At the start of my reign in Tai-taidom beginning of this month, I came up with a list of the things I had wanted to do. I had one of it fulfilled - visiting the infamous haunted house Nam Koo Terrace.

Thanks to the emaculate, ever so gorgeous Ms. Ruby Poon; she sniffed out a way for us to go to Nam Koo Terrace in a group. Last last Saturday night Ruby arranged a double date for us to visit 8 of Wanchai's most haunted spots ( in conjunction with Halloween) While I am not sure some of these places are as haunted as fabled, it was a lovely night seeing Wanchai at its element of intrigue while uncovering some of its rich history.

The landscape of Wanchai is forever changed, no thanks to future development projects poised to take place in the next few years. Like the always say, nothing lasts forever but in HK; it's even shorter than you expect it to be.

My good friend Ruby has just told me about something that had happened to her while she was out shopping yesterday. She had wanted to try on this skirt that this other woman was trying. It didn't fit her and Ruby had asked the sales assistant if she could try it. That was the last piece and when the sales assistant asked the lady if she had wanted it and she did. Ruby was baffled and she didn't understand why she bought something that didn't fit her.

Women can either be your best friend or they are your best foe. Women are often so insecure and competitive - and when they are, they are as well as irrational as well. I went hiking yesterday morning with Taffy and his friends and family. He took his daughter Nairobi along with her friend Lelaila. Nairobi had wanted to walk Sophie and so did Lelaila. They faught over Sophie like nobody's business. In the end, we had to develop this 5 minutes system so that both girls can take turns. I reckon if it is just Nairobi alone, she'd probably won't even give a flying fuck about my dog.

When it comes to competition with another woman, I am guilty of it as well. Ever since I was young, I have developed an inferiority complex towards my cousin Jenny. Jenny is a year younger than me and throughout my entire childhood and teenage years; my mother's permanent obssession was comparing her to me.

Jenny is everything parents hope their children turn out to be. Polite, mild-mannered; Jenny studied bio- technology at the University of Singapore. You would think she is a nerd but no, she is a full 5 feet 7 inches of pure gorgeousness. She is the reincarnation of boobs on sticks ( a full cup C) and she has the most sensuous " come fuck me" mouth. In short I have every single irrational reason to hate her and I do. Till today, I feel a sense of awkwardness whenever I am around her and my defensive mode run on overdrive whenever my mother starts talking about me and her in the same breath.

I know there is no manuals for parenting; our parents learn to be parents through trials and errors. If there is one thing I think parents should never ever do is compare their child with anyone.

When my mother told me last year that Jenny has an eating disorder and had fainted in the toilet, I can't help but think well it's about time Ms. Perfect fucked up.

I find the course of my life had temporarily come to a pause after I have succumbed to a lethal substance abuse known as rewatching the entire Season 1 - 7 of Sex and the City. I am a woman hooked; I tell myself again and again after one episode, " One more" and that's the problem with addictions, there is never enough unless you have overdosed.

I don't know why I started watching it again but I thought I would understand so much better as a 30 year old woman. When you watch the entire Season 3 in two days, you can't help feel that the dating game is exhausting. As much as I had loved the series when it first came out 10 years ago, I can't help but to think now that the lives of the protaganists - Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte are in many ways the lives of the people I know in real life. They seemed to have everything but are actually very empty inside. Living in Manhattan is very similar to living in HK, we thrive on speed, changes and alienation.

If women had in the last 30 years or so struggled for equal rights, we are sure as fuck that we have not liberated outselves in the department of dating. I don't know if it's mere coincidence but I recently had two attractive and successful investment bankers telling me that they envied my life because I have found a good man to share my life with.

Girls, this is the honest truth and you can ask my man if you want. I am keen believer of going out there and getting what I want. Why do we play all these mind games? Why are we wasting so much time? Why do we always say that there all the good men out there are either gay or married? Have we forgotten that most gay men have a problem with fidelity or that many of who we defined as good men might in the future get a divorce?

I am glad I don't live in New York, my friend Josephine tells me that when it comes to dating, there are so many definitions. You can see someone, date someone and going exclusive with someone. Where are we right now? What is the hell is the difference? It seems when you see someone, you are allowed to see a few at the same time, when you date it's slightly more serious and how do I know when I am exclusively dating just one person? I am thinking right now as it is, aren't there enough labels ? A man's man, a metrosexual, a bisexual - I feel like I am walking past the biscuits aisle in a supermarket; the variety is just startling. We like categories don't we?

So after all these years, have I changed? Ten years ago, I really wanted to be Samantha and it wasn't because she was a nympho; it was because she didn't need to find someone to see herself as a complete picture and in a world where people tell again and again that you are no one unless you are loved, Samantha was my beacon of hope.

