Spaced out

It is absolutely fantastic to be back at work!

While it has been fun pottering around at home in my pee-jays, working ad hoc throughout the day has whacked my routine completely. I started replying work emails at odd hours in the night and working-out at 3pm during the day. My meals consists of whatever I find in the kitchen which is mostly carbs hence the mid-section is getting rather prosperous. Argh. Also I started doing so much housework since I am home all the time because The Landlord keeps messing up and I can’t stand to be in a dirty house. I also started doing work in front of the TV so much so that I memorized the sequence of day time shows on Channel 5 (the only channel I can get fuzzy reception from my room). I am even watching Martha Steward! This is NOT good.

That is why I was bouncing off my bed when the alarm rang this morning. I was even singing loudly in the car on my way to work. Singing despite the fact that I was listening to a Portugese song (I accidentally download by mistake which got stuck on my playlist since 2003) even though The Frou speak-ah no Portugese.

Anyway, I got a nice surprise when I reach my work. I found that it has been “enlarged” over the week I was away. I immediately pirouetted on the spot to test it out and am super impressed that it can take the entire circumference of a spinning Frou!

So what happen was, I filed a complaint a while back during a survey the company is doing on workplace satisfaction. I said I felt like canned sardine in my cubicle. Considering the amount of paperwork I do, it’s a blatant disregard for my well being to shove me in a 2 by 2. I think I even had a constipated face on when I said that to show that my physically cramped body is starting to show on my face.

Their immediate response is that changing work space costs money. Enlargement of work space will be perceived by others as a waste of company resources. Times are bad and we need to make certain sacrifices for the good of the company. They drone on and on while my constipated face tightened.

My Boss really fought for me on this one. I think she even paid for it out of own budget. Considering the recent freeze on bonus and increment, the least she say she will do is give me an extra meter of work space. Sweet! More space = more work.

The only downside is, it adds to the unfamiliarity of going back to work. All my stuffs have been packed while they did the renovation last week so I have to unpack. I didn’t have time or energy to so I just shove all the boxes under the table and pulled out whatever I need to work on. But oh boy… the space, my friend, the space. I have space to work finally. I can spread my 100-page contracts far and wide. I can strew my stationery all over the place. I can crawl under my table and lie full length to sleep. I even have to holler to speak to my neighbor in the next cubicle.

My celebrated space got even nicer when the Receptionist called to ask me to collect a “special package” that just came in for me. It was a large bouquet of gorgeous pink lilies – from The Toe - to celebrate me going back to work. Oh sweet! My new space looks like it has been officiated with an opening ceremony complete with flowers and ribbons. I have the best BFF in the world! :)

You may think I'm overeacting but extra space in my life is exactly what I need at the mo. Now that is taken care of, it’s time to bring the rain…

Nothing

Phillip and Toi complained to me yesterday that they are very sick of reading my zen shit. After all, they know that I am a cuckoo alibaba freak in real life so nothing zen that comes out of me resonates with them.

So now I am under pressure to write some lame stuffs just to appeal that mass. Yeah, mass is the right word. Mass makes me think of Phillip and Toi’s bellies. They even have their own names. Phillip’s one is called Polly just because Polly sounds like a very fat irritating old lady (like him). Toi’s is called Wilson. Have you watched Cast Away when Tom Hanks was stranded on an island and his only friend is Wilson the Volleyball? Well, we were at a beach a couple of years ago when Choon came running towards me ala David Hasselhoff style and as he ran, he lifted his shirt to take it off. I found myself suddenly face to face with a large, white, firm round ball where his mid-section is supposed to be. I screamed, “OH MY GAWD. IT’S WILSON!” and ran the other way.

So Phillip, Polly, Toi and Wilson all think that I should write about something less zzz. True. That explains why sometimes I fall asleep typing. So today I am going to write about – nothing. I will not think about sentence formation, structuring or making sense. Uh-ah. Girlfriends, this will be as raw as it gets. (Who's Zzzz-ing?)

Lets start with the fact that I am quarantined by the alibaba doctor I saw this afternoon who thinks I should be socially responsible and stay at home even though I am fine and bouncing off walls. I let off a string of hokkein when I saw what the quack wrote on my MC. Now that it is on record, I cannot feign ignorant and go back to work. So I rang The Boss and told her the news. Minutes later, she sent me a work email where she referred to me as Miss Quarantine. At least she has a sense of humor.

