Hello, I blog!

I’ve been really fickle about my hair. Some days, I just wish it’d grow faster. And on other days, I just can’t wait to get it all chopped off.

My last haircut was about a month ago – where I decided to retained my short (extremely layered), slightly tomboyish crop. It’s grown out quite a fair bit now and once again, I’m undecided.

Mum and I was at Parkway Parade this evening. While strolling along, I was eyeing my reflection in the glass door next to me – particularly my hair.

“Hmm, should I cut my hair again?” I wondered aloud.

Mum just stared at me – I knew very well how she felt about me having short hair in general, so I didn’t really need an answer.

We walked on.

And when we walked past the food counter at Yoshinoya (a Japanese rice set fast-food joint), one of the guys behind the counter – in a fit of over-enthusiasm (because the joint was empty at that moment), decided to yell out.

“Hello maam! Hello sir!”

I looked around. There was no one else in the vicinity except for my mum and me.

“Sir?! What the fuck?!” was my outburst, directed at no one in particular.

The fellow behind the counter at least had the grace to look sheepish. Mum on the other hand, couldn’t stop laughing for quite a while.

As for the answer to the question, “should I cut my hair shorter?” Well, it’s quite obvious that I’ve gotten my answer. No.

It made its first appearance on my bathroom wall about a week ago. It was cautious about being spotted, moving its little head furtively left and right with every step it took.

I stood at the sink, brushing my teeth when I detected some small movements from the corner of my eye. I stopped short and looked over, and that was when the lizard stopped in its tracks too. I shrugged since I was in an uncomfortable position (with my mouth full of foam then) and resumed brushing. The movement resumed too.

I looked over and the lizard stopped moving again. This was a shrewd one.

I gargled the foam out and immediately welded the shower hose. I could sense that the lizard had begun to panic there and then before all its furtive moments gave way to frantic running.

Too late. The blast of water from the hose knocked the lizard off the wall and onto the ground. Floundering for survival in the surging waters, the fellow was eventually washed down the drain pipe.

Brenda – 1, Lizard – 0.

Day 2
I stepped into the bathroom and the little one suddenly scurried out from beneath a pail. The same one as the other day. Not expecting that at all, I let out a squeal and jumped – but not before welding my trusty ol’ weapon all over again.

For the second time that week, the little lizard struggled to break free as it was washed away into the drain pipe while I grinned sadistically at my second victory for the week.

Brenda – 2, Lizard – 0.

Day 3
The little one decided to get even shrewder. This time, it didn’t target the bathroom. It decided to seek revenge in my room instead. And of all places, the wardrobe.

It stood at the edge of my wardrobe looking at me as if it was going “muahahaha, you can’t get rid of me so easily”. Heck, it was probably laughing its guts out when I let out one of the loudest screams I’ve ever let out so far in 2011. And there I was, panicking because any moment, it would start running into the abyss that is my wardrobe.

Damn, this was a smart one. But it got mangled anyway by mum who came to my rescue at the moment – grabbing the little thing with a tissue and flushing it down the toilet.

“There! it’ll never bother you again,” she says. I was happy.

Mum – 1, Lizard – 0.

Day 4 and 5
I bet mum was regretting she said that. Because, the shrewd little one had decided to briefly stop taunting me, but shifted its attention to her instead.

For two days in a row, the little one showed up in the bathroom with my mum – terrorizing her in the shower, or while she’s in the midst of her half-hour long makeup-application sessions. To her credit, she didn’t scream in terror like what I’s usually do. Instead, she put up a bold fight with the little one with the use of several layers of toilet roll and this awesome suction mechanism called the toilet flush.

Mum – 3, Lizard – 0.

Day 6
“There! it’ll never bother you again,” the mum said a few days ago. Boy, was she wrong.

The lizard showed up in the bathroom again, this time slightly larger than I had last seen it (which also means it’s harder to wash the damn thing DOWN the drain pipe). This time – utterly frustrated – I contemplated using something heavy to just squash the damn thing dead once and for all. Previously, washing/flushing the thing down the drain pipe/toilet bowl could mean that the lizard could have managed to wedge itself on some solid surface, survive and then climb its way back up.

But squashing it would only mean that someone HAS to pick up the remains – and the person wouldn’t be me.

So, I picked up the shower hose again. And turned the water temperature dial to its hottest possible setting.

And because the lizard was larger, I couldn’t wash it down the drain pipe as easily as before. The fellow was washed around the toilet floor (with me standing on top of the toilet bowl), round and round for almost an entire minute as I struggled to get it down the drain. For a while, I felt as if I was cooking lizard soup.

It went down the drain pipe in the end. For the third time. Good bye, little one. For good, I hope.

Brenda – 3, Lizard – 0.

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I haven’t seen it for three days so far. And I hope I’ll never see it again. This is one shrewd lizard with a stubborn will to live. But smart lizards should also know that they shouldn’t return to the scene at which they were last (attempted to be) murdered. Tsk.

Final score: Brenda – 3, Lizard – 0 and Mum – 3, Lizard – 0.