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Meet your Special Someone™
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 | Not for Hindus ... just kidding. Random thoughts, comments on anything that takes my fancy. Strictly a my opinion only & if you do not like, don't read, agree to disagree & go away happy. No flames, (flamers OK), request for photo/green card/webcam action etc please. |
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| For The Girls Only - Hairstabation |
May 11, 2008 9:44 pm
Mood: Vain, 1548 Views |  | Blokes, you've been warned. This is not the post for you ... unless you are debutanteB, who will probably go into an opiate stupour of pure delight now.
I am going to talk about hair.
Plays Hairspray.
I hate my hair. It is thick, unruly, frizzy, about 60% gray (yes I know ... it is hereditary) and I would lop the whole lot off if I could.
I spend rather a fortune on it to maintain the length which I need for my work and to ensure that it does not all fall off from all the colouring I inflict on it to cover my grays.
I try to use products that I can find in most of the countries I go to but there is one item that I would insist on wherever I go. I even bring it to all the hair salons I patronise as I felt there was no substitute.
It's Keratase Chrome Relax hair masque which was one of the few things which could turn my stubborn locks into silky, soft and fairly unfrazzled tresses. I would always have a couple of the shocking pink jars of hair savers in my bags wherever I travelled. American Express Card would have been envious at how I truly could not leave home without it.
The problem with Keratase Chrome Relax is that it is not easy to find. In many places in Asia, you can only find it in the more exclusive hair salons and many of the retail shops that supposedly sell it are peddling counterfeits. I know as I can smell a fake Chrome Relax the moment the cap is twisted open.
It is also rather expensive considering how quickly I run through it. About US$40 a pop, and it is quite a small pop too. Each jar lasts about 10-15 applications depending on the length and thickness of your hair. Mine is quite long and thick so I am lucky if it lasts 10 washes.
So this time around, I travelled in a real hurry and realised to my dismay that I had left my precious in the last city. It was an emergency. I had a migraine and needed to wash my hair to feel better. But I could not do so without a proper conditioner.
And I generally do not trust hotel shampoos and conditioners.
It was also the wee hours of the morning so I knew I would not be able to get my Keratase Chrome Relax at that ungodly hour.
In desperation I called down to the concierge. I knew they owed me for the fiasco earlier that day so I pulled the beleaguered, hard-done-by -guest act.
"I have such a terrible migraine. It's from the rude awakening and humiliation of the scene this afternoon. I really need to get rid of it."
"Oh dear. We are so sorry. Can we bring up some Panadol for you?"
"No, no. I am allergic to Panadol. And I have already taken some Tylenol but it is not helping. My migraine will probably go away if I wash my hair."
"Oh ... but our hair salon is closed for the day, ma'am. "
I blinked. I really had not expected to go to the hair salon or for them to arrange for a hair dresser at that time of the night. Wow, they must really want to suck up to me.
"Er, that's fine. I can wash my own hair as I do not want to bother anyone. But I did not bring my hair conditioner and my hair is very sensitive. Oh my head ..."
I know I am laying it on thick but hey, it usually works!
"Ma'am, I can try to get your conditioner. You just tell me what it is and I'll go and find it for you. You want tea or something to make you feel better until we find it, ma'am?"
"Tea would be lovely. Chamomile please. And it's Keratase Chrome Relax Hair Masque. If they do not have the masque, I can settle for the conditioner."
I settled back to await their call that they could not find it.
Sure enough, almost 30 minutes passed before they called to report sadly that they could not find it anywhere. But one of the staff had a suggestion. She was coming up to my room to show it to me.
I was puzzled. And intrigued. And still had my migraine.
A young girl came up and introduced herself as Nora. She had a bright orange bottle in her hand. Clairol Herbal Essence Citrus Lift conditioner that apparently has tangerine, lemongrass and aloe vera in it to make the hair radiant and soft. Better yet, it is tailored for dry or coloured hair.
I looked at it dubiously as I have not used Clariol Herbal Essences products since I was a teen. And discovered they dried out my hair even if they smelt heavenly.
Nora was very sweet and earnest, assuring me that her sister is a hair dresser who highly recommends the conditioner. Apparently, I had sent the hotel into a bit of a panic with my request and in desperation, Nora had awoken her sister to ask her for her advise on how to placate me.
Nora's sister staked her reputation that I would not be disappointed in the Citrus Lift and that she would pit it against my beloved Chrome Relax.
Wow, brave, fighting words.
"OK, I'm game. If my hair gets fried, I am going to sue you guys, you do know that?"
Nervous giggle.
So I chased her off and went about washing my migraine away.
I'll tell you this. I think the Clairol Herbal Essence probably costs about US$5? I am not sure as I have not bought any hair products from the pharmacies or retail stores in ages. But I am now going to alternate the Citrus Lift with my Chrome Relax.
Citrus Lift for daily use and Chrome Relax for weekly or bi-weekly treatment.
