My Life Revolves Around Clothes

But today, I don't mean that in the shopaholic, bimbotic way that I normally do. I spent a good part of my precious Sunday evening ironing clothes that didn't even make them look properly pressed, and languishing in the toilet are two jackets, one cardigan, a tee shirt and a dress all waiting to be laundered. (By hand.) It's not that I'm too poor or miserly to use the washing machine, but rather I'd like for the lifespan of my clothes to be stretched as far as possible, instead of being mangled in the drum and acci-dyed a myriad of colours I never intended.

So, even though my heart was yearning to blog, blog away to compensate for the weeks my eyes has had to endure the dry spell on this blog, I decided to heed The Boyfriend's (unsolicited) (but still well-meaning - and well-given) advice and, well, do my chores. Because now I can blog to my heart's content. That is, until it's time for bed. Nowadays I have the sleeping habits of a three-year old come weekdays. Weekends are still reserved for unabashed hair-let-downing, of course. But enough of this meandering. A bumper crop of photos awaits!

In reverse chronological order:

The Poptart event at Home, Otherwise Known As The Night I Became Chao Hee Lang (Hard of Hearing)

My soci mates. They love to play Sexually Ambiguous one-upmanship.

Excursion To Chinatown (Follow the Teachers-to-be)

Although looking matronly in my outfit, it is not myself I was referring to. I, of course, mean my two pretty lady friends featured below, flanking the gleeful only-guy of the outing. Incidentally, we saw another stall or two carrying the same wares as the ones they hold in the picture. The same goes for some of the other so-called speciality stalls - same lion puppets, same this, same that. Methinks the 500-stall festivity market which opened to such fanfare at the start of the season was a wee bit too optimistic, rain or no rain. One of the stall holders told me the rental for a month went into the thousands. While it must be really lucrative to set up stall there for them to even accept such terms... how much they'd have to earn to even cover their sunk costs, I really dunno.

In the midst of our thronging through the crowd, we chance upon a 变脸 performance.

Something tells me that, if only I knew a little something about the trade, that what I captured on this frame is probably the key to unlocking the secret of this highly mysterious art. That man is friggin' in the middle of a face change!

And thus concludes a rather dry post. I have more to share, mind, but 'tis the time for me to prepare for slumber.

Post-note: I know I posted much less than I promised I would, but - time constraints la. Sorry 'bout that.