Minh Lee

Just you take a look at what has happened to my body since I have started the Jamie Eason body building program.

Move over Bruce Lee, it's Minh Lee now!

Ok maybe I am exaggerating a tiny bit. I guess my guns aren't as big as Bruce's and I guess my 'abs' is really just one ab and I guess I am not that lean and yeah ok I guess I don't know kung fu either. Although, I would like to point out that I do have more of a chest than that!

But I am starting to have a wing problem.

Yes. A wing. Two chicken wings on either side of my torso. This will not do. It goes against my vegetarianism ways. I need to change my work out plan and I need to do it quickly before I become she - man. To make matters worse, that smiling muffin top is still hanging around.

She man with the bloody muffin  

Darn that brat muffin. Never mind, I will find another workout plan that is vegetarian friendly and muffin top free.

Can of sardines - the love story

The word 'marriage' gives me the heebie-jeebies. Long gone is the girl who used to believe in love at first sight, fairy tale marriages and happy ever after endings. Sometimes I think I can hear her, but she is very faint.

Naive girl
Missing, presumed dead.

That was about the same time I realised that I would most likely not own a hovercraft either. Tough year that was. 


But growing up does this to you. You discover things that you wish you hadn't. Like the fact that in Australia, every third marriage ends in divorce. It is a sad and very scary statistic for me. Unfortunately, it is just the world that we live in these days. 

"I'm leaving you, Gilbert. You can keep the bowl, but i'm taking the water and all the coloured stones!"

But I am lucky because just as equally, if not more, I often come across inspirational love stories which strengthen and restore my faith in marriage and long ever lasting love. Infact, I see one everyday.

My parents. 


They bicker all the time. Do this, do that, I do too much, stop talking, what are you talking about, she's your daughter not mine, you tell her to get married...etc etc. Nothing major, just everyday petty bickering. 


On this occasion, both were tired from another day of work. Mum was putting dinner together and nagging dad to take the bloody garbage out. Dad did do as he was told but not without complaints mumbled under his breath. Something about women and how they would never cope without men. At this point, mum turned to me and said "That's what he thinks, I'd be better off without him. Less cleaning!". 


It only got worse as dinner was served. Dad did not like what mum had prepared and decided that he would rather eat a can of stinky sardines than what she had served. No really, he actually does enjoy stinky sardines. So he went to fetch himself a can of sardines,  tomato sauce flavour. 


Now dad has become more dottery with age (bless him), so there he was in his blue pin striped pyjamas trying to open this can of sardines with a ring pull top. Being an OT, I really should have stepped in at this stage and whipped out a ring pull can opener or something OT like that. But I didn't because I was watching him tackle this can of sardines with great amusement. I know. I am going to hell, tell me about it.


Finally, he approaches mum who is sitting at the dinner table wearing her fluffy bright pink pyjamas. Together, they devise a plan to open this can of sardines. I can't remember what words were exchanged exactly, but it was some intense planning. Ok no no no you hold it. Yes, you hold the tin and I'll grip the ring. Who the hell thinks of these designs. Terrible. Ok are you ready? Now wait, let me peel this back slowly, evenly. Yes good steadying. Alright, it's opening it's opening, it's opened! 


It was brief, but I saw them look at each other with real love. Both parents in funky pyjamas grinning at each other ridiculously, adoringly and happily. All because they had opened this stinky feral can of sardines together. 

The can of sardines before it was conquered 

They resumed their seats at the dining table and then continued to bicker. Woman, you should buy cans that are easier to open, well go buy it yourself next time, why are you so cranky...etc etc.


Sometimes I will wander into the living room and find them squished on to a single sofa seat fast asleep. On other occasions, I have seen dad stick his tongue out at mum and act like a complete goof to make her laugh. My heart smiles when I see mum sneak a cheek kiss for dad when she thinks no one is watching. They have been married for 35 years and they can still act like teenagers in love. 


It gives me hope.

Moral of the story:

 Keep a good supply of cans of sardines (with the ring pull top ) and funky pyjamas. The success of your marriage will depend on it.

