Weird week for pickup lines.

Ok.. So last week, or was it week before.. that I got picked up at the cab stand by a really cute... soon-to-be-divorced man.

But this week.... had a couple of dingers.

BEST PICK-UP LINE SARA HAD THIS WEEK

Context: At a very swish Hermes party, called Men On The Move, which was a super cool installation that took over the whole of the old Kallang Airport. Complete with the most divine food. Very beautiful people. Honestly. Events, hardly get that good. (Kudos to the team behind it btw. Amazing.)

Ok. Now why I am giving this context as well is, these dos are usually rather "insider". Hardly any "picking up" is done because everyone there is who's who. And everyone knows everyone else. In fact, the thing to watch out for most of the time, are the bitchfights. The subtle snubs. And how people who hate each other, handle taking photos together like the best of friends.

So... enter, Venture Capitalist. Smartly dressed. Booming Aussie voice. 30's. Very.. energetic. Like a dude on red bull.

"HI, WE'RE GOING TO BE FRIENDS. WHAT'S YOUR EMAIL?" *proffers phone.

I have to say. I was actually mildly amused, I did give it to him.


THE ONES THAT DID NOT WORK

STILL AT THE HERMES PARTY

"Did I just steal your milk tea?" - mildmannered, well-dressed, but rather handsome guy. Who, wasn't aggressive enough, he got cut off by aforementioned Aussie. Waited around for a while. But... left dejectedly after a while when Aussie guy just dominated.

*sara... looking mildly disappointed that the milk tea got spirited away

"Are you are fan of GOT. You look, very well presented. But you look like you have a kinky side." - description of aforementioned gent shall not be provided in case of incriminating .. err... traits.

*sara... O_O

"Take a photo of me, and you can go downstairs.. and you see that bike on display.. it's mine. Tell them my name, show them the photo, and I bet you they'll let you take it." - mop haired gent.

*sara . . . . . . . and your point is?? .... hmm... okthxbai

OUT OF THE PARTY - and everywhere else

After dinner. Meeting for the first time. After I supposedly met him 5 years ago or something. And speaking with him casually on Facebook for a while.

"Next time we meet, we should be on a holiday together."

*sara. ..... huh?! This was a date?! Ok. I really have been a little out of this dating thing maybe. Geez. How rusty am I at this.


On Facebook.

"Want to come over and cuddle? Seriously. Just cuddle."

*sara ... err... No.

AND...

Well. Just so you know as well, that strange things like that DO HAPPEN TO ME.
ALL THE FRIGGING TIME...

Exhibit 1.

Wed. Apr 30.

Ok. I am also. Not quite sure what this one was about. Really.
Well.
I do.

He just totalled PUA - negged me.
And then brought me up again.

Tsk. Seriously guys. THE GAME?

YOU WANT TO USE THE GAME TACTICS ON ME? The one person in SG who did a full documentary feature serious called Expose' on playa tactics?

err...

Ok.

Moving swiftly on.


Earlier today. Sat. May 3rd. After already, politely ignoring a previous direct message that said "You look familiar.. Where have I seen you before. I want to get to know you more..."

OBVIOUSLY.

Because telling a chick you want to get to know... that she does not exist. And then... tagging her in that photo. ALWAYS WORKS.

Ok. That said. The YOU DO NOT EXIST thing, might have worked on me, if I was Jane/Jain. But I'm not.

OH..

And the follow up...

In direct message.

Seriously.

I don't even get the photo. What's with the barbells... on that cutesy mat. With food on it. FOOD.

AND THE NEXT ONE.

This was DM on twitter. I have a rule. Don't lead people on. But. Be polite. Be nice. Be real. Be you.

Never know when you could make a new friend right?

But... can I just repeat again....

One of the things a journalist HATES the most.. (esp as a line) Variants of... "Why don't you write an article on me."

This guy.. has been trying for... close to a mth. These are the DM's. And btw... what I do. IS ON MY PROFILE. ON TWITTER. WHY ASK ME WHAT I DO?

Only the person's name has been edited out to protect his identity.

NOTE: READ EACH PART, FROM DOWN TO UP FOR CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.

AND BTW.. the conversation STILL continued... after a tweet I sent out. Saying how much I hated the "write something on me" as a pickup line. But.. ok. Dude is not a bad guy. So.

Part 1. 22 days ago

NOTE: READ EACH PART, FROM DOWN TO UP FOR CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.

Part 2: At least the first time. He does not ask. Though, dinner is already offered.

NOTE: READ EACH PART, FROM DOWN TO UP FOR CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.

Part 3: AND THERE IT IS.

NOTE: READ EACH PART, FROM DOWN TO UP FOR CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER.

Part 4. And yet again. He brings up what he does.

Ok.

This is in no way to humiliate or harm or hurt any of the above people featured.

Just.

Gah.

Guys. SERIOUSLY?



Sigh.

I do miss good ole' witty banter and natural chemistry.

But like my good pal MMO said.. "Eh, you know, this is the year that we are both supposed to find our significant other, if we have not already found the person yet."

Uh huh. I do know this babe.

Which is why I am keeping my doors, and my mind, wiiiiide open.



Fate. You have all my attention..

Cos you never know, when you might just have a date with destiny.

So... always have to kiss a few toads to get to the right frog, yes?

*rubbing luckycharm's belly for luck*

=)

*curtsy*

xx
sara

Gone in 60 seconds

So nothing is worse than going to work, rushing for a last minute meeting, and then, having it rain on your "freshly-washed-and-ironed-hair" parade right?

