My Halloween rocks!

The man, all dressed up in his black robes, has left to rock the halloween party while here I am wallowing in my self-pity.

The fever, of all weeks, chose the week leading up to All Saint's Day to visit. Well, I can't really blame the virus and bacteria as how could they possibly know I've been looking forward to the party since weeks?

Minutes ago NW likened Halloween to our Chinese Ghost Month. Thanks to her, I am now keenly aware that I am all alone in the pad.

Or am I? *look over shoulder*

The doorbell shrieked just then. Repressing my thudding heart, I answered the door to have a trick-or-treat thrown at me. I mumbled briefly to the boys I had to see if I had any treats for them and found the kids all gone when I came back. They were probably too freaked out by my oily and unkempt hair and ran away. No need to even put on my war paint to do scary.

Anyways, I resolve to not answer my door anymore tonight to save myself the embarassement and the kids, a fright.

Like a conspiracy, the TV is dishing out party tunes and anything halloween to rile me. Oh well...

The last days were spent drifting in and out of a feverish trance. When I finally woke, the cobwebs in the head casted a haze over everything in sight.

TV was boring. Being online for too long gave me a throbbing headache. I couldn't register the dancing words on the book. With nothing else to do, a movie marathon transpired.

But the cheery bright sunshine was too dazzling for my newly-acquired vampire eyes. Thank goodness for the german blinds which are able to block out each single ray of sunlight.

In the darkness of my living room-cinema, dishy young Al Pacino was ruthless villain Michael Corleone and Robert De Niro the streetsmart and cool as a cucumber Vito Corleone. Part II is definitely my fav among the trilogy simply because De Niro rules in it! Albeit scrawny, his portrayal of the Don was vivid and beautiful. His mannerism spoke of his cold-bloodness, his family values and his rise to power. He was Vito Corleone and not De Niro.

Then Robert Downey Jr was incredibly hawt and sexy with or without his iron suit. Let's hope he stays clean and gets casted in more films so that we will not be deprived of his mastery.

Now, cobwebs are being spun and and the head throbs...

I don't want to be a corrector

Having lived in Germany for more than 3 years now has not led to a fluency in the language. Which is not exactly that bad especially since I am not a rocket scientist in the linguistic department. Nonetheless, carrying out a proper conversation these days does not leave me cowering in shame like before.

Of course I cannot deny I have the flair for committing frequent grammar mistakes and for not able to find the right vocab to express myself aptly. My German vocabs remain sadly limited owing to that sloth monster who has decided to stay for good since that winter in1972.

Hence, my imperfect German leads me to uncover something which is rather interesting.

In times of sticky language-predicaments, most friends, instead of correcting or helping me, would choose either to ignore my hiccups, remain silent, change the subject or simply look away. Or when I asked for the meaning of a word which I have never heard before, I would receive no reply. Don't even ask me how awkward the air was.

Sometimes I didn't even realise I have made a mistake until these subtle reactions appeared. And I was literally left to my own devices to scramble out of the embarrassing hole.

I am bewildered.

The reason of such responses I did not understand at first. I put myself in their shoes and the only conclusion I could make was they were just too embarrassed themselves to put me in a spot by correcting my language. But then again, most Germans are no strangers to voicing their opinions loud and clear. Sometimes, I suspect they even enjoy doing that. Hence, such reactions are what I least expect.

Once, during our german lesson, someone remarked that nobody ever tried to rectify her mistakes. My teacher's opinion that these people are simply too lazy and find it a hassle to correct us, has a lot of truth in it. It is indeed a fuss to keep correcting someone left, right and center during a conversation. In the end, even the correctee (is there such a word?) would be frustrated too, let alone the corrector. The fun of the chit-chat would subsequently be robbed.

Sure, it is not a written rule that friends, colleagues or aquaintances alike should be the corrector. Though it would certainly be helpful and important for intermediates like me. How else would we learn, right?

Therefore, it was a breath of fresh air when a friend actually corrected my german during dinner one evening. Several times, in fact. She even asked if it's fine for me. I was like, 'Oh yes, please! I would be most grateful!'

The entire evening I considered her with new, thankful eyes.

