Cocky.

I got the pair of Dr. Martens because I felt like it.

Camille

The pictures helped too, of course. It does seem like the only way to pull these freaky looking Ronald Macdonald shoes off is to have fairly slender legs, which I have, so thank goodness for that. I was surprised at how little effort it took to persuade my parents (more like my father, actually, who persuaded her) to get them for me. You see, I used to own a pair of red suede Docs when I was a child, maybe seven or eight. I used to abhor them though, because at that age I preferred dainty heels that click-clacked noisily. Under the pretext of making casual small talk with my mother, I asked her why she bought me Doctor Martens when I was a kid.

"Oh, your father thought it'd be good for your feet. Your sister used to wear them too."

Ah. So it was initiated by my dad! Off I went to my father next.

"Pa, do you still remember that I used to wear Doctor Martens? It's supposed to be good for my feet, right?"

"Ya, why? You want them again?"

"Ya." I grinned widely.

(My dad is so easy to cajole! I'd even venture so far as to say "manipulate".) And the next thing I knew, he was pestering my mother to hurry up and get on with it so we could go to Queensway to make the purchase. My mother then gave me a knowing glare and in her eyes I saw how she would devise ways and means to convince my father not to get them for me. Luckily, my dad was on my side. He had a really warped reasoning behind it though.

"Aiya, ta yao chu jia liao. Ta yao mai shen me jiu mai shen me lor. Yi hou jia chu qu mei you qian mai zen me ban?" (translation: She's going to get married. Just buy her whatever she wants. What if she doesn't have money when she's married?) He also went on to say "ru guo ta yao lao gong jiu mai gei ta yi ge hui lai lor." (translation: If she wants a husband, we'll buy her one too.)

He doesn't have a very high opinion of my taste in men. I can't say I blame him. He then went on to say how my mother was just envious, because she has fat stumpy legs whereas I don't.

Well! I got them now. I was prancing about wearing them boots, and my mother's disapproving glare spoke volumes: (a) that I'll very soon tire of it; (b) that I look trashy in it. I guess I don't blame her for thinking that way. Oh well! I am not even eighteen. Cut me some slack! Anyway, I polished it with neutral polish last night. I probably don't need to, but it's one of those... anal-retentive things I do. (Did you know "anal" has its roots in psychology?! Freud came up with it. I only found out recently...) 'Twas fun, reliving the uniformed group days. Though I had one of the dullest boots around, because I couldn't be arsed to slave over them like my squadmates did.

Okay, end of boots. I shall pray for the courage (and opportunity!) to wear them as often as possible.

Next: I made some awesome white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. It has a touch of Bailey's in it.

Isn't these the cutest thing? I can't exactly taste the alcohol in it, but there's more complex vanilla/coffee/milky overtones.

Recently, I also experimented with a durian sponge cake. It was for my mum's birthday, and since there was an excess of supply of durians, why not? It turned out to be a horrible failure though, because the sponge cake ended up dense and heavy. The trials of not having an electric mixer! Therefore, we had an excess of durian paste in the fridge for a while. My mother came up with this ingenious suggestion and did this: