Looks Like A Flower But She Stings Like A Bee

Friday night in the Raffles City carpark, on the way to Cityspace. A phone call from Alec at the precise moment M and B spotted an object of desire in a backless top.

Me, in M’s car: Oh, hello dear, I’ve just been judging debates and I’m headed out for drinks with some of the old debating guys.
M and B, going wild in the background: Oh MAN, check out that fucking hot chick! Oh my GOD she’s not wearing anything under that skimpy top! Yeah, baby! (etc.)
Alec: Riiiiiiiigght.
Me: Er, they’re normally very intellectual. Really. They’re just tired.
Alec: Go have some fun, dear. We can talk later.

Friday had range. Evidence seminar in the morning. Meeting with my future boss in the afternoon, in which I was pleasantly reminded of her extreme coolness. Judging secondary school debates at breakneck speed for four hours at night. Reeling out of the debates with fellow judges. Dancing to Milkshake, Baby Boy and Hey Ya (also She Bangs, where the DJ exhorted us all to “Do it like William“) 70 storeys above the Singapore nightscape, and retiring soon after that to Cityspace, where I fell madly in love with the lighting.

All great fun except for the mild frivolous downer that I felt somewhat dowdy in such a gorgeous place with my sober Meeting Future Boss attire and big bag o’ law notes from the morning lectures. Am currently considering whether judging the next round of debates in an orange halter-neck top would detract from my gravitas.


  1. Just clicked on your name and here i am. The Cityspace thing looks swish. Did you sample the Raffles International Private Label Iranian caviar?

    Listen again to the White Stripes, you’ll soon find that they are both rawkin’ and catchy. because they really are. i rest my case.

  2. Oli: I must admit I did not, and probably never will, sample the Raffles International Private Label Iranian caviar, unless my boyfriend finally qualifies as an actuary, starts earning huge bucks, and decides to support me in the lifestyle in which I am not accustomed. (Oh happy day!)

    And I really doubt that hearing Seven Nation Army for the 1001th time will convince me that it is a masterpiece if the 1000 previous listens bored me to tears. Sorry.

    Jol: I can’t remember who, but someone told me you get all flirty dirty when you’re drunk. A sight to behold I’m sure. :P

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