It's been almost 2 months since I started trying to eat more vegetables, and I'm proud to say that it's working! Although admitably, I did fall off the bandwagon, major fell off the wagon a couple of times, but I've taken to eating a lot more vegetables nowadays. And quite liking it too!
More than trying to do difficult things, which is really quite my habit, it's also a permanent way of life that I want to adopt, to eat more healthily and liking eating healthily instead of doing it just for weight loss or control or just because I have to. So finally I am starting to enjoy eating green things.
I know I broke my promise to give weekly updates of the food I eat, with pictures and all, but so what. Haha. There's nothing you can do about it. I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with my lying tendencies as well as my tendency to be unreasonably arrogant. Fine, break up with me, see if I care!
Anyway, being the lazy and lousy cook that I am, I started with cooking lots of vegetable soups, since my stir fries always end up, well, weird, and I'm not exactly very fond of raw vegetables. Luckily for me, and obviously, since I'm such a smart girl, my stir fries are now quite tasty, so there's the option of stir-frying a couple of different types of vegetables for dinner while lunch's usually something really simple like porridge or a tuna sandwich or something.
So now, my plan is for world domination, the vegetable world that is. I plan to try every single type of vegetable I can lay my hands on, yes, even the weird ones. I've tried boxthorn and spinach and cabbage and what western cooks call 'bok choy'. I've yet to try things like asparagus and aubergines. And although I'd really like to try some of Nigella or Jamie's recipes, but I'm not even sure where I can find their version of spinach and water-cress. Sure we have things with the same name, but I don't think they're the same, plus I can't imagine eating them raw.
Sad to say though, I have yet to enjoy the benefits that supposedly come with eating more healthily, like weight loss and bee-yoo-tee-ful skin and the likes of that. Why why WHY?! When will I be slim and beautiful? What does it feel like to be slim and beautiful, oh, and voluptous? Will I ever find out the feeling? Maybe the former two, possibly, but the latter will have to remain a mere dream. *Sigh*
What will be really fun will be to go to somewhere else where they have things like courgettes and zuchinnis and rhuburb, which will be the other side of the world. I keep seeing them being used in recipe shows but I can't get my hands on them. Grrrr....
If, and when, I ever get a garden like Jamie's, I'm going to plant vegetables. Won't that be fun?! ANd interesting to boot, considering I can't quite differentiate my green leafy vegetables much, relying on labels or people to tell me what they are. I might just pull up poison ivy instead of rocket leaves for dinner from my own garden. I can just see the headline now, "Stupid person poisons herself".
Does it make you feel stupid, to be reading the blog of a person who ain't that bright? Well, I assure you that my intelligence is by no means a reflection of yours.
So what shall my next challenge be? Any ideas anybody?
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
The mad boy's coming!
Hurray! Jamie's coming!
To Singapore to open 2 restaurants here.
Oh dear, is my admiration turning into obsession?
To Singapore to open 2 restaurants here.
Oh dear, is my admiration turning into obsession?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Facebook Irritation
I am irritated by Facebook.
I am irritated by people posting stupid updates. I am irritated by people informing people of their sleeping habits via status updates. Like I care what time you wake up and go to sleep. IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING WORTH SAYING, THEN DON'T SAY IT! And I loathe people who use their Facebook status as a means to an end; because finally what they want is attention.
And then there are stupid people who spend all their time playing games, and then they are too stupid to remember their live stories are posted on the Wall for all to see, and they pretend they were too busy to do whatever it is they were suppose to do, like feed their kid.
I am irritated by people posting stupid updates. I am irritated by people informing people of their sleeping habits via status updates. Like I care what time you wake up and go to sleep. IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING WORTH SAYING, THEN DON'T SAY IT! And I loathe people who use their Facebook status as a means to an end; because finally what they want is attention.
And then there are stupid people who spend all their time playing games, and then they are too stupid to remember their live stories are posted on the Wall for all to see, and they pretend they were too busy to do whatever it is they were suppose to do, like feed their kid.
And why post bible verses on your status? DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE WHAT GOD SAID TO YOU? And what you want to say to God for that matter?
I hate it when people tag me in their photos. Hey, taking photographs is one thing, but showing them to the whole world, is another! Hey, I may not be famous, but I value my privacy just the same. It may be unreasonable of me, but I just don't like being tagged in photos, for people I don't like to see! So now, my photos are only for ME to see. (I'm obviously selfish!)
Well obviously, I'm grumpy and grouchy and just hating Facebook. To make me feel better, you could play Scrabble with me. Either that, or post loads of stuff up to feed my greedy voyeuristic tendencies. That's what Facebook is after all, a voyeur's idea of heaven. And that's all Facebook is good for.
Mad about the boy....
Jamie Oliver is my favourite chef.
Not that he is particularly handsome, although there is a boyish charm to him.
As a chef, he's probably quite good though not quite brilliant yet.
Maybe it's because cooking is not his only passion; he seems to quite like people too. It may be just a marketing concept, showing him cooking dinners for loads of people at his home. But undeniably, he's quite the people's chef. He seems to enjoy cooking not only for its own sake, but cooking in relation to people, and life, and family, and learning, and health.
