You like me. You really really like me.

I've been thinking (my brain tends to do that when my fingers are idle and YOU of all people should know the evil that rendered my hands (yes, both) practically useless, save for the cable remote control), you sure are one silent lot.

I don't know whether to be deliriously thankful (for the lack of flames; though since I've not yet written anything salacious yet, there's no reason for any so that's moot really) or manically depressed because you obviously don't find me worth those few minutes of your precious time.

Please, if you will, and I'm asking ever so sweetly (which you all know is not something I'm used to, being the egoistical, bossy creature that I am) and with the sincerest of sincerity, why? Why am I met with this dead silence over and over again? With the exception of my food god, nobody deigns to even drop a measly HI!. Pfft. The two letters aren't very far apart either, so now that you know, do something to rectify your transgressions. If you're contrite enough, I might even forgive you.

And don't think I haven't drawn my own conclusions (because you know I rock at that) about why with a couple of million bloggers out there and another million blog purveyors, there is no bloody sign of life here. It boggles the mind. And when YOU boggle my mind, you bring to fruition these thoughts.

Possiblity #1 : I've been remiss in putting up tantalizing pictures of scantily-clad female bodies writhing on the bed/sofa/computer table/floor.

Possiblity #2 : You have no idea at all what the heck I'm always going on about, ergo no reason to comment. (Don't go thinking that I'm going to accept ignorance as an excuse coz I'm NOT.)

Possiblity #3 : Alright, this actually is a fact; my posts are usually too damn long and with no clear and drool-worthy pictures to alleviate the monotony, your brains can no longer function. Which of course leads us back to Possibility #1.

I don't know what you people are thinking but I swear I do NOT know Edison nor hang out with the likes of him. SO can you really blame me for the lack of pictures of me, half-clothed lounging on the bed and purring like a kitten? Think about it.

In OTHER news, the folks dragged us to Vienna at Thompson for the last day of CNY. I know right, yet more feasting. And no, my ever-expanding girth is really none of your business.

I wasn't too impressed with the quality of most of the food available, my steak and lamp chops came to the table charred and tougher than aged leather.

The vegetable dishes were cooked to death. The salmon sashimi was a little too salmony for my taste. And get this, watered down WINE. Dudes, you have to BE there to fully appreciate the extreme monstrosity that was the diluted wine. God. Have they thrown all pride to the wind?

But I have to give them props for the divine selection of cakes. Guess what sort? Awww, you really do know me! Yes, cheese cake of the Chicago, NYC, Orea and Blueberry kind. My heart fluttered and I thought I might swoon but since I was quite nicely cushioned between an overly-eager auntie and her daughter, swoon I could not.

I too wondered what the heck these were. Like you, I have the inquiring mind and natural curiosity of a 3 year old. So I took the lot of them and sampled the entire rack of test tubes. What a complete waste of bladder space. Yet more watered-down liquids. This time, apple juice, lime juice, pineapple and lemon.

You should all be so proud of me. Because despite having a pair of hands that can't do squat, I am 1) able to stuff my face with such classy dexterity, 2) operate the TV/Cable remote without resorting to my tongue, 3) finally take the pictures of the masks that I said I would.

For the sake of brevity (which by now you know how I rule at), I'm gonna run. Things to do, (yes, like basking in the fawning of my legion fans), asses to kick, yet more clicking to perform now that my fingers are all healed, ya know, just my usual daily shite.

P.S Hi, now how hard was that? No, seriously. Do something.