lizard tails

Yet so different.

2011-06-27T12:59:00.004+08:00

While sinfully indulging at our friendly neighbourhood fastfood joint which offers free coffee refills and free WiFi, I launched into my hobby of people-watching. Under the big scheme of things, free refills and free WiFi attracts more patrons, more patrons equals more business. Also, free stuff means more free-loaders. In my blunt opinion, in a civilized society the free refills and free WiFi are perks for patrons if say, you are waiting for your kid who's attending a party, if you are in between appointments killing time, if you are meeting a prospect in a mutual setting, you get my drift. That said, I was very disgusted when I saw a mother and her 3 school-age kids tucked in a cozy corner watching a cartoon video on a portable video player, their solitary Happy Meal well consumed. While the kids watched the video, the mother fished out ledgers, notebooks and stationery from her folder and started doing her work. By the look of them you could confirm that they were none of the above type patrons. They were just free-loading. No, they were not breaking any rules, they had a right to be there - after all, they had ordered and consumed a Happy Meal, but to me that is purely taking advantage of the joint. It's pathetic. A jog-dial later, I realised that it was only a certain type of people of a certain ethnic group that normally has this sort of mentality. It reminded me of another adjacent incident.

My yoga teacher has a simple and practical fee structure. You prepay for a block of 4, 10, 20 or 30 classes which has to be consumed within 1,2,3 or 4 months respectively. Obviously, the bigger the block, the cheaper your average cost per class. She is not calculative. Sometimes she gives us regulars who pay for the biggest block 5 free classes (because we normally finish up the 30 classes ahead of the 4 months period) or sometimes when we finish our block towards the end of the month, she will say nevermind you pay me for a new block next month, but you can still come for classes. She has a cancer patient student and students who are genuinely financially strapped whom she doesn't charge for classes. Many times I've heard her telling students who have not finished using up the all the prepayments within the stipulated time to purchase a new block but she would not forfeit the unused classes. That may be a marketing strategy for her to retain her students but at the end of the day, it is her business and I do believe that she genuinely has a big kind heart.

A few weeks ago our class got slightly delayed by a student who was discussing a proposal for private classes for her and her colleagues only. From what my teacher conveyed, obviously they were looking at minimal number of classes at the cheapest cost per class and she had to open up another slot specifically for these group of women. She didn't seem keen obviously, but counter-proposed that they paid the regular fees and she would have a private slot just for them. They were also welcomed to join the general public classes if they wished. To me, that sounded fair enough. What irks me to the bone is the mentality of these sort of people. I get that everybody wants the best deal in town, who doesn't? But this is her business, her rice-bowl. This is just being a cheapskate and taking advantage of others. It's not that they can't afford it. It is not that they deserve pro-bono classes. Pay for the classes like everybody else. What makes you so special? That you are a bunch of Chinese-school teachers with a fucked-up mentality and mindset? That we all very well know that you can afford it but it is your birth right or claim on society because you are a bunch of teachers? If this is what the teachers are cultivating, I rest my case. I bet you that if she went ahead with the original proposal, somewhere down the line someone somehow will get disgruntled and bitch that their money (paid at the lowest rate milkable) got forfeited for some reason which the teacher should understand and thus not forfeit.

I am disgraced to say that the free-loader family at the fastfood joint was Chinese, as is the yoga class proposer who happens to be one of my neighbour. As my brother so aptly put it one day while people-watching - we are (ethnically) the same, yet we are so different.

Whatever Day.

2011-06-20T11:19:00.006+08:00

I am a non-believer of Parents' Day, Valentine's Day and what other Let'sSuckEmDry Day because it is just a bunch of crap to me. I love my parents and significant other to bits but I just hate the unnecessary fuss and commercial exploits of these Days.

When I was 7 or 8, I sat in the hallway on the cool terrazzo floor outside my room with the raised dark-lacquered wooden floor in the room as my table. I traced a page from Goldilocks & The Three Bears and some other princessy picture from another LadyBird fairy tale book to make a card for my brother and my mother for my brother's birthday and Mother's Day respectively. I think I abandoned it midway. That was possibly the only time I attempted to make a fuss for my mother on Mother's Day and possibly the first time I ever heard of it. I think that back then, no one came up with the idea to rip kids off big time yet.

When I was about 10 or 11, my mother told me to get something for my Dad for Father's Day. I think we got him some bedsheets or something practical like that because my Dad was then living alone like a bachelor. When I gave it to my Dad, he thundered (only because he has a super loud voice - no guesses where I got that from) something like "Thank you very much but I do not believe in all this Mat Salleh nonsense". I admit I was plenty crushed when he said that because it felt like he was rejecting the gift and rejecting me. He did not make any attempt to break it down gently to me, but that's just the way my Dad is. I never made a big deal about Father's Day again.

We never made a fuss about Mother's Day either. In one of my early years of employment, I went for a run with my good friend Jason at Lake Gardens on Mother's Day morning. The night before, I had taken off the old-fashioned screw-in diamond studs my mother had given me (which was from her ex-mother-in-law) and screwed them back on. After my run, Jason and I went for breakfast in Petaling Street and when I passed the florist, I decided to get my mom a dozen red roses wrapped in crepe paper for Mother's Day. I don't know what possessed me - it was a spontaneous thing. During the drive home, I launched into the habit of twirling with my right ear stud while at the traffic lights and to my horror, the stud was not there. Expletives shot out from my mouth in slow motion as I tried to look around me to find the missing stud. When I got home I searched the car, gave up, went upstairs, handed my mother the flowers and decided to hold back the info for a bit. She thanked my for the flowers but she wasn't exactly over the moon about it - and my mother is a very expressive person. I was dampened that my mother didn't show much appreciation but hey, that's the way it went. I figured that since she wasn't so hot about Mother's Day, she can't blame me for "ruining" it. So I told her about the missing earring and after an earful (pun intended), she just let it go. She didn't make me feel crap about it and for that I was and still am grateful.

Like everyone else, I am grateful to my parents for too many things. I am also very grateful that they thought me and subconsciously embedded in me that we don't need a Mother's Day and Father's Day to appreciate them or other people. Everyday can be Parent's Day or Spouse Day or whatever day you want it to be. Besides, we just get exploited. Even the Chinese restaurants are doing it with their set dinners etc. Birthdays and anniversaries, now those are special :)

Pangkor Part I & II.

2011-06-07T22:19:00.012+08:00

Part I.

In the late 80s, there was a TV commercial for Pelangi Beach Resort, Pangkor. There was a beautiful couple dining (I think) and dancing on a patio with serene water and a beautiful sunset for a background. Every time the ad came on, I would long to go to the beautiful Pulau Pangkor. Although I was a stupid romantic at that time, a silly teenager, the potential beauty of sandy white beaches and pristine water was more captivating than being the couple itself. I don't even remember if the ad showed any sandy white beach and crystal clear water. I suppose I had faith that it was possible for such things to exist in Malaysia as only 5 years before my mom took my brother and I to the beautiful, not-yet-commercial island of Tioman nestled in the South China Sea. It was beautiful and unspoilt and I suppose relatively unknown then. The sand was superfine and white and the water was super clear. I remember standing in waters knee-deep looking at beautiful, colourful fish weaving around my legs. I was gob-smacked and so, 5 years laters, I believed that Pulau Pangkor was capable of producing such beauty as I had imagined.

