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United Nails Supply

There is something therapeutic about doing DIY manicures and pedicures. I know very well how it is always pampering to visit the nail salons to have our nails done, but to me, painting nails is almost like painting on canvas or doodling on paper – fun, helps kill time and perfect for lazy Sunday afternoons at home. Heh!

I was introduced to this new brand of nail lacquer recently and it is a brand that I’ve never used before. I hardly do such product reviews, but I’d really like to share a little more about this two new nail and heel-care products I got my hands on.

Creative Nail Design (CND) Shellac has been developed since 1979 and has a massive collection of more than 500 beautfy products that actually extends nail polish – from colour coatings, nail enhancement coatings, nail essentials to spa products.

My current obsession is this perfect hue of red called Decadence. It comes with a top coat and also a small bottle of SolarOil which does an amazing job of nourishing the cuticle and nail itself.

You might be thinking “Ok, what’s the big deal? I can find similar shade of red in other brands”
I’ve tried many different brands of nail polishes; from drugstore brands to the more luxurious ones which are only available in departmental stores, and the quality of the polish is really important. Especially reds because I can be quite lazy when it comes to base coats and low quality ones will just leave you with horribly stained nails when you remove the polish.

The CND Shellac polishes I’ve tried so far has really good oclour pigments and really easy to apply (think – no more ugly tiny bubbles after the polishes dry up!) The polishes are quick-drying, and this is really good news for me because I’m one of those nutcases who would often have the sudden idea of wanting to paint nails 30 minutes before bedtime. #truestory Removal of nail polish is really fuss-free as well, and it does not discolour my nail at all, even without base coat. Ok, I just have to emphasize how I was really blown away by how QUICKLY the polishes dry up on the nails! It’s super high-shine too, so if you’re really lazy (like me), you can even do away with the top coat and still have nice glossy nails!

(Pardon my horrible painting skills lol, need more practice!)

I play a lot of guitar at home and am totally not protective of my nails while going about my daily chores, and the polish I’ve had on lasted about 2 weeks. Pretty damn awesome for DIY manicure if you ask me! :p

– – –

This other favourite product that I whisked away from unitedNAILS Supply is the Allpresan PRO Footcare series of products!

The best seller from this range is the foot foam creams they formulated for various concerns for the feet. From caring for dry rough skin, to cracked skin (omg hello all heels-lovers, here is your savior), foot deodorants and anti-fungal protection for those who has to be in covered shoes all day. Cracked, dry and not-so-pleasant smelling feet is just not sexy at all ok, people? Heh.

The best thing is – this product is not just one to protect you against the elements, but it also helps improve your skin texture and condition WHILE providing protection!

Application of the cream is made easy breezy with the brilliant foam applicator! Allpresan PRO Footcare has the patented, breathable BarrioExpert Technology which creates a fine, protective mesh on the skin after application which protects the skin from external factors while caring for your skin. I am quite particular about how the cream feels on the skin after application, and am proud to say that this one is not greasy, so you won’t have to sit around in your chair and wait 15 mins before being able to stand up and walk around without leaving footprints everywhere! Hahah! And because of the foam texture of the cream, you actually end up with A LOT more products (in volume) than say, cream from a tube.

United Nails Supply (UNS) is one of the leading nails and beauty distributor in Singapore, and their products can be found at these stores:

M Spa @ Tanglin Mall #03-19
Manicure Room @ Nex #01-48
Shangri-La Nail Spa @ Chua Chu Kang, Lot 1 #02-01
M Nail Bar @ Chua Chu Kang, Lot 1 #02-K9
Princess Manicure @ West Mall #05-07

So the next time if you happen to swing by these salons to get your nails done, feel free to request for United Nails Supply’s products from your friendly manicurist! 🙂

So yes, this is all you have from me today! Suddenly feeling all girly doing a review on beauty products on my blog! Hehe! ❤

D = S x T

How does connection work? How is it that two souls can feel each other without words, without touch, and even without being in each others’ presence,
and at other times, feel miles apart while having their fingers or tongues interlocked?

When it comes to decision making, my go-to method is always list-making.
Pros vs Cons.
Straightforward and effective all the time.
Well, most of the time; not really working now. But to be fair, it could be because I am subconsciously coming up with more Pros or Cons to reach the decision I know I sort of want in my head.
Decision that I lack the courage to confront, and too reluctant to leave it to logic, reasoning or rationale.
But I will never stop making lists, not until I am in the know.

Even list-making can’t save me now.

Is there some kind of formula that might be helpful for me now?
What is the formula for time and distance again? Does it apply to all kinds of distances?

And I’m letting you.

Cigarettes and whisky
The perfect concoction for the keeping the lonely at bay
The lady sways to the infectious melody as the jazz band plays
Savouring the make-believe world her closed eyes brings her to
With every inhale, she throws her head back

She ruffles her hair on her face and sniffs the remnants on her fingers
Scents always have a way of bringing her to places
Places she has been and never been;
like that ten seconds in the elevator, or that last time she stood to watch planes take off
With every exhale, she lets out her sigh, ever so softly

The night feels young but she feels old.


