just minishorts.

Today is Friday. I went to work. And then I had a REALLY BAD DAY. First of all, I was rushing to get things done before the meeting at 3. And then there was this terrible pounding headache. I think the overdose of sencha the night before made things worse.

But someone doesn't know.

Today is Friday. I went to work. And then I had a TERRIBLY HORRIBLE DAY. First of all, my boss sounded me into the room and gave me the scolding of a lifetime for my lack of timeliness in my titles' progress. And then when I got back to my seat there were swamps of e-mails for me to attend to. Almost burst out in tears.

But someone doesn't know.

Today is Friday. I did not go to work because of an MC. I had a terrible pounding headache and Mum brought me to the doctors. It's true. It's been confirmed. I need to get my tonsils taken out. I'm terrified of surgery. I hate syringes and needles.

But someone doesn't know.

Today is Friday. I was on the way to work when my car froze. I mean, it FROZE. Then the alarm went on and off. Yeah. The battery's dead. This was in the middle of a really busy office jam. I felt like a real idiot when a dirty-looking lorry driver stuck his finger out at me and swore at me. And vulnerable. Nearing tears. Luckily a nice person passed by and helped me charge the car up again. We went out to dinner tonight and it was really interesting. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

But someone doesn't know.

Today is Friday. I overslept. Didn't go to work. I am so dead. I'm going to be sacked.

But someone doesn't know.

Today is Friday. I'm frustrated, tired and sick. I vomitted several times, akin to the way I always do whenever I'm depressed, and when I can't find a way out. No I'm not a cat. I'm human. I'm female. I crave the very basic things that a girl wants. Care. Concern. Sincerity. Effort. I've looked at the phone, every quarter-of-an-hour, wondering when it will ring. I've looked at the time and watched the hours past. In the middle of my project presentation to the guidebook author, a phonecall disrupts my conversation. My heart sank when I realised it was a call for her, not me.

But someone doesn't know.

Today is Friday. There's another 29 minutes to Saturday. I've decided that calling won't be enough.

But someone doesn't know.

Ideally,

He should be tall, dashing and handsome. Opens the car door. Pays for meals. Buys sparkly gifts. Calls you at the right moment. Gives you gifts on important days: Valentines, Christmas, Anniversaries (First Kiss, First Time Holding Hands, First Date, First bla-bla), Birthdays… . A swimmer's physique, dimples, glasses (minishorts likes men with glasses?more intellectual looking-mah). Calls you at night to make sure you're okay. Or if you're lucky, drops by at night to tuck you into bed and provides that essential kiss on the forehead.

Foregoing all of the above, even more ideally, he ought to be sensitive. It's not that difficult really. Realise that arguments are normal. Not look at other couples for inspiration and role models. Not get agitated when opinions clash. Accept that 'to each his own' is an important attitude to employ within a relationship. Realise that co-existence means making efforts to understand that every individual is different, and that when you get hurt, she gets hurt too.

Ideally-lah. So far there's no ideal guy. As for women, our hands are probably raised up, flailing and … yeah you know. Every human being is a dreamer. That very nature of ours, to dream, is embedded so far in… you can't help it really.

I've got an overdose of Green Tea. I drank Green Tea in the morning, and then Green Tea during lunch while I was finalizing that idiotic commissioning letter, and then during my Sushi King do I had countless cups of more sencha. That's why I can't sleep.

But the other reason is of course you-know-what. I meant, you-don't-know-what.

I'm just wondering how long will this last.

In reciprocation to my favourite blogging friend's latest post, I'd like to say something too.

I was at the Carnival on Sunday when I met Jason, with whom my last conversational exchange lasted not more than 10 minutes (this was about 4 years ago, mind you). The first thing he said to break the ice was, 'I have been visiting your blog. '

So I didn't show it. But inside I was shuddering. Gah, read my blog just drop a comment lah. So sneaky only. Pop up behind my back one of these days and then suddenly tell me that you have been following my posts.

I mean, I know the consequences of having a blog and keeping my identity a 'not-so-secret'. Its almost akin to writing for the papers, people read your work and know who you are, and then when they meet you in real life, they tell you things like, 'Hey I read your articles.'

It feels good. Yeah. But when I do have a comments link for readers to say something, you can very well click on it and say hi.

Don't lah when I meet you only say, 'Eh I read your blog.' And then you go on to say, 'I hope you're okay now. You really got us worried there. Anyway you do look better.'

Errr… I was never THAT far behind lor. In words maybe I seem slightly emotional, but like any normal human being, I have that knack of wearing the right mask at the right occasion, and that usually means I'm perfectly okay.

I've been thinking whether my cousins know about the existence of this blog. Whether my relatives know that I've been spilling more than soup all over the Net, and whether, the word that minishorts.net is a registered entity with faithful followers that trail its growth has already reached my mother's ears.

Just the other night I was having dinner with my ex-boss, which I chose not to inform my Mum of. I told Mum that I was having a dinner meeting with three of my authors on an important project. And then I shut off my phone to allow privacy.

So, anyway, it was 9.30, my dinner was still going on, and Mum got worried. She couldn't get me, because my phone was off. So she called SL. And I told SL that I was having a dinner with my ex-boss! But you know what? I didn't know that SL told my Mum this until a week later.

Its since been 3 weeks since that dinner with my ex-boss, and my Mum still goes on behaving as if I did have a dinner meeting with the authors.

Isn't it funny how walls really have ears? And the fact that I need to remind SL to zip up his mouth to avoid Mum from being overtly worried.