Monday, September 01, 2008

Storm in a teacup, sex in a handbag

Love at first sight. That was what it is. I kid you not. Forget smitten. Forget crush. This is lurve, baby.

Very rarely, and when I say rarely I mean as rare as a politician who keeps his promise, do I fall this hard. The sweaty hands, the inability to think of anything else, the kan-cheong ness.

Haiya, hurry up and tell us the juicy bits, I hear your brain going.

Before I blow your sordid mind, I am referring to shopping.
Men, you can click Next Blog now.

Ladies, you know what I am talking about. If orgasms can be achieved through shopping, we can minimize heartbreak and we'd be a far happier lot.

Being head over heel with merchandise, that mon ami is quintessential true love. Its all there, no hidden agendas, no expectations beyond what is there, sitting patiently on the shelf, honest and pure, seductively calling your name in dulcet tones that only you can hear.

So that is how I ended up paying top dollar for a non-designer leather hobo bag. Still reeling but what is money between lovers.

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