Picasso! Warhol! Jazz! drunk...

7:05 pm Arrive at the Art gallery with time to spare before the Jazz performance begins. 


7:15 pm Drop by the cocktail bar for some well earned wine.


7:20 pm Greet and compliment the bartender on his well kept beard. 


7:25 pm Delighted bartender recommends a glass of Chardonnay. Yum. Crisp and light. 


7:30 pm Jazz performance begins. I sit back and think to myself what a perfect way to end the week. You can't beat listening to a good live jazz band prior to viewing some amazing artwork on a Friday evening.


7:35 pm Converse with Jenny Tham about the beauty of jazz, the theories behind artwork and how wonderful the wine is. We definitely need to do this more.


7:40 pm Drunk


8:00 am Wake up in bed with the horrible realisation that I am late for work


I am not sure what happens really. I always reflect the day after when I am feeling a bit precious and I want nothing more than a cuddle. I try to figure the precise moment it happens. The moment your vision is distorted, when your speech becomes a bit slurred or your cheeks feel like they are on fire and then all of a sudden everything you drink seems to taste 'really amazing'. It is all over red rover by the time my brain figures it out.

I look back and think to myself, I should have seen the signs and then maybe, just maybe I would not have had that extra drink which tipped me over. Ok you got me, I would not have taken that extra sip that sent me over and then maybe, just maybe I would not have killed all those stick people either. I don't even remember the artwork, just a whirlwind of campbell soup, colourful imagery and distorted paintings of animals. Then bed.


I'm glad that I will be visiting the exhibition again when the Yankee arrives. It will be like my first time again. I might just hold off on that one glass of wine though.


Oh and just look at what I found in the urban dictionary:

Cadbury (ˈkædbərɪ)
Noun

1. A person who is easily affected by alcohol
2. Any individual who cannot hold their liquor
3. Minh

Who is more red?

Go figure.

Fifty shades of grey

Green and Co is one of my favourite chill out places in Perth. I often like to come here with either friends or just on my own. I could very easily spend a whole day here if time was not of the essence. I find it relaxes me and can sometimes give inspiration for a new blog topic.

Today, I am struggling to decide on a topic simply because there is so much I could write about. I am also very distracted by the buzz that this great little place gives. I take a small sip of my lovely soy latte hoping that an idea will soon pop in to my head.

Nope. Nada. Zilch. I still don't know what to write about.

As I ponder, a beautiful asian woman saunters in to the cafe and seats herself on the sofa opposite to me. I greet her and she dazzles me with a beautiful smile in return. Big eyes, perfect skin, full lips and wavy long hair that cascades around her shoulders. Bitch. Noone should be that beautiful except me of course. She makes herself comfortable and takes out a book. I glance at the title.


Fifty Shades of Grey. Ha. I grin inside knowing full well what that book is about. Dirty girl.

Brilliant.

How could I not write about this book? This book has taken the world by storm, evidenced by being number 1 on the top 100 bestseller list on Amazon. You cannot escape it, it is the most common conversation topic between women everywhere these days. Finally, a book about our deepest darkest desires, well maybe not that dark but definitely a fantasy of many women. We love it. Men hate it. Although I am sure they will not be complaining about the sudden spike in libido levels.

Interesting fact. Adult stores across Australia have seen an 80 percent jump in sales for items mentioned in the book. That's right. Even the equestrian stores are enjoying the increase in sales for 'non-horse' related sales of riding crops. Haha.

Reminds me of the saying "If we knew eachother's secrets, what comforts we should find". I never completely understood this saying when I first heard it, but now I fully understand it. Desires, fantasies, deep and what we thought were dark now all come to light because of this book. It is comforting to know that many women have, to some degree, a dirty mind.

This book has been my life this past week, desperately read in every spare moment at home, secretly at work and even at traffic light intersections. I am already half way through the second book of the trilogy. Besides the erotic nature of this book (trust me, the shock value does wear off), EL James has done a marvellous job in developing the characters. I often hear myself talking out loud, well ok that is not something so unusual for me, either cursing, slapping or praising the actions of the characters, particularly Anastasia, throughout the book. I find myself giggling, laughing, getting cross and even blushing at different points of the story. I feel like I am there and that is what I think makes EL James a fantastic writer.

It has been a long time since I have so immensley enjoyed a novel so thank you EL James. Needless to say I am very pleased that this is a trilogy as it will prolong my enjoyment. I will be distraught as the story comes to an end but you know what they say - all good things must come to an end. But lucky for me that end is not today. Back to the book.

Laters babes...!

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Friday the 13th and the allied health care team.

Hello I'm the gingerbread man! Let's be friends!

Oh hey now there... Ho ho that's a bit rough. My physiotherapist is not going to like that!

Ok now you have also pissed off my occupational therapist!

Oh my god! Not the buttons! Get me my nurse! I am naked and I need to be cared for!

Can I please talk to my social worker?

Happy Friday the 13th!

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Little Red Riding Hood

I never thought I could love again after George. He was beautiful. Sure, he was a bit cranky at the best of times but that was George. He was my old boy blue. I think of him often, wishing I had really cherished the last time I had had with him. Everything was just so rushed in that final moment with me running out the door for the last time, dragging my oversized suitcase behind me. I was late for the train again. Even after two years of frequently using public transport, I still did not get it right. But that was all he ever knew of me, always running, always late and always rushing him to get anywhere. No wonder he was so cranky.

I didn't want to look back. I wanted to be ignorant of the fact that I would never see him again. I wanted to pretend that it was like any other short holiday I had taken, promising that I'd be back so soon that he wouldn't even know that I had gone. I chanced a sneak peek. There he was. If he was upset, he didn't show it. He looked a little worn, older and majestic even. My heart wanted to break, so I turned back before it had a chance and kept running.

I truly lost a part of me that day.

When I first saw her picture I was hesitant. She was gorgeous and you could tell that she had a vibrant personality. But George was still on my mind, I didn't want her. I was content with Alfred aka Alfie, a long time companion of my parents. The Yankee was persistant. I think he knew it would be good for me to meet her. So he flew me over to Sydney, put me up in a beautiful hotel and had sent me a long email in preparation for when I met her.

I did not warm to her when we first met. Not like I had with George. The Yankee loved her and immediately made arrangements for her to become a permanant part of our lives. Even when she arrived that early July morning, I was still distant. I know she was confused and even hurt at my aloofness. But the truth is I had put up a defence wall, scared to love her like I had loved George. I couldn't keep that wall up for long though. She was fun, feisty and hard to control sometimes. You could not miss her when she was present. A vast difference to Alfred, who was always grumpy, full of groans and getting on a bit in his years.

I couldn't help but love her.

Welcome to the family little red riding hood

Little Red Riding Hood

 

Alfie looking senile as ever

RIP George

 

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You have smiled for the last time muffin!

Well I guess I saw it coming.

Kuwait was when I first noticed it. An introverted soul, quite content to sit alone and enjoy its own company. I probably should have confronted it then, made it aware that it was most unwelcome. But I didn't. It had chosen its time well, stepping into my life when I was most jovial, happy and distracted by being in another country. Like many cancers in its early stages, it was mostly asymptomatic with very few upheavals to remind me of its presence.

Until today.

I woke up early as I usually did. Carried on with my morning routine as I have everyday. Started to get ready for work. Everything was all in order.

Then I put on my work pants. No wait. I tried to put on my black work pants only to find that there was alot of huffing, puffing, jumping and squeezing. I definitely do not remember that as being part of my usual daily routine.

I also did not remember this...

Yes. You saw right. A muffin. Just the top. A muffin top.

Call it what you like, beer gut, jelly rolls, donut, tyre, chubba but we all know what it is. It is a muffin top. This immediately spurred me into action. Some Jamie Eason action. A 3 month body building program designed to search and destroy smiley face muffin tops. Some people think I am being pedantic, 'Oh it's not so bad, it's cute'. But I know better. Give it time and this little sneaky bugger will consume your entire midsection and become somewhat like the blob and let me tell you this, blobs do not have such a cute smiley face. Infact, they don't even have a face.

