Some other butterflies..

Here's a quick one.

I slept for like 3 hours the day before and spent the whole day out about town organizing meetings for EFX, then straight to waitress at the restaurant. Not nice.

Jumpy 6 hours sleep today. Had an interview at 11am (more on that later on, IF there is anything more to talk about..), came back to edit a menu (for that restaurant, yes) and will be going to the restaurant to drop off and discuss the edited script, and straight to ANOTHER interview in Carlton. Not that I'm complaining I have too much choices (WHO WOULD?! TELL ME AND I'll SHOOT YOU), but well, I'm coping with them all coming at the same time and looking cheerful while doing that as well.

To top it off, Dad just sms-ed saying we haven't talked for a while. Oh, calm my homesick heart!

Amidst screwing my brains doing Sales & Marketing job, which is so NOT my blardy business, for EFX, I'll need to razor-sharp scan through the menu one last time, give a call home without sounding too stressed, rush to the restaurant and arrive at the door of prospective office by time.

Wish me luck!!

Oh, and did I mention I desperately needed a pee?? Now, you're wondering why the hell this blog is here..


So, how'd your bra-fitting go, M'am?

A disaster, that's how it was for me.

I'm curious, really. Did anyone EVER have an enjoyable bra-fitting session before?

I mean, look, I ain't particularly chirpy about my shrinking breasts and I definitely don't need feeling worse when a grim old lady came in, grabbed my strap and shook her head, "No, no.. You need a smaller one. Much smaller.. try 10A or B.. I think A, try A.." If it ain't for the fact that she's an elderly and I'm practically semi-naked in her turf, I'd have get-the-fuck-out-of-here her!

Instead, I solemnly smiled and closed the door after her. Then I spent the next 5, 10 or probably 20 minutes trying to make it all presentable in a B-cup, having total faith in my own set of hooters. "How could I be demoted to a mere A-cup in less than a month?" I sincerely believed. So I pushed, and shoved, grabbed and.. yea, you know the drill..

Alas, I walked out of the store clutching my purchase of Elle Macpherson in A reluctantly, leaving behind in the changing room, a mangled (and maybe torn, just maybe..) B size.

Anyway.. like all curious flat-chests, I wonder whatever happened to good ol' assistants?? Miranda, in Sex and the City, got the perfect help she needed without even her asking. Are you telling me that it's the whole "show" thing again? That it doesn't really work that way in real?? I feel so cheated!

Oh and by the way, did I mention that I had to "press the button when you're ready for the fitting"? Button?? What button?? Ready for the fitting?? What do you mean?? Do I have to stand there naked and get you to do it or wear one myself and.. why do I need you there again??

It was all so confusing that I swore never to have any bra-fitting again. Perhaps, maybe if I get the tough-looking, but knowledgable assistant that Miranda had..

I think every girl needs a little companion who can spare some compassion in this regard. Double hands up from me.


Knock, knock. Still there?

Too much happened in the past one month? Two months? And I will slowly unfold them, as long as my sleep-lacking-sanity (and interest) holds.

Like a constantly filled and emptied beer mug, so is my life from the last time you've heard from this Missy. But perhaps the most relevent info I should let slip in the first time would be WHY I went missing for a stretch of a month or two? If it ain't because of Internet (and by that I mean broadband, not dial-up) inaccessibility, then it's gotta be the new shampoo I bought on.. WHO ARE YOU KIDDING??? OF COURSE IT'S THE INTERNET, SILLY GOOSE!!

Anyway, let's not ramble on.. it's 4.52am and we all know that's not the perfect time and state of mind for a wife to blog.

In weeks passed:
  1. Missy has found a new part-time waitressing in an Asian fine dining. She doesn't like it that much. And by that, I meant she doesn't give a horny goat's ass why we should really have a baby cutlery set for that dish and that dish alone, or give wet towels when some people willingly ordered oily chicken wrapped in pandan leaves. Or, the fact that the plate will have a space of approximately 2.33cm from the edge of the table, and the wine glass a further 1.78cm from the plate.

    In case you're in awe, I was just exaggerating.. work's fine, but the whole idea of wait(ress)ing just didn't warm up to me. I put it all on the Leo thing, and unashamedly say so. I'm spoilt, just not spoilt enough to turn down the extra money.
  2. I've moved, and well into the second month in the new home. Broadband was connected JUST two days ago, and it was only today I have the luxury to stay home and make full use of it. Surviving on dial-up prior to this is no survival at all. I was this close to slit my own wrist, if not count my strands of hair..
  3. New home's good. Actually, make that great. I've been walking a lot lately, mostly to Prahran, a nearby town as a substitute for city. On top of that, having a central gym and heated pool right downstairs means that Missy and her hubz have been working out more. Less sex, but definitely more physical workout. Less sex, cos of crashing work and sleep times. More physical workout cos that cross-training babe ain't a flob machine, darls. Combined with balancing 5 plates (not empty ones) on one hand and 6 wine glasses on another, average 3 hours a day, 2 days a week and what we have here is beachwear strutting material.
  4. Missy has received positive news on her visa after what felt like 7 years.
  5. On the same day she received that news, she received another news from home bearing heart-wrenchers. Dad had just survived a heart bypass surgery. This Dad, MY Dad, my super Dad.. I didn't even know.. I would have flown home.. I would have rushed back..

    I know it was a success, and the reason I was kept from it was because I can't do anything being so far away and I'll be that one less person to worry and lose sleep over this; but I couldn't help it. I cried so bad, and continued to do so everyday after, as well as calling home "just to be in touch". I really missed home then, and ever so often at night I would toss in bed with all the "what ifs" playing in my head before crying myself to sleep. In a nutshell, I was ecstatic about my visa approval for about 2 minutes before everything was put into perspective. Why the hell would I be happy to get approval for being so far from home for? Ahhh yes, it's the whole "future" thing.. *rolls eyes
  6. Back to reality, visa approval means ability to work. Full time, proper, tax-paying salary-counting job.

    And now I'm torn between quitting the part-time waitressing right this instant as I'm typing this, or be more sensible and quit only when I've secured a good job, or have it as an on-going extra pocket money generator. And then, there's also the humane part to consider: They can't be spending some good hours and money in training me only to have me scoot off in less than a month?? I did, afterall, have my own apron now and not to mention "occassionally" popping a couple of beers during the nights.
  7. EFX August issue was a disaster. That was when I was moving and Internet-less, and by the time I finally get to see it, it was the printed copy. My mouth hang open for the entire Simpsons show.

    This month, I'm back on as lead editor, preparing for our October issue. I have found out: our fashion guru has bailed on us, and my senior editor will be away on holiday throughout the month. No amount of Simpsons will save me now.

    After our meeting this Thursday, which is two days before the first copy dateline, I'll be hoping for miracles so join me if you have some spare minutes on hand.
  8. Tomorrow is the official opening of Motorola Melbourne Spring Fashion Week (MMSFW) and thanks to my lovely companion, Val, I finally have a chance to play dress up. God knows how long it has been since I feel pretty, or simply try to make myself pretty. There's only so much puffy eyes a girl can stare first thing in the morning before she goes crazy on herself. So yes, amidst the everyday tension, Missy is very excited about tomorrow.
  9. September 2nd was Australia's Fathers' Day.
  10. Missy is beginning to think that she's meant to cook Mexican..

We will go down to the nitty-gritty the next time, folks. Feels great to be back here..