So back to the late 80s. Towards the end of that year our school Swimming Club was organizing a trip to Pulau Pangkor, Penang and Cameron Highlands. That was too good to be true. The 3 of us (the ones who mocked around in science tuition) decided to join the trip. We didn't care who else was going (who were mostly people we didn't click with, except for Vivian, the "leader" and elder sister of our friend Evonne). What was important was that we were going together and for me, setting foot on the beautiful Pulau Pangkor.

We opted to sit at the back of the bus so that we could be together, no concern that the ride was always bumpier at the back. Who gave a crap? A bumpy ride sure beat having one of us sit with someone else. Besides, we were equipped with a Sony Walkman, Kylie Minogue, Erasure and Climie Fisher. Sometimes I do wonder how I remember these things because for the life of me, I do not remember getting on any ferry to get to Pulau Pangkor and back. Perhaps we never did but I'd like to believe that we did. We arrived in Pulau Pangkor during the night and we were ushered to stay in wooden house which had a verandah/patio at the back standing on stilts in the water. We were uncomfortably packed like sardines into rooms with gaudy vinyl coverings, the kind my grandma used to thumbtack to her wooden dining table. Before going to bed, I went to the toilet and in the dark I saw the wooden patio on stilts. The sound of the waves hitting against the stilts and the shore was invigorating but the fishy smell of the night air was enough to bring me to my senses that this was no Pelangi Beach Resort.

The next morning, while some ser-pu-ser girls spoke about seeing ghosts or some crap like that, I was more interested in going to the patio. While I had lowered my expectations greatly, I was not prepared to see huge, rough stones beneath the patio, thick mud and worst of all, rats - uncountable number of rat scavenging and scurrying about. I grew up by the sea. Our house faced the Straits of Malacca, the same straits my beautiful Pulau Pangkor lies in further up the coast. There was no sandy white beach and crystal clear waters but there was also definately NO RATS. We still played on the coarse sand and in the dirty-green salt water, but this in what I believe was Pulau Pangkor was just too disgusting for me. I suppose I naively gained the notion that the water and sand just got clearer and whiter respectively the further up the Straits.

Now that I've put the pieces together, I've semi-concluded that we were most probably thrown in a fishing village on the mainland because I seriously do not remember getting on the ferry or any other water vehicle - and I have elephant memory. By golly, we were really quite stupid suckers or maybe so put-off by the horrible discovery, I obliterated the most part of the trip. I remember visiting a temple on the supposed island which was surrounded by overgrown lalang and really, that's about all I remember about that leg of the trip. OMG, I seriously think we never even made it to the island.

Part II.

The little Peanut has been wanting to go to the beach. We decided and promised to take her to a beach during her school holidays. As the holidays approached rapidly, we came down to 2 options - east coast (Kuantan area) or west coast (Lumut/Pangkor). I wanted the east, the South China Sea. I remembered accompanying my mom on a business trip to Teluk Chempedak, Kuantan earlier in the same year of that (expletive) dreadful Pulau Pangkor trip. I liked the place because although it was no Pulau Tioman of 5 years before, the sand was white and the water was clearer and less murky than my Straits of Malacca water playground. That versus smelly rat-infested fishing village which may not even have been Pangkor, my pick was a no-brainer. However, we had decided to go on this trip with another family who had a very eager-to-be-big-sister 6 year old daughter (which doesn't look like it's happening). Let's just say that the other 3 adults in our party enjoys food much more than I. While I do enjoy a good meal when presented or chanced upon and do have salivating cravings on and off, I am no foodie. I eat to live, not live to eat. So they pretty much veto-ed me. Food tops beach.

Having settled for the west coast, it was a toss between mainland and Pulau Pangkor so obviously for the foodies, it was the mainland. That was fine with me as we decided that we could still make a day trip to Pulau Pangkor. As you would have guessed rightfully so, I had resorted to my Pelangi Beach Resort fantasy. After all, wasn't Pangkor Laut Resort where Jodie Foster stayed in in Pulau Pangkor? (WRONG!!!!) I had been to the dogdy part of Pulau Pangkor. This time we will go the advertisement-friendly part of the island and all faith will be restored.

The hotel we stayed at was rather deep in from the town area via a narrow, winding road but it was self-sufficient. It had to be that far in. There's a private beach, but unfortunately for me, no white sand, no crystal clear water but it was good enough. It had coconut and pine trees, lazy chairs and most importantly, it was clean. We took Peanut down to the beach on the first evening and I made it a point to take her there every day of our stay for that was the main aim of this little holiday. She was a scardy-cat at first but her confidence grew as the days passed.

Fast forward 22 years and I finally arrived at Pulau Pangkor again, or was it my maiden visit? The only way to Pulau Pangkor was by ferry. No bridge, nothing. I found out that the ferry service starts at 6am and ends at 7pm, so that kind of confirms that we never made it to the island on my school trip because we definately arrived at "Pulau Pangkor" at night and elephant memory here does not have any recollection whatsoever of getting on a ferry to or fro. We were so conned on our school trip. How come it didn't cross our minds back then? Such deluded teenagers. The upside to this revelation was fantasy Pelangi Beach Resort revived. Pulau Pangkor was crap because I was never on it. There was hope.

While on board the ferry (Peanut, by the way, was having a whale of a time), I was messing around with the GPS map application on my phone when I suddenly realised that there was another island called Pulau Pangkor Laut next to Pulau Pangkor, further out into the sea. OK, so Pangkor's current prime marketing tool called Pangkor Laut Resort, host to the rich and famous and Jodie Foster was actually on a separate private island? So, it is possible that Pulau Pangkor is still the crappy, smelly island I remembered or thought I remembered?

The jetty and pier area was a new construction with big words of welcome in updated silver 2D fonts backed by colorado bricks for a background. There was a bazaar, although relatively unoccupied and a swarm of boys and men of various shades of tan and hair dye shoving photocopied too-many-times-over flyers offering taxis and car rentals. We engaged the car rental service of Ah Fatt for a 2-hour block which he claimed was more than adequate time for us to have lunch and drive on the west coast of the island (the more scenic coast, I read). He told us to avoid the east coast as the roads were very windy and accident prone. Ahh... that was where my Pelangi Beach Resort must have been. Besides, I saw a couple of resorts on this coast in one of the maps.

There was no fancy, romantic resort. Only wooden shacks for water sports business and what looked like stalls in the midst of construction. There was accommodation, but nothing fancy. It was the kind of accommodation where I would be tiptoeing around feeling eekie and complaining about the toilet and shower. We saw an island with water chalets in the sea - that must have been Pangkor Laut Resort, but there was no hint of what could have been my fantasy Pelangi Beach Resort of the 80s. We stopped by at the beach which was nicer than the one at our hotel but there was no fine white sand and crystal clear water, not even close.

22 years later, still got conned. And you would think I'd learn, growing up playing in the straits. FAIL!!!!

Haircut Mayhem.

2010-09-15T23:31:00.008+08:00

Children, this is what happens when you refuse to get your hair cut by a "professional" i.e. anyone besides your parents who are not hairdressers. When Missy was barely a month old, we took her to get her traditional head-shave for her full moon. She didn't even cry while Aunty Jenny's (SIL's aunt) electric shaver reverberated over her little head. It took many, many months for her hair to grow to the state when it needed a new cut and when that happened (she was about 18 months old), she just let Aunty Jenny snip away. Aunty Jenny snipped so much off that when we emerged 10 minutes later, contained-shock swept across the faces of our party.