Cooking for him is a way to be healthy and happy, so he goes to schools and tries to persuade them to cook healthier school dinners. Cooking is a way of life, so he teaches people how to cook and persuades them to change their ideas about food. For some, cooking is the way, and perhaps the only way, to get out of life's rut.
That's what I find admirable about him, his life is more than mere cooking. There's no one more boring than one with a single passion; he becomes boring and single-dimensional, unable to enjoy anything else that life has to offer.
So, that's why I'm mad about the boy....
Not that he is particularly handsome, although there is a boyish charm to him.
As a chef, he's probably quite good though not quite brilliant yet.
Maybe it's because cooking is not his only passion; he seems to quite like people too. It may be just a marketing concept, showing him cooking dinners for loads of people at his home. But undeniably, he's quite the people's chef. He seems to enjoy cooking not only for its own sake, but cooking in relation to people, and life, and family, and learning, and health.
Cooking for him is a way to be healthy and happy, so he goes to schools and tries to persuade them to cook healthier school dinners. Cooking is a way of life, so he teaches people how to cook and persuades them to change their ideas about food. For some, cooking is the way, and perhaps the only way, to get out of life's rut.
That's what I find admirable about him, his life is more than mere cooking. There's no one more boring than one with a single passion; he becomes boring and single-dimensional, unable to enjoy anything else that life has to offer.
So, that's why I'm mad about the boy....
About writing....
Lately, I've been feeling that I should write more. Somehow the amount of activity going on in my head has been multiplying exponentially rather than atrophying into nothingness, amazingly, considering I've been pretty much the non-thinker recently, feeding on nothing very much else other than Bill Bryson and the telly, both of which are, although hugely entertaining, not exactly the last word in rocket science and innovative think-tanking.
Added to that, Blogger has been annoyingly annoying recently, showing me incomplete web pages where inspirational and pretty ones, encouraging me to spew out my guts in blog-postinging about events that are totally random OR embarassing OR meaninglesss, should have been. And now, I have to leave my post in This stupid Font instead of my favourite Verdana font, which besides being more aesthetically pleasing, is also more befitting of my, erh, bigness, in both personalities and size.
It just sucks doesn't it?
Back to my original intent.... Writing was never, is now not, and I doubt will ever be my forte. I've had people come up to me to tell me how well I write and all that, but I usually beg to differ. There's nothing in my writing that spells genius. There're no words in there that the typical 10-year old can't spell. I pretty much start all my sentences the same way, so where's the sentence structuring ingenuity for you. I get punctuationally lost in any sentence longer than two dozen words, and I can't talk about deep philosophical insightful things that cause ephiphanies in my readers. Heck, I even mix up my metaphors sometimes! And a English professor would tell anyone that I never properly present my arguments, if there are any of them at all in my essays; I meander in my presentations, and I have a certain habit of ending the essay talking about something not even remotely to what my original intention of writing was! Plus, I'm usually grammatically incorrect.
There you have it! I am considered a writer by no definition at all. In other words, nobody in their right minds will say I can write. And that's what I think too. Really.
And another thing that I've never confessed to anyone before. I struggle when I have to write. Oh, rubbishy things like these don't count of course. But if made to write anything else that has to be remotely intellegent at all, I am suddenly sized up, like limp lettuce in ice-cold water, with anxiety and writer's block and perspiration and wide-eye mania, and not presenting a very writer-like appearance at all.
Of course, Irony, with a capital "I" you noticed, will have it that I've always dreamt of being a writer, ever since I was a kid. But of course I knew that was highly improbable, but I wanted to be a writer like other kids wanted to be astronauts and doctors and supermen and fashion models, and back in the days when they were a little stupid, an air hostess, although God knows why anybody would think being an air stewardess was at all glamourous or fashionable an aspiration!
See, I'm meandering from my point again. Which is, to make things a little easier for me now, I no longer aspire to be a writer, I just write, whatever comes into my head, which, being of a rubbishy turn, is usually rubbish. But the truth of the matter is, I like rubbish, so I don't mind writing rubbish. Oh alright, it's true that I can afford to be a little less rubbishy sometimes, and not to always be so lame, but on the whole, it's of an acceptable level, of garbage-sity I mean.
And the only reason why I want to keep on writing is because there's so much crap where that came from; it doesn't ever seem to stop. And having friends who frequently ask me to stop talking nonsense or don't pick up their phones (all the time), it's hardly fair to me if I'm not allowed to air my bimbotic vacuous meaningless drivel in some form or other is it? So I write, or alternatively, I sometimes release it in the form of air/gas.
But I do get a little concerned sometimes, as to whether this blog is the best place to air my view. While I don't really mind constructive criticisms, I do take umbrage at constructive criticisms. Confused? Well, don't be. Just think of it this way, if you are trying to pass off obnoxious narrow-minded opinions in the guise of constructive criticisms, just because you don't agree with me, then I will take umbrage at that. What's wrong with just admitting you're obnoxious and narrow-minded? Just as long as your criticisms are fundamentally constructive, as opposed to destructive, then you're welcome to say your piece. And just as long as I don't have to agree with you, to save your feelings.
