Sharjah and cookies

I woke up quite late to an agonizing belly pain.

The other day , when I walking towards the gym ( I cant believe I typed the G word eek ), I strained my ears as hard as I could to hear the sounds of the treadmill or weights clanking up and down indicating another life form was in it. Not that im so excessively psycho that once im in the gym , others are prohibited from entering, but I get so self conscious when another person walks in that my hearts stop beating and I realize that I look like a complete daft in my tights and sweatshirt. I suddenly feel like everything im doing is wrong, and that the other person is probably shrieking madly in his/her brain at the sight of my butt doing its own cha cha on the treadmill.This past 2 and half weeks ive always been alone in it, so I definitely wasnt expecting anyone else for the rest of my stay.

But yeah , before I entered , I realized I needn't bother  straining so much - whoever in the gym was blaring music so loud my ear drums withered. I entered to see a teeny weeny slim slender korean girl running on the treadmill. Stewardess ,I figured.The music blaring was courtesy of her ehem, sleek white mac book on the floor, next to her other gym shenanigans.
I did my customary gym warm ups and when I walked towards the treadmill next to hers she gave a little yelp in harrar.

" ooh!! you scared me, I deedint see you"

what the hell. Am I that hideously looking? JEEZ, instantly ,next to her I felt like Shrek's wife.

so anyway, the pains in my abdomen is all her fault.

WHY? becauseeeee, I saw her use this equipment I had no idea what its use was for until of course her slim slender korean body used it. It was for sit ups. When I saw her effortlessly rocketing her body back and forth I felt foolish for not realizing what the equipment was for, that I vowed once she left the gym I'll use it myself.And I did.

aand, it seemed easy enough. The tightness I felt in my abdomen was thrilling! WHEE im burning calories !!, I thought.I flung myself back and forth in glee.Ill get Fergie ferg's abs in no time , I mused.

Thanks to my ab-tightening parade, I could barely get up this morning. My tummy feels as if someone gave it a good box/kick/sock/punch.I winced in bed and when I tried to bring my body forward , I could feel my muscles twisting menacingly causing me to almost fall out of the bed in pure agony. I googled the net to see anything under this kind of thing, and what I got was um, labor pains? WHAT. I better not be in labor, heck, im no spears. The only thing I would be giving birth to is PURE terror and worry for my exam results in March.I laughed at the net's proposition only to wince AGAIN as my muscles twisted with no mercy.

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I told my dad about it and he laughed and simply said, " no pain, no gain" . yeh right, more like, more pain, less gain since I wont be hitting the gym if my body is going against it by aching miserably.

It was about 11 o'clock when boredom struck at an all time high. My dad had the day off today. On such short notice , Dubai suddenly declared today as a public holiday because President Bush and his entourage is around visiting , pretending to give a shit about the middle east. Most roads were closed for his comfort ( more like safety ) so going out and getting some action in the malls wasnt an option.

"pa, im bored"
"*scrufles scrufles* *grunts*"
"I feel like baking cookies"
"yeah! thats a good idea"
"but takde proper utensils lah"
"we go buy lah"
"now?"
"yep, jom! keluar"
"YAY, jap where?"
"we'll go to sharjah city center"

off we went, to Sharjah, another city.
Sharjah isn't as glamorous as Dubai, but its getting there. If im not mistaken, Sharjah is the only state which has no oil to produce in the UAE. But they produce oil rigs, so thats basically their income.The streets aren't as clean as Dubai's and tall skyscrapers don't infest the landscape either.Seemed more laid back and lepak  than the  trying-to-be-the-new-New York Dubai. Since we live on the outskirts of Dubai, near the airport , Sharjah is pretty nearby.About a 10 minute drive.

We walked and walked for what seemed like ages until a thought popped in my head that I didn't have any perfume with me in the house. I didnt bring any to London since I was SURE id get one there. But my moolah ran out on other things .Ive been using my sister's when she was here  -YSL and Escada ( too sweet for my taste but desperate times call for desperate measures ), but since she decided to leg it a few days ago, im left, perfumeless, relying solely on my trusty Lady Speedstick to prevent me from smelling like a stale monkey.