See? AND they also consume cars too apparently, not just your midsection.

According to the Australian longitudinal study on women's health, women are putting on an average of 649g per year. So for me, I am 23 years away from being overweight should I let this cute muffin top continue to smile at the rate it is smiling. It seems such a miniscule amount over a 12 month period which is why we often just let it go. But then 1 year becomes 2, then 3, then 4 and before you know it...well just you take a good look at that blob. I'm sure it was a healthy weight once.

Do you still think I'm being pedantic? I think not.

So the Jamie Eason plan can be found online at bodybuilding.com. It not only details a 3 month gym routine but a sensible eating plan too. Something along the lines of eating 6 meals a day. There are many other fitness routines, healthy eating tips and even recipes that can be found on this website. All of this for free. You can decide what will best meet your lifestyle demands. I will definitely keep you updated on my falls and triumphs with the Jamie Eason program in the upcoming weeks.

We all need to take care of ourselves people! That means saying no to the muffin!

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Addiction. Actually, make that addictions...

I would say that I have an addictive personality. The "Do you have an addictive personality?" test, run by okcupid, said so.That cute little cyber cupid looked like he knew his stuff. So it must be true. I mean who else can get away with flying around naked all the time while shooting arrows at everybody's butt?

There have been many addictions in my life. Some good, many bad. Duration averaging at least a month with some still ongoing.

Not so long ago it was cadbury's marvelous creations chocolate. The jelly candy popping one.

 

Before that it was protein bars.

A one month trip to Vietnam saw me eating red rice chicken everyday. Twice a day. Sometimes three.

For as long as I can remember, it had to be spaghetti bolognaise, until I gave up meat that is.

Then there was a time I could not see past hot delicious chips. What am I talking about?! This is an addiction still raging strong.

Oh and then bloody warburton crisps walked into my life. If you are in England reading this, get the salt and pepper pita variety. If you are in Birmingham reading this, you can find them at Selly oak Sainsburys, 3rd aisle from the end. You might be lucky and find that they are still selling two big packets for 2 pounds. Get in there and stock up.

 

But it hasn't always been about food.

For ten years I have been addicted to exercising every single day. Different fitness regimes with spin being the latest craze. Oh and the iphone games like draw something and words with friends, can't forget that. I even used to be addicted to sucking my finger until a very old age. What?! Don't judge me.

So what is my latest addiction? Well I know a picture is worth a thousand words but a video is a million times better!

 

 

 

Black listed

"You are on our black list, you are actually banned from using our services"

The silence that met the room was deafening. I swear I heard the lady behind me take a sharp inward breath of air. I felt like all eyes were now focused on me as I stood at the desk. All waiting for my response.

Blacklisted. Wow. What comes to your mind when you hear that word?

Banned. Criminal. Terrible. Bad person. My overactive imagination went hay wire. I could actually picture men dressed in tuxedos and women wearing elegant gowns, each holding a glass of champagne, peering down through their spectacles at me. I could even hear what they were saying to one another;

"Oh she's one of those people, wouldn't want to associate with her my dear".

"Imagine that! How could she commit such an atrocity!"

"Well I certainly would have never allowed that to happen in my time!"

"How could her mother allow her to do such a thing!?"

"Presposterous!"

All this flashed through my mind in a instant.

"Ahem" I cleared my throat. "Um..."

I could feel everyone lean in closer to hear how I could possibly justify my situation.

"Well um, are you sure that that is my information you have there?"

"Well I have input your information on to the system exactly as it is written here on your passport".

The lady was now looking very hard at me.

"Oh of course. Yep. That's me of course. Can't hide from that picture. Ha ha..." I finished off lamely.

I was met with total silence.

So I asked her what the crime was.

The victims?

2 borrowed books. Books that I have never met in my life.

The crime?

Outstanding since 2001 on my library card. How could this have happened?

The punishment?

