Singapore Sling...

No, no, no typo. It's sling. The fling thing was errr...not quite what we had in mind but let's not diagress eh... anyways i don't see how possible it is in less than 24hrs albeit my darling witty piano boy friend will fervently disagree. Hey, we're talking Mr Big vs boy band rejects here ok! ;P
But as i was saying, my li'l date with Singapore felt more like a slingshot ok!?

Hey i'm not complaining tho'. Uh-uh not me. Just lemme soak in Prada's Fall/Winter '04 Collection (albeit i can already imagine the not so fashionable roof crack my dad will be adding to the house when he gets the credit card bill) and have Tiramisu on Philip Starck's Ghost chairs to rest 'em tired legs. Or swim in the unobtainable dance track releases that Petaling Street hasn't already got a pirate version of. I hate to gush but having trapsed the whole of Europe and London with no luck and almost desperate enough to buy the Italian copy in Milan, i managed to pick up the elusive copy of Diana Vreeland at Borders. No kidding. In Singapore some more. Eat your heart out amazon!

French cuisine seemed to be the palate du jour after sun down. *wink* So what if I no parlez vous francaise. You don't need to at the Liquid Room with Rotterdam's very promising DJ Joris Voorn on decks firing up the techno boom box. Anyways i dont think his wik'ked music had anything do with it but i felt like an excitable, giggly 18yr old again escaping mischief. In case you're wondering, nope, there was no moulin-rouge-spread-the-pate-on-my-crossaint mischief. Awwwww maybe next time eh? Coz' nobody messes around with this chick unless you look like Brad Pitt or have abs like Usher's.