Well, that was what I went through today..

TILL...

Cute guy in cab stand. Who sweetly offered me his very crumpled brown starbucks serviettes to wipe my now frizzy-haired self off.

Now, as I was tweeting lines out...

You know what sucks? Rain. After a last minute meeting. On your freshly washed and ironed hair. That frizzes when damp. And is now a mess.
— sara ann k (@saraannk) April 21, 2014

You know what doesn't suck? Hello cute guy at cab stand who just gave me your crumpled starbucks serviettes to wipe myself off...
— sara ann k (@saraannk) April 21, 2014

P.S. Pls send a prayer to mascara gods that reason why cute guy in cab stand proffered serviettes is not cos I look like Joker. okthxbai.
— sara ann k (@saraannk) April 21, 2014

Of course, I failed to notice that perhaps, maybe said guy in question was trying to get my attention.

I was.. well. Chatting with a friend on messenger right?

Any way, I am trying to recall this as best as I can..

How is this for a 60 second. Or.. maybe 90 second, pickup line, when a guy is getting into a cab, right in front of you, in the rain. And getting wet, while delivering this rather romantic monologue.

"Hi, I am so sorry, but I wanted to just tell you. You are really very pretty. And pretty people like you are usually taken. But I thought your earring was really cool. My kid would love it. And your shoes are really cool. And I have a feeling that you're a really cool person too. The guy who has you is really lucky. And if there is no guy, then maybe I am lucky. Except, maybe I'm not so lucky. Because I'm getting out of a really messy divorce. So I don't know how to do this because I haven't done this in a long time. I got married to my childhood sweetheart. And my cab is honking. And I am not even based in Singapore yet. Which would be unfair to you. You probably get this all the time. But, here is my card, and at the risk of sounding really cheesy. Call me, maybe?"

Cue Sara, standing stunned, with a slightly soggy namecard, as cute guy jumps into cab and cab screeches off.

And everyone else in cab queue is pretending NOT to have heard everything, suddenly furiously tapping at their phones, or answering calls that well, had no phone ring.


But waitasec....

Rewind all of this for a minute... Because, we all know, that in Sara-land.... I am the comedychannelforthegods right? So, let me give you the real lowdown on what was happening during this profession of... fancy.

So, while I was wiping myself off. Gratefully, and checking my secondary camera to see if I looked like... well...

Because that is the story of my life... And I realised to my horror that indeed, my mascara was smudgy, and I was desperately trying to wipe it out.

Aside: For people who don't know me... I'm hip, and cool, and smart and funny and elegant.
For the people who do know me. I'm all the above. Except the first and the last. 

I'm the type of girl who, when wearing a nice gown and heels, and looking to the world like I'm gliding past like a princess, is desperately praying in her head... don't fall don't fall don't fall... wait... is that a chocolate fondue fountain? 


And when I did. I also managed to somehow, make myself look worse, so, what else could I do, but make myself UNCUTER. I donned my specs, and tied up my now mangled hair in a messy low ponytail, as well as someone carrying a heavy handbag on one arm, and a lap top bag and ipad, can do. (Not very well at all. Visual guide below.)

And a cab finally comes, and I am grateful that cute guy is in front of me, because its a Chrysler. And we all don't take them, unless we are desperate enough to pay $5 extra.

Then, the guy twists his body out of the cab, so one leg is in the cab, and his other is still on the road, and in the rain.... starts saying......

"Hi, I am so sorry, but I wanted to just tell you. You are really very pretty."

*sara's eyes start bugging out, as she looks left and right, wondering if cute guy was indeed talking to her.

"And pretty people like you are usually taken."

(I may, or may not have snort-laughed rather unglamorously at this point. But I can't/don't want to remember.)

"But I thought your earring was really cool."

*sara's left hand reflexively touches unicorn earring

"My kid would love it."

*whoa you bastard why are you even talking to me you sonofa..

"And your shoes are really cool."

*looks down at feet. Yeah, I really like these cool brogues. I mean. They were cheapies. And they're low and comfy. And not girly girl. And I can run in them. And in this rain too... I love them! I should get another. I wish they had another. It was the last and only pair in that sale at that shop in Hong Kong. I don't know if I can ever find my way to that shop again. It was across the road from that shop selling silver that closed down. 

He may or may not have been saying other stuff at this point. But I was thinking about shoes.

"And I have a feeling that you're a really cool person too."

*Nothing went through my mind other than "Heh" here. I might have done a mental hair flick.

"The guy who has you is really lucky."

*cue Sara's eyebrows raising at least 1.5 cm higher than usual.

"And if there is no guy, then maybe I am lucky."

*cue Sara's eyebrows reaching her scalp line and her mouth hanging open, jaw drop moment.

"Except, maybe I'm not so lucky."

*sara looking confused, and thinking, I should shut my mouth. In case of flies. Sara shuts mouth. But does not regain control of errant eyebrows still causing frown lines in forehead that Dr. Georgia Lee would not be pleased with.

"Because I'm getting out of a really messy divorce."

*sara's head jerks backwards. eyes as big as famous amos cookies, as I thought, omg, my eyes are like... as big as cookies right now. Probably famous amos sized. Not the big ones. The normal ones. I like famous amos. Hmm. I wonder if they have famous amos around here. 

*sara does quick scan of area for famous amos*

"So I don't know how to do this because I haven't done this in a long time."

*sara nods, sympathetically I think. Mostly with head cocked to the right, and nodding in the.. aaaah.. Yes, I see what you're saying (when you don't really understand what the other person is saying) type nod.

