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Does life have a sense of irony or what.

You ask for a drop of water in a drought and instead, you get a flood. You ask for a grain of rice in a famine and instead, you not only get a good crop yield that year but also First World nations dumping their agricultural surplus on you on the pretext of "foreign aid" thereby killing the livelihood of your local farmers.

I know. I should stop beating about the bush and get to my point.

Well, just a few months ago, I was imploring God to give me more work to do because I was bored witless.

God not only heard my prayers but He decided to dump a motherload on me as well.

So I couldn’t have chosen a better (or worse) time for an island retreat than now. This weekend, I’m packing my bags and leaving the smog of the city for clear blue skies, warm sunshine and cool sea breezes.

I planned this trip like a month ago so it looks like I’ll just have to push aside all thought of looming deadlines and upcoming events. Of course, I’ll have a million things to do when I get back.

But they can wait.

For now, I’m just going to focus on the trip. Think about what to pack. I think I can fit an entire weekend’s clothing into my handbag. Who needs anything more than a bikini, boardshorts and flip flops? And sunblock with SPF 5000, of course, if you have as little melanin as me.

I’m fighting this great urge to bring my laptop along. You can leave me stranded on an deserted island, I always say, but just make sure it has WiFi. I’m so tech-dependent it’s terrible.

But I’ve decided it’s going to be one of those lazy trips where I’ll just lie on the beach and soak up the sun like a plant in photosynthesis. Cool off in the water when it gets too hot. Sun again. Cool, sun and repeat. The most strenuous thing I’ll attempt is lifting a can of ice cold beer to my lips.

That’s the life, man.

I can’t decide what I prefer. The fast-paced, all-action city life. Or the idyllic bliss of living on an island. Do I really enjoy the simple pleasures life has to offer? Or do I need the trappings of material comforts? Do I favour sipping coconut water by the beach or tossing back martinis at a posh bar? Would I rather have the carefree simplicity of zipping around on a tuk-tuk or the luxury of navigating through traffic in a Beemer? Is it ever possible to have the best of both worlds?

It’s a tricky one. I think I’ll have to mull this one over cocktails by the beach. It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. Might as well be me.

It’s been a while since I’ve gone out, especially since I’ve been pretty much spending the past few weeks watching DVDs at home while eating ice cream straight from the carton. Life was good in self-imposed exile.

But the recent weekend changed all that. My friends are a reminder that no man (or woman, for that matter) is an island. They’re brilliant.

On Friday night, went to a new bar in town to meet up with some friends. Upon entering the place, a friend waved me down and insisted on dragging me upstairs where some celebrity-studded event was taking place. I was embarrassingly underdressed for such an event. There I was, barefaced and attired in foldover yoga pants and flip flops while all around me were models and actresses in designer cocktail dresses and sexy stilettoes. But I was too nonchalant to care – maybe because I was too busy checking out Hannah Tan and her fine assets. My friend and I decided that she’s so hot, we’d switch sexual orientations for her in a heartbeat. Then, wedged between a leggy model and a beautiful but annoyingly giggly TV presenter, I had to listen to mindless drivel about how bubbles get in champagne. The same way air gets in your head, ladies.

Spent the rest of the night knocking back pink, girly cocktails and chocolate martinis with my friends on some big, cozy couches in a quiet corner. 

Saturday night was spent at Starlight Cinema in Sentul West. Thanks to the self-proclaimed Porky Queen for the free tix and thanks to a certain reality television star for sneaking out the Carlsberg from the VIP area.

Basically, Starlight is an outdoor screening “under the stars” which all sounds very romantic – until you start becoming a blood buffet for mosquitoes, the ants start crawling up your pants and you realize the dampness of the grass has left a big wet patch on your backside…But other than that, it’s good fun. Really. We watched Chicken Little and Over The Hedge with pizza and beer. During the interval, two little boys wandered over to our spot and all of us showered heaps of attention on them, letting them help themselves to our leftover pizza. “Want some beer?” offered my friend, corruptor of impressionable minds. “No, we’re underaged. We’re not supposed to drink,” said the boys, almost in unison. God bless ‘em, so well-taught. That’s right, kids, don’t drink until you can afford to buy your own beer. I mean, until you’re 21. Oh, whatever.

On Sunday, went to see Puteri Gunung Ledang the musical cuz a dear friend of mine got me a ticket. Good thing they had subtitles. My Malay is so bad my high school friends still laugh over the time I got confused with katak (frog) and ketiak (armpit).

Well, anyway, PGL is a more-than-decent effort. Pretty good choreography and music. Impressive acting, better than the shit I see on terrestrial TV. Of course, if you’ve ever seen anything on Broadway or West End, it’ll pale in comparison. I managed to catch a couple when I was in London and was absolutely dazzled by the extravagant sets, props and costumes. But then again, they’ve got the budget to splash out on those. No one’s going to invest that much in a theatrical production here when it only appeals to what I suppose is a niche audience. I mean, does anyone go to the theatuh here apart from gay men and culture vulture types who most likely have studied or lived abroad, listen to jazz, drink wine and do their grocery shopping at Cold Storage. (Sounds like the kind of weird, random data market researchers like to throw around to pretend they know what people want, no?) Not that there’s anything wrong with these demographics but theatre should be accessible to all. 

Well, PGL played to an almost full house which is pretty impressive. It’s their second run as well, which shows that there is hope for the industry, after all.

And the lead actor who played Hang Tuah, Stephen Rahman-Hughes – what a dish. Women, old and young alike, were cooing and squealing over him. My friend was shivering like a wet chihuahua on a cold day after she managed to speak to Stephen and get his autograph. Tee hee.

So that was the weekend (or well, just a snapshot of highlights) gone by in a flurry of hedonistic activity. Whirlwind days and reckless nights.

And they say youth is wasted on the young.