Months later, Keat and I went for our haircut and took Missy along with us. As soon as my hairdresser started cutting my hair, she flew into an incessant crying fit. Several months after that we drove to our hairdresser again and before we could even park the car, she somehow recognized the place and started retaliating. We ended up taking her to Aunty Jenny again, not without a fight and peptalk. We had to tell her that Aunty Jenny was only going to comb her hair while she sat on her Daddy's lap.

Intermittently, my SIL has been giving her a couple of snips here and there just to keep it neat but at one point she refused to get her hair cut by anybody. One Sunday afternoon, after much coercion, she agreed to let us cut her hair so what did we do? We pounced on the opportunity and snipped off her fringe so much that she resembled Janeane Garafolo in Reality Bites. The picture above was taken a few weeks later. Obviously the responses we got were not favourable - tongue clicks and shaking heads which basically translated to "WTF were you guys thinking???!!!" Oh well...

Now this is what happens when you let a professional cut your hair, although this process took 2 site-visits, noodles and a promise to visit the bicycle store. We drove by the neighbourhood hairdresser which had just opened for business that morning. Since it was empty, we decided to take her for a "tour" to show her that there was no loud, vibrating noises and there was nothing to be afraid of. Still, Missy adamantly shook her head in disagreement. So we told her that we would return after having some Pontian noodles (which was crap, by the way) a few doors away. After our meal, we went back to the hairdresser who was already serving a few customers. Again, it took alot of coercion and pep-talking by us and 2 sweet-bribes by the hairdresser before she finally relented and sat on her Daddy's lap and let her hair be cut. See the wonderful results?

In the meantime, we have been prepping her up for her next haircut by reminding her of her "bravery" and sweet rewards. We seem to be on the right track. Let's hope it lasts.

24-hour clinic adventure.

2010-09-13T13:36:00.004+08:00

The little one had been purging all afternoon and we were taking turns accompanying her to the toilet, sometimes within minutes. When we got home from Malacca that night, we decided to take her to the doctor. Being a Saturday night and a public holiday, our options were like zilch with only one 24-hour clinic operating. Approaching the clinic, I saw that there was only one patient either waiting to see the doctor or to be dispensed. I stood at the counter and waited for one of the employees (I wouldn't dare call them nurses) to take notice of me. I observed them for about 2 minutes - one was talking to the patient at the Dispensary area, the other looking busy with paperwork and occasionally took the time to look up and gawk at her colleague who was talking to the patient. Just then, another family walked it. There I was, still standing at the counter making some visible body movements so as to get their attention without being rude. At least another minute went by, wasted. I could see that the other woman behind me was doing the same. Finally, the BusyBee turned to me and asked if I wanted to see the doctor. Now it was my turn to gawk at her. I held my tongue from subtly lashing out a smart-ass remark for I knew for sure it would go to waste. I thought about her question and told her that I had brought my daughter to see the doctor. As soon as that left my mouth, I thought to myself "What's the freakin' difference and why did I even bother to explain?"

So the turnover from the consultation room was brisk to my liking. The waiting room was fast filling up and I was glad that we were next in line. The doctor was very efficient and answered our questions with much conviction and confidence. He explained the medication, we thanked him and staggered into a packed waiting room. There was no more available seats room so we started mocking around at the weighing & measuring scales entertaining ourselves. After that novelty wore off, I started reading the wall poster on contraception. Bored with that, we paced around and the only place I could paste myself was right where it all started, at the counter. Again, my presence was ignored while I observed the BusyBee and her accomplice. BusyBee was busy recording what looked like names into a ledger in what seemed like an eternity while the accomplice was motioning around haphazardly looking for medication. In this meantime, Ms Caitlin had already made a new friend in the clinic and had 2 visits to the neighbouring pet store.

Finally, and this has got to be a good 20 minutes at least, BusyBee looks up at the sea of people in the waiting room and mumbled something. I saw the lips moving, I didn't hear anything but I knew it was for us. She showed me a bottle of medication, mumbled something about 5ml. "5ml is one teaspoon right?", I asked, asking for trouble. BusyBee took up a syringe to which I told her I did not need a syringe but "5ml is one teaspoon right?" BusyBee then took up a feeding cup which I also declined and resigned my attempt by shaking my head which sent out vibes of NEVERMIND!!! She placed the bottle into the customary white plastic bag and just stood there, possibly waiting for my payment (she didn't tell me how much) while I stood there waiting for her to show me the 2nd medication. Going nowhere, I asked her about the second medication to which she bluntly replied, "That one no stock". I batted my eyelids in disbelief and asked her what was the first medication for. She said it was for the stomach pain and which meant that there was no medication for the diarrhoea, which was the reason why we came to the clinic in the first place. I relayed that to her but all she could come up with was "No stock". Brilliant. I just stood there and stared at her and then like a wave of electric shock which brought her to her senses, she suggested that she write us a prescription to get it from the pharmacy ourselves. DUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously, am I asking too much for a tinge of common sense? Seriously???

The Book Depository.

2010-08-31T19:58:00.005+08:00

Note: I am a free-thinker and I do have a little phobia when it comes to fanatical (that's very subjective tho!) Christian preaching due to past experiences. I respect peoples' believes in their religion but get a little put off when they try to rub it in my face, telling me I'm misguided and need to be shown the right way, which is their way. No offence intended, and I sincerely hope none taken.

The Friday before my 36th birthday, I received 2 padded envelopes in the office mail. It was from the Book Depository. Now, I don't know about you, but I have never heard of this Book Depository. In fact, I regret to report that I have been slacking terribly in my reading ever since we've had the little one. So anyway, I eyed the 2 packages rather suspiciously and open the one closer to hand. I peeked in and saw a rather small book, which could possibly pass off as a booklet. On the cover illustration it said "The Last Lecture" and there was a piece of paper slotted like a bookmark in between 2 pages. Judging from the title and the size of the book I immediately thought "Oh My God! Someone sent me a Hallelujah book and bookmarked me the page of prime importance telling me of my impending doom." I don't know about you, but we used to randomly receive Christian books in the mail when I was growing up and I always wondered where these people found the money to print and post all these books for FREE? and hence my immediate reaction. I opened the book to the page with the paper bookmark expecting to see some lines specifically highlighted to draw attention to the right way but there was no such thing. I removed the paper book mark and instantly saw a familiar name printed on it. Only then did put it together that it was a birthday present from my TwistedSista. Thank you for the pleasant surprise, am enjoying the book midway.

Just Ranting.

2010-08-31T08:37:00.002+08:00

Wow! It has been so long since I wrote anything here and I do realise that. Am I short of anecdotes that used to pepper my life or have I lost the zest to write? Am I so caught up in my life balancing my daily chores at work, home and as a semi-full time mom? Sometimes when something seemingly funny happens, I tell myself I will have to blog it, whether or not anyone reads it because it would be nice to read about it again. But when I attempt to get to it, I am just so damn exhausted and brush it off. Quite tragic, really. Despite the many failed regurgitations, I am eternally grateful that those note-worthy but didn't-make-it-to-the-blog-coz-I-was-buggered/lazy anecdotes circled around my beloved circle of sistas. Sistas who made it easy to belt out whatever was on my mind, who never judged me but gave me opinions with a dollops of laughter and often interjected with irrelevant suggestions. But that is what makes them all so special and irreplacable.

HAIL SISTAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

New-Age Rhymes.