"And the cab is honking."

*Sara thinks. Darn it. Now I'm really craving cookies. And the ones in the office are so small now. And I guess that's my cab. But I shall wait here, and not run to you honking impatient red and white cab uncle. Cos.. it's RAINING. Oh. That's why you're honking. Cos... we're stuck here. Hmm...

"And I am not even based in Singapore yet."

*sara thinks "huh?"

"Which would be unfair to you."

*sara's eyes fly open again, thinking, "huh? Ok..."

"You probably get this all the time."

*and I kid you not.. I did this... "awww stop it you" hand gesture.. 

Awkwardly.

With my arm that was holding the laptop.

So I looked like an untrained seal pup trying to swat a fly.

"But, here is my card, and at the risk of sounding really cheesy. Call me, maybe?"

Cue Sara, standing stunned, with a slightly soggy namecard, as cute guy jumps into cab and cab screeches off. 

As Sara thinks..

What just happened?

Get in cab. Whoa. My head. Ouch.

Uncle, Toa Payoh Newscentre please..

Hmm. I should really rub lucky charm's belleh. Heh. He be lucky.

Blissful audible sigh.

I'm glad Liverpool won the game last night.

All the bad kisses.. the hits, and the misses

Now..

THAT WAS INTENSE!

And geesh. Ok, if boyfriends kissed that well. *swoon* Our tiny island of Singapore would not be having this re-population/not-enough-baby-making problems at all. I mean seriously. A kiss like that could get a girl pregnant.

*for those under the age of 16 in Singapore and if you're reading this blog, then you might be my nieces and nephews and therefore, what the hell are you doing here. Go study! And if you're not, and you still don't know how babies are made. Sharing straws kids. A lot can happen when you share straws.

Now I wrote a post about kissing ages ago when I still used to be "a blogger" - under the FOR MEN series. I remember writing on the different kinds of horrible kisses I've had. That post in itself. More than 10k hits in one day. I'm not quite sure whether people were more tickled at the fact that I've had such horrifying experiences, or if there genuinely are that many bad kissers around...

But, this is afterall, 10 years later. I come armed with more than just the 5 types of bad kisses I first wrote about.

*gasp*

I know.

Seriously.

To be fair, maybe it was just bad kiss karma. You may get two great kissers, but put them together and they might not work. (Though, there was a recent experiment on strangers kissing for the first time, that makes me think, this might not be true.
Watch that video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpbDHxCV29A )

Now, I am struggling to remember when was my first kiss. Honestly, zero recollection. But ask me which were the best, and the steamiest...

A coy smile will start breaking out on my face and you'll see that I have officially left the building and my brain has gone to lalaland.

But ah...

Good kissers, just like good men, are hard to find.


THE GOOD.THE BAD. THE UGLY.

1 - Eat Face/ Face attack aka Face-off

When a guy attacks you like he is trying to eat your face.

Looks somewhat like...

An alien attack. 

Yes. Not quite attractive. It literally looks like they are attacking each others faces and honestly, reminds me of a zombie movie.

It felt like Nicholas Cage was trying to eat my face off my skull.

I felt like I was being mauled. Not great. Well not for me at least.

2 - The Hoover

The one that sucks too darned hard.

Yes. Many of you might not have heard or experienced this before. And trust me. This is your good fortune.

I don't know when I experienced this, whether or not it was the combination of youth, lack of experience, hyperactive hormones and a dose of over enthusiasm, but this.. the hoover- is exactly like the vacuum. It sucks and sucks and sucks.

My partner was so vigorous, I literally, sprained my tongue.

I couldn't move it for days. And when I looked in the mirror, it actually looked bruised on the underside.

I kid you not.

I was reduced to eating plain porridge and congee for at least a week while my tongue was out of action.

#notfunny

Was just discussing with a pal Felicia S. Ha. Her experience? A bruised lip from this treatment.

3- Windscreen wiper

Stick out your tongue. Now move it to the left. Now to the right. Now increase the motion by 100x.

Yup.

Not a fan. Especially when its shallow it just feels like someone is trying to squeegee your pearlies.

4- The Sotong 

There are many other names for this disaster of a kiss I would think. But I first called it the sotong, because when I was first at the receiving end of this - it felt like I was getting a slimy squid slapped all over my face.

In case you don't know what "Sotong" is, it's a colloquial term for squid. This type in particular.
Fleshy. Great on the grill and to eat. But not raw. And on your face.

Because this guy literally made out with almost ALL of my face, 

except for my lips. 

He was literally, sucking.face.  Everywhere. My cheeks. My nose. My forehead. Ears. Neck.

Not pecks mind you. Actual make outs. Medium pressure, languorous kissing with tongue.

Honestly. This is hot. But think this with A LOT MORE SALIVA.
And everywhere else on the face as well.
Not so hot.
Just. Very wet.
And not in a good way.

While I was sitting there in his car, paralysed in fear with the thoughts, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?! What is wrong with my lips?! Why is his aim so bad?! What if I can't get out of here! I want to get out now!!!" running through my head, as he was making out with my jaw.. I made a silent note to self.....

If a dude is single. Hot. Has a great bod. A six-pack (abs, not beer). Great personality. Treats you like a princess. Fun to hang with. But isn't yet married when he's in his late 30's...

There might just be a reason for it.

And you know what they say about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks? I mean, while this was more like an over-enthusiastic labrador puppy... I really would rather not have to "train" a guy? I much rather have them "as is". No reno needed.

And yes. I did get zits on my face thereafter.