Bloody hell, I have been spending a fortune on Keratase for years and now I discover an upstart that has overthrown it. Who says you need to pay a king's ransom for the same result?
In fact, I think the Citrus Lift gives my hair a tinge more silkiness than Chrome Relax. It is now my new Holy Grail.
I must thank Nora with a nice hamper before I leave for helping me save a fortune and my hair.
Brilliant stuff. Pleased as punch. And walking out of here like a shampoo ad, swishing my hair all over the place.
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53 Comments | |
| I am a Fox Vixen ... Apparently |
May 11, 2008 5:09 am
Mood: Bleary From Disturbed Sleep, 790 Views | There I am, minding my own beeswax, soundly napping to resuscitate my appetite when I hear an impatient pounding on my door. Followed by someone leaning on the doorbell.
What on earth?!!
I am never good when I just awake so I half stumbled, crawled out from beneath the sheets and meandered drunkenly to the door.
Peeking through the tiny spyglass, I saw the distorted visage of an unfamiliar female behind the door. I say distorted not only because of the convex lenses that warps all faces into a pointy fish face but also because the woman looked really ugly with fury.
Cautiously I opened the door to ask through the latch.
"Yes, may I help you?"
"You effing biatch! You w&^re! Where's my husband?"
"Eh? What? What husband? What on earth are you talking about?"
She kept throwing one insult after another, her shrill voice rising higher and higher as her command of English sludged drearily over the same four- and five-letter words.
I could feel my confused blurriness giving way to mild annoyance. I was woken up for this??? I am going to be one cranky cow tonight, that was for sure.
"Look, you crazy half-wit. I have no idea who your husband or you are for that matter, but you are seriously pissing me off and I advise you to get away from this door before I lose my temper."
She responded by trying to stick her arm through the narrow aperture of the door to claw my eyes out.
By now, some of the other hotel guests were out of the rooms to watch the antics of the psycho. I saw hotel security and staff dashing towards us so I decided to open the door.
I happened to have Hakim with me.
Once the door opened, the rather chubby Chinese woman lunged through without taking a good look at me.
The me who was wielding Hakim and settling into position.
Door opens, woman is open, WHF side kicks her right in the chest into the opposite door. Then I moved forward to point Hakim into her stomach.
"Don't move. In fact, do not speak unless I tell you to. My hand might shake and you could end up with a liposuction you did not want."
Hotel security started to turn their attention towards me now, thinking I am the psycho and tried to talk me down.
I assured them I was only defending myself and I was not going to lose my temper yet and skewer her but I wanted some answers and then I wanted them all to vamoose so I could continue my nap. But I was fast losing patience and if they got in my way I was really going to let loose with Hakim.
"You. Who the hell is your husband?"
She gave some Chinese name.
"Never heard of him. Why do you think he's with me and shagging me?"
She screamed that she knew he was in Room XXX with his ... she used a bad Chinese word equivalent to a woman's part.
"Stop shouting or I might lose my grip on Hakim. Either talk softly or scream loudly when I get frightened and lose my grip. I frighten easily you know."
I looked at my room door. Right number.
"You can see there is no man in my room other than Hakim. That's the sword's name, by the way. Has not been a man in there other than the bell boy bringing my luggage."
"You lie! Look at you! Of course you must be a fox vixen. You probably hide him somewhere! Where is he?!!!"
Wow, a fox vixen, eh? That's the Chinese slur for women who seduce hapless men, usually of the married variety. They typically look like some harlot from a bad American soap ... wait, is there such a thing as a good one? Sorry .. tangent ...
Gee, the insult has struck me so much to the core, I can feel my grip on Hakim loosening.
"Oy, watch it! Do not know your husband and am certainly not hiding him. And what do you mean look at me? How rude! Right, call your idiot husband right now to check his whereabouts."
By now she is starting to think she's in mucho trouble and it is a much quieter woman who called her erstwhile husband on her mobile.
I swear, all heads turned when we heard a mobile ring behind us.
It was like a scene from a farce.
A man in a bathrobe with a woman in matching attire were in the passageway a few doors away. As he reached for his mobile in his pocket, he realised he had just been busted.
Crazy, jealous wife was so infuriated, she actually swatted Hakim as she rose from the floor and lumbered angrily towards her new target. Everyone followed except me and one hotel security staff.
I rolled my eyes and he apologised profusely.
I told him they owed me one and they better make sure I am appeased or I might sue them. And then told him to go away for now as I wanted to go back to sleep.
Of course, after I returned to the calm of my room, I could not sleep.
Such drama and excitement. It can only happen to me.
Wait a second, the cow did not even apologise to me! Ah, feck it. I rather not have to hear her strident voice or see her or her faithless spouse anywhere near me again.
And to think I stayed at a hotel today because I wanted some peace and quiet. Right.
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19 Comments | |
| Feed Me, Seymour |
May 11, 2008 12:10 am
Mood: Bloated, 598 Views | I feel like Audrey II.