2009-10-21T11:10:00.002+08:00

Me : Hey Diddle Diddle the cat and the fiddle

The cow jumped over the

Missy: MOON

Me : The little dog laughed

Missy: HAHAHA

Me : To see such sport

And the dish ran away with the

Missy: PHONE

SMS = Simply Message Someone

2009-09-04T23:29:00.003+08:00

Caitlin loves anything with buttons, but she especially loves handphones. More specifically, she loves mine. Her kiasu-tic father, much aware of her fondness, keeps his well away from her and in a casing so that it is less obvious to her. She has successfully deleted many of my contact numbers from my phonebook (yes, I did have it on keypad lock!), some numbers over and over again (I keep keying em in, she keeps deleting em). At one point she deleted so many numbers that the first name in the phonebook started with "C".

Her favourite unfortunate victim was one of my customers named Alan. She kept deleting his number and every time he called, I would look at the familiar number trying to figure out who it was while he jump started the conversation, assuming I knew who he was. Sometimes I would try to match the face with the voice and keep quiet while I did the puzzle and he would go "Eh, Alan laaaa".

Of late, she has got a new victim, another customer named Adrian. A couple of weeks ago I got a SMS from him which read "what?". When I checked my sent messages, I discovered that she had sent him something like "Cabba". I think she did it again a couple of days later. To avoid further embarassing incidents such as this, I created a new contact "A" just so that Adrian wouldn't be the first name in the list. Well, that didn't last long because she managed to delete that contact too after a few days.

Yesterday I was following-up with someone who had to delay something he owed me because he was having a cold war with his wife. There is also a private joke between us that Cherating was the place to solve any problem in the world. I was typing him a SMS and got interrupted halfway so I didn't actually manage to send him the message. It went something like "Is your cold war over? I told you to take XX to Che" (I didn't even finish typing "cherating"). About an hour later, I got this SMS from Adrian "LOL! Sorry I don't know them. And I don't know about the cold war" Yup, Caitlin sent him my draft message.

She plays with my phone so much that she discovered how to turn on the camera by herself. Then she progressed to viewing the pictures in a slideshow with music, something even I didn't bother trying. A couple of times she attempted to create a new blog through the phone and I've seen her looking at screens I never even ventured to. She loves looking at videos of herself over and over - something she learnt to do by herself. Today she was watching the videos and fidgeting so I took that as a cue to looked at the phone. I saw an unfamiliar screen and then the Internet logo. I immediately took the phone away from her and cancelled whatever she was doing. A few minutes later, I received a SMS from Adrain (again!) "LOL! Very cute" and I thought to myself, oh &^%$#@!! what did she do now???!!! This time she sent a video of herself "swimming" on the floor. How embarassing is that!!! Luckily it was a rather short video with no audio except for someone whistling and the jingling of her anklet. This time when I apologized to Adrian, I felt compelled to further clarify that I was not a mother overly obsessed with my daughter that I frequently sent out videos of her to acquaintances.

I have just created 4 new blank contact persons in my phonebook to precede "Adrian". Let's see how long it will take for her to delete them.

CATastrophic.

2009-08-21T21:43:00.003+08:00

That *&^%$#@! *&^%$#@ cat.

I caught it in our kitchen a couple of times before and like any sane adult 20 times bigger than the wretched feline, I screamed my head off. Would have bolted in the opposite direction had my shrieks not sent the darn cat out the door faster than I could u-turn. A few weeks ago I saw it slinking by in the porch like it was the king and I just wanted to give it a kick up its furry arse.

About a month ago, I left some chicken rendang on the kitchen counter and as usual, we left the kitchen door open to air the house. We went up to give Caitlin a shower and put her to bed. Keat left to meet someone and in less than 10 minutes I went downstairs to find rendang all over the kitchen counter. I called Keat to ask him if he accidently knocked over rendang (and decided not to clean up) which was quite unlikely. Upon closer inspection, I realised that it was actually nibbled pieces of chicken bones on the counter and the skinny chicken wing still in the bowl had been nibbled at. Why that *&^%$#@!! cat!!! I cursed the darn creature to get belly ache from all the spices. Well, no such thing because about an hour later, I opened the kitchen door to find it sitting right by the door, probably trying to get in again.

Since then, I have been very careful with the kitchen door, much as I hate it - i.e. I have to keep it closed whenever I left the kitchen. Last Monday morning, I opened Caitlin's room window and went downstairs to cook her food and feed her her morning milk. While pottering around in the kitchen, I heard some noise upstairs but I thought it was just the wind or something had fallen or even that it might have been next door as all our doors were open. After completing my chores, I was ready to take Caitlin up for her bath and remembered to CLOSE THE KITCHEN DOOR, what more since I had cooked some fish and left it in the stove to cool. Suddenly Caitlin who was near the staircase made a funny "ooh ooh" sound and when I turned to look at her, the stupid cat ran by me and headed for the kitchen door. Since the door was already closed, I had to open the door for the king and managed to finally give it a kick up its furry arse. Meanwhile, Caitlin was in a state of shock, as was I. I asked her where the cat came from and she pointed up the staircase.

When we went upstairs, I noticed a big wet patch on Caitlin's mattress. It was a disgustingly massive patch. I cursed and swore, shut the window and took the whole mattress downstairs. I think the mattress cover was partly waterproof because when I tossed the mattress outside, there were puddles of water on the floor. That was how much piss there was. When I went upstairs, I also noticed trickles of piss on the floor YUCK. Luckily the garbage truck was due to come by that morning and I asked the guy to please take the damn mattress away. &^%$#ing CAT!

Obviously I was pissed off (pun intended) and kept bitching about it the whole day. That night when Caitlin went to her room, she was pointing at the void where her mattress used to be. I got her a new mattress and she soon settled down while I was still grumbling (ok bitching) about the stupid cat. Then suddenly she looked at me, pointed at the window and said "Cat. Walk, walk". Pointed at the mattress, said "walk" and pointed at the door and said "walk". Wow, so she did understand what happened :) My bitching did get to her.

By the way, the &^%$#@! cat was back lurking by her window last night. We chased it away, it jumped down to the porch. Keat went down to chase it away and in panic, it broke one of our flower pots. My neighbour is keen on poisoning it. I'm just glad I got a chance to kick his arse. STUPID &^%$#@! cat.

The Queen.

2009-06-27T14:20:00.002+08:00

I'm not sure if cockroaches are irresponsible and vindictive, but I know for the a fact that they are downright filthy. The Queen of the Cockroaches does exist. Her name is Geetha Kaur and she now lives in Puchong.

We know that our office building is host to a republic of roaches but we also know that if you keep your office clean, you effectively keep them at bay. Since the arrival of the Queen of the Cockroaches at our office, we have noticed bolder appearances of the roaches in the office. We had the pest control do their thing but the roaches were still all over the place, but especially at her corner. The roaches essentially have a par-tay after she leaves the office. Sometimes we go to her place to leave her messages or answer the phone and the roaches will be crawling all over the table, monitor and phone. If you lift up a file, you essentially uncover a whole slew of roaches hiding for some privacy. I swear that there are times when they are doing the Conga across her table. We have repeatedly told her to keep her place clean, just the basics - if you're gonna eat in the office, throw out all the packaging; do not leave your packed teh tarik in the office overnight and just general cleanliness but she would tell us that it was just that the place was ridden with cockroaches. We would still find her wastepaper basket full of food wrappings, her tea would be curdled in the plastic bag, days old. Once when she decided not show up for work for a few days, we found 3 or 4 takeaway microwavable containers with food remnants on her table. When we asked her if she wanted to save the containers she just smiled with embarassment. When we were cleaning up my present room which was rarely used then, we didn't find a single cochroach. Not one. The room was ideally dark, suitable for roaches except that maybe it was too clean. There was even a cockroach in the scanner and when you asked her to scan something, she would happily scan your document and it was possibly a proud moment for her to see her loyal subjects in the finished product. Once I asked her for a file and when I opened the file, I must have raided a cockroach orgy because a whole battalion of cockroaches ran helter skelter all over the file. I threw the file out the door and one of my guys started banging the file on the ground to get rid of them. While all this was happening, she just stood there and laughed.