*shudder*

5- The Lizard/Frog

See that flick action. That quick in and out movement. Repeatedly. The multipost was not a mistake. Just that mine was sped up by 10 times. 

It actually is really unsatisfying. Especially if they are the type that does this fast, in and out, like a variant of the Windscreen wiper. 

Side note. This variety of kisser might be useful in another geographical region.

6- CPR

The "breath of life". Where the guy gives you, literally, a breathy kiss. But not in that sexy way. But he feels like he's blowing air into you.

If I had to illustrate, it probably would look somewhat like this.

Sounds like a recipe to getting gassy for me. 

7- The virginal and other variants (too little tongue)

Some call it the grandma kiss. Perfectly acceptable if you're three-years-old. Or if you've been married for more than a decade. It's a fast kiss. More of a punctuation mark. A peck is not an acceptable kiss from a grown man imho.

If you want to kiss me. Put your back into it.

The... ALL LIPS AND NO ACTION is equally unsatisfying. Here's an example:

8- The cirque du soliel and other circus acts (too much tongue)

I empathise with her bewildered look.

When an overenthusiastic tongue does gymastics in your mouth, it can feel like a washing machine

9- Chomp and chew

Some is fun.
Just don't put a hole in my tongue?

10- Octopus

Get it?

If you didn't- that's the basketball handsign for

TRAVELING.

Yes. Sort of an out of bounds illegal move where sometimes, you move too fast, and your feet get ahead of yourself, and you don't dribble the ball and keep it in play.

So please. Especially if it's the first kiss. Don't get all Octopussy. Handsy all over.

Mariah Carey might invite you to do that. But, I've found a guy with respectful hands, who doesn't start groping and pulling and tearing and actually gives the kiss all the attention it needs. Those kisses, tend to be mindblowing.

Case in point:

HOTTTTTTTTT!

So take it slow.

It'll get there. Especially if the kiss is intense and passionate. Things will escalate naturally. Don't make me feel like you're fumbling to tune the radio.

11- It's the sPits

You can more or less guess this one eh?

The ones with excess saliva. It's a monsoon in there.

12- The dentist

Have you ever had the ones that push their tongues in so deep that they feel like they are cleaning your molars?

#gagreflex

13- The fakers

These are the ones that watch too much television, and mimic TV kissing. Believe me, it was surreal.

It actually looks really good on camera. But there is NOTHING going on. Just usually, the guys jaw grinding enthusiastically like a hoochie-mama on the dancefloor.

My first brush with this was on a shoot. When photos came out, I was like... Whoa. That's hot. So when the guy asked me out. I thought, yeah. Why not?

Turns out. That was not just for the camera.

Sigh. Just like designer muscles. Oh so pretty. But what's the use.

So, I can't tell you for sure how you should kiss. Because I would not be able to tell you what you're doing wrong (if you are doing anything wrong). 

But everyone, judges whether or not they are compatible when they kiss.

If your teeth bump... you immediately think... dang. Maybe not so compatible afterall. Especially if it happens over and over again, right?

And essentially, most people use it as an indicator of how well they would work. It is a good yardstick for passion.

My personal favourite...

I love it when a guy slips his hand and cups my head...

LOVE.

If this is your Step 1. I'm already halfway to being sold.

And oh..

Doesn't everyone want a movie moment like this...

It's ok to start with a warm up kiss.... 

Especially if it's your first one...

Have fun, and tease a little...

But the best kind of kisses have the right combination of

1- pressure

2- lubrication

3- suction

4- lip

5- tongue

Personally, I like those that vary. Guys who deliver everything from sweet gentle kisses. To the super intense ones that go on forever and rob you of your breath. And then slow down, again.. to something tender. ALL IN ONE SESSION.

That is bliss.

I mean, whatever happened to the good old days of some good solid make outs?

Just... enjoying the kiss.

Either way... 

I hope you get kissed good ...

And give as good as you get ...

*wink*

Over and out.

*curtsy*
xx
sara

My eyes slowly adjusted to the light as I woke, lids still heavy from slumber.

The warmth of his strong, hard pecs, a firm pillow under my cheekbone, and the rhythm of his strong, steady heartbeat must have lulled me to sleep.

"Who was this guy?" I thought to myself. Distracted by the chocablock abs of perfection that danced out of the band of his underwear, peeking out ever so slightly from his jeans.

Well nevermind who it is..hubba hubba come to momma...

And a ball of drool slides sneakily out of the corner of my mouth and dangles like a yoyo and lands... *SPLAT*

Whaaa... whaa.. Whaaaat?! THATDIDNOTJUSTHAPPENOMG...

And that was when my eyes really flew open.

"So sorry auntie!" I said as I hurriedly mopped my drool with anti-bac wipes I whipped out of my bag.

Guess who is getting out at the next bus stop now, I thought to myself.

#saraneedssleep

I need a plan for this stupid rooster. And yes. This actually happened. Today. On my way in to work.

*facepalm*

BACKGROUND STORY

Gah. Up since 2am thanks to neighbours over-enthusiastic cock. Anyone needs a feather duster for spring cleaning this CNY? *innocent look*

— sara ann k (@saraannk) January 5, 2014

And my reply... Afterall, I've been taught to handle problems with grace, with and a dash of humour.


Well, I'm still debating on whether or not I should post it on neighbours gate. Because seriously - pet or not, that rooster is keeping the whole neighbourhood up! And this morning it was from 1am to 7am. Gah.

It could be considered as my public service don't you think?

*curtsy*

xx
sara

Sara gets botoxed...

yes yes...

