We’ve got another storm coming up and we’re bracing for the hit either today or tomorrow.
I’m actually kinda scared cause I’ve got my wireless internet antenna unit/dish whatever you call it, installed up our roof. Let’s just hope the winds won’t blow it off otherwise I’m dead. I stole a pic from the NOAA so you’ll know what I’m talking about.
Wish me luck!
I’m emotionally-scarred (for life) right now.
After my not-so-recent trip to Russia, I thought I looked all bloodless and pale and I need a tan badly. There are 3 ways for me to get a tan. First, do it au naturel. Second, go to the salon and get airbrushed (mystic tan — i love it. so poi-fect!), and lastly, good ol DIY. Unfortunately, jetting off somewhere el tropical is not feasible so the only option I’ve got is to fake it.
I have to admit that I’m no virgin when it comes to tan-in-a-bottle stuff. Generally, I use Dior Bronze — it’s fast, it’s safe, it’s easy and j’adore the color. It’s my favourite. Another one that I like is Peter Thomas Roth. I’ve also used Clarins and Lancaster. It takes ages for me to tan with Clarins while the latter is quite streaky. Lancaster also makes me look as if I’m a hepatitis/jaundice victim.
2 Months ago, I bought a couple of DIY St. Tropez stuff (tanning lotion, mousse and self-tan remover) to test it. I tried St. Tropez at a salon before and I got good results. I was planning to bring it with me to Moscow but I forgot it at home.
So yesterday, off I brought out my little unused bottle of St Tropez tanning lotion. I followed the instructions. Scrub, exfoliate and moisturize. Scrub, exfoliate and moisturize.
I applied the lotion throughout my body with my bare hands. I had the self-tan remover so I was quite confident that my hands will look alright so I didn’t use gloves… none of that repulsive "I-stuck-fingers-up-somebody-else’s-dirty-ass" look. A few minutes later, I used the remover and washed my hands.
Hand check: Jessica Simpson 2 shades darker
4 hours and a shower later, I’m thinking "ooooo" and "ahhhhhh". Lovin it so far — but I’m not yet satisfied. I want a darker color. I want a color that screams "I huffed and I puffed and I spent 8 hours a day, every day for 7 days at the beach, sea, sun and sex on the sand in broad daylight."
So off I tried the mousse… again, using my bare hands, I applied a thick coat all over my body.
And this is where the disaster began.
Hand check: Michael Jackson in Jackson 5
I used the self-tan remover on my fingers and on my palm. I rubbed, scrubbed and washed.
Hand check: Whitney Houston in the 80′s
I rubbed, scrubbed and washed.
Hand check: Vintage Louis Vuitton trunks
I rubbed, scrubbed and washed.
At this point, I gave up. It’s official. Although my body have this rich, fantafuckintabulous tan, my hands look like wood. It is sooo gross! What’s worse is I’m gonna be like this for days… or weeks. Who the hell knows?
There is no friggin way I’m gettin out of the house with hands like this. Good tan gone the drain thanks to my hands.
My worst nightmare became a reality.
In a way it’s a blessing in disguise that I didn’t use it in Moscow. Otherwise, I’ve got a ruined holiday.
Lesson learned: use gloves when visiting St.
Tropez in late November.
It’s official – my hands do look like wood.
It feels so weird to be home. It’s been several days since I got back and I’ve only been away for only 3 weeks and it’s like my house doesn’t feel like a "home".
I hate this odd, after-travel feeling. It’s one of the nastiest feelings ever. I simply could not function. I can’t work. I can’t reply to all of my work-related emails.
For the past 36 hours, all I’ve done is email some people, talk to a few of my clients, spent an enormous amount of time on BlogExplosion, paid some of my bills, sent a FedEx envelope to the USA, sleep, eat, sleep, sleep, browse some sites, etc.
Nothing productive, to be honest. Even my body clock is fucked up. I’ve been sleeping at 2PM and getting up at around 8PM when normally, I sleep at 4AM and get up at 11AM.
How long would it last? I have no idea. I definitely need to get my act together. I’ve got lots of pending projects, waiting clients, etc.
I’ll keep you posted in a bit.
Oh. my. god.
My mother recently bought this digital weighing scale and she asked me to try it out. It’s been ages since I last weighed myself and I think I got a bit skinnier after going through 6 lipodissolve sessions (on my stomach and arms) before I left for my holiday.
Imagine genuine shock and horror when I found out my true weight.
A staggering onehundredtwentyfuckingnine pounds. At fivefuckingfeetnine short.
Never in my life I have been so obese. Ever. I have always thought I’m in the 110-117 pound range. Perhaps the digital scale was a cheat? Perhaps it’s the breakfast I just had? All I had on was a cotton t-shirt and boxer shorts.
That’s it. I’m really taking the Reductil pills I’ve been keeping. I stopped taking them yesterday because reading the insert made me freak out… I only took 2 capsules so far, one on Sunday and one on Monday.
Before I left for Moscow, my doctor told me it would be nice to meet up with her after my trip so we can "catch up" on things…. and now I’m terribly ashamed because I think I gained weight.
Ugh. I’m sooooo pissed at myself it’s not even funny.
Here’s a silly little video clip of me that Mark took when we strolled around Tverskaya after having dinner at Cafe Pushkin.
Small Version (1.6 Mb)
Large Version (4.7 Mb)
Warning: it’s just a silly clip of a very camp 22 year old guy prancing around the streets of Moscow. Enjoy!