Of black boots, mooncakes and wellies-smelling weirdo

I was racking my brains all week on what boots to get for this fall. With the change of seasons, everyone is scampering off for that hottest pair of boots in town.

I am seriously overwhelmed with the array of choices available. My vision is bombarded with a myriad of boots: ankle boots, booties, country, vintage, biker, overknees, UGG...

I stood in front of my shoe racks and pondered. As my eyes scanned over each pair of shoes, my little eye spied something which I have never worn before.

A pair of black boots.

They were from the Lion.

Flashback: Just before I left for Germany for good, the Lion pampered me with gifts from her HK trip. 2 lamb-wool sweaters to keep me warm because she often chides me for not able to tahan cold. And not forgetting of course the pair of said boots.

I love the sweaters but couldn't say the same for the boots. The boots are round-toed and not flattering. I looked stumpy with them on. I could tell the Bestie shared my sentiments but she kept her mouth shut. Because we both know very well this was an out-of-the-ordinary gesture from the Lion. She never ever shops for presents for friends. That's the Bestie's task, not the Lion's.

Thus it's very heartwarming to know she purposely took time off from work and search for stuffs which she thought I might need in the cold winter months. So tell me am I not lucky to have her as a friend, albeit her short-temper? *wink*

Back to the said boots. I pulled them out of the dusty corner and decided to give them another go. To my surprise, they look rather high-street chic when paired with leggings which are all the rage right now.

It was the Mid-Autumn Festival yesterday and the boots finally saw the light of day.

In fact I was just fretting days before I wouldn't get to eat my favourite mooncakes this year when I had a pleasant surprise. Not only did I get to eat my mooncakes, the mooncakes this time round were from the 6-star hotel, Ritz Carlton, no less!

They were delicious and not overly sweet. The absence of the yolk was not a deterrence at all. What's more there were no signs of oil spots. I almost thought the mooncakes were cholesterol-free! Even the man helped himself to a second slice. And he used to claim he was not a huge fan.

The girlfriend's sweetie once thought the mooncake was a cake assortment and actually gobbled up a whole mooncake in one seating. No prize for guessing how put off he was afterwards that he swore off them from then on. He is so hilarious! Wahahahahahaha...

BUT.

As attested, the Ritz's mooncakes has the uncanny power to convert even the greatest mooncake loather to a devoted fan. That is just how good they are.

Now. I am going to be shameless and not beat around the bush:

Will the beloved friends back home be getting some Ritz Carlton mooncakes for me next year? No need yolk.Just plain traditional lotus bean paste will do. Let me know if you need my address. Thank you very much in advance! LOL

After the mooncake o.d., I woke up this morning, starving. Again, I stuffed my face with what else but food. Leftover fried bee hoon washed down with gulps of coffee. I then decided to be a good girl and went about doing some of my chores.

During my task of peh tau geh (removing the brown parts from bean sprouts), I watched the re-run of a popular German variety show, Wetten, dass?. The concept of the show is people can offer to perform difficult or often very odd stunts and top celebrities would bet whether these people could carry out these stunts successfully.

Today a man claimed that he was able to identify a person by smelling her wellies. But firstly she had to work out on the stepper for half hour. The man was blind-folded and brought to another corner of the stage where there were more than 10 seated women, all wearing red wellies, having worked out on the stepper for 30 mins earlier on. The host went randomly to one woman and removed one of her wellies and brought it over to the waiting man.

The bet began. The nutcase stuffed his big nose into the welly and took numerous deep breath from it. This lasted several loooong minutes!

You should see the disgust on the celebrities' faces. Priceless.

But true to his word, he identified the right candidates 4 out of 5 times.

Really, I cannot figure it out how he came to discover he has such an enviously talent? Did he sit around all day long and smell all the wellies within 10km radius from his home? Or did crack his brains all day on what he could do in order to get on Wetten, dass? Hasn't he better things to do at home, like read a book, surf the net or watch TV?

But alas, his bizarre attempts were in vain. The grand prize, an Audi, eluded him. You see, the winner is chosen by public votes. Now, who would want to vote for a nutcase who goes around smelling people's wellies?

Not me, for sure!

And not the Germans too, apparently. Phew.