You read right.

And I'm sure now you are dying to see it for yourself right?

Ok. First and foremost. Let me just say that yes, I have tried botox before.

HATED IT. I have these smile lines on my face that make me look like I have kitten whiskers. Or a pair of sunnies have made indentations on my cheek. I do not like 'em though people think they are cute.

But, one time, my doc said why not try a little bit of botox to help it.

GAH.

It literally froze my face.

I lost my smile for like 2 weeks. And by that I don't mind I had to go hunting for it, I didn't misplace it somewhere, just that my facial muscles couldn't recall how to smile properly. And that for me....  is drastic.

I am the queen of smiling.

Serious.
I once taught a male supermodel how to smile too.
But that story another day.

I actually even have the no-teeth smile. The half smile (4 to 6 teeth) and the full smile (6 to 8 teeth).
And its better to say "Monkeys" in photos. Not "Cheese"- which can sometimes result in a thinner oversmile.

Any way. After my first round of botox, and smiling like...

For 2 weeks.

I actually am serious. I did smile like that the whole time because my mouth and cheeks couldn't estimate where to start or stop. So I looked like a deranged lunatic the whole time. And from then on.. I swore. NEVER AGAIN.

Well...

Till this fateful day...









So.. whaddya think peeps?

Keen on trying?
Am actually wondering if I should try it again.

Either way, if this is something you are keen on trying, you might actually get better prices here than in Thailand.

Yes. I've checked.

Try Prive out and ask for either Dr. Karen Soh, or Dr. Miranda Walsh. They're both really nice. And try asking for the "Sara Ann K- friends and family discount".

*wink*

Meanwhile..

Tsk.
I know. You sick people wished there was more blood and gore. Or the post would land up like a comedy channel one right?

Ha. Don't you worry at all.
More stories to come...

xx
sara

So I got drunk last night

Well, this as you have probably realized if you know me well enough. Does not happen very often. In fact, it only happens once in a blue moon.

Previously- once every 7 years.  Well. That is drunk till shit-faced and puking my guts out all the way through the next day. (Happened this year on my birthday actually. Had to be carried out of filter! O_O So tak glam. And thanks MBF for NOT having designer muscles, and actually being able to carry me down those perilous stairs to my full puking glory in the planters. Le sigh.)

Either way, a good drunk high- with hangover next day. This.. was a first. In ages.

So, there I was. Drunk. The first time since.. probably.. I was 18 or so. And I got home at about 4am in the morning. After hunting around in my cavernous bag- hard enough to do if you are a woman looking for keys, let alone drunk with 10 thumbs- I realised.. NADA. Nope. The search was futile. Didn't even hear the familiar jingle jangle of the keys in my two bags.

So... I put my thinking cap on.

Please be very aware. This cap. Was drenched in alcohol. Dom to be precise. Apparently- even though I usually am tipsy with half a glass or two. I managed to drown a bottle of dom. And a couple shots of jaeger. And Belvedere. But who's counting. O_O

Either way I digress.

By the way- did I mention what I was wearing?

First- we have a very cool slightly revealing cropped singlet tank from xfemmex. Totally comfy. Its pretty bare on the sides. I had to tape it to prevent some sideboob action.

Then I had on Jayson Brunsdon gold highwaisted pants. Very gold. Very bling.

Here's sorta a pictorial guide of how I looked..

Here's me with Magic Babe Ning and JC Sum when they
bumped into me at Ion Orchard when I was filming earlier

Here's a screen shot of me earlier in the day during interviews,
so you can see how low the armholes go. YUP. Looooow. And airy.

Any way. 

So now you have a mental idea of what I was wearing.

Picture me. After all the aforementioned alcohol in my system. On a weird, and definitely atypical night out with MBF on a Wednesday night. Where after work, we went to Tamarind Hill for its launch (very nice place, just a little out of the way) - and they were serving wine in goblets filled TO THE BRIM.

Followed by dry mee sua at North Bridge Road's BK Eating House. (Some lining for the stomach at least.)

Followed by a quick pop by 28 HK which we haven't gone to in AGES and we used to practically be there 3 or 4 nights a week for a Bee's Knees and an Old fashioned and a quick catch up on each others gossip. (Yes- the pouffy sounding one was for me. But TH finished most of it.)

And then... we arrived at Mink.

This, mind you, is where it gets all hazy.

I remember another one of those HUGEASS Belv Vodkas. And for some reason.. many many sparklers.

And dancing on podiums.

And saying that we'd eat at Spize.

But we all landed up heading back home.. TILL..

Yes. Go back up to scene where I am out of cab. Outside my house at 4am. Drunk. No Keys. And.. too embarrassed to wake anyone up to open the door for me.

Firstly cos my phone had run out of battery and it would have to actually yell the house down to get anyone to open the door, and also cos well.. I was drunk. At 33. Outside my house. With no keys. *facepalm*

Thinking cap. Soaked in alcohol.

So. Sara gets a brilliant plan!!!

I decide to go through my bedroom window!

Yes! Its the most natural thought in the world for ALL NORMAL FEMALE 33-YEAR-OLDS. But of course!

What's that you say? No? You don't think so? Well. Apparently you weren't saying this loud enough for drunk sara last night. Because that's exactly what I did.

Or. Attempted.

So first. Aforementioned window...

Cue appropriate dramatic reveal sound effects.

Yes. It is pretty far off the ground.

 And it is narrow. While it might be about.. 1 m high. It also is only about 20 cm wide.

What in heaven's name possessed me to think that I could actually get through this....