I called Dailytoe shortly after to announce that since I have to work from home, I need a chair. Because the one I was sitting on is rickety and it feels like I am going to end up on my ass on the floor if I so happen to hit the keyboard just any slightly harder. I was wailing into the phone at her. So, she said she is bringing over a chair.

Next, Toi called. I decided to answer it and he went on and on and on and on about how I didn’t pick up his calls for the past week. I said I didn’t feel like it. He called me a biatch and then asks if I am still alive. I croaked that Toe is bringing over a chair and that I think she has some drama stories to share because she just got a new tattoo and she didn’t feel any pain so obviously the pain within must have been stronger. Because he is a queen who cannot resist sob stories, he insists that he is coming over too.

I sms Toe to say that Toi is coming over for gossips sake and that she should buy food for us while she entertain us with her sob stories. So she came with 1 chair, 1 box of mushroom, 1 box of caprese, 2 lasagnas and 1 bottle of wine. She lugged it all up the stairs by herself. And she whined, “Why everytime I come over here I am bringing so much shit for you?!!?”

Long suffering friend, that one.

Her stories are actually rather entertaining. And tragic of course. When Toi and me finish rolling on the floor, I wanted to high-five Toi over something quite clever that I said. (Really quite clever wan!) I raised my palm at him but he recoiled in horror. “I don’t want to touch you! You sick!!” he squealed.

TMD. Potong steam.

Next, it was Toi’s turn to regale us with tales of his new lover who wanted to buy him an oven so that Toi can eat roast beef.

“I ask for roast beef and he wants to give me oven! What the fuck!!??”

Toe said her ex boyfriend also bought her an oven once. Costs $800. She used it 5 times. Which means each use costs $800 divided by 5. And it can’t be used anymore because everytime she turns it on, it trips the power supply in her alibaba house.

Nobody bought me an oven before. But somebody bought me a coffee machine which worked for about 10 cups of coffee before it died. That is about $50 per cup.

I don’t know why Toi felt it was necessary to tell us, but he told us that when he was in high school, he took part in one of those talent competition and won first place. He performed Smooth Criminal. The Toe and I got curious and we ask him whether he can moonwalk. He said can, but he needs a pair of socks. So I got him a pair. His moonwalk cannot make it. Looks like MJ got drunk and is stumbling home.

So he danced and sang Dirty Diana instead. And he proceeded to clutch his crotch and yowled.

And you wonder why I can’t sleep now….

The Frou Tweets!

I got an sms from Tetanus this morning saying I bluff him.

After having endured my very long (and arduous) last post, he said I didn't even leave my Twitter account details.

Frou: You dungu! If you have read my very long (and arduous) post properly, it says that I have no interest in tweeting!
Tetanus: Chey. I assumed you'd have gone and signed up anyway.

Grr. Fine! So I went ahead and did just that a minute ago cos I'm bored. I'm still in gestation. Not working today.

I still dunno how to use it or who is supposed to follow what or who and how. I got some porn chicks following me already. Do people spam you on Twitter??

Anyway, this is my address if you folks wanna tweetery tweet with The Frou.

http://twitter.com/thefrou

A Sick Caterpillar's Lament

Earlier this evening, I opened my mouth to ask the Starbucks barista what happened to all their pastries; there are only cakes left in the display shelf.

I croaked.

And then I realized that that is the first time I spoke to anyone properly since I left the office last Friday. I almost didn’t recognize my voice. I sound like a frog. A frog that just swallowed a fly. Whole. (Frogs never chew in the first place, do they?)

And the reason why I was croaking is because (1) I am having a cold, (2) I haven’t had human contact for the past 2 days, and (3) I have not said a single word the entire day. And I am slightly ashamed that the first words I’m using is to ask for pies!

So, I have been in self-exile ever since I came back from my holiday last week and fell ill. I think it was the climate change. Or maybe it was what Toi predicted, “You just didn’t want to go back to work lar”. I did go to work the next day I arrived and worked very hard for the next 2 days indeed, and promptly fell sick on Friday. I suspect it was my body telling me, “You are still on holiday. Go back to bed.”

