you at all. Your memory is still hurting me inside. That’s something I’m still learning to hide. Though this heart of mine has lost an ache or two, I’ve only turned a lighter shade of blue.

p/s: I’ve heard an acid jazz remix of this song over the radio yesterday which is even more brilliant than this inferior youtube example but I’ve no idea which genius did the remix or if it was even this title.

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Why I hate aisle seats

So I was on the bus earlier and I hate aisle seats for the same reason you will hate aisle seats in approximately three minutes time.

I normally do not mind seating next to the passageway when the bus is derived of any passengers. What, I have my personal space limit to maintain here. Which means crowds should not exist at 9.10pm. But this old man, he played knick … oh … He stood horribly close – like the fabric of his clothes was touching my sleeve close –  and he smelled. On a smell’o’metre scale, the needle was very close to attempting a daring break out.

Now add the four stops I had to endure before I can drop off. Oh, and I had to lean towards the middle-aged man in pink who was seating beside me. There was definitely a low hum from his corner during the journey. Our sleeves kept brushing against one another too. See why you hate aisle seats now?

But really, nothing compares to the lovely blast of rancid smell molecules that welcomed me to the office washroom. That, my friend, totally sent the smell’o’metre scale back into the manufacturer’s arms. Right before lunch too. Wonderful eh?

Feel free to leave your smelly snides in the comment box below.

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Monday’s Constant Craving

[imagine a lovely basket of hot golden fries here]

I want french fries so bad. I am willing to trade babies for them.

All major potato wedges accepted here too.

Oh, how to tell if the recession is worsening No. 276 – companies are giving out calendars as corporate gifts instead of daily planners.

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Monday’s Jagabee Jingle

Jagabee awaits visit from me

Today, Imaginarator is feeling all sort of iffy whiffy what with the lack of three proper meals a day since 1993 when Kate Moss ushered in the waif look with a highly publicised nude ad campaign for Calvin Klein. Awestruck young Imaginarator has been trying to attain the perfect heroin chic look since then. That is until bloody effing Edward Cullen and his “impossibly beautiful” pale marble skin and dark purplish eye shadows came along. Harumph!

It’s ok! Imaginarator will turn to the comforting oily arms of fried chicken to sooth its permanently hungry since 1993 soul. Except the last fried chicken has been eaten by Imaginarator’s annoying brother or sister.

Poor Imaginarator is now fantasising about the rows of Jagabee, tucked safely behind the closed shutters of the supermarket. These Jagabee potato bits look like French Fries, feel like crispy French Fries and taste like French Fries. The Jagabee is everything Imaginarator wants in an alpha French Fry.

Of course, no shops are open now to satisfy this craving. Which means Imaginarator can wave bye bye to its precious sleep. And a grouchy Imaginarator out on the internets is not a pretty sight. You’ve been warned.

Feel free to leave your own Jagabee love or any other cravings in the comments below