Once again.

Let me remind you.

Thinking cap. Soaked. Alcohol.

Brain not working so good.

Well. At least it was working well enough for me to start hurling my stuff into the window first. So I wouldn't be encumbered with more things to weigh me down. But that was it for brilliant ideas and planning. 

So. Being pretty far off the ground. Drunk sara tries to HOIST herself up. I am surprised that with the grunts and groans this incited, that my mom was not standing in the bedroom, lights on, and staring at me within minutes with her "What are you doing and what time is it, do you think this house is a hotel"-face on. And as my powerplates or any trainers for that matter will tell you- my arms, are not exactly my best strengths, so this, might have lasted longer than the 2 minutes I think I gave it. But needless to say, was a fruitless attempt.

Not that its that easy to hoist a drunk self onto/into such a narrow ledge any way. (Self-consolation attempt here.)

So... Sara thought of ANOTHER brilliant plan.

Let's forage for something in the back!

Joy of joys.. I found an empty RED PAIL. 

How I could tell it was a red pail in my drunk stupor, I cannot tell you. I'm just glad I did not get bitten by a centipede or any creepy crawlies that I wouldn't have been able to see in that lighting any way.

Congratulating myself then at my quick thinking, giving myself mental pats on the back, I overturned the bucket, and used that as a ledge.

Yup. Not helping.

It was waaaaay too short.

I gave it one LAST try on the pail. Pushed myself up. Wiggled the top half of my body through the window. KICKING the bucket over, positively causing a ruckus and then realising....

I.

WAS.

STUCK.

Yes.

My brilliant brain had forgotten that my Indian hips WOULD NOT in any way, shape, or form, be able to squeeze through a 20cm hole.

This ain't childbirth here. Windows. Are NOT. Expandable.

So there I was, top torso, feeling good about myself because I was halfway to my destination flopping to freedown on the otherside. Stomach like a fulcrum, balancing on the window ledge. But my hips, and my gold-pants-wrapped ass, stuck outside of the window, like a giant ferrero rocher with legs.

Yes. Complete with nuts. 

As I am.

Le sigh.

Can I just add. Here is when my dog Mumble, wakes up and looks at me from my bed, with this "err.... dafuq? What are you doing woman?" face. Like I'm the stupidest human being on the planet. While he languishes. On MY bed. No help from the ungrateful dog who we took in. NAH-UH. He just cast aspersions with his little beady doggy eyes.

So judgemental I tell you. 

Nothing like a little dog stare to reduce you to feeling like even more of a turnip. Well. To be honest, I think I felt more like a plump radish at that point. But let's not argue roots while my ass is still waggling in its full golden glory outside my window.

And quite honestly.. with the amount of noise I made, I am surprised none of the neighbours woke up to instagram  this.. momentous occasion.

-_-

Anyhoos. I knew it was "Time for a rethink."

Which trust me...

Isn't easy when your head, and your ass, are in different places. And alcohol is coursing through your whole body. And making you feel queasy in the stomach. Which of course, is the thing which is pivoting you on the ledge so the pressure isn't exactly pleasant. BUT, you are at least, with enough alcohol to make you comprehend the absurdity of the situation, enough to have a little giggle. Which then makes you want to pee, so you know you have to get into action soon. SO...

With a few wiggles and wriggles. I managed to, thankfully. POP! And land back on the ground with a reasonably muffled thud.

I know. Most of you were hoping I would land on my ass. Sorry to disappoint you masochists.

Meanwhile.. Wheels in Sara's brain are starting to once again, start turning. Albeit, very slowly. 

I weighed out the pros and cons of using the different things around me. But I wasn't exactly spoilt for choice.

Rubbish bin. Open. Full. And very light. Probably would topple over.

Plant pot with bouganvillea. Might get poked in the eye with pokey bush. Or get stung by creepy crawlies. Too heavy. Too much effort.

Ok people. Dustbin it is.

So I lined them up..

First testing the dustbin.

Nope... It definitely COULD NOT take my weight. I did contemplate turning it upside down for a more stable platform. But I really did not want to have to deal with the consequences of having my mom ask me in the morning what were all the leaves she swept up from the garden doing back... in the garden right under my window.

I harnessed the powers of any sort of atheleticism I had left in my alcohol-soaked-ahjumma bones... 

And I have no idea how.. But I did this super cool light as one of those characters in Kungfu panda type hops on pail, bounce off dustbin, land sideways in window and topple onto bed....

AND TAAADAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!

I MADE ITTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!

I flopped onto the bed. 

With all the excitement of making my way in, I was so drained I barely got my makeup off before I K-Oed. 

Window 1- Sara 0.

And I am so not planning on a rematch.

I'm on sale... and other embarrassing moments this week (And its only Mon)

So not too long after I posted about my embarrassing incident with hot doc in Thailand, and managed to crack everyone up in the process of course, I went on to prove that seriously. My life probably deserves its own #fml page.

I think there was a time I did contribute quite a fair bit to that page. Must go dig it out for more stories I can regale you guys with.

BUT, first of all. Just this last Saturday, I had yet another appointment with the police at the Cantonment station. (Don't ask- long story- and not quite funny either. But, don't worry. It's all good in the hood.)

Meanwhile, my mom had to pop over to SGH, just across the road to pick up medication. Since it was raining, we figured she could pick me up after I was done with her meds, and me with my report. We would both take about 30 mins each. Easy peasy. Right?

Not in Sara's life.

About 1 hour later from the time my mom dropped me off at the station... I got into the car, cheeks flushed with same, going "MOMMMYYYY.. I'm SO embarrassed."

