I am just hoping that I won't regret this for the rest of my life.
I JUST REJECTED AN OFFER OF EMPLOYMENT FROM GUCCI.
Yes, it's that GUCCI, Gucci. The brand that China pirates extensively.
They called me regarding my application to do in-house PR for them. THEY ACTUALLY CALLED!!!! :P:P:P:P
But guess what, I was just made an associate today, and I felt bad leaving my company, especially after the boss has been so nice to me.
So I said, "Uh ummm, actually, ummm you called too late. I found a job."
I almost ripped my hair out when I said that. Why do they take so freaking long to call me?!?!?! I could have been sitting in a civil-servant-ish job, that's 9 to 5, being situated in a department of resource-wasting PR department, doing paper work, yet I chose to slave in a PR firm....Just what am I thinking....I just wish I won't live to regret this forever, especially when the going gets tough.
Oh btw, while researching for a paper on pop-culture, I finally found out the meaning of O.P.P....hurhurhur.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
I AM PISSED. FUCKING, BOILING, OVER-FLOWINGLY pissed.
And I'm glad I do not get such clients for accounts in my day job. At least not yet.
But there is a certain fat, pompous bastard/piece of shit who really pisses the hell out of me.
Becasue he is indecisive, tee kor, stingy and just bloody likes to waste everyone's time.
For one thing, casting = choosing models that fit the image your company wants to portray. AND IF YOU WANT TO SEE MODELS FOR 5 times before you select them, then you please jolly well need to pay. Even LG or Samsung do not go through sooo many girls to do their booth.
If you want Russian models, you need to pay MORE. Even the Russian prostitute in Geylang charges a MUCH higher rates than the normal PRC whores. Not that I'm associating myself with the hussies; the point is that, they come with a different price tag. Period.
If you want diversity, choose Indians, choose Malays, whatever....Yet as an indian himself, he rejected all the indian models brought to him, and slammed all the Malay models (even I dont understand the racial discrimination here). I have for him, Korean, Thai, Dutch, Indonesian, even MOngolian, on top of the usual chinese fare, what more does he want??!!
And at the end of the day, you are not the only one who is BUSY. Taking a rain cheque on our casting for 4 times the last minute is quite frigging irritating already. Not to mention the leaves that people take in order to come to let you assess them, the hee hee hor hor and telling your staff you forgot how they look like, and ask them to come again. You've seen too many girls, and you are just seeing for sport.
One day you say you like this girl, the next day you say the same girl is not pretty...
You are not choosing a bride for GOD's sake, or someone to suck your dick, for that matter.
It's just a company's ambassador.
And for that, I curse you to go eat shit and die
And I'm glad I do not get such clients for accounts in my day job. At least not yet.
But there is a certain fat, pompous bastard/piece of shit who really pisses the hell out of me.
Becasue he is indecisive, tee kor, stingy and just bloody likes to waste everyone's time.
For one thing, casting = choosing models that fit the image your company wants to portray. AND IF YOU WANT TO SEE MODELS FOR 5 times before you select them, then you please jolly well need to pay. Even LG or Samsung do not go through sooo many girls to do their booth.
If you want Russian models, you need to pay MORE. Even the Russian prostitute in Geylang charges a MUCH higher rates than the normal PRC whores. Not that I'm associating myself with the hussies; the point is that, they come with a different price tag. Period.
If you want diversity, choose Indians, choose Malays, whatever....Yet as an indian himself, he rejected all the indian models brought to him, and slammed all the Malay models (even I dont understand the racial discrimination here). I have for him, Korean, Thai, Dutch, Indonesian, even MOngolian, on top of the usual chinese fare, what more does he want??!!
And at the end of the day, you are not the only one who is BUSY. Taking a rain cheque on our casting for 4 times the last minute is quite frigging irritating already. Not to mention the leaves that people take in order to come to let you assess them, the hee hee hor hor and telling your staff you forgot how they look like, and ask them to come again. You've seen too many girls, and you are just seeing for sport.
One day you say you like this girl, the next day you say the same girl is not pretty...
You are not choosing a bride for GOD's sake, or someone to suck your dick, for that matter.
It's just a company's ambassador.
And for that, I curse you to go eat shit and die
Sunday, January 13, 2008
手贱
This glorious term is more commonly manifested in Hokkien, and it's pronounced as "Chiu Jian". For the benefit of those non-Hokkien speakers, when you say that a person is 手贱/chiu jian, you are saying that the person has itchy fingers, is meddlesome, and KPO.
Chiu Jian is when you were young, despite your mother's repeated warnings not to touch that boiling pot of water on the stove, you had to have a go at touching the shiney metallic surface of the pot. You end up burning your hands and you cry, even though you know that your mother told you that you will. That is being Chiu Jian.
It is also when you were in your adolescence, and had a small tiny pimple somewhere hidden, but you are going on a date the next day with the boy you've been eyeing for eons. So despite knowing that the pimple is innocuous, and that popping zits are a big no-no, you just had to have a go at it. In the end, the pimple got bigger, redder and angrier looking, and you could feel the boy of your dreams talking to the pimple everytime he looks at your face, and the dream bubble being pricked.
That is Chiu Jian. Meddlesome. Itchy hands. And I'm a damn bloody Chiu Jian person.
