For Wei Chuen's birthday this year, we went to Il Lido at Sentosa Golf Club. The items on the menu were fairly expensive; the food didn't quite live up to the quality implied by its prices. It wasn't awful; it was even pretty good; but if I was paying $32 for some lasagna with mushroom, it was certainly reasonable for me to expect mind-blowing quality.
What really ruined the food, though, was the pathetic excuse of a tiramisu they served me. First, the menu professed that the tiramisu there was worth $12; as such, I expected something of a substantial size, something resembling the size of the tiramisu at Pasta Fresca, which remains my favourite tiramisu to date (it was also the first tiramisu I ever ate). Second, considering the standard of the restaurant, I definitely expected the tiramisu to be of above average quality, at the very least.
When they served me my dessert, I was shocked to see that it was little more than a small cube of cake placed in the middle of a very large plate. When I ate it, I was affronted and horrified to discover that it tasted like something I could very well buy at fucking TCC. (I said Starbucks to Wei Chuen at first, but on second thought, I never ate any tiramisu from Starbucks.)
There was no alcohol in the tiramisu, there was barely any cake, the cream was utterly unremarkable and bland, and the whole thing was just epic fail. If I ever go back there, I'm not ordering that horrible piece of shit anymore, never ever again.
Apart from that, dinner went well. It rained last night which made the alfresco area chilly and romantic. The humidity kept its distance, pretty much left us well alone, and it was nice and comfortable, having dinner with him atop a golf course, with the view of the sea in the near distance.
He wanted to see Resorts World, so we stopped by for a bit after dinner. We had to park really far away from the entrance because the car park was pretty packed. We walked around for a bit but there was nothing much to see because everything was closed. At the entrance to the casino, I suggested that we pretended to be tourists from Korea (him) and Taiwan (me) and attempt to get in by telling the guards at the door that we forgot our passports, but he didn't want to try. Haha. It would've been pretty funny.
(The parking was 8 dollars. Fuck. It cost me 7 dollars to enter Sentosa; I would've thought they'd just waive the parking fee. Obviously, I thought wrong.)
I bought him a Ralph Lauren cologne and shower gel set - Big Pony Orange. Tangs gave me a free Ralph Lauren bag, one that we both set our eyes on when we were walking around Vivo City (that was the day I bought my Adidas sports bag. I was hoping he'd buy himself some fragrance and then give me the bag). I used that to house his presents - the RL thing, a book from National Geographic, and a Q&A-type notebook about our relationship. I also bought him a bath lily from Body Shop so that he can use the shower gel properly. I dragged him to Plaza Singapura on Saturday night just to buy it. He even commented, "You came all the way here to buy this? I thought you were going to buy something more substantial."
Today I took leave just to spend time with him, so it was pretty ironic that it turned out he was the busy one. We only met at about 4.45, after he was done in school. We went to Cedele at Rail Mall where he ate a rosemary chicken sandwich and where I had my first cup of coffee for the day (I was dying before that; my head almost exploded). I barely see him in daylight anymore. We sat there and talked, side-by-side, and when it was time for him to go I didn't want to leave at all.
Words cannot describe how much I love him. Happy birthday Wei Chuen.
My tennis has been pretty up and down lately. I'm consistently getting the ball in, but I tend to go for too much when I'm attempting to hit a winner. The thing is, I don't even try to paint the lines; the only thing I really try to do is to aim for the sides when I hit the ball. Usually my attempts result in the ball landing between the doubles and singles sideline. Maybe I'm more suited for doubles play.
Then again, that's not true. I don't like playing doubles because 1) I can't volley; and 2) I don't get to hit the ball as much. I just want to get better, and so it makes more sense for me to hoard the entire court.
My backhand is still not good enough, and I realised that I have difficulties moving to my left. It's rather counter-intuitive to step forward with my right foot to prepare for the shot; sometimes I take it open-stanced, mostly because I'm too lazy to move, but also because I just can't get into the proper position fast enough. NUS Wall Guy said that my biggest weakness is my speed - or rather, my lack of speed. Well, that shouldn't be surprising; I have no footwork. I just lunge around like an elephant.
I also really hate moving forward for short balls; it takes a lot out of me. The only scenario in which I'd be willing to move forward is when I'm attacking, thank you very much. I hate it when the person on the other side of the net throws a bloody slice at me, which lands so short that I have no choice but to move forward. It's obviously a good tactic to change the pace and I usually end up on the losing end of the rally - which is precisely why I hate it.
I need to learn to slice. It's ridiculous. I can't even do it instinctively. I try defensive slices when I simply cannot reach the ball on the backhand side, but the ball doesn't even travel anywhere close to the net. It's very demoralising and I honestly have no idea why I find it so damn difficult.
Lastly, perhaps this is weird, but I get a thrill out of trying to return my opponent's aggressive shots. It's awesome to soak up his pace and somehow get the ball back. It makes me want to take on the challenge face-on and own the shit out of it.
Speaking of owning, I don't know why I love Roger so, but I do. That's all I want to say.
I finished Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach a few day ago.
I think his best novel - that I've read - is Atonement. On Chesil Beach is probably my favourite McEwan novel after Atonement. I don't know if that says much, considering I hated Amsterdam and Enduring Love...but On Chesil Beach is well-written, as usual, and it's actually believable and the characters don't feel like cardboard cut-outs, and the ending doesn't feel like a cop-out, going away in a whimper after so much build-up and exposition.
The last few pages really touched me. It's the way he described the regret of the male character, and the way he makes the reader aware of how utterly ludicrous it is for the character to end up like that. It moved me, it made me sad, it almost made me cry.
I absolutely love it when novels speak to me on a personal level.
Sigh. I have to work on the appellant's case somemore tonight.
I'm so sick of this. I'm so tired of work. I don't want to go back. It's been a good four days without work and I wish it could continue forever. I build these alternative plans in my head, the what-I'm-gonna-do-after-this scenarios, and I honestly think that they're the only thing that's keeping me going.
I can't do this, this time next year. If I'm still doing this this time next year, please force me to quit. Thanks.