So, I’d had this little lump that looked like a swollen blackhead on my eyelid for months. It’s mostly flesh-coloured, so it didn’t bother me too much.

Then I woke up one morning and the lump had gotten a bit bigger and my whole eyelid was slightly red and swollen. I rushed to a specialist immediately.

A dermatologist, my doctor said it was some clogged oil. He said he’d lance it and drain it.

It stung, the lancing. But nothing flowed out except blood. Whatever’s inside had apparently hardened since it’d been growing for months.

The doctor said, “I’ll have to cauterise it off. Please wait outside for 15 minutes while we prep the surgery room.”

WHAT… SURGERY?

LIKE, NOW?!?!!?

I went ahead with it, anyway. “Now” was as good a time as any, I supposed, plus I couldn’t have a stupid lump sit on my eyelid forever.

I was sent outside to the clinic’s waiting room with a hand holding up a piece of gauze pressed again the bleeding lump.

While waiting in that ridiculous position, I decided to take my mind off the discomfort by reading.

Except I was reading a historical novel set during the 16th Century Inquisition in England.

As fate would have it, at that precise moment, I reached a part in the book where someone just got arrested for heresy and was describing what she saw in prison, victims being tortured during interrogation and all. I shall not repeat the detailed descriptions here for the sake of your stomach.

For it made my stomach turn and my hackles rise.

I tried to console myself with the fact that I was going to face a caring doctor and not the Inquisition.

Some consolation.

When the doctor called me again, too soon, I went into the small surgery room and lay down, heart pumping nervously, partly from what I had just read and partly from the fear of surgery, even a lousy minor surgery. I can stand pain but I’m terribly squeamish about it when it’s accompanied by blood and gore.

Then, the doctor said he was going to inject my eyelid with anaesthesia and I breathed a sigh of relief. Yay for anasthesia, although that needle was painful. More painful than the initial lancing.

So, I was supposed to not feel any pain after that but when I saw the doctor hold out the black cauterising rod, my heart pumped even more nervously.

Squeamish!

I squeezeed my eye shut.

Then he lowered it to my eyelid and I heard, “Zzzzt!”

I also felt a sting. A very thin, sharp prick, like a very thin needle piercing in, deep under my eyelid where the anaesthesia couldn’t reach. It wasn’t all that painful, just like how you’d feel being stung by a mosquito.

But it was still horrifying because I kept imagining the anaesthesia suddenly wearing off or not working.

And then I smelled burning flesh. Or something.

The doctor zapped my lids about five or six times more. Each time, it stung, but the pain was negligible. It was just the thought of what’s happening that made me feel queasy.

Plus the smell of burning.

I tried not to think about how they burnt heretics at the stake.

Two or three minutes later, it was done and the doctor showed me the little seed that was hidden inside the lump. Tiny brown thing that caused me all that trauma.

I was sent home with some medication and a dark red wound where the lump used to be.

Yay. No more lump!

But ugly scab for a week or more. T_T

By the way, this isn’t the same thing that I went to see a doctor about last week. Yes, I had two different problems on BOTH EYES within a week! How annoying!

The other one also involves some kind of clog and it’s right on the edge of the lid where the eyelashes are. The lump hasn’t totally disappeared yet.

Woe.

Went visiting today. Greeted an uncle who hasn’t seen me in a year.

He stared at me blankly for a second before recognition flickered in his eyes.

“Why you dress like teenager!” he said.

O_o

I’ll show you one today, starring… me.

I’d talk more about the shoot but I’m outside and don’t have all my photos.

In fact, I’ve been more or less out for the past three days, which the more astute of you might have discerned if you’ve been coming here faithfully every day expecting to see new entries but instead seeing that dodgy picture of some blackish soup.

A close friend’s mum just passed away and we’ve been over at the wake. I’m now blogging from there because, no matter what, life goes on.

I’ve always feared the day I would lose a loved one. I always wonder how people cope but I suppose we cope, eventually.

Have a good Sunday, all.

Over the past few days, my crazy friends have shared with me articles describing some really strange things happening around the world.

Seeing as how my friends seem to be spending all their time surfing the Internet reading strange things, it’s no wonder they’re crazy.

Allow me to spread the craziness.

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Multi-purpose bra for golfing babes
Contributed by Elyxia.

