Jo-Lynn Says That Garlic Bread Is A Smelly Food

My period came a tad earlier this month, and with it, the usual strange food cravings I get.

This month, along with a continuation of last month's olive craze (I finished more than two-thirds of a jar of pimento-stuffed green olives in the matter of less than a week), the desire for all things garlic set in.

So I made myself garlic bread heh. When I got sick of that, I improvised by adding grated cheddar on top of the sliced baguettes slathered with garlic butter. And when I got sick of that, I added chopped black olives to the cheesey garlic bread before toasting it.

Here's how it turned out:

I probably went overboard with the olives but I LOVE olives so I loved this! If you're planning to try this out you'll probably want to use them more sparingly, as if you're not a fan of olives you might find the taste a bit overpowering if you use this much.

For the garlic butter, here's the recipe I use:

3 heaped tbsp of butter
1.5 head of garlic, peeled and chopped
1 tsp of basil
1/2 tsp of oregano
Sprinkle of coarsely ground black pepper
Pinch of salt to taste (the Skinny Meanie recommends garlic salt, but where the heck do you get that in backwater Kuching? I use regular salt instead.)


  1. Throw everything into a bowl (duh!).
  2. Mix everything together (double duh!).
  3. Store in a clean, dry, plastic container, and remember to refrigerate when not in use.
  4. Do not keep for too long as the butter will probably go rancid.

This will probably yield enough garlic spread for two baguettes, and then some, so you might want to half or even quarter the amount stated here.

I have no idea why I'm posting this up now, except maybe I'm just feeling rather brain dead from the exhaustion I suffer every time I get the monthly let-down, and am rather incapable of thinking of anything other than food, food, and more food.

I'm gonna go rest now. Feeling crampy, weepy and rather drained, and since I'm already sated, there's no incentive to stay up to stuff my face. Blah.



Well-intentioned as they may be, I just hate people making my decisions for me.

So. Fucking. Patronising.



Been not in the mood to reply comments. Will do so when I'm feeling more up to it. Sorry guys. The cranky bitch is in town, for now.

Note to self: Never bother lending anyone any money anymore, no matter how dire their situations may be.

Additonal note to self: Being soft-hearted is a lethal flaw. Learn how to ignore. If not, invest in a bloody good pair of ear-plugs.


Sleepless Emo Person Writes Disjointedly

No, honey, I can't explain all of this rage to you or anyone, I just ache and fear and lash out in response to all those painful scary feelings.


I wanted to write letters to all of them, letters to explain my behaviour. But I mulled too long on the matter and the window of opportunity came and went. Not that they weren't around to receive my clarification through the mail - just that the longer I waited, the less appropriate it seemed to say all the things I wanted to.

I've been beating myself up for things I did do wrong, as well as for the things I was blameless for.

I've hurt too many people too. And I look back too much in regret. I want to put my arms around all of the people I've made cry, and tell them that I did love them, only I was too fucked up to love them properly.


Wide awake now, from the itching, the implacable reminder of my reckless violence. Frightened at the notion that if I go back to sleep, I might scratch open healing wounds.

Strange though, how much better I am at administering medical attention effectively these days, albeit using rather clumsy makeshift methods.

My fascination with medicine is getting rather morbid.


Not good. Stomach's churning now, all out of a sudden. Probably IBS from the binge-ing. Haven't binged for so long, forgot how it was like to royally piss off a highly temperamental digestive system. And now it's reminding me.

Cold sweat. Trembling in pain. Doubled over whimpering. Moan.

And the rumbling's passed as quickly as it came. It'll probably be back, but not just yet. Will continue writing here, for as long as it's still tolerable.

LOL sounds like Braxton Hicks contractions, only these are cramping of a non-uterine variety, and I'm not preggers heh.


I'm in a relationship now, yes a new one, in case it wasn't already obvious to you guys following my blog. He's wonderful, he adores me (despite the eccentricities, phobias, and all), and he treats me like a princess, and my parents love him too, especially my mother, yes yes, insert all those clichéd mushy gushy cringe-inducing praises for the turtle, they're probably not undeserved, I really do feel lucky that someone loves me as much as he does.