"Why Honey?" she asked.

You know how parents are when they have to wait for you?

Well. My mom finished in less than 30 mins. So about every 5 mins while I was still busy in the station. She kept texting me. (I sometimes miss the days when she couldn't figure sms out.) And while I was still finishing up the report- I got the nag call.

Yeah. You know the one.

"Why am I waiting so long for you. If I had known you are taking so long I would have..."

Yup. That really annoying one. When technically, it is all her phone calls and texts that are hindering my process.

So I was already a bit harried when I rushed out of the station. I had to collect my camera too. Which, btw, might I add, was strange. You get into the station and they screen your bags, took my sony point-and-shoot digital camera with the explanation "Sorry miss, no cameras allowed inside" and did the huge song and dance routine with me filling up forms etc to leave my camera in their care while I was inside. But they let me bring my polaroid camera in. I ...... do not get their logic.

Anyway, I digress. I had to collect my camera from the bumbling, but very nice and polite officers. While my mom was still blasting me with texts ,

 I am just across the road from the station.

Waiting in the car. Why so long?!

So I rushed out of the police station, dashed across the road in the rain in a hurry- and in my dishevelled state, ran to the car and opened the door.

And tried again.

And again.

And again.

And it was still locked.

By now I had tried so many times I was pretty annoyed with my mom. I mean, what kind of stunt was she trying to pull. I know I was late. But goodness. It was raining, and just stop listening to music or fiddling with your phone. I mean... If you call so many times, and have been waiting THAT long.. open up the damn door woman!!!!

Right?

So I started knocking pretty angrily on the window..

And then... I looked at the shotgun seat.

Hmm..

My mom had done quite a lot of shopping in the hour I was busy. And.. did they really sell airfryers in the hospital too? And why was she so messy... She always bitches about me being messy.. I should totally nag her.. AH HA, I got you now...

And I leaned down.. about to yell through the windows...

When I saw a terrified middle-aged man...

Who probably just saw me run across the road out of the police station.

And looked like I was about to either hijack his car to run away, or possibly steal his new airfryer.




My eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and with my non-waterproof mascara that definitely did not stand up to even the mild drizzle I just braved.......

I am pretty sure he thought I was a crazy. Because I sure looked it.

And there I saw her.

Well. Not her per se.

But my mom's black car.

Just in front of a van that pulled out as my brain finally connected and puzzle pieces fell in, and I gave an apologetic salute and scurried off.

Well. To be fair. The man zoomed right off thereafter as well. Probably thanking his lucky stars.


Nice.

I just succeeded in giving a poor middle-aged man a heart attack.
Thank goodness we were near a hospital.

Fortunately, Sunday wasn't that bad for me. Luck improved a smidge.
Did I mention.. I got new hair?

Yup. Electric blue/turqoise extensions. They. ARE. AWESOME.

And, as any fashionista worth her salt would tell you. New hair = New wardrobe. D-UH!

So, along with debuting my hair on Sunday in church, I naturally cracked out something from my "new" drawer.

Yes. I have a drawer full of clothes that are new, that are saved to "premiere" or make their maiden debut at special occasions. I even have a drawerful of new undies for that too. (Btw, mind out of the gutter peeps. See previous story on my belief on always wearing nice underwear. )

New hair is definitely a good time to crack out a new outfit. Not enough for something fancy, but enough for something... "Sunday slack". So I picked a white ruffle trimmed dress that would further offset my new "I-fought-with-a-peacock-and-I-won" hairdo.

I went to church feeling pretty good about myself. Getting up on time despite the late night. Making it to church so I could chalk up my JC points. New kickass hair. Yeah. Feeling good.

Then close to when service was over.

And mind you. We've been sitting in church for about.. two and a half hours now.

My mom reaches to the back of my neck and tugs.

"What are you doing mom?" I asked, slightly annoyed, in what I term a church whisper.

"You've had your tag out.." she said as she yanked again.

"Just tuck it back in la," I said irritably, assuming it was just the dress label.

But no...

Now, in my mom's hands, the whole PRICE LABEL.

$29 dollars on sale for $5.




TWO AND A HALF HOURS.





Well.

Thank goodness my mom yanked off before we went for lunch.

In Joo Chiat.

-_-

3 jabs. 2 days of bedrest. 1 cute doc. Only in Bangkok

So I started this label "Sara Ann K: Comedy Channel for the gods" because no one really ever believes the things that happen to me.

Either I am a bonefide jinx, am a walking magnet for drama and disaster, or just damn suay la. But over and above my generally clumsy klutz-like self, the things that have happened in my life sometimes seem SO fantastic, that they often seem untrue. So I have decided that documenting them, might actually be better.

Take for example, this shining example, that happened not too long ago. Last week in fact.

I was on a trip to Bangkok, that was meant to be a solo sojourn to rest my weary soul. The plan was, around National Day (9th of August in Singapore) my friends would fly up to join me, and we would all have a whale of a time together.

One week of my solo story went without incident, but on the day I was supposed to check out of my beautiful, plush hotel away from the city (The Siam), into the Four Seasons, where my friends and I were to reside for the next few days, I started feeling really queasy and nauseous.

During the 40min cab ride into town, I felt progressively worse and by the time I reached The Four Seasons, I knew something was seriously wrong.

My body was aching all over that I could hardly move. I felt feverish. My stomach felt strange and I just felt more ill than even when I had a bout of stomach flu. (Which, any fashionista worth her salt would tell you, is worth suffering through for the weight loss alone. And no. Kids. That was not good advice. Duh. Though true it might be. )

While I was checking in, I felt so faint I could barely stand, so I requested to be seated to rest for a while, hoping that I would feel better.