This is the classic though. She had scribbled someone's phone number on an envelope flap and too lazy to rewrite it in her notebook, she tore off that part of the envelope and pasted it in her notebook with selotape - except that there were cockroach legs beneath the transparent tape. We came up with a possible scenario. The roach was enroute to the dancefloor (i.e the table) and unfortunately got trapped at the tape dispenser. When she discovered this she just flicked or peeled the roach off while its legs were left stuck to the tape and when she wanted to use the tape she was too darn lazy to dispose the part with the legs. Or maybe she just wanted to keep the legs as a work of art, like the roach in the scanner.

Thankfully, she has left the office and miraculously, there are no more cockroaches in the office. We only spotted one a couple of months ago and that was it. That is why she is the Queen of the Roaches. Her loyal subjects left along with her. For the past year we have been mocking her and what she does when the roaches cross her path during the day. Yesterday, we went out for dinner and the office boy confirmed our mockery. He said that she just picks them up or flick them off when they walk on the glass portion of her table, nonchalantly brushes them off her table, stumps them with the back of her pen or snaps them dead with her ruler. The girl that sits at her place now also recently discovered a whole archipelago of chewing gum under the table.

Totally disgusting. But you know what is the scarriest thing? Now that she is married, she claims that she is the one that does the housework. I suppose her house must be the new Cockroach Central.

Surprising in Singapore.

2009-06-12T22:08:00.009+08:00

It was impromptu. From a casual chat online about making a trip down to Singapore, I booked my flight the next night. One main push factor was because Jacquie who now resides in Australia was going to be there that weekend. My last meeting with Jacquie was crammed into an hour in Perth two months ago, way too stingy a time frame to catch up. Besides, my other friend Selina was due to have her second baby soon. The last time I saw the both of them, besides the one hour with Jacquie was a year and a half ago when they came to visit me and my new bub. Anyhow Joyce and I decided that we should make my impending visit a little surprise for Jacquie and Selina. I was brimming with excitement at the prospect of spending the weekend with my gals and away from my tantrummy toddler.

It must be made known that my accomplice Joyce is notorious for not answering her phone or checking her phone regularly for missed calls or SMSes which is quite ironic, considering she works at a telecommunications company. On Friday morning, I received a text from her saying that she had to tell her son I wasn't coming as there was a high probability that he would blurt that out to his favourite Aunty Jacqs who was due to arrive in Singapore that day, a day before me. I immediately replied and asked her for her address. The day went by and still no reply from Joyce. After dinner, I texted her for her address again but nothing. An hour or so later, 3 of my interval-ed calls went unanswered. I knew that she was with Jacquie by then but it was already past 11pm and I thought to myself, OK, she's taking this surprise a little too far. I called her husband and it went to voicemail, but I could have gotten his old number since I buggered up my contact list when my phone died last year. While I was trying to call Joyce, I got a text from Sara who now lives in Singapore asking me when I was going to be there. Unfortunately, she too did not have Joyce's address or home phone number.

When I woke up at 5am the next day, I eagerly checked my phone anticipating the address but still nothing. At 7am while having breakfast with Keat at the airport, I left Joyce a voicemail when she did not answer my call. Just before I got on the plane, I texted her prompting for her address again and switched off my phone (By the way, it was so much better to fly. I was getting into the thud of Fall Out Boy when we were told to turn off all eletronic devices. That sure beats taking a 5 hour bus ride). Anyway, while waiting to get off the plane, I turned on my handphone again anticipating the long awaited address. Now I know that the flight crew will tell you not to turn on your handphone until you get into the terminal but I also know that most people will choose not to adhere to it and turn on their phones anyway. I know this because everytime I'm waiting to get off the plane, I hear peoples' phones beeping with incoming welcome messages so obviously mobile coverage was available while still on the plane. That day, for the first time in my life, I was one of those people and boy did I choose the wrong country to do that.

At the immigration counter, the attending officer asked me for a full lodging address. I had just put "SENGKANG" on the embarkation form, a memory guess. I wasn't even sure if I had gotten it right. I had to sheepishly tell him that I did not have the full address and so he asked for a contact number. Well at least I got the place right. While waiting for my bag, I eagerly checked my phone only to find that my phone was for "Emmergency Calls Only". A detour to the washroom after picking up my bag and still I had no mobile coverage. With nothing else for me to do, I decided to get a cab. I told the taxi driver that I needed to get to Sengkang but I didn't know the block and that I would try to get the address enroute, while complaining about not having any mobile coverage. For some strange reason, I remembered the name of the shopping mall in Sengkang and checked with the taxi driver (So elephant memory does store some useful info). I told the very nice taxi driver to take me to that mall if I did not get the address in time. While fiddling with my phone and complaining to the taxi driver about my lack of coverage, he asked me for Joyce's number and called her 4 times while I restarted my phone. He too didn't get any reply and this was part of our conversation:-

"I think your friend still sleeping la. Wah! Now what time? 9 o'clock and your friend still sleeping ah?!"

"Where did you fly from?" "KL"
"What time did you get up?" "Errr about 5am"
"Wah! You got up at 5am to come here and your friend is still sleeping??!!!"

He also kept insinuating that my friend had forgotten about my impending visit while I defended my best friend saying that she very well did not, but just didn't realise that I was waiting for her address - while threatening to butcher the woman when I see her. While all this was happening, I managed to finally get coverage after restarting my phone - serves me right for not abiding by the strict instruction to not to turn on your phone until you get into the terminal in Kiasu-land. I got a text from Sara, hoping that I managed to get the address and suggested that I contact Selina since I was already caught in a situation.

So I had no choice and had to ruin the surprise by calling Selina who lived a block away from Joyce. 2 rings and she was on the other end. I had to ackwardly ask her for Joyce's address. When she heard me repeating "Ah uncle, block 231!" the cat was out of the bag. She told me that they had gone to the market so instead I decided to go to her place. The taxi driver was pleased that this friend was up and pottering about at 9am and took me directly to the lift lobby so that I would not wander off into another block and get lost in the giant maze of HDB flats. When I got to Selina's and settled in, we decided that we should now turn the trick on Joyce. Believe it or not, she was still not answering her phone so Selina called Joyce's sister and asked her to wake Joyce up (we ascertained that she was NOT at the market with Jacquie) and to return call urgently.