I'm as happy as I can be, and this has been the most normal relationship I've had, so far, but I'm a bit fucked up, and sometimes I get so afraid that it's all not for real, or that something this good has got to come to an end, and I get a little emotionally withdrawn just in case my fears do actually come through.

And there are the times when I get overwhelmed by paranoia, usually triggered off by a sense of deja vu, and I do things that don't really make sense, and I do things so self-destructive they defy logic, but I'm really trying, I'm still trying to adapt to normalcy. Or more normalcy than I've ever had in my life.

I don't know how the turtle manages with coping with me, always walking on eggshells and having to be super-careful with my feelings, but he's still here, and I'm really very grateful for his patience.

Even the dog has warmed up considerably to him, as you can see in this picture:

Hehehehe... Did you think I was gonna just gonna go on and on about your merits, hun, without at least poking a little fun at you?



I'm dedicating this video to the turtle hehe... Too bad I didn't manage to take a video clip of him dancing in the car to this the first time I blasted this in Pixel (apparently he didn't know what it was from just listening to the intro)...

There's something I know,
That no one else does.
You want me to tell you what it is?
But if I did, then it wouldn't be, a secret...

I've gotta move my body tonight,
I'm gonna go dancin'
Dreamin' bout the nights at the club,
With the fun and romancin'

Mommy sees the look in my eyes,
She can tell something's different
Daddy doesn't understand why,
But he can tell something's different

I've got a secret,
My own little secret
No one knows my secret,
Cause it's a secret secret...

Cleaning Up the Violence

What I am most adept at, is destroying all that I love.

All because of some fucked up sense of self-preservation that leads to very contradictory self-destructive behaviour that doesn't fucking make sense at all.

I'm beautiful, love, without all my scars, I know. But I can't help reverting to irrational hysteria every single time the skittish frightened creature inside flinches at remembered fear, even if it's in the wrong context and of no real threat to myself.

Woke up hurting more than it did when I reluctantly let myself drift into unconsciousness. And more contrite and unhappy than I've felt for a very long time.

I'm not ready to make any promises yet. I'll be crawling back into my head, trying to sort out the broken pieces among the cogs and wheels of the mechanisations of my illogical rationale.

You know how to find me.


Just A Moment of Appreciation

I've taken to sleeping on the sofa in the living room downstairs, because it provides more support for my funny back, and also 'cause I can still barely muster enough energy to crawl up the stairs without feeling like I might pass out halfway to the top.

Anyway, annoying she might be sometimes, the mumster suddenly decided to play nice yesterday morning, and roused me for a brunch she'd prepared especially for moi, with the needs of her invalid daughter in mind:

Clockwise from top: Black Bario rice, roasted chicken drumstick on a bed of lettuce leaf, french beans sautéed with a pinch of dried shrimp for flavour

So healthy kan! All greens and protein and healthy high-fibre rice, which I incidentally happen to like a lot.

Feeling very loved right now, as this is quite an extraordinary feat for my mother who loathes even setting foot into the kitchen ("What's the point of slaving over the stove? So hot and sweaty! And for nothing! You eat it and it's gone!") , much less actually cooking a nice meal like this complete with fancy presentation.

So touched.

At times like this, it really doesn't matter how hard it is for the both of us to get along (we both have similarly bull-headed personalities, right down to the unfortunate penchant for shooting each other down with sarcastic snippy lines), I know she loves me. A lot.

I know you won't read this (I've been stubbornly refusing to give you or dad my blog addy), but I just wanted to announce to the world how much I love you, mum.

Mucho mucho grande.


Status Update

Finally got myself out of the comatose state I've been in, and peeled myself off the sofa for a trip to the family doctor, and got a whole arsenal of medication for an infected throat.

Should've gone a bit earlier, 'cause I'm obviously feeling well enough to stay conscious for few hours at a time now. The hacking phlegmy cough's still around, but less painful, and the constant pressure in my skull (think diving 30ft under the sea without equalising) has eased a fair bit.

The tissue box has become my best friend for the past two days, as I'm still constantly snorting out (if not rather painfully horking up) huge sticky globs of dark green goo. Very unpleasant business.

I'm fairly irritated at my cough medicine, which, while very effective in quelling the constant chest-wracking coughing, puts me in a semi-conscious (and sometimes rather psychedelic) dream-like state, and causes the most aggravating twitching of my arms and legs. Hence the reason I've stopped taking them, and am trying my best to brave the occasional coughing fits I'm still suffering from.

Mrs. Chan's gone a bit overboard with the pranks (she's a constant proponent of making one's presence known through sheer annoying-ness) - other than the constant unceasing conversations with my comatose (and obviously unresponsive) form, she's also gone as far as to drape a lace bra of mine over my eyes whilst I was passed out on the sofa.

I was vaguely aware of what she'd done, but was too weak and too dizzy to remove the offending article from my face, and remained lying flat on my back on the sofa wearing what looked like a very huge pair of lacey Jackie-O sunnies for a good two hours, until I mustered up enough strength to push it off my face.

Very sympathetic, this mother of mine.

Just a quick post, of course, to let you guys know that I'm still feeling quite ill, but on the road to recovery, and rapidly regaining strength to irritate you all in a few days' time.



Still Alive, but Barely

I'm back from a very hectic weekend trip to Miri with the turtle and a group of party-mad UK fellas.

Crazy fun trip but now I'm down with a fever and a sore throat.

My immune system always takes a plunge every time I'm having my period, and my body couldn't quite withstand the climate difference between Kuching and Miri (Miri's a hell lot drier and hotter, and I wasn't drinking enough water). Plus I think I'm getting too old for the kind of drinking binge I went on there, coupled with all that exhaustion...

Friday night was particularly mad. Got so plastered I could barely walk, and on getting back to the house we were lodging at around 5am, the turtle suggested I showered before collapsing into bed. In that alcoholic daze, I nodded and stumbled after him into the bathroom, but was so inebriated I needed assistance to undress.

Was drunkenly leaning against the wall waiting for him to get out of the shower when I heard him mentioning something about not being able to get the central heating system to work, and was figuring I'd just inch into the trajectory of the shower and let myself get accustomed to the cold gradually when I was quickly shoved under the shower-head and given a quick dousing with icy-cold water.

The turtle's excuse for doing so?

"That's the best way of getting used to the cold."


I'm attributing my rather annoying case of the 'flu to that. And also the air-conditioning going full blast in my direction for the entirety of that whole night, which wasn't very pleasant for me because I don't have a thick layer of blubber on myself for warmth, only a drowsy fat hot water bottle lying next to me, and one that kept rolling off with the comforter at that, hence defeating the purpose of his heating capabilities.

Heading back to lying down now. World's spinning around something crazy. Urgh.


Don't Mess With The Manic-Depressive

In a pretty lousy mood today due to the fact I've been woken up early in the morning by some pretty abrupt calls.

Few observations for today:

  • Fat perasan fuckers tend to flock together
  • People as fucked up as I am should not be permitted to get into any romantic arrangements with anyone
  • Feels like severe PMS is on the way
  • Being anti-social translates to less hassle sometimes
  • My dog is weird. She loves the green chews that Hedo gave me, which a colleague passed to her, because it smelled so horrible their dogs wouldn't touch it.
  • I still heart the jeejeen, weird hang-ups and insecurities and all.
OK, going off to stare blankly at the idiot box or something while my brain reboots.


This is Pixel

Introducing the latest love of my life...

Her name's Pixel, and she's a pretty little white MyVi that's a recent addition to the Chan household...

Pixel has the funniest, goofiest "smile", and a cute little round "nose". She reminds me a little bit of a cartoon mouse (think Mickey Mouse or something) haha...

One of my fav things about Pixel is this - a USB port on the player for plugging in pen drives for music...

Edit: I also forgot to mention how much I love the hugeeeeeee side mirrors...

Can see everything and everyone behind me haha!

I'm not much of a car person, and Pixel wasn't built for speed or anything, so I don't have much to gush about her perfomance, but she's a nice enough car to get from point A to point B, and she's a hell lot more fuel efficient than the MafiaSaga I was driving previously.

Nothing really significant about this post, just that I've been taking pictures of Pixel, and I wanted to post them up here to cheer myself up a bit.