Taffy my friend asked me, why do you want to get married? I'd tell you why, I am not afraid of dying alone, I am someone who has a lot of love to give, I'd reckon it would be ashamed not giving it out to anyone. That's really it.

Meet baby Matthew Fong the miracle baby

After I met my friend Queenie yesterday I can't help but to think that children are truly a miracle for those who want them. I have never met anyone who wanted a child so much. I have been doing a lot interviews with couples who want children and I am not sure if all of them want them based on good enough reasons.

The journey of having Matthew has been extremely tumultuous, she has been married eight years. After two miscarriages and desperate attempts of trying everything - western medicine, chinese medicine and alternative therapies; she was at her wit's end but nonetheless tried to remain positive.

I listened intently to her crazy routine of going to one doctor to another; trying out medicinal remedies and incessantly keeping track of her menstrual cycle. If I were her husband, I'd be so stressed till the point, I can't a get hard-on. I have never met anyone so determined to be a mother. I laughed and I wondered why women of the past were so fertile. My mother conceived me almost immediately after getting married -like after two freaking months or when we were in school, we hear about teenage chicks getting knocked up by their college boyfriends after just one fuck. And on one hand, we have my poor friend who tried and tried.


A month just before she finally fell pregnant, her doctor told her there is nothing else he could do for her because he just can't find what is wrong with her. That day when he told her that, her world caved in and she felt so hopeless. His only recommendation was to try IVF but the chances were only 50- 50.

Her husband took her for her holiday to Malaysia last Christmas and she fell pregnant ( I am so proud to be Malaysia, I feel like waving my national flag now) So, there are some prayers that get answered. I think that they as a family is so lucky is have one another. Good luck baby Matthew, it's a tough world out there. Your parents love you so much.

As for me, motherhood is not really my thing and you know how I know. I ended up being more interested in Janga - the cat.

Ghost bride with the vengeance to kill

Count darling, scary fangs don't frighten me. I do think sleeping in a coffin is pretty hot!

Poor paper doll ghost, it was so hot I saw sweat trickling down his temples.

Mr. Zeman if you come across my blog, can I volunteer to be a ghost next year? I make an excellent Chucky.

My mother fell down and broke her arm three days ago. While Rudi and I were deciding to send her a gift; we weren't really sure to buy her a birthday gift or a get well gift. We finally decided on a get well hamper with filled with wholesome goodies.

I have always been daddy's girl. My relationship with my mother has consistently been a struggle. I am ashamed to say this but with my mother, I have always been the worst version of myself. I cringe whenever I look back at our troubled relationship because through our constant fightings; I have said the worst things to deliberately hurt her. When I was young, I repeatedly told myself that I want to be the exact opposite of her. My god I was such an arrogant fool.

I had habored so much anger towards her and I hated how people around her take advantage of her because she is one of those people who never questions anyone's intention. Even during my generation, the idea of being a stay home mum was quite a rarity then. As we got older, her world became more and more isolated and it became harder and harder to tell her things because she had lost touch with the world.

I think it was only this year that I don't want/ simply refuse to fight with her anymore because I hate to admit how hurt I get whenever I fight her. When I went home some months back, I lasted one week without fighting with her, it's a really an accomplishment in itself. The thing is I think in life, we choose to take certain perspectives in life and I am glad that since we are still both alive, we are given the chance to start anew. So mum, Happy Birthday and you know what, it's hard to tell you I love you because I love you so much from the bottom of my heart. Happy Birthday.

I was watching this program called In World's Lost Tribes:New Adventures of Mark and Olly on Discovery. It's about these two white guys living amongst the Mek Tribe, a primitive tribe that had pretty much preserved their way of living for thousands of years in the deep jungles of Papua New Guinea for four months.

While I think it's cool that there is some mysteries left in the world; I don't quite understand their choice of clothes or rather lack of it. Here's is why.

Ta-DAH! Meet the Mek Tribe. The men walk around in the nude with only this pipe-like object that covers their penises - it's called a penis gourd. I am not ethnocentric but I seriously find this an inconvenience. Since life in the jungle is so complex; almost like a field of bobby traps, doesn't the penis gourd like get in the way a lot? Like when you're climbing trees - how about risking your gourd to get stuck between tree branches? I can think of a million scenarios getting caught in awkward situations.

True to societal order, if you're someone special like the village headman, you get to adorned your gourd with feathers and miscellaneous accessories. I wonder how it stays in place, they surely don't walk around with permenant hard-ons right. I guess, I will be waiting till next episode to see that because one of the white dudes will get to wear one.