Spotify 一直重複地播著同一首的歌曲。



Ipoh 2016

The last time I visited Ipoh was when my grandmother passed away; that was probably more than two decades ago. My Dad was born in Ipoh and it was such a pleasure to be able to visit his hometown again, this time as an adult. What a beautiful town!

I am so happy that the trip happened. I didn’t get to travel much this year, really far cry from the 16 cities I went to last year. Sim and Michelle were such great company, really cannot ask for more. 2016 marks the first time I travelled with friends, and also the year that I experienced travelling alone. I look forward to more solo trips in time to come. But that said, can’t wait for this awful 2016 to be over.


Shaken, Not Stirred

At first, I cried my eyes out and bawled words of hatred hysterically in my head. I swore and cursed and wished for people I detest to die. When I feel like I’m going to implode, I crawl into bed, assume a fetal position, and furiously scribble in my Talk To You Later book, translating my rage into uncouth words and profanities. More often than sometimes, tears from my right eye would dribble across the bridge of my nose into my left eye before hitting my pillow. So don’t ever judge stained pillows. I made myself revisit every moment I got my heart broken, ruminated and immersed myself in those thoughts so I could recall exactly how I felt. But I get distracted oh so easily – sometimes it was when I marvel at how my incredibly smooth ink pen is all inky but still doesn’t seep through the page, or when my half-drunk Dad insists that I share the (single) packet of mixed vegetable rice he brought home, sometimes it was because the end of the page is uncomfortable to write on, and I struggle with the dilemma of dealing with the discomfort and continuing to write regardless, or leaving that disgraceful bit of white space and skipping to the next page. Then I forget what it is I was angry about, and decide to make a cup of hot tea for myself. Forgetfulness is at times, a virtue.

I listen to songs on repeat and seek refuge in morose poems and depressing lyrics. I listen to lyrics more than the melody. I feel heartened whenever I find a song with lyrics describing exactly what I am going through. “I am not alone,” I think. I love reading the words in the songs or poems so intently it reminds me of how pathetic I am that it makes me cry. I love the whole wallowing in sadness thing, I am quite a masochist in this aspect. Then I resist the perverse need to photograph myself crying because I am so fucking addicted to telling the whole world how I feel. Because there are many studies concluding that people who share photos of themselves working out or crying are psychopaths, and since I care so deeply about what others think of me, I pretended to be reticent and reclusive, and that I disregard the opinion of others. Truth is, I feel loneliness not solitude, and I fucking hate this intense feeling of forlornness. I cannot stand knowing I am all by myself.

On some good days, I wake up feeling brave. I start unpacking suitcases filled with clothes because I want to quit seeing my home as a halfway house; as if it is just going to be temporary, like after a while I’ll be whole enough to reintegrate into my old life. I bought new bedsheets and a new fluffy light pink throw. Bought flowers, carefully de-thorned them personally and put them into under-utilised vases. I repainted my room – 1 black, and kept 3 white – although I felt more like 3 black walls and 1 white. I bought new clothes because I wanted her to see a different me, or perhaps to take a second look at me, or ask me where I got those new shoes from, or give her the impression that I am getting along so well I even had the leisure to shop for new clothes, or.. I just wanted to feel good about myself. I had no idea what my true intention was, I just felt a pressing need to look and feel brand new. I asked friends out and I flirted with people. I felt like people actually still appreciated me and sought after when someone compliments my hair or how fresh I looked, or how I had lost weight and asked for my secret. “Just eat less and exercise” was my usual answer. I didn’t want to let them know it was because food does not interest me and eating was the last thing on my mind; that I just long to vegetate on my beautiful bedsheets with my eyes shut and listen to spoken poetry all day, that I wake up at 4pm so that the day would be shorter and most of my friends are only free at night to keep me company. It was my idea to leave, and I was supposed to stick to my plan even after it had backfired; when she agreed that this short separation might be a good solution.

I left my wedding band at her place. And every time I see her, I’d notice whether she still wears hers. She doesn’t. To somebody who reads too much in everything, that is a sign. I’m such a paradox. She brings me my clothes so that I can still live comfortably at home with everything I might need. That wasn’t how I read it. Perhaps it was really because I victimise myself. I allotted to myself a specific amount of time to mourn, etched the end line on the calendar inside my head. I repeated my story to anyone willing to listen. I air my dirty laundry online. It was selfish to a certain extent, because I know my voice is louder than hers, at least in the virtual arena. It was my way of gaining some meagre support. I would always end the story with, “Well, that was only my side of the story. You haven’t heard hers” to further schemingly convince my listeners that I am an impartial person who had tried umpteen times in vain to put myself in her shoes.

Then 5 months went by like that. 5 months of soul searching and pursuit of loving oneself.