About 10 minutes later Joyce started calling both our phones and we decided to shake things up a little by not answering our phones. Then came in a text from Joyce with her address (hmm... a wee bit too late) and we decided that Selina should answer her phone. She told Joyce that I had asked for her address and that I was possibly stranded somewhere and that we got abruptly disconnected. 2 more text messages came in with apologies and asking me where I was and if I was still in Singapore. Joyce figured that I couldn't possibly be stranded but was pissed off with her and took the next flight home! She called her husband to ask if I had called him and not getting anywhere, she decided to call the unfamiliar number which left 4 missed calls on her phone. The gentleman on the line told her that a girl had used his phone to call her. That was enough to clear me of having left the country. When she still did not get any response from me, she called the taxi driver again. This time she clarified if he was the cabby and asked him where he dropped me off. He innocently told her that he had dropped me off at Block 232, "at your other friend's house".

Round about the time she figured out that I was in the safety of Selina's house, I decided to answer her next call. I eventually made my way over to her place and was glad that I managed to surprise Jacquie. It was a great weekend spent catching up and talking about any damn thing. We were supposed to call it a night at 12am but I had applied for Extension of Time and we retired to the bedroom at 1am where we continued to bitch until almost 3am. Then Jacquie and I continued to 4am!

It was just so nice to pick up where we left off. I think this will just have to be earmarked as an annual ritual. A last surprise, I met another good friend whom I got to know from Joyce and Jacquie and gang at the airport, on the same flight home. By the way, that was the nicest taxi driver ever!

Round & Round the Garden....

2009-05-25T21:57:00.005+08:00

like a teddy bear...

Not quite. That's a little rhyme I play with the bub. It was more like Round & Round University Hospital.

One of my colleagues unfortunately is down with Dengue fever and we went to pay him a visit this afternoon. It didn't take us long to get to the hospital, we got there before 2pm. We finally found a parking spot after tailing a beehive of cars in concentric circles and made our way to the Lobby. His girlfriend told us that he was in Ward 11U, Room 3 on the 3rd floor, Menara Timur (East Block).

When we got to the lobby, a lady behind a counter and surgical mask told us to get out of the current building, head towards the left into the Main Block or was it North Block (it was referred to as the U Block, so am not sure if U was for Utama or Utara) and something about taking the lift to the 2nd floor. In the U Block we stopped to ask a man behind what seemed like an information counter. He told us to go towards the end, which was quite a distance and take the lift to the 3rd floor. Upon exiting the lift, it didn't matter if we took a left or right, it would ultimately lead us to the East Block. From there, I'm not too sure if he gave any further directions but somehow I think we followed it religiously and ended up on the Psychiatric Ward on the 3rd floor. Ok then. No wonder all those people in the sardine-packed lift were looking at us kind of wierdly. The ward was pretty much empty and since we did not see a Ward 11U, we stopped to ask another lady. Imagine our surprise when she told us that 11U was in the U Block, not the East Block which we managed to find our way to after quite a fair bit of a walk. At this point we called his girlfriend who had specifically told us East Block to clarify. Then she got confused and gave us some landmarks which very much resembled the U Block. Ok then. So we went back to the elevator to retrace our steps and asked another lady directions to Ward 11U. She told us to take the elevator down to the ground floor, take a left upon exit, do not go to the clinics but follow the tunnel until we see a row of elevators. Take the lift to the 11th floor. That sounded about right, the ward being 11U. After another long walk at which point I was wishing I had on my flat soled shoes, we waited for and squeezed into an elevator which took too many stops and exited on the 11th floor. Guess what? We ended up on the Pedaetric Ward this time.

Exasperated, we asked a lady behind the counter and she was so effectively nice. She immediately took a piece of paper and drew us a route with explicit details. Another long wait for the elevator which took even more stops on the way down, we were sure we were on the right track finally, only to be stopped by an Indian guy accompanied by his elderly sister with a bandage around her leg. In a nutshell, he was asking us to spare him RM12 to get medication from the Pharmacy. We told him to explain his dire situation to the dispensary but he kept telling us that they would not oblige and he needed the medication. So I gave him RM12, while he tried to show me his bills and documents. I figured if he was gonna con me for RM12, that was his karma he would have to deal with later on. Meanwhile, I was hot and tired of walking up and down the wards so I didn't really care if he was lying. They thanked us profusely and we went along. FINALLY, we found the right ward which was on the 3rd floor, not 11, in the U Block, not the East Block, some 40 minutes later.

We spent about 20 minutes with him. He was much better, having suffered for the past 4.5 days, still married to a drip. When we went back to the car, we realised how near we were actually parked but we had gone through the labyrinth. We met the siblings again, starring at a fire outside from the corridor. We asked the brother if he managed to get the medication to which he nodded gratefully. Then I noticed that the RM12 which I gave him was in the plastic bag which was holding his documents. I pointed it out to him but he was busy nodding and thanking us that I don't think he even got my drift. So I thought BUGGER THAT. I just want to go home.

The Drill.

2009-05-20T12:51:00.004+08:00

I kept to my word, much as I was very tempted to go the other way. The notice of the looming dark cloud called Fire-Drill had been posted at the foyers for 2 weeks and for the past 2 weeks I had been contemplating. Here were my options:-

Screw it! Just stay in the office and let the monotony of the fire alarm complement the clucking of the keyboards
Leave little missy with MIL, come to work, participate in the drill, pick her up later
Not show up at the office until after the drill was over
Imagine it was a real-life situation and react accordingly

On Monday I had decided to go with Option 2. After making the necessary arrangements, I changed my mind the following day when I realised that dropping her off would take longer than the time required to come to work normally. I would probably end up barred from entering the building as the parking areas would be cordoned off. By that evening, I decided to switch to Option 3. Come Wednesday morning, the day of the drill, I was still adamant on sticking to Option 3. Then I decided, NO, a no show would just be as bad as locking myself in the office. Besides, I knew that if I did a no-show, the others in the office would be pretending they did not hear the fire alarm (I already got hints of this the day before). So like an aunty, I came in and told them that this was something we should do and take it seriously. Reluctantly, they agreed.

It wasn't so bad, except that of all days, Missy decides to sleep as soon as she got in and she was fast asleep when the alarm went off. So I had to wake her from her deep sleep, something I don't like doing because she just doesn't get enough naps throughout the day. Although you are supposed to leave all your belongings behind, I took her water and my handphone, put on her shoes and marched down 10 floors, and I did this in no rush. Luckily the staircase was empty (I think most people had cheated and departed by elevator earlier) except for 2 guys whom we met around the 4th floor, one of whom stuck in cigarette at his lips! Lugging my 9kg cargo called Missy, I told him that you can't be smoking if it's a real fire to which he said he was just placing the ciggy there to prepare for light up when he got down. Plus point that many people probably cheated or feigned deafness - No ketiak smells in the stairway!

It was alright. We took a spot under the shady trees. While it was hot, it wasn't that horrible and the whole exercise took less than half an hour to complete. I'm proud of myself that I kept my word and did some exercise that morning :)

Abandoned.

2009-05-18T13:12:00.002+08:00

I am a softie. I cried like a twit when I had to leave my bub at my in-laws 2 weeks ago.

A week before the fateful day, I prepped the bub up daily. I didn't care if she understood me, I just went on and on. On Thursday, Mommy is going to send you to nyan-nyan's place ok? Then you will stay there on Thursday night and Friday night. Then on Saturday afternoon, Yee-Sok will send you back home and Poh-Poh will be there waiting for you. You'll spend the rest of Saturday and Sunday with Poh-poh and on Monday evening, Mommy & Daddy will be back, OK? You be a good girl ok? I'm sure she knew we were going somewhere but didn't think we'd leave her behind. She was looking at our suitcase and was bewildered at all her stuff I was stuffing into and out of the car boot. When we hugged her to say goodbye, I just started to cry and then she started to whine and didn't want to let her dad go which made my heart sink further. So how? Lured her to the fridge (she loves looking in the fridge and poking at the stuff inside) and we left.