Because recently, as part of my quest to becoming a domestic goddess, the bf bought me a sewing machine as a gift, at my request. A small, white, portable electric sewing machine by BROTHER, all for me to conquer. It was a really cool gadget, and my brain immediately churned out a sewing agenda the moment I laid my eyes on it.
Without first signing up for some sewing course at the Community Club near my house, I nose-dived right into my new found hobby, and I set out to 'beautify' the existing clothings that I have.
I took comfort in the idea that I wasn't exactly the type that had no sewing skills, despite breaking 3 FAT needles on a sewing machines in 1 hour during HOme Econs class in Secondary School, that I had to pay a fine of $1.50 ($0.50 for each needle that I broke)after that. I tagged the hem of my school skirt when I was in JC, so that my skirt was substantially shorter than the "nerdier" girls; I sewed on extra paddings onto my old Bikinis to build something upon nothingness, and I used to mend all the popped buttons on my clothes, by hand, all the time.
So I told myself, hey if I could do all that by hand in the past, why not by machine? And who cares about the stitches at the back of the cloth, nobody's going to see them anyway. And all I was doing was nipping in a little of the cloth here, and sewing a little there. Nothing too difficult.
Turned out that the beautifying effort wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Perhaps I was a little too ambitious, and cut up a bit too much cloth, but mostly I was just very chiu jian. The clothes that I took to mend were mostly already fine in their original state, but I just had to "change the straps a little to make it sexier", "cut the skirt shorter", "pull in the waist, so I'll look less like I'm swimming in it". Meddlesome, itchy hands. A few of the attempts ended in success, like the tube top from Victoria's Secrets, that I had to take 3 inches from each side, so that it wraps around my bosom nicely without slipping down to a free-for-all show, and my mother's boring satin top which I sewed on black lace to sexify it; most of my 'subject' clothes ended up strewn all over my room in a tragic sort of way.
Chiu Jian-ess is like an infliction. It never goes away. And I never learn from my lessons.
And in case you were wondering, I was recounting my experience as a kid and as a teenager, with my aforementioned examples of itchy fingers.
Chiu Jian is when you were young, despite your mother's repeated warnings not to touch that boiling pot of water on the stove, you had to have a go at touching the shiney metallic surface of the pot. You end up burning your hands and you cry, even though you know that your mother told you that you will. That is being Chiu Jian.
It is also when you were in your adolescence, and had a small tiny pimple somewhere hidden, but you are going on a date the next day with the boy you've been eyeing for eons. So despite knowing that the pimple is innocuous, and that popping zits are a big no-no, you just had to have a go at it. In the end, the pimple got bigger, redder and angrier looking, and you could feel the boy of your dreams talking to the pimple everytime he looks at your face, and the dream bubble being pricked.
That is Chiu Jian. Meddlesome. Itchy hands. And I'm a damn bloody Chiu Jian person.
Because recently, as part of my quest to becoming a domestic goddess, the bf bought me a sewing machine as a gift, at my request. A small, white, portable electric sewing machine by BROTHER, all for me to conquer. It was a really cool gadget, and my brain immediately churned out a sewing agenda the moment I laid my eyes on it.
Without first signing up for some sewing course at the Community Club near my house, I nose-dived right into my new found hobby, and I set out to 'beautify' the existing clothings that I have.
I took comfort in the idea that I wasn't exactly the type that had no sewing skills, despite breaking 3 FAT needles on a sewing machines in 1 hour during HOme Econs class in Secondary School, that I had to pay a fine of $1.50 ($0.50 for each needle that I broke)after that. I tagged the hem of my school skirt when I was in JC, so that my skirt was substantially shorter than the "nerdier" girls; I sewed on extra paddings onto my old Bikinis to build something upon nothingness, and I used to mend all the popped buttons on my clothes, by hand, all the time.
So I told myself, hey if I could do all that by hand in the past, why not by machine? And who cares about the stitches at the back of the cloth, nobody's going to see them anyway. And all I was doing was nipping in a little of the cloth here, and sewing a little there. Nothing too difficult.
Turned out that the beautifying effort wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Perhaps I was a little too ambitious, and cut up a bit too much cloth, but mostly I was just very chiu jian. The clothes that I took to mend were mostly already fine in their original state, but I just had to "change the straps a little to make it sexier", "cut the skirt shorter", "pull in the waist, so I'll look less like I'm swimming in it". Meddlesome, itchy hands. A few of the attempts ended in success, like the tube top from Victoria's Secrets, that I had to take 3 inches from each side, so that it wraps around my bosom nicely without slipping down to a free-for-all show, and my mother's boring satin top which I sewed on black lace to sexify it; most of my 'subject' clothes ended up strewn all over my room in a tragic sort of way.
Chiu Jian-ess is like an infliction. It never goes away. And I never learn from my lessons.
And in case you were wondering, I was recounting my experience as a kid and as a teenager, with my aforementioned examples of itchy fingers.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
I have been faerie struck since about 2 years ago because I was enamoured with Arwen and Eowyn from LOTR. Or more specifically, their hair, like that...
After contemplating for about 2 whole years, and asking almost everyone to cast their vote for my hair to be straight or curly, I finally gave in to temptation...
Straight hair yesterday...
Curls today...
Yayness~
After contemplating for about 2 whole years, and asking almost everyone to cast their vote for my hair to be straight or curly, I finally gave in to temptation...
Straight hair yesterday...
Curls today...
Yayness~
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