I'm not sure if it is because I look scrawny or I emit such happy noises when I am eating that it prompts people to want to feed me all the time.
I was just telling MM's hubby, Sir LongSufferingHubby, that I am lucky to get free food or special treatment a fair bit. Like the time I met an old gf at an Intercontinental for lunch and was approached to try a special menu from a visiting 3-star chef from Spain. On the house.
We thought they would give us a pan of paella or some tapas but out came a 6-course meal that was so heavenly that it blew my friend's diet right out of the water. We had been in the right place at the right time when it was part of a food festival and the chef was apparently looking for some customers to test out his new menu.
Score!
Another time was when I was dining alone at one of my favourite pizzerias and the lady chef was testing out a new dessert pizza. I happened to be sitting near the ovens where she was working and she offered the entire banana, dark chocolate and almond flaked concoction to me.
She instantly became my new best friend.
Another time I was on a date at a Japanese restaurant and the owner was an elderly Japanese lady who is a phenomenal chef. My date had worked in Japan for a long time so he did the ordering but for some reason, the owner thought I was the Japanese expert. She decided she liked me and kept sending her son out with little titbits and flasks of sake from different provinces for me to try out.
My date became jealous and I decided he was a twat. I went back to the restaurant sans lame date a week later. She fed me more sake and yakitori ... on the house.
So I am fairly fortunate but of course, this just happens once in a while although I wish it was a daily occurrence!
So, after I told Paul this, I discovered I had been a real doughnut and forgotten an important engagement.
My absentmindedness required some rather annoyed people to arrange for a plane to come out and get me and to fly me back today. The price was that I had to perform much longer than I initially agreed upon and I had to have breakfast with them.
Why is breakfast significant? Because these people eat the kind of breakfast others have for dinner. The breakfast table is about 4 feet long. And it is filled to the edges with food.
I love food but I have a strange quirk. I do not really eat breakfast. I do if I know I have a long day of workshops and classes ahead of me which means I have no time to stop to eat. But even when I eat breakfast, it is fairly light. Well, for me anyway.
Maybe a couple of Eggs Benedicts, half a toasted croissant or bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jam, milk, coffee, OJ (yes, all three), occasionally a single slice of bacon if I am exceptionally hungry and an apple or slice of cantaloup.
I cannot force down a large breakfast as I need to stay light and ready to work when I hit the studio. After that it is coffee, coffee and more coffee and maybe some trail mix, muesli or power bars or muffins and chocolate bars through the day till I have time to have a proper meal. And lots of milk and water to keep me going.
So, breakfast with the Miffed Malaysians was punishment to me. For forgetting. I ate. And ate. And ate.
There was the continental breakfast. There was the German style breakfast because they remembered I was from Germany. There was the full English brekkie because they knew I was English. There was the French version as they knew I was a foodie. There was the local Malaysian brekkie which means there were Chinese, Malay and Indian options available. And there was gado gado which they knew I love because it reminds me of my grandmother. There was also Japanese sushi and sashimi because they knew I love Japanese food.
Breakfast lasted almost 3 hours.
I felt like I was 3 months' preggers when I rolled off my chair and crawled painfully to my room to pack. I was glad they were flying me back to Singers in a private plane as I think any commercial airline would not let me on due to overweight and excess luggage.
I swore I will not eat for a week.
But when I arrived in Singers a few hours ago, I realised that I needed to have dinner as I was doing the footy thing tonight and the lounge area did not allow real food and only finger foods. I did some fast calculating.
I should eat something before I ensconced myself on the sofa with my shisha and beers to watch the matches. But I wanted a nap as I am knackered. OK, buy some food, stick it in the mini-bar and have that before I go out. Good idea.
So I went to a food court to get some ginger beef and rice take-out.
The lady at the food court was just opening up her stall so I asked if she was open for business yet, smiling winsomely so that she would say yes and I did not have to do another walkabout.
She looked rather startled and said yes so I ordered and was happily tapping my feet to a song on my iPod when she gestured to me to collect my food.
My Chinese is uncertain and her English was fairly non-existent.
As I paid her for my food, she snapped at another customer who was trying to hurry me out of the way so he could order. Then she smiled and asked me,
"Chicken curry good. You want?"
"Er, no thanks as lots of yummy food here," I lifted the packet of beef & rice and smiled happily.
"Little bit. I give you little bit. You like?"
Wow, free food. Score!
I nodded like a eager little kid offered candy and a ride on a roller coaster. Yes, please!
It was not a little bit of chicken curry she gave me.
When I returned back to my room, I discovered it was a big arse bowl of chicken curry with two chunks of chicken breasts and some potatoes.
I stared at my haul and remembered.
I can't eat as I am still ridiculously bloated from my Feast of Folly at brekkie.
OK, maybe a nap will revive my killer appetite.
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12 Comments | |
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