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Totally Smash.....ING with VPL (very Visible Prettied-eye Liner)




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Dinner for six with the likes of empowered gusty women leaves this girl totally awed. The credentials of these women are nothing short of a small wonder.

Dr Ava; read brilliant clinical mind that matches her mile long legs and amazingly well-proportioned honed body.

Suri; read Glamour queen and kitchen goddess extraordinaire, a delightful Asian Nigella Lawson. 

Suri’s friend; read technically sound, wizard of an architect able to hurl design thought balloons to lamblast contractors into quivering lipped ISO compliant responsible workers.
Tracy; famed pioneer of “Peyton Place After Midnight” cardio-blast.

This girl; read bookish poet-writer wannabe with stomach bigger than her myopic eyes and a strong aversion for sweaty construction types.

A conversation of sort ensues: it leaves this girl feeling a little INADEQUATE. Now she knows how a man must feel in the presence of superlatives. He feels deflated.

“He sorts of panics,” Dr Ava narrates the story. “It isn’t as if he's out on a limb, where the breeze is best! But rather, he has that deer in headlights blank stare. Suri swears she could see tiny beads of sweat break on his shinny dome.”

We laugh.

“Amazingly he did it to himself again – he’s the same-old-same-old that would never let go. Beat it to a pulp and then decides to milk it to death,” Dr Ava continues.

“We agree that he lacks original thought. Some men are like that; worse than a brain tape worm. Meeting him was essentially no different than contracting such an organism. They work their way through your bloodstream to your tasty little brain to live, feed and grow.” Suri shudders, picking up Dr Ava’s thoughts.

Dinner seems suddenly intimidating. This girl views her pork chops suspiciously and wonders if it was really cooked through.

Suri’s last date was an ex-colleague; one of those who latch on and hatch too soon. He starts to steal her ideas and market it to the bosses. Sly and glib that one.

Suri says quietly, “Think twice about those roofless men. Without hair, their brains fry and dry out faster than ours. Hence, he has minimal brain activity. Knock, knock. Hello! Anyone home?”

More laughter with the second bottle of Chardonnay.

“This white has fresh oak overtones and fruity flavours of tropical fruit, citrus and melon with hints of apple and pear. It leaves the palate with a lasting impression,” Suri quips.

Yada, yada, yada… Dr Ava teases. “What we know about wine is just about what we know about men like those, with LUSTING impressions.”

This girl recounts having to deal with expatriates hired by her clients to police the consultants. The poor architects and engineers are forced to be subservient to these loud expletives wielding maniacs.

“Basically, they’re profane, vulgar and obscene rolled into a ball of vomit.” She adds for good measure.

“There was one such expatriate contractor who fancies himself to be rather debonair,” she continues.

“See; see its De BO Hair strikes again!” Suri shrieks. Everyone giggles wildly.

When the girls quieten a little, this girl continues, “I tell you this, I was so tired of this Old Fox’s overtures and breathing down my neck literally and constantly sneaking up on me. So one day, before my two p.m. meeting with Old Fox, I pop a few peeled raw garlic pips and chew that down that for good measure. When he sneaked up on me, I edge closer and closer then, breathe hard into his face. He turned green and bolted for the exit!”

The women punch both their fists in the air jubilantly.

Suri’s friend warns, “The nicest looking ones are the worst. It’s like too much in-breeding happened without thought of dire consequences of maniac depression. You know the really beautiful but the REALLY crazy sort.”

Everyone’s eyes widen. This girl gulps.

Tracy blurs the memory. Rodney attractive. Rodney full of confidence. Rodney witty, sure. Rodney comfortable around people. He gets them smiling or nodding. He’s confident. He’s obviously a bright man.

“A lot of people I know, like him,” Tracy confesses.

“I’ve met one too many. Too good to be true types.  Handsome like hell. Says all the right things. Does right by everyone. But to me, their credentials always seem faintly fraudulent. So I keep them at arm’s length. Eventually over time, I find out.”

Tracy has learnt to erase and replace. That’s the easy part. She seems to be meeting the same man over and over again.

Where’s the clinical psychologist when you need her to psychoanalyse?


Doris Lim is a popular freelance writer who blogs as Little Fish on travel and food stories here. Be sure to check out her other inspiring stories and follow her Instagram @SmartDoryID & Facebook to check out more places to eat delicious street foods or dine in the best restaurants!



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