$32.15 and a stern lecture about how books have feelings too. She didn't really say this. I just added that bit.

But I did get a stern lecture.The worst was doing the walk of shame past those goody two shoes who returned all their books on time. I wanted to tell them to suck it.

Needless to say, I was very embarrased. I didn't know black lists existed at a library, so be wary if you plan to borrow a book. It's public property, don't you know?

I think if Australia permitted the death penalty, the librarians would have ruled for the execution of my library card.

But until then, no book is safe from me.

They could have at least said thank you

I was expecting a team of police and a couple of important looking guys in casual stylish suits when I arrived at my house. 'Forensic team' they called themselves. I was disappointed when I discovered a short, overweight balding police officer waiting at the front of my house. Where was Ice-T? or Detective Tutuola, I should say.

"Is this where they gained access in to your property?"

He also didn't have an american accent either. Double disappointed.

Sigh.

I guess I should start from the beginning.

I had arrived home early evening yesterday after a tiring day from work, excited about my night ahead. Rental movies, white wine and skype with the yankee doodle. Perfect.

Gosh mum and dad are so careless. They have left all the bloody lights on!

I walked in to their room to turn the light off.

There were clothes every where. Everything had been emptied from the cupboards. Drawers had been ripped out. Not a bit of carpet was visible underneath all their belongings.

Wow. Either my parents were in some serious rush while packing for the short trip to Singapore or we had just been robbed. My immediate thought was to run to my room to check what had been taken but I paused in the hallway.

What if someone was still here?

Sensible Minh had finally arrived. I called the cops instead.

I was numb when I first saw my room, I was furious when I discovered that my lap top had been taken and I broke down when I realized that they had eaten my last chocolate bar that I had been saving for a snack. The empty wrapper was mocking me.

'I've just dusted a few of the places that may have been touched, but it can all easily be wiped off. You try and have a nice day today' said the one-man forensic team as he left my house.

There were no fingerprints to be found, besides ours of course. What dumbass robber would NOT wear gloves. I did a scan of the damage done. Why couldn't they have been a tiny bit neater?

It took a long time before I agreed to stay with one of my best friends the night of the robbery. Apparently my fool proof plan of using my umbrella as a weapon and securing of my room door with a chair was not enough to convince yankee doodle that I would be safe at home alone.

"...and babe don't forget that I have two cans of hair spray here on my bedside table. I have shaken them up so that they're ready for some action!"

Yankee doodle remained unconvinced.

I mean, it is not like I was trying to be a hero or anything like that, I just want to be in my own home and in my own bed. I refuse to let anyone make me feel like I can't be safe here.

I guess I was really just angry at first. Not only did they take valuable and some very sentimental items, they left me with a house turned upside down and tons of police and insurance paperwork.

An inconvenience that I did not need.

I have to keep reminding myself that at the end of the day it is only material goods.

I know that there are many reasons and motivations for a person to steal. Easy money, easy acquirement of valuable items, a call for attention...the list goes on. But what I don't understand is how burglars can justify to themselves that it is ok to take something that was hard earned by somebody else. At what stage did it become ok to go through other peoples personal and private items and then have it scattered around and stepped on like it means nothing? I really don't know, but I am certain that it cannot have stemmed from a good place.

So yes. I did lose my lap top. I did lose alot of cash. I did lose my jewelry with so much sentimental value attached. But hey, I have the capacity to make back what I lost and my laptop could do with an upgrade anyway. I just truly hope that what they did take from us helped them in the end and I hope for their sake that they will find another path that is more acceptable by society. I mean, it must have to eat at you somewhere, no matter the size of your conscience. Repeated sneaking around, watching your steps, the number of family pictures and personal items you come across and knowing that that is who you are stealing from - it has to soften you sooner or later.

So I really am not angry anymore, I am more annoyed that I have to clean up their mess and then soon deal with stingy insurance companies.

Geeeez.

They could have at least said thank you.

Sure glad that you're my mum

"Hey you are looking fat. Your dad thinks so too"

No kidding. These were her exact words when I had just returned home from London.