I was heavy-hearted because this was the first time I would leave her for more than 24 hours not counting the time that she was jaundiced and I had to leave my barely week old bub in the incubator with hospital-made eye mask to bathe under the UV light. I cried like an idiot too but that was the hormones. More so because she was running a fever on the morning of my departure. But this was something I had to do. I spend alot of time with her and she drives me up the wall every now and then, mostly ending in me raising my voice (and feeling guilty afterwards), some physical abuse (she kicks me while on the changing table, I smack her wayward legs in return and to prove a point) and my lecture that The world does not evolve around you, you are not the center of the universe but part of it and DON'T THINK YOU CAN KICK AND SCREAM TO GET YOUR WAY WITH ME COZ THAT'S SO NOT HOW IT IS, MISSY! Yea, so for the sake of my sanity and well-being, this timeout was something I had planned on doing even before I had her. I admit that it was harder than I thought it would be, but a couple of minutes after the departure, I was composed and ready for my holiday. I just hate saying goodbye, that's all. And I'm a softie.

Miss Customer Service.

2009-02-09T15:39:00.005+08:00

We bought a DIY table from IKEA two weeks ago and it took Keat more than 2 hours to screw in 20 screws to attach the legs to the table top. Because of the Chinese New Year holidays, I barely used the table. I used it twice for long durations, long being about 6 to 8 hours and maybe about 3 times for durations less than an hour. While doing some work during the second of the "long duration", I felt that the table top was curved downwards in the middle. I took a few looks and decided that it was probably an optical illusion. A couple of days ago, I was sorting out some documents on the floor by the table and again I felt that the table top was convexed. So this time I took a side view and lo and behold, it was sinking in the middle. When I pressed my hand upwards from beneath the table, I could hear crispy crackling sounds. I also noticed a small warp at the edge of the table.

Naturally, I dug out the receipt and connected myself to a customer service representative of the company. I truly believe that people can tell from your voice if you are smiling while speaking on the phone and from the inarticulate self-introduction of Ms Sue I could tell that it was not going to be a smiley, pleasant conversation. Nevertheless, I politely explained to her what had happened and she asked me what I placed on the table. I told her it was a notebook and a couple of files. She told me that I could bring the table top back for an exchange. I in turn informed her that it took us more than 2 hours to assemble the table and thus it was not feasible for me to dismantle the table top or bring the whole table back to the store. Ms Sue goes on to tell me that since it was a non-delivered item i.e. a Cash-and-Carry item, I had to carry it back to get an exchange. I had to reiterate that since it was not exactly the easiest thing to assemble as opposed to their much publisized contention, it was quite impossible for me to bring it back. I could hear her voice getting heavy with irritation when she told me she was making an exception and would get someone to come over to swap the table top but I would have to dismantle and reassemble it myself. That was it. By now, I figured that I have had enough trying to be polite to a customer service representative who was obviously grudging serving customers. So I told Ms Sue that this was not about making an exception but it was about customer service and that I would have willingly brought back the Cash-and-Carry item had it been an easy to assemble or disassemble item.

After getting my details and details of the purchase, she asked me again what I had placed on the table, I suppose to justify her BIG EXCEPTION. I had to repeat that it was just my notebook and some files. She then told me that I was not supposed to put heavy items like notebooks and files for long periods of time on the table top. I told her that the product was displayed at the home office section so obviously I had the intention of using it as a work table. She then told me that it was a STUDY TABLE not a WORK TABLE and so STUDY TABLES were for the purpose of studying, not for the purpose of putting my notebook and files and long usage with my arms resting on the top. They had special tables to cater for computers and its peripherals. Ok Miss Smarty Pants was really starting to piss me off not so much because of her illogical reasoning, but more so because of the tone of voice. The *&^%$#@! BYATCH. So I pointed out to her that people studied with books and those books could well weigh much more than my notebook and files combined. Miss Smart Ass then retorted that it was not meant for long usage. So I told her that if that be the case, they should have clearly specified at the display unit that this was item could not bear items exceeding a certain weight and was not suitable for usage exceeding a specified number of hours. Isn't it great that IKEA condones spending as little time as possible at your study table? I bet sales would have rocketed had this very crucial piece of info been displayed. Can you imagine how many teenagers would have pursuaded their parents to purchase this particular table?!

Anyway, she pissed me off so much that I told her to arrange to collect the whole damn table and a subsequent refund. Miss Customer Service said that she would call me back this evening to confirm on the collection time. Let's see.

Playing With Fire.

2009-02-04T22:33:00.005+08:00

It's dangerously bad that we at the office take fire drills too lightly. For me, I personally feel that this nonchalance stems from my first fire drill experiences - which is from school. Fire drills meant a halt in classes, a chance to mock around with my friends even if it meant standing in the courtyard in the freaking sweltering heat. We never took it seriously, although one year the Deputy Head Mistress "kidnapped" one of my friends and hid her in the school office just to see if anyone would "miss" her. Of course we didn't - such great friends. Great that she had a point to prove but I think that was possibly the most severe lesson anyone tried to teach us about fires. Perhaps if they got some cute BOMBA guys to explain the dangers of a real building fire and how we could perish easily from suffocation, we would have taken it more seriously.

I have the intension of being a responsible adult and adhere to fire-drills but I succumb to office peer pressure. A couple of months ago the fire alarm went off one afternoon. It went on for quite some time while we went on with whatever we were doing. I figured it was just the annual drill. Just as it was starting to get a little worrying, my friend across the hall comes sauntering into my room telling me that we shouldn't bother going down because the fire was in the 3rd basement in one of the opposite blocks - a car was on fire. I went in to the other side of our office to tell my colleagues and someone went "The fire alarm rang meh?" Shortly after that, there was an annoucement on the PA system that the fire was in the basement of our block and at that point, one of my guys comes back in a huff telling us that we should get out. So I grabbed my bag (although I am supposed to leave everything behind), grabbed my child and we all made a hurried dash down the staircase along with some other occupants on the same floor. 10 floors later and out into the open designated area, we see just about everyone we know already there, such responsible adults and shame on us!. So we have a little reunion and mock around - just like how we would have if we were in school I guess. We later learned that the fire was indeed in the 3rd basement of the opposite block and there were 2 or 3 cars on fire. After the smoke cleared, there was the ordeal of climbing up 10 floors so I gladly handed Caitlin to my colleague for the ascend. When I told Keat about it, he gave me a lecture on how we shouldn't have taken things lightly because the entire carpark was connected and a burst gas pipe would have caused serious repercussions. The next day I went back to the office and shared this information with the office people and the person who told me not to go. We all agreed that we should and would take this matter seriously in future.

