UHm.

I've had particularly large amounts of praise scattered like beauteous, colourful sprinkles in my general direction this week. And i do believe my head is expanding quite rapidly, because one of my flaws have always been a sickening complacency . Dear Jesus, please help me. I wont be pretty anymore with a ponderous head. WhoOps.

"Wah! Your daughter so pretty!!!"
or
"I wish i could write like you."

Oh please just smack me. Or jab me with a sharp object. How perfectly sickening if i became conceited! So i thought i'd blog it. You know, confess it before God and men. And knock some sense into me.

Anyway, Papa has these silly, rather tiring meetings he has to attend i think every week or so. Theyre alternatively chaired by the Minister or the Permanent Secretary, called MSM (Minister Something Meeting) and PSSM (Permanent Secretary Something Meeting). And apparently theyre so important and top secret that Assistant Directors have to act as secretaries while Minister... ministers. So poor papa, very luckily the Chosen One for 3 months or so, has to listen very intently to everyone, scribble stuff he sometimes cant read, and then imagine up minutes in 24 hours after the meeting. And it's damn stressful cos PS is going to vet it, and Minister is going to read it. So all i can say is: Heng it's not me man!!!

We went gallivanting today during lunch hour, papa and i. To relief stress on papa's part, and because i always gallivant anyway, on mine. He suggested that i drink apple juice today instead of milo since, he claims, it's like drinking the whole fruit what. But i said, dont they use the machine where you poke fruit down the tube thing and the pulp doesnt get in? Where got people make juice in the blender one? So we argued until we betted $4 on who was right... and I won.

At Junction8 there was this sale thing in the atrium and we wandered around a bit. Papa was poking around one of the racks:

Papa (pointing to a black mass of cloth): This skirt will be nice for mei ah!
Vera: Papa... that's a halter neck.

One leather bag at half price (completely out of my own purse) later, papa ate, and i drank lunch, and we hurried back to work terribly late.

The End. gasp.