But, half an hour later, I felt even worse, and before I knew it, I was being wheelchaired into my room.

Four and a half hours later, that was exactly how housekeeping found me. Semi-conscious, dehydrated. Unable to move. Hardly able to speak. Looking half dead in bed. I kid you not, if there were vultures around, they probably would already have attempted to pick at my bones.

The only thing I had done, was crawl out of bed to pull a dustbin near me so I could throw up. Although I barely even had the energy to do that. But when I did, obviously whatever I had eaten was not agreeing with me and forcefully shot itself out of both my nose and mouth, spewing out my body like I was an extra in some horror science-fiction movie.

Alarmed that she might have stumbled upon a suicide case, Jindara from housekeeping (I think her name was) notified the front desk, who called me moments after and rushed up to my room.

I remember feeling flooded with relief because help had finally come. Khun Monrudee from front desk with her ammonia (all the better to wake you my dear) to the rescue!

She was a soothing balm with her calming voice and her gentle, but efficient ways, as she cooed me to sleep after making sure I had some liquids in me, and called a doctor in, as I couldn't even be moved to the hospital.

And guess what.

True to my "lagi suay" self... another "This can only happen to Sara" situation occured.

About 30 minutes later, I heard a British accent , male. In. My. Room.

I tried to peel my swollen eyelids open, adjusting to the warm light of the room like a miner adjusting to the sunlight.

And there he was. The doctor. Thai. Hot. Young. Brit-accented.

And there I was. City smells of Bangkok clinging to my day old white dress, that looked cute and resort- like 12 hours ago, but now just hung off me, as lifeless as my body. Let's not forget the dishevelled hair. And oh god. The pukey + dehydrated breath.

That's attractive.

One by one, my friends started touching down in Bangkok, and when they checked in, hotel staff told them about my predicament. The first of my friends to rush to my room, worried, Dawn and her boyfriend Lars.

Grateful to see a familiar face.. I croaked out the first sentence I did all day to Dawn, in Chinese.

“为什么那么suay. 我最丑时，偏偏给我年轻，帅的医生。。”

Subtitles: Why so suay (unlucky). When I'm so ugly, give me a hot young doc.

Dawn of course, giggled at this, relieved that I still had a sense of humour, and tried to convince me that I didn't look that bad (all in Chinese of course), and tried to ask me how I was feeling. But by then, I was drained by the excitement of croaking out that one sentence.

As I was quite out of it, I'm not sure how much time had passed, but I was told that we were waiting for the Doctor's nurse who was bringing the medication, so the doc still remained in my room, and my sister, fresh from the airport, burst into the doors.

No doubt wondering why a strange man and two of my pals were in the room, she started talking to the doctor IN CHINESE.

AND HE ANSWERED.

IN CHINESE.

*faint*

I did not see her face and I'm sure it must've been priceless but Dawn, my usually poker-faced legal-eagle pal was stunned and asked the doctor, "You speak Chinese?"

"Yes," he replied.

And even in my frail, groggy state, somehow I managed to pull the covers over my head in embarrassment thinking, "OMG. This can only happen to me lor.. "

Sigh.

Lo and behold. The doc's nurse finally arrived with the medication. Where the doc pronounced that he needed to now give me 3 injections to, and I quote "her gluteal muscle". In other words, he needed to give me 3 jabs to the ass.

And I didn't even know his name yet.

Dawn, was already quite ready to explode with laughter at this point, and went, "Ok.. We'll wait outside."

"It's ok, one of you can stay inside..", the doctor said.

"No. No. Its ok, we'll be out here.." Dawn said as she scurried out with Lars, pulling my sis with her.

30 seconds later. With my dress hiked up to my waist, my bare ass exposed to the doc - an explosion of muffled guffaws came from outside the hotel room door as no doubt, Dawn had brought my sis up to speed.

All I could think in my head at that point- Thank goodness I had on nice underwear. (A very flirty, frilly, mint green and lace concoction.) And I was thankful I had done a couple of velashape treatments at Apex- along with muay thai and yoga- my ass was looking pretty decent for a 33-year-old Ahjumma. Probably my best asset at that point to be honest. Pun not intended.

When the 3 poured back into the room, still giggling to themselves, the doc explained to them the medication he had given me for my "acute gastroenteritis"- read: severe food poisoning superbug that left my stomach as distended as a Somalian kids- before he left.

Not before highlighting that I could chew on this mint-flavoured pill that "should ease the gas" through the night.

Oh. The humiliation.

 Keep calm and carry on.

"HE SPEAKS CHINESE..." the three amigos barely managed as they collapsed in laughter on my bed.

"I knooooooowwww...." I croaked. Cracking a lopesided grin before falling to sleep.


---

Well. Who knows. Might not have looked that bad afterall.

Had flowers delivered to my room the next day. (Thank you Khun Mon.)

And, the doc called to see how I was doing... *waggle eyebrows*
HellOoooOOOooo Dr. Sithiphon.

*grin*

Oh. And my sister JUST had to end the conversation with the doctor with the question,"So doctor, if my sister is still feeling rather CONGESTED, could I give her a laxative?"

REALLY?

Sisters.

They sure know how to kill your game.



Two lessons I got from this Bangkok-belly episode.

#1 - Always. ALWAYS. Wear nice underwear.

#2 - Everybody speaks Chinese now. -_-