The SuperLong Weekend

I'm getting old. I knew it. I just hated to admit it.

I knew something was seriously wrong the minute I started dozing off in the middle of Metallica's Seek and Destroy on MTV a few nights ago. As if admitting that was not humiliating enough, it was only 10:15pm.

Why did they have to air the halyconic days of our youth knowing full well that we're all not youths anymore and still fighting with the inner demons of mid-life crisis? Why show all these videos to the Generation Ys and Ms who will never fully appreciate quality noise and who will never, ever understand that Welcome Home Sanitarium is not just a rock ballad. It's not even a bloody ballad lah!!!

Today, I want to talk about my super long weekend. I went for a two day course at SMU. Herg?! Open Uni?...Me??...hahaha. I was super shocked myself but I managed to get through. It was some service skills course conducted by this eccentric fella who wears a pink tie and came from a deprived childhood. He kept telling us stories of his sadistic father and his hoodlum relatives, it didn't really came as a surprise when he didn't view Johnny Depp as Pirates of the Caribbean but more like Willie Wonka.

He admitted that he's a kiddie person but I suspected something more because where Johnny Depp and Tim Burton is concerned, you'd always expect something dark and twisted and well, Willie Wonka. Although he does look cute in that weird hairdo.

Anyway, I spent close to a hundred smackaroos on my own deprived adulthood. I went to PS during lunchtime and tapau cakes from Secret Recipe, a Loreal compact and eyeliner to refill my exhausted stock. To top it up, they gave me a revitalising eye cream as a free gift. A course mate told me that I was lucky to get it for free. I view it as another sign of ageing.

The next day, in a bid to deny that age thing, I got a cute handbag and two skirts from Dhoby Ghaut's Xchange underground thing. Broke and still feeling old, I trudged back to SMU with my loot.

My "best friend" came, so I was not allowed to fast for a week. I bought a bun and orange juice from 7-11 and settled into a quiet corner away from the eyes of the numerous cameras.

I came across only 1 malay/muslim student on his way to Friday prayers because he was carrying a sarong in his left hand. Other than that, I'm free to eat away from everyone. Hey, I have to respect Ramadhan even though I am not fasting. Hah, the perks of being a woman. You get seven days off. The perks of being a woman again? You get to pay that seven days within that year. Hmm, the perks of being a woman.

Sometimes, during my "cannot fast" days, I feel embarrased standing in a que at MacDonald's to buy something back to the office (and hide somewhere to eat ) while we have all these supposedly muslim teenagers eating and smoking in public right in the middle of the fasting month. The older generations are no better. In fact, you'd see the old geezers having the time of their life downing their drinks in public as if to tell everyone they can jolly well cheat death himself. Whatever lah. Kubor kau, jawab sendiri.

Saturday and Sunday, Matin got sick. Flu. The family doctor had to attend to an urgent housecall somewhere in the north, so I went to another clinic nearby. Very nice decor but not children friendly. It looked more like an aesthetic spa than a clinic. I was half expecting someone to greet me with a basin of frangipani water. Doctor was super cold and super no-nonsence. Definitely not the kind you'd wish to massage you all over with volcanic mud. Luckily, Matin was super co-operative and we were out in less than 5 minutes.

Monday and Tuesday, I decided to take Legislated childcare leave and spend the two days cleaning up the house. Hubby threw out his boxes of donno-whats in the study room after months of nagging from me. Then we went to Geylang to buy that bamboo carpet which was all the rage and which I was determined not to get involved with. I mean, everywhere we go, someone will be sure to carry one on their shoulder. But, my dear hubby was so excited about it and when hubby is excited, you get infected and one thing led to another, we ended up breaking fast at Mad Jacks, somewhere in Prinsep Street and burning a further $56. Danial got his pizza after nearly 40 minutes. Poor kid's been fasting all day and he looked so miserable that I had to run to the kitchen twice to see for myself, what's holding up.

What came out next made me feel guilty though. I was half expecting they pop a ready made pizza in the oven. I didn't know that they really do it by hand. No wonder it takes so much time. Hubby and I had finished our meal and as much as we try coaxing Danial to eat our share, he insisted on waiting for his pizza. Poor dear. When it finally arrived, it was too hot to eat and we had to rush off to pick up hubby's friend at Southpoint. We tapau the pizza for him to finish in the car but he ended up sleeping for most of the journey.

Four days of wonder, four days of cleaning. I'm tired. I have black rings the size of army truck tyres under my eyes. Good thing for the Loreal revitalising eye care cream. Hey, if I'm indeed ageing, I might as well age gracefully....