They say time heals, but they forgot to include the fact that before it heals you, it numbs you. The blows weren’t fatal enough – you were not strong but you were brave enough to grasp on to life – your heart learns how to numb itself and you gradually need to fight less and less hard to stay afloat. In that numb state, you heal. The body works in miraculous ways indeed. The gaping hole fuses. The scar it leaves behind becomes a badge of honour. My friends tell me I would one day look back in time and laugh at myself. I sure as hell am gonna get there.

There is no shortcut to the end, no way of bypassing the grief death brings. I coerced myself to frolic with the pain, savour the fear, quit asking myself why, stare at the ghost of our love affair in its eyes and acknowledge its demise. I focused on working with the centrifugal force to swing myself out of this vicious cycle of denial, anger, bargaining and depression. I know full well I’m going to exit all beaten up because I have never felt more alone and my self-esteem has never been lower in my life. I feel like the once-juicy plum still left on the vine.

The next person I need to fall deeply in love with is myself. I must not stop believing in love.

A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor, right?





我一直幻想著自己有一天會突然間像發了瘋似地 - 只為自己著想,不在乎別人的眼光,不顧慮別人的感受,不去仔細計算每一個決定的好與壞 -
衝動地, 不負責任地,沒有理智地… 去做一個自私的人。
可是我沒有勇氣, 沒有勇氣做一個自私的人。因為我私自 -很可笑吧?
不敢衝動,不敢不負責任,不敢失去理智, 這一切的一切都是自私的舉動。





Ain’t It Funny?

And this whole thing is like those annoying websites that only allow you five tries on the password.
If you still can’t get it right after that few desperate attempts to try to get it right, they lock you out.

Or rather, you’ve locked yourself out.

Too bad.

I think I live in the past too much. I feed off memories, the good ones, to tide me through the turbulent times.
They make me happy. They make me sad.
They make me feel I should stop doing this.

Rubbish thoughts, really.

A beautiful accidental-stranger once told me – if you have only known a person for an x-period of time, you should not make future plans that will only happen after x-period of time with this person.
It was some kind of mathematical formula he goes by.
His logic being if you have only known that person for a short amount of time, you still can’t be too sure if you would still want to be around this person in the near future. And the amount of time you’ve known this person for will be a good gauge.
My explanation sucks, please see chart:


That is a rubbish theory.

How can time even be a unit to measure connection and soul?

The pursuit of happiness is hard work. What’s worse is when your happiness is pretty much dependent on the people and things around you.
We are so not in control of our own happiness, yet those quotes on Pinterest encourages us endlessly to think that we are. They forgot most of us haven’t attained nirvana yet.

I wake up everyday seeking solace and happiness – in little things like good coffee, listening to songs that I like, choosing to wear clothes that are comfortable to be in, eat things I like to eat, spend time with people I adore, do things that makes me feel good, please people whose feelings I care for.
But at some point, life always has to mess it up, and it is almost always because of people or things around you – a bloody paper cut, a rude stranger, misaligned tables, the coffee which you accidentally spilled (and has to land on your fabric shoe), the wind that messed up your documents, the heavy traffic, the recognition no one gave you, unreciprocated feelings, unfair judgements passed on you, when the things you wish didn’t change changed, when the people you love leave, when you realise that time is all you have and don’t have.
We affect one another and have such a great impact on each others’ lives, and we don’t know it.
The more you care about someone, the more the little things he/she does matter to you, the more you’ll start over-thinking and project every fault onto yourself (ok, maybe this is just me the self-pity-wallow-er). And that’s the time when you need to start to look for that brake pedal and tread carefully.

There are only three different kinds of people in our individual little worlds – people you like, people you do not like, and people whom you feel neutral towards. It’s a tragedy though, that it is often the people whom you feel positively towards who have the biggest effect on you and might possibly inflict the most pain unto you.

I care too much about how others feel and what they think. The only defiant thing I can manage is to get a new tattoo as a little “Fuck Off” to people who tell me not to get so many tattoos cos the inks are all gonna look like they need ironing once I get older.
I scour for the little joys in life to make up for the gaping void in my heart that’s screaming for attention everyday. Even when I set out wanting to be happy every morning, I cannot be too sure if I can – even when it’s my own bloody feelings, for crying out loud.

I feel irresponsible living in the moment, even when it makes me happy. This must be a heart vs head thing. Why do we always have to “think of the bigger picture” and make so much plans? My grand plans sure have a unglorified track record of failing on me.
Anything good is hardly permanent, it seems. I’m really just scared shitless to take a chance to make something is remotely good any better, you know, self-defence mechanism, just in case if it doesn’t work out, then at least it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

What is it, really?
Fuck, I lost my train of thought, and I am starting to feel a little delirious.
I think I still don’t know what I am; I don’t even know where to look for answers, and don’t really have the balls to begin looking.

Fuck it’s 6:53am. The birds are chirping and my neighbour just left for work. I’m starting to see neon bits floating around in my vision, like the kind you see in your eyes after a hard sneeze, if you know what I’m talking about.