Fantasy

I've just had the best day out with an old friend.

I was late. Late to bed, late to rise, makes a girl...crabby. (There was some drama with the car battery going phut on me which I intended to tell you about last night but I was too tired to and today the car story gives way to the fun in the sun with E story) Anyway I got a text message saying she was already there.

She was ALREADY THERE and I was BARELY OUT OF BED!

So I raced to the shower, threw on some clothes all anyhow, slapped on some lipstick and face powder with a vague idea of looking presentable. Arrived at said venue, where I said I would call her only to discover that my phone was out of credit. To whit, I could not make the call. So I had to waste more precious minutes getting a phone card and then topping up. (I really really need to switch to postpaid. I also need to get a credit card)

Anyways, she called me (in the midst of my top-up operations) and suggested Delicious for breakfast and I said fine by me and as I was heading for her, I noticed her face was all mottled red, like someone who has cried too much. Or someone who is trying not to cry. Grief, hurt, heartbreak swirled around her and I thought, oh oh.

Something was up!

She let me in on what very soon after we had ordered...I had poached eggs on toast and an orange juice, she had scrambled eggs on toast and a macchiato (just cos she likes the names of these foreign-sounding coffees). There was stuff going on in the office and the more she talked, the worse she felt. I listened for a bit, but I hadn't stopped my ears with The Secret for four hours a day for nought.

I made her STOP!

I just wanna STOP!
And tell you what I feel about you babe,
I just want to STOP!
The world ain't right without you babe
I just wanna STOP!
For your lurve...

And told her that she was giving these silly hos too much power. (Funny, it's always the cumulative petty things, like guerrilla attacks, that get to you, rather than the open confrontations) And asked her to switch her thoughts to what she wanted.

As the day progressed E, who is actually a cheerful contented soul, did just this. The energy switched. I could feel it happening physically. Sometimes, you just need to hang with a friend who's known you since you were 12. And talk all manner of rubbish knowing the other person will love you anyway. And listen to all manner of rubbish, knowing you'll love them anyway.

We sauntered off to check out music at the only CD shop at Bangsar Village. I bought five CDs.

She started to brighten up. Told me all about Hairspray and how brilliant John Travolta was in it. (Too bad, I didn't watch it and the illegal pirated version isn't out yet)

She dragged me to a little gift shop she suddenly noticed at BV1 and told me she spent ridiculous amounts of money on some cutesy gift figures (she showed me which one to get for her when she got married). Told me about a cottage in the country with a chimney and a garden that she dreamed off. We spoke of that half American, half-Korean actor she liked now. We had lunch at this Japanese restaurant at BV1 (E is a connoiseur of Japanese) followed by coffee and Coffee Bean and talked some more. Then, despite the rain, we charged across the road to Silverfish where I got Wilderness Tips (Margaret Atwood), The Edible Woman (ditto) and The New Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain (Betty Edwards) because I flipped through it and it seems like the kind of book I would like.

Besides, I've always fancied myself a secret artist who wants to make pictures and if I do, you can be sure I'll be inflicting some of these on you, only because I'm so fond of you...I asked E if we could both go to France, set up our easels on some lovely field of lavender or something and paint. She said she didn't think so.

Then we went off to Czip Lee, this stationery cum art supply store at the end of that street so I could buy "artist pencils". I told the nice lady behind the counter I wanted to sketch and asked her to recommend pencils. She laughed heartily and said it would be like the blind leading the blind. E, who is a notoriously observant busybody (worse than my sister Julie) had in the meanwhile gone in search of artists pencils, found them and come back to plonk a box of them on the counter. I beamed at her. Nice lady behind the counter shook her head at the 6Bs and said I should get 8Bs instead as that was what the artists got. So I did without further ado.

6Bs, 8Bs, it made me no never mind.

In that same shop we found lots of card-making apparatus. E and I had hatched this scheme to make our own Christmas cards. I said I could print out my picture and decorate it with Christmassy-looking cut-outs and inflict it on all the people who loved me, liked me or knew me slightly from the blog. E didn't bat an eyelid and said that would be a good idea.

(Um, what do you guys think of it? Also, please email me your addresses, I'm making up my Christmas card list for this year and if you get your cards in October it's only cos I'm efficient)

Anyway, we made vague plans to meet at her house and go crazy with glue and glitter and coloured paper (and pictures of me) and other such necessities. I told her I would be making all my presents this year and she smiled knowingly.

E makes her own presents, her own cards, sometimes even her own wrapping paper. She's one of the most intensely creative people I know and her ultimate aim in life is to be a "domestic engineer". She loves taking care of people.

Instead, she drags herself to work with semi-literate baboons complete with bright red asses, stares at a computer screen eight hours a day and writes instruction manuals for DVD players.

Anyways, after dallying at the bookshop and the art supply shop we felt the need for something cold and creamy to repair the tissues. So of course, we made tracks for Haagen Dazs (Upper Ground, BV2) and had a scoop each. Mine was vanilla topped with hot fudge and hers was cookies and chocolate topped with almond flakes. At this point, stuffed with food and good conversation, I started nodding off. E was chattering contentedly and then she fell silent. I unclosed an eye to see her gazing at me with some amusement.

Ah, it was time to go. We paid and were told, to our pleasant surprise that we would get something free from L'Occitane. You know, that really, really expensive place where some handcream costs over RM90? Yeah, that one. Anyway, we got these sachets of hand cream and foot cream while the nice store girl extolled the virtues of Shea Butter (I dunno why but Shea Butter sounds vaguely sexual to me) and I assured her I'd come back when they're having their Christmas promotion (despite the fact that I'm making most of my pressies this year).

Then it was really time to go. E, home and me, to Jaya's to get some DVDs. (Yes, despite the day-long binge I was still not satisfied). I ended up getting all six seasons of Sex in the City. Of course, I couldn't watch it when I got home as Dadda was hogging the TV. Is it the EPL or something? Oh well, it makes me no never mind. Something else to look forward to now.

E called to tell me she got home safely. This was her first time driving to Bangsar and she found her way there and back again without incident. I told her I didn't have the luxury of tip-toeing round in the car but had to drive into the heart of KL, the moment I got the car because of my assignments. Memorably, for the first assignment I drove to, I left two hours early and arrived one hour late. To anyone who knew their way, it would have been a 30-minute journey at most. The HP people were a little stiff with me, so after apologising wildly and trying to explain that this was my first time...I ended up taking the guy I interviewed out to Bangsar to show him what Malaysian nightlife was like. After a nice Chinese dinner (this was when Cheap Charlie's was still cheap) we ended up in Bazaar where we reclined on red velvet cushions, smoked a hookah and watched a bunch of girls making out.

He asked if this was typical KL.

I said yes, no doubt.

And we laughed immoderately and took another drag of that apple-flavoured hookah.