Meander meander meander. Don't I remind you of the Ganges river?
I do have to think of new and better ways to spread the word really. Especially since I've recently taken to not talking so much. Which is another post altogether. But in short, another new thing that I have taken up, on top of eating vegetables and writing more, is to talk less. I am determined to say everything only once per person. Anything more than that is a waste of my energy as well as causing a bigger carbon footprint.
Isn't this a long blog? Well, it isn't really. If you take out the non-relevant parts, you'd have realised I'd said nothing very substantial at all. But I'm really hoping that you're either to stupid to realise that, or you're entertained to object to this rather ridiculous post.
Added to that, Blogger has been annoyingly annoying recently, showing me incomplete web pages where inspirational and pretty ones, encouraging me to spew out my guts in blog-postinging about events that are totally random OR embarassing OR meaninglesss, should have been. And now, I have to leave my post in This stupid Font instead of my favourite Verdana font, which besides being more aesthetically pleasing, is also more befitting of my, erh, bigness, in both personalities and size.
It just sucks doesn't it?
Back to my original intent.... Writing was never, is now not, and I doubt will ever be my forte. I've had people come up to me to tell me how well I write and all that, but I usually beg to differ. There's nothing in my writing that spells genius. There're no words in there that the typical 10-year old can't spell. I pretty much start all my sentences the same way, so where's the sentence structuring ingenuity for you. I get punctuationally lost in any sentence longer than two dozen words, and I can't talk about deep philosophical insightful things that cause ephiphanies in my readers. Heck, I even mix up my metaphors sometimes! And a English professor would tell anyone that I never properly present my arguments, if there are any of them at all in my essays; I meander in my presentations, and I have a certain habit of ending the essay talking about something not even remotely to what my original intention of writing was! Plus, I'm usually grammatically incorrect.
There you have it! I am considered a writer by no definition at all. In other words, nobody in their right minds will say I can write. And that's what I think too. Really.
And another thing that I've never confessed to anyone before. I struggle when I have to write. Oh, rubbishy things like these don't count of course. But if made to write anything else that has to be remotely intellegent at all, I am suddenly sized up, like limp lettuce in ice-cold water, with anxiety and writer's block and perspiration and wide-eye mania, and not presenting a very writer-like appearance at all.
Of course, Irony, with a capital "I" you noticed, will have it that I've always dreamt of being a writer, ever since I was a kid. But of course I knew that was highly improbable, but I wanted to be a writer like other kids wanted to be astronauts and doctors and supermen and fashion models, and back in the days when they were a little stupid, an air hostess, although God knows why anybody would think being an air stewardess was at all glamourous or fashionable an aspiration!
See, I'm meandering from my point again. Which is, to make things a little easier for me now, I no longer aspire to be a writer, I just write, whatever comes into my head, which, being of a rubbishy turn, is usually rubbish. But the truth of the matter is, I like rubbish, so I don't mind writing rubbish. Oh alright, it's true that I can afford to be a little less rubbishy sometimes, and not to always be so lame, but on the whole, it's of an acceptable level, of garbage-sity I mean.
And the only reason why I want to keep on writing is because there's so much crap where that came from; it doesn't ever seem to stop. And having friends who frequently ask me to stop talking nonsense or don't pick up their phones (all the time), it's hardly fair to me if I'm not allowed to air my bimbotic vacuous meaningless drivel in some form or other is it? So I write, or alternatively, I sometimes release it in the form of air/gas.
But I do get a little concerned sometimes, as to whether this blog is the best place to air my view. While I don't really mind constructive criticisms, I do take umbrage at constructive criticisms. Confused? Well, don't be. Just think of it this way, if you are trying to pass off obnoxious narrow-minded opinions in the guise of constructive criticisms, just because you don't agree with me, then I will take umbrage at that. What's wrong with just admitting you're obnoxious and narrow-minded? Just as long as your criticisms are fundamentally constructive, as opposed to destructive, then you're welcome to say your piece. And just as long as I don't have to agree with you, to save your feelings.
Meander meander meander. Don't I remind you of the Ganges river?
I do have to think of new and better ways to spread the word really. Especially since I've recently taken to not talking so much. Which is another post altogether. But in short, another new thing that I have taken up, on top of eating vegetables and writing more, is to talk less. I am determined to say everything only once per person. Anything more than that is a waste of my energy as well as causing a bigger carbon footprint.
Isn't this a long blog? Well, it isn't really. If you take out the non-relevant parts, you'd have realised I'd said nothing very substantial at all. But I'm really hoping that you're either to stupid to realise that, or you're entertained to object to this rather ridiculous post.
Stupid Blogspot
I haven't been blogging because Blogspot's been screwy!
Now I have so much pent-up crap it's not even funny.
Oh blah, I'm sleepy now. I think I'll start tomorrow. Assuming everything's alright again.
Well, we'll see...
Now I have so much pent-up crap it's not even funny.
Oh blah, I'm sleepy now. I think I'll start tomorrow. Assuming everything's alright again.
Well, we'll see...
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