Apparently, lingerie giant Triumph has produced a bra that doubles up as a putting mat. It even comes with pockets to store golf balls.

There’s also a matching skirt which, when removed, can be unrolled into a flag that says “Be Quiet.”

I’m not sure the flag will serve its purpose when golfer chicks start unrolling their skirts and removing their bras in the middle of golfing practice.

Read the full story here.

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China farmers build fake mountain
Contributed by Elyxia.

This is hilarious. Disney wants to build a theme park in Shanghai, right? So, the peasants currently living in the area where the new Disneyland would be erected have started building structures around the area as fast as possible.

Supposedly, land with structures fetch a higher selling price. One of the structures the farmers have built include a fake mountain.

Like, seriously? How does one build a mountain?

Read the full story here.

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Exploding chair kills teen
Contributed by Unker Kell.

Um, this is a very scary story. I’m sure all of us have sat on one of these chairs at some point of our lives. Some of you are probably sitting on one right now.

This chair (picture above) exploded without provocation and killed the teenage boy who was sitting on it.

So, please keep that in mind the next time you go chair shopping or, in fact, the next time you sit on a chair.

Read the full disturbing story here.

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Er… lucky her?
Contributed by Morte.

“A woman with a medical condition that makes her have more than 300 orgasms a day says she has finally found happiness — thanks to her “sexually-charged” new boyfriend.”

Well, just remember that the grass always seems greener on the other side.

Read the full story here.

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World’s funniest complaint letter
Contributed by Unker Kell.

This is a bit long but it is an absolute must-read.

An airline customer sends a witty complaint letter to Sir Richard Branson, owner of the Virgin brand. He also provides a series of photos to substantiate his claims.

Read the full story here.

A moth in my bathroom taught me this harsh lesson recently.

I was going to take a shower when I noticed it in the shower stall. At first, seeing a small brown lump on the floor, I thought it was a piece of rubbish.

But part of my mind considered that it might be a moth.

Even as I started to turn on the shower, a few options flashed through my mind.

• Investigate it.
• Heck care it. Just let it wash down the drain.
• Clear it or it will clog up the drain cover.
• Scare it away in case it’s a moth cos I don’t want to drown it.

As I mulled over my options casually, not really caring very much really, I turned on the shower.

And then turned it off abruptly again.

I really didn’t want to drown a moth. If it were a moth, it would definitely get wet and then get stuck to the bathroom floor and eventually follow the flow of water to the drain cover.

I bent down and looked at it.

It was a moth! And quite a pretty one. Medium brown with pretty dark brown patterns around the edges of its wings.

It fluttered weakly once and then stopped. It looked dead. I couldn’t be sure if the flutter was due to my movement or because it was alive.

“Boo!” I said to it, hoping it would get scared and fly off.

Nothing. It remained motionless.

I scrunched up a bunch of toilet paper, then gently picked up the moth with the toilet paper.

When I turned the toilet paper around to look at it, I saw it had clung its legs around the folds of the paper. But it was still motionless.

Not quite knowing how to deal with it, I placed the whole ball in the rubbish bin, with the moth facing up. I hoped it was still alive and would fly off to safety by itself.

I went to take my shower.

And that was when it struck me that the moth’s prettiness had saved its life, if it were alive to begin with.

I have washed lesser insects that are small, puny and ugly, down the drain, without thinking. It’s like those insects deserve to die because they’re ugly.

I might even allow a plain or ugly-looking moth to die, but I couldn’t allow a pretty moth to die.

I am so shallow!! =(

And I think this applies to people in some ways. We have a tendency to subconsciously treat attractive people with more respect and care, as if less attractive people deserved less.

I often hear people cursing other people when inconvenienced.

“Ugly bitch! Block my way and make me miss my train! I hope you fall down!”

I think people would be less likely to curse if the person blocking them were an Angelina Jolie lookalike.

It’s so unfair and it made me sad thinking about this.

I felt guilty for all the times I had killed insects because they weren’t pretty. But I think I will probably do it again because ugly insects gross me out.

By the time I finished my shower, the moth had disappeared from the ball of tissue paper. Yay! It had flown off to safety. Or so I hoped. I couldn’t see it anywhere in the bathroom.

I hope Morty didn’t eat it.