"pa, I need a perfume"
"ish, no need lah, you smell fine"
"daddddyyyy, all of mine are left in Malaysia"
" *ignores*"
"paa"
"ooh lets go this way , we haven't passed here yet"

We walked straight into a perfume shop! hahaha.every time I think about it I gets me cracking in laughter.

"hah! you cant escape now. lets go in"
",,,,, ah alright"

I think we tested about a million bottles.My hand was full of those paper strips the assistants spray on. Every perfume I showed my dad, and gave him a whiff he said NO.

"this one pa? *hopeful eyes*"
"blergh not nice"
"this one??"
"eeyer, buy something classic, or spicy.I like coco chanel"
"pa, I don't want to smell like mummy, hey its me who's gonna wear it. why do you have to choose T__T"
"because im paying and im gonna be smelling it when you're in the house"
"hmmm I stand corrected"

I dished out everything under his nostrils, from Gucci, to Jean Paul, to CK, to Dior. EVERYTHING.Then the shop assistant started flailing about a piece of scented white paper under our confused and overdosed noses and we both fell in love with the perfume. For some reason, it seemed...very..me.Ted Lapidus's Silk Way . Zit Iz Frenchz!. It has a mixture of so many scents fused as one.Its undeniable quality is also totally natural. here's its DNA mark up :

TOP NOTES: Italian Citron, Tentation Apple & Red Peach. HEART NOTES: Cedarwood Atlas, Sambac Jasmin, Ceylon Cinnamon & White Peony. BASE NOTES: Incense, White Musk, Amber & Bourbon Vanilla.

So yeah, we left the shop smelling like marc jacobs, estee lauder, YSL, Gucci, guess, britney, hillary duff and every other perfume in the history of man kind with the daintily wrapped perfume we bought and a complimentary free magazine. Im SO upset that they wrapped it.Because they did it so beautifully, its gonna tear my heart ripping the wrapping apart. I LOVE pretty packaging. Im a sucker for packaging. Seriously, Im the market's perfect consumer. I see a tiny cute pen, I'll buy it, even though I NEVER use blue pens.I'd buy baby powder just because of its cute soft packaging. Id spent all my money on buying a shoe just because the box is nice. Im horrible that way, I desperately think its a disorder.I dont even open my christmas presents until im forced to. Early signs of lunacy see?

We trudged over to carrefour leaving a trail of a million scents and bought everything we needed.
My dad decided to spoil himself and got steak and strawberries.
I decided to spoil myself with baking trays and choc chips.

I just finished baking about 2 dozen choc chip cookies. Im so very proud of my achievement for not only managing to not burn the house down, but produce perfect edible cookies worthy of Martha Steward's nod (ignoring the fact that I check the cookies every nano second ). I think I deserve a Holywood star right now.Im probably going to bake muffins tomorrow. Forgive me for such randomness but I have nothing better to do, besides the gym and milking imaginary camels, Im left alone, In vacant space.Thus, thy bakes, for thy cannot cook.Yes, I cannot cook, for the life of me. I tried boiling eggs at one time - cracked the thing open only to get scorching egg yolk ooze all over my hands.I can cook instant stuff like instant noodles. But I fear of cooking anything else. I get awfully panicky and screw up everything. I have mastered cooking french fries and thats about it. I burn everything else, from burgers to nuggets.Even my scrambled eggs look deformed.There's something about baking that is easy. everything is in order, and fixed. like 2 eggs, or half cup of water. With cooking its just a dash of this or a BAM of that or a toss /handfull/touch/sprinkle.How the hell do you measure that. What if I have a small hand? Does that mean I put more than required? how much is a sprinkle? Or how perfect is "to taste", everyone has different taste buds! Before I can turn on the cooker im already paralyzed from head to my knees.I respect people like Jamie Oliver who can experiment with different flavors and simplify everything to make it hassle free. One day when I overcome the fear of The Cooker, I shall buy one of his books and start my mission.

I had a cookie and it was yum.
ah scratch that, I had 3.

um..more like a dozen.