Somebody once told me that cheating at school doesn’t pay. I don’t remember who it was but from a very young age, brought up in the ultra-strict schooling system in Malaysia where if you’re good, you only get caned and if you’re bad then whee-wooo, we don’t want to go there. So I never cheated for fear of being busted and I earned my rusty and slightly dented B.Commerce crown all by my very own merits.

I was also told, at a later age, that cheating on your partner doesn’t pay. Apparently the grass is always greener til you get there, and usually, someone finds out and your life turns into a massive shitmess. So I never cheated there either.

But no one ever told me about cheating on restaurants. I wish they did, because last week, I cheated on my favourite Korean joint and sneakily went to Naru Restaurant for dinner. It was no where near as good as my favourite and gah! The regret!

Lesson learnt: do not cheat on your favourite restaurants.

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So it’s 23 sleeps til Panu and I go to Hong Kong, but um, no one’s really counting are they? I mean I’m not mildly OCD and in desperate need for a vacation am I?? I am. Indeed I am, and shut up to all of you who say I travel too much.

This trip to Hong Kong is going to be especially awesome because we’re going for my cousin’s wedding (read: big. Chinese. banquet. WIN!) and I get to see my parents who I haven’t seen in over a year. Plus of course there’s food. And food. And markets. And shopping. And food.

But there’s one thing I’m afraid of when I hit the shores of Hong Kong and fall into this enormous family do: my unavoidable fatness.

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