Rest & Relaxation from Revenge & Relocation

The world was my oyster, not so long ago...

The world was my oyster, not so long ago…

Last night I went to find some respite from the incrediblé stresses of revenge and relocation. Some R & R from R & R, har-dee-har. Lots of my Expaterati girlies were there, except the ones who’ve abandoned ship for the summer. It was Ladies’ Night at the Oyster Bar, Collyer Quay, with an ocean of free-flowing bubbly. A word to the wise though: if you want to eat like a expat wife as well as drink like an expat wife, bring your own greens to this joint. It totes ticks the high-protein box, but for vegetables to compensate for the drink-age, I suggest you BYO. Or order rocket (for the love of god, make sure they put the dressing on the side!).

Super fun times were had by all, and everyone, particularly yours truly, looked serioso hot. It’s impressive that I can maintain such high levels of hotness, despite the trying circumstances under which I currently labour.

I had hoped Liz might be there so that I could put laxatives in her drink, but no such luck. Instead I decided to just have an awesome time, and not let bitter thoughts enter my beautiful complex brain.

As the hours wore on though, I was chatting to Flo, and I found myself thinking about what’s happening in my life. The fatigue of a long day must’ve loosened my tongue because I told her about Don’s affair and how shocked I was to discover the emails between him and Clara.

“I just can’t believe it, Flo!”, I sobbed, my emotions getting the better of me, “How could he do this to me? And with that woman? What’s she got that I haven’t??”

I expected Flo, as one of my closest expat BFFs, to offer some support. I was sorely mistaken.

“Don’t be so naive, Eeeej! Everyone’s at it!! Come on, even you! I do read your blog sometimes you know, and I recall a not entirely innocent thang you had going with Michelle’s husband last year… Then there’s Seth of course, with his ridiculous hair! What’s that about?? You’ve decided to go back to the same yoga class as him, I notice…”

“What?! Seth is just a friend. A very nice man who has very nice hair, I’ll have you know. The photo just doesn’t do it justice… Anyway… What do you mean, everyone’s at it?! No they aren’t!”

“Oh please! Look around!!”, she said, pointing at women in the assembled crowd, “See her over there? At it. And see her? At it. And then there’s her, of course. At it, but it’s pretty obvious from that outfit. And her. And her. And her.”

“No, Flo, no, Flo, NO! I don’t believe you.”

“Believe it, sweets. We have our own Facebook group. You won’t be able to find it because it’s secret, but I’ll add you if you want.”

WE?? You mean you too?!”

Flo seemed exasperated.

“EJ. How long have you been an expat for? Yet you act like you’re fresh off the boat! Of course me too. You’ve met him tons of times. My personal trainer. I got lucky there. Not gay and not married, so none of those annoying complications. A rare combination on these shores.”

There was a crashing sound from a distant table, glasses shattering. Young bankers, no doubt. So absorbed with swiping right on Tinder that they’ve lost all other hand-eye coordination.

I looked out towards the bay. Such an orderly view of exciting bright lights.

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Blatantly Propositioned on Orchard Road

I’m still no clearer on the repat or not situation, I’m afraid, and although it has been getting me down immeasurably, I have nonetheless-so been able to have some serioso fun this week.

On Wednesday I went to the meet and greet with Charli XCX at TopShop. She was so sweet. Just a regular girl called Charlotte, from Cambridge (but that’s London Queen enough for me! That’s one of her songs, babeses). She told me she loved my sunglasses, and the radio chick who was hosting asked if my hair was natural. Charli was totes a pro, but it really highlighted for me how hard it is to be a celebrité. I face that kinda stuff myself, when lovelies ask for pix with me, and you know, sometimes it’s not that easy to be in receipt of all that adulation. I make it look easy, of course, but I’m so starting to realise that underneath every star there’s actually a real person, just trying to make their way in the world, being fabulous.

Charli XCX saying she loved my sunglasses (she's the one in the orange top & I'm the one in the gold jumpsuit)

Charli XCX saying she loved my sunglasses (she’s the one in the orange top, Eva my new PT is in the middle  & I’m the one in the gold jumpsuit)

Me with the radio chick

Me with the radio chick

Then that night I went to the concert with my Expaterati girlies, including my new personal trainer/ body guard, Eva, and the fab hottie who won my contest to attend. She won because her answer to why it should be her was, “Because I think you’re awesome, babe!!!!”, so that was a non-brainer. We all had the best time eveerrrrr, and danced our behinds off, looking amazebobs. You could tell we made a mahusiv impression because we stood in the middle of the venue, and other people left a big space between us and them. I have to say, I totes heart the Coliseum at the Hard Rock Hotel. It’s intimate, it’s outdoors but under cover, the staff are fab, there’s lots of room to dance, and best of all, no lines at the bars!! Don’t tell anyone about it though because I feel like it’s sort of my venue, and I wouldn’t want it to get booked out next time I’m after tickets.

I also TOTES heart this app called Songkick, which syncs with your iTunes library and tells you when concerts are on. No, I’m not being paid by these people, dear readers. I’m just a really generous person who likes to share great stuff with loved ones. It’s ok, don’t thank me : )

And here are some awesome hot pics of me at the concert:

Hot me 1

Hot me 1

Hot me 2

Hot me 2

Hot me 3

Hot me 3

Hot me 4

Hot me 4

So it was a great night, and yesterday I did NOT feel like working out, when I awoke to find Eva standing at the foot of the bed, firing at my face with a water gun (the help let her in, argh!!). Damn, Eva’s good. I’m lucky to have found her. Unfortunately I have had to part company with the Hyatt gym. They just kept on giving me locker key number 69, and frankly it got too much. I can’t bear locker-based innuendo, you know?

Eva & me at the concert

Me & Eva at the concert

After a gruelling workout, a power brunch, and a long nap, I was glad that Eva had gunned me out of my slumber. I had such a glow about me later, as I sashayed along Orchard Road to do some shoppage. I took my lovely designer trolley with me because I wanted to go to Ambercrombie, so I needed to bring my heavy spelunking gear. Trolleys used to be mummsy, but if you still think that, where have you been?! You’re nobody in Singas if you don’t have a trolley.

Trolleys = hotness

Trolleys = hotness

As I passed the Paragon, a fine ang mo gentleman, who must’ve been at least 70 (but had a full head of sandy blonde hair, and was a dead ringer for Robert Redford), sidled up beside me and complimented me on my trolley. As I am always friendly to strangers, I indulged his apparent desire for a little small talk, entering into conversation. I just love older people. They’re so nice.

I asked him if he lived here, and upon confirmation, I questioned whether he had a trolley. He responded, “No, I have my backpack. And I have great muscles. Do you want to try me out?”

I was a tad taken aback, and for a moment I wondered if he was offering to carry me to Abercrombie. When he winked, it clicked that this was probably not what he was offering, so I said, “Oh old babe, that’s like totes lovely, but no thanks”, and then grabbed my phone, pretending it had rung.

“Sooooooo soz, nice old man who is so nice, but I’ve got to take this call. It’s the help”, I told him, and gave him the final honour of my beautiful Kate Middleton smile.

I get propositioned all the time, naturally, but this was the first occasion where the propositioner was of such an advanced age, and therefore so very wise. It just goes to show that a good workout will bring all the boys to the yard.


O

EM

GEE

I was just going to click publish on this post when one of my girlies sent me this link to a casting call Diva TV is doing for the show How Do I Look Asia. I’m impeccably dressed at all times already, but I’d love to do more telly. I should totes do that, am I right?? Anyone want to nominate me?