This was quickly followed by "Hey, are you hungry? There is plenty of food in the fridge"

Some other choice quotes from my mother:

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Your face is so ugly" in reference to the one pimple residing on my chin.

"No. Stop eating. You are going to get fat!" She actually tried to wrestle the chocolate bar from me. Just so you know, I won that fight and just to be safe I quickly gobbled the remainder of that bar.

"I think that people who have tattoos have mental health problems." Her subtle way of telling me that she did not like my tattoos or Brandons. I don't have the courage to tell her that actually he has since had an additional sleeve and a chest tattoo.

But seriously though, my mama is amazing.

I have only ever known her to work all the time. When she isn't working, she would be cooking. When she isn't cooking, she would be cleaning. When she isn't cleaning, she would be doing the gardening. When she isn't doing the gardening, well... you get the picture.

I have not even mentioned the extra things that she does for our family.

Every night, she will make a separate dinner for my father and I because someone is a picky and health conscious vegetarian. She always makes a pit stop at the temple whenever she can just to buy me some of the delicious vegetarian dishes made by the monks. "What is in that? is it fried? Mum you can't trust those monks, just because it is made by monks does not mean it is prepared in a healthy way!"

She is in regular contact with a fortune teller because she is worried that someone is STILL not married and may just miss the boat because they are getting "too old and soon too ugly!". All the good ones are gone according to her friends.

Occasionally, she is required to drop everything at a moments request because someone did not organize transport home from a late night. "Mum, it's your favorite daughter, can you come pick me up?".

I can hear her bustle about in the kitchen as I think about everything that she does for me on top of her already busy schedule. She has just finished altering customer garments that are due for tomorrow and is now busy doing something else, perhaps some time to herself? I walk outside to see what she is up to.

I can only imagine how strange it would look to an outsider to see a tiny asian woman lifting, well dragging more like it, a ladder twice her size across the kitchen floor. She is doing this casually I might add, at 11 at night.

Her expression is relaxed, but focused. She doesn't even notice that I'm there.

"Mum, aren't you tired?"
"mmm? Hey do you think we should put this picture of a cupcake here or on the other wall?"

The woman is decorating the house close to midnight.

I have just about dropped off to sleep when I hear her turn the treadmill on.

This is just another day in the life of my mama.

What I find most amazing is that I have never heard a single complaint from her. The most I have ever got out of her is "I'm tired, so tired today". That's it. She could definitely show those moaning brits a thing or two.

It is even rarer to find my mum taking time out just for herself and if she ever does, it is always late at night.

I don't know how she does it.

But I am sure as hell glad that she is my mum.

Writers block

“The inability to write for some period of time. It can be the inability to come up with good ideas to start a story, or extreme dissatisfaction with all efforts to write”

 I revisit my blog page frequently. Sometimes I reread the blogs that I have written but mostly I just sit and stare at the screen. The minutes will tick by and all I can hear in my head is an eerie silence. Plus crickets sometimes. I even saw a leprechaun once. 

 I look at my last blog. April 2011. You would think that I would have so many adventures to write about after my two year fling with England. 

  I do. 

Somewhere inside this unorganized, last minute crazy chick is an anal and methodical woman who needs to have my blogspot in order. I want my blogs to be written as events arise and topics to be categorically arranged. I want each blog itself to be humorous, witty, intelligent and something that everybody can relate to. I want my blog to be in line with the times. I want my blog to be so interesting that people cannot stop reading it from start to end. 

 But lately, I have not even wanted to read my own work. 

 My computer recycle bin, Bill, is full of scrunched up cyber pieces of failed writing. 

 A years worth to be exact. 

 I am sorry cyber bin Bill. 

 How can I possibly write about every single mishap, adventure or travel that I have experienced in the last year? The task is so big and too overwhelming. So too often I close the safari window and seek comfort from face book because I am too anal to write about the present knowing that I did not write about past events to date, well not satisfactorily anyway. 

 So here I am. Finally making myself give up that anal part of me for the sake of writing. 

 And what do you know? Writing became easy again.