Plus I wanted to announce here that the turtle's the bestestestest for offering to wash Pixel with me, and also for his kind offer to keep Pixel nicely waxed hehehe. =P


Jejune Crap: Another Emo Post

You build your whole world around another person.

You alienate your friends whom he cannot befriend, and his friends become your friends as well. Or rather, his friends and the few friends of yours whom he permits you to hang out with become the limits of your socialization.

It’s all pretty integrated, see. No “his” friends and “your” friends.

You build your whole world around another person.

You learn to love the things he loves, because they bring you both together, even when there’s nothing much left to hold on. You know his mind more intimately than you know your own, and you know the same applies to him too.

Now it feels much like everything’s unraveling, somehow. So the relationship’s over, that probably isn’t the worst part of it all. It’s how you have to avoid the mutual friends which your social circle comprises of. It’s the abandoning of the life that has been defined by a relationship spanning almost half a decade.

It’s tiring to have to put on this constant forced cheeriness all the time, yes, sometimes even with you.

I’m so sorry I had to break down into a sniffle-y teary wreck tonight, it’s raining and my period’s probably due in a week and I’m feeling a tad lonely and I’ve been secretly living with so many weeks’, months', years' worth of the shame, the shame for getting myself into such a utterly shitty situation, and something’s finally cracked.

I’ll be alright. Just emo a bit tonight. Some ice-cream on bread and a nice cup of apple cider and honey should improve my gloomy disposition somewhat.



It's always strange how self-absorbed people can be in their grief.

You're the only one hurting, the only one trying to cope, the only one wronged, the only one fucked up, the only one retreating into an anti-social sulk, the only one flaunting a great big bleeding heart.

And the rest of the world moves on, seemingly impervious to emotional distress and psychological trauma.

Only you, you, you live tormented by the unbearable burden of a broken heart, shattered dreams, the new uncertainties.


I couldn't be arsed to disillusion you.


Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

The matriarch of the Chan family is gone on a ten-day meditation retreat. The house feels strangely silent, and the Dadster and I have been spending plenty of quality time together trying to cope with a Mrs-Chan-free existence, which feels vaguely meaningless without the customary daily dodging of irate house-chore-related tirades, tuning out at her excited gabbling about the latest gossip, trying to weather the endless ranting, and avoiding the relentless cleaning sprees (my mother has OCD).

Miss Dot went out this afternoon. Me and daddy dearest sat together through three hours of the Heroes marathon currently airing on Star World, with him dressed in t-shirt and track pants. He was trying to procrastinate on going to the nearby park for his weekly brisk walk - and since my mum wasn't in, he could safely do so in front of the telly without getting yet another lecture on his unhealthy lifestyle.

As I type this, he's trying to strike a conversation with me again (since there's no mum persistently trying to initiate gossipy dialogues) after a long post-dinner silence together in the living room, punctuated by the howls of the stray dogs outside (usually Mummy Dearest's constant chatter or even happy crazy whooping pretty much functions as white noise, blocking out the sounds from outside).

And his opening remark? It's naturally an observation on how time's passing bloody slow, without any of us having to dodge any of Her Royal Highness's quick temper and all the bossing us around. And sadly, it's true. She might not be the easiest person to live with, but she's probably the liveliest, loudest and most restless one of all of us, and her presence, or rather the lack thereof, is now keenly felt by all.

Anyway, other signs that Mrs. Chan is currently not enforcing her reign of terror at home:

  • Mr. Chan cooks himself a dinner of curry-flavoured Maggi Mee - and eats it straight out of the pot.
  • Yesterday's dinner consisted of a few slices of overtly buttery (therefore not mum-approved) grilled cheese sandwich.
  • Cookie stops lurking in the kitchen hoping for scraps.
  • There are no constant banging of doors or clanging of pots and pans
  • Everyone's hiding in their own rooms doing their own thing
  • Nobody's switching the channel to Wah Lai Toi, hence no Cantonese voices blaring from the living room or the master bedroom.
  • The Dadster actually makes a call to Perth to chat with Skinny Meanie. All the chatty phone calls to my sister is usually done by mum.
  • The dog is depressed. Like uber depressed.
I think we all secretly miss her. =(


Almost Feels Like Pain

The lack of restful sleep is catching up with me. The brain is aching like fuck.