It's almost Ramadhan!
My stomach has already started to rumble its trademark cavernous roars at random times in anticipation of the coming month, as if it knows that it will soon be deprived of lunch (which breaks the monotony of my working day) and more importantly, caffeine (which allows me to stay awake to experience the monotony of the second half of my working day) (can you tell I like complaining about work?).
And if any of my organs deserve to be anthropomorphized, it would be my stomach. My stomach is the root cause of most of my emotions (like when I get upset because I'm hungry and I have to wait SOOOOO LONGGGGG for Alman to get ready to go out on weekends when I just want to GET OUT the DOOR so I can EAT SOMETHING) and tragedy (like when I get really excited about eating food that I've carefully put away in the fridge the night before, and then I open the fridge after a long hard day only to discover that my food has been PILFERED by a PILFERER) and relationship compromises (like when I get angry because I'm so hungry and take it out on my poor fiance. This is a compromise of sorts because he is a pilferer and so crankiness is his punishment, and also he's already promised to marry me so it's too late buddy, my stomach and I are all yours! But it's not all bad - we love him really, so sometimes we do nice things for him. Like give him the last longan in my ice longan, or the most cookie-ish scoops of ice cream from my Haagen Dazs cookies and cream carton. That is compromise, boys and girls, and that is true love).
So... this is going to be a trying month. The light at the end of the tunnel is Hari Raya, going home, being with my family, and forcing my sister to make our famed sticky date pudding with caramel sauce and cream that we have at our family's open house every year. The baking of the pudding used to be my specialty, until I realized that I would not be fulfilling my role as an older sister unless I bossed my sister around and made her do it. So now she does.
My stomach has already started to rumble its trademark cavernous roars at random times in anticipation of the coming month, as if it knows that it will soon be deprived of lunch (which breaks the monotony of my working day) and more importantly, caffeine (which allows me to stay awake to experience the monotony of the second half of my working day) (can you tell I like complaining about work?).
And if any of my organs deserve to be anthropomorphized, it would be my stomach. My stomach is the root cause of most of my emotions (like when I get upset because I'm hungry and I have to wait SOOOOO LONGGGGG for Alman to get ready to go out on weekends when I just want to GET OUT the DOOR so I can EAT SOMETHING) and tragedy (like when I get really excited about eating food that I've carefully put away in the fridge the night before, and then I open the fridge after a long hard day only to discover that my food has been PILFERED by a PILFERER) and relationship compromises (like when I get angry because I'm so hungry and take it out on my poor fiance. This is a compromise of sorts because he is a pilferer and so crankiness is his punishment, and also he's already promised to marry me so it's too late buddy, my stomach and I are all yours! But it's not all bad - we love him really, so sometimes we do nice things for him. Like give him the last longan in my ice longan, or the most cookie-ish scoops of ice cream from my Haagen Dazs cookies and cream carton. That is compromise, boys and girls, and that is true love).
So... this is going to be a trying month. The light at the end of the tunnel is Hari Raya, going home, being with my family, and forcing my sister to make our famed sticky date pudding with caramel sauce and cream that we have at our family's open house every year. The baking of the pudding used to be my specialty, until I realized that I would not be fulfilling my role as an older sister unless I bossed my sister around and made her do it. So now she does.
Sticky Toffee Pudding with vanilla ice cream at Ben's, KLCC
(Not as good as mine. Oh alright. Not as good as my sister's. Also I hate Ben's, but that's a story for another day.)
(Not as good as mine. Oh alright. Not as good as my sister's. Also I hate Ben's, but that's a story for another day.)