So I came home last Friday afternoon and I have not left my bed since. Until this evening (approx. 48 hours later) to fulfill an insane & outrageous craving for pie and coffee. I got that craving from one character in the shows I was watching on TV who was eating that. That is how I ended up croaking at the Starbucks barista. :S

Anyway, although I spent the last 48 hours in bed, I only slept about 12 hours. The rest of the time was spent awake and : (1) Watching an entire set of Korean drama series starring Rain (too many gratuitous shower scenes), (2) one British movie starring Justin Timberlake’s girlfriend, (3) half a episode of Rachel Ray (she sounds like a frog too) where she was demonstrating how to make Rock Soup, (4) half a Cosmopolitan magazine, Aussie edition, (5) a few chapters from A Road Less Traveled by Dr. Scott Peck (I called him Dr. Pecker once by mistake, eeks!) and (6) surfing the Internet.

I have never spent so much time surfing the Net before. I never surf the Net outside of work. In fact, typing a blog post on a Sunday night is categorically not me. Typing 2 blog posts on a Sunday means I am REALLY spending way too much time on the Net.

I discovered many, many new things online I never knew existed. The internet is a devil. Even when I am stuck in bed, sick to my stomach, I can still shop. Curse those online shopping sites with their attractive “You can only get this price online” marketing gimmicks which I fell headlong for. There is no austerity in being ill and decrepit.

I also discover that you can find ANY damn information you want online. There are “women only” sites featuring erotica stories WITH images to boot (Phwoarr!), language sites teaching colloquial cockney slangs (now I know what a brass monkey is), videos teaching you how to bun your hair (erm…I am just preparing for next time when I become a Datin) and I also caught up with all the blogs I have been following or meant to follow. I also (finally) checked out how Twitter works after reading so much about it in the newspapers especially how it helped the Iranians communicate during the recent electoral riots. Sadly, I maintain zero interest in ‘tweeting’ because I cannot imagine anyone having any interest in knowing when my toilet break is or what kind of bread I am using for my sandwich.

Going back to some of the interesting stuffs I was reading in bed, I got quite caught up with Dr. Peck(er)’s analysis on the theory of “love” from a psychotherapy perspective in his book, The Road Less Travelled. He deduct that the concept of “falling in love” is not real love, but a specifically sex-linked erotica experience. (Case on point, you do not fall in love with your children.) He also derived that you cannot “fall in love” permanently. The bloom of romance will always fade. And how this work, and why it ends, has to do with the ‘ego boundary’.

He has a chapter long definition on what is your “ego boundary” but (my summary is that) it is essentially a personal concept of your place in this world. It is what you define yourself, as an individual, apart from the rest of the world. When you fall in love, you let your ego boundary merge with the recipient of your love. This merging is an omnipotent and powerful experience. You feel that you can do anything, solve every problem, and tackle any obstacles whilst you are in this state. But sooner or later, in response to daily living, the individual will reassert itself. You realize that you are not one with the other person because each individual have their own personal wants and desires. That is when your ego boundaries snap back into place again.

That ending is not supposed to be dire, though. He explain that although falling in love is not real love, it is the necessary first step to finding genuine love. His next few chapters talks about managing ego boundaries and exercising discipline on love. (Erm, I fell asleep at some point so I can’t tell you more... :S)

Apart from reading, watching TV and surfing, I spent an inordinate amount of time just lying in bed and thinking about nothing and enjoying the nothingness of it all. It may sound strange (and extremely lazy) but it felt very good. I was sneezing every 15 minutes and feeling light headed all the time but other the physical discomfort of having a cold, I was a happy bunny. I was cocooned in my duvet like a caterpillar, except I have no intention of morphing into a flying being anytime soon. I was even hoping the gestation period will never end.

But the gestation period is ending because it is past midnight now and in a couple hours time, I have to get up and fly to work. Sigh.

Happy Monday, folks. Tweet tweet.

A Note from The Universe

Actually, Frou, everyone is reasonable.

They just have their own reasons.

And usually it's worth trying to learn what they are to maximize chances of a full-blown, 60's style, psychedelic lovefest. Which is always a good thing.

Groovy you,
The Universe