The fire alarm broke the monotony of this afternoon. After a few seconds, I ask my girl to call the Management Office to check if it was a drill because I remembered seeing a memo about a fire drill or briefing some weeks ago. I hear someone running out of the office and he comes back minutes later announcing there was a real fire. We went to the window and saw rather thick smoke puffing out of a compressor room in the opposite block. Again, like irresponsible adults, we deliberated our next course of action. Someone decided that there was business to settle in the washroom and someone was trying to convince us that it was not serious because the fire was in the opposite block. Personally, I think that someone was just not doing backflips at the prospect of going 10 floors down and up by foot. All for one and one for all, so technically we couldn't do anything until the former someone got out from the washroom. Halfway through this linger a very shrill, panicky voice on the PA System ordered us to evacuate in Malay. We resorted to mocking her because we had somewhat decided that we were staying put, having the advantage of spotting the fire and knowing that we were quite safe. Shouldn't the person who makes these sort of annoucements be someone of a calm nature who can articulate words properly in a situation so that people can hear and understand you though the crappy PA system? I went in to check on my sleeping child and found her awake and a little baffled. I think it was the shrill, panicky voice that woke her up. Then stairs-resistant colleague then tried to justify her petition to stay put while peeking through the window nearest to her (which is further from our view window) announcing that the fire has been put out. I went back to my view window and could still see big cloud of smoke coming out of the room. So much for accurate reporting.

Shrill, panicky woman got on air again ordering the owner of the unit to open the office door as ordered by the firemen. Later a man's voice came on air with seemingly normal "Testing, testing" but when he made his announcement for occupants to return to their units, he was audibly panting, sounding like he had just completed a sprint. Some minutes later, I heard panting man again. Surely he would have caught his breath by now? And why was he not panting when he said "testing" on both occassions? My friend across the floor suspects that it was a "live drill" because it was all too coincidental. There was apparently a meeting between the fire department and management today and the BOMBA officials were still in the premise.

Anyway, drill or no drill, I think we should take this sort of thing more seriously. We could afford to mock around because we had spotted the whereabouts of the fire. It could have been a real fire in our block and that wouldn't have been funny at all. Needless to say, I got a good earful from Keat again. But I also told him that because his company occupied most of their building, employees would tend to take this sort of thing more seriously due to compliance. The last thing you want is a lecture from your boss to take a fire drill seriously. For us, almost each floor on each of the smaller blocks are made up of individual organizations so basically people could chose to do whatever they felt like doing in such a situation.

So I had a decision to make and unfortunately, I made an irresponsible one. I promise to be a resposible fire-alarm abiding citizen in future.

Smokey Suede Shoes.

2008-12-10T09:36:00.006+08:00

My mom told us to get Caitlin a pair of shoes for her first birthday so we ended up with this smokey suede pair - at the expense of my "Little Brother", Mulan's sidekick, the cute little dog which I got from a McDonald's Happy Meal 8 years ago.

A few days shy of her birthday, my friend came over with a pair of Snoopy shoes. I carried Caitlin in one arm, took out a shoe from the Snoopy box and commentated on the lovely shoes. When I pulled at the velcro strap she screamed and quickly turned away crying. Then I remembered (Mother of the Year!) - she was afraid of the sound of peeling velcro and selotape, especially the big ass ones we use in the office. She was so afraid that she couldn't even look at the box after that, let alone the shoes. Slowly somehow, we managed to induce her to look at and touch the box and eventually I could even put the shoes next to me. Then she summoned up her courage to touch the shoes and as luck would have it, she decided to peel at the velcro strap and all hell broke lose again. Subsequent attempts to reintroduce the shoes ended up with lots of crying, retaliation and exasperation.

Over the weekend we went velcro-less shoe shopping and that narrowed my choices to 2 pairs only. Luckily, there were the 2 of the nicest designs. Velcro or no velcro, little miss would kick and cry whenever we showed her a pair of shoes. We had to detour from the shoe section a couple of times because she was kicking up a fuss. However, we decided that like it or not, she would have to learn to wear her shoes. At one attempt I took out the shoes and in order to entice her, I let Little Brother don on the shoes. She was a little intrigued but not intrigued enough to let me put them on for her. That was also the last I saw of Little Brother. She must have kicked him off the stroller during the next detour. Eventually we managed to make her try on a side of the shoes and proceeded with the purchase. It was only later when I realised he was gone :(

Come birthday morning, little missy still would not look at the shoes so her father took them upstairs along with her. This time he let her basset hound Dixie whose paws were just about the right size try on the shoes. That caught her interest and she even went on the examine the shoes on Dixie. Later, while she was asleep, we decided to put the shoes on for her. Even in her sleepy state she knew what we were doing and started kicking and crying. We succeeded eventually, after we distracted her with her sultanas and after a while she didn't even realise they were on. PHEW! Money well spent.

I thought it was quite funny though, that it was all centered around a doggy theme - Snoopy, Little Brother, Dixie the Basset Hound.

Reminicing.

2008-11-12T10:41:00.010+08:00

Over the radio this morning I heard a playback about making prank calls when we were younger. That instantly brought back memories of us playing truant in upper secondary school. We were the CHAMPIONS of playing truant - until we got caught. But that didn't break our spirits, albeit tears and fears. We were back at it again the next year. In our defence, we had good intentions of getting together to group study because the teachers were seriously not teaching anything in school. Of course most of the time the good intentions got transformed to mocking around, watching videos, snoozing, eating instant noodles and making prank calls. Occasionally, our good intentions would set us adrift to the Ujong Pasir seaside. We would plonk by the 2 feet ledge of the seawall with our books and let the salty seabreeze and sunshine get the better of us. Once we even ended up catching guppy-like fish, affectionately naming them Boney & Bart and storing them in a jar in Bird's house.

I loved going to the Ujong Pasir seaside because that was my childhood playground. Going there with my friends brought back a warm, fuzzy feeling of familiarity, a part of my life I never revealed much until I grew much older. I knew the seawalls like the back of my hand. During the evenings when the tide was low, we (our gang of neighbourhood children) would run from afar to gain momentum and up the seawall, usually slowed by our feet sinking into the rough, damp sand. We knew exactly where to step on - which rough red stone and which part of the concrete; we knew which route was fastest and which was easiest. We would run down towards the sea balancing on the wooden makeshift jetty and hop off at the end, the tide daring us. We tried unsuccessfully to catch mudskippers, caught tadpoles in muddy pools and sat in the ditch with a little drain flowing beneath us. Now all that is gone. Gone when we moved away after my parents split up, gone when years later they built a stupid condo on that meagre piece of land.

Anyway, back to our prank calls. We made many but my all time favourite was me being "Mrs. Wong here ah. That day I send in my hairdryer for repair. Ok already ah?" We would giggle in delight when we could hear them scurrying through their records. Cheap thrill. Fast forward 12 or 13 years, come tomorrow I would literally be a Mrs. Wong for 5 years, except that I don't bother using hairdryers. Funny how things turn out.

Secrets.

2008-07-04T15:03:00.002+08:00

If not for us gals, they wouldn't even have been known each other. He was our good friend's boyfriend (now ex) and now the three of them are like BFFs.

I was having a routine chat with my galfriend when his name was brought up and she asked if he had been in contact with Keat recently. I had some vague memory of one of them initiating a call but that was about it. I couldn't remember if it was recently or months ago. So anyway she said that he told her husband that his wife was pregnant but not to tell anyone and the only person who knew was Keat. Later that evening I asked Keat if he had been in contact with him recently and he said yes. Already knowing the answer, I asked, "His wife pregnant ah???" which caught him by surprise. "How you know??" and when he realized who I had been chatting with he defensively added, "He told me not to tell anyone and only D (galfriend's husband) knows". I shot him a glare which indicated trouble and said that obviously "Don't tell anyone" does not apply to your spouse and obviously I found out from my galfriend because "Don't tell anyone" was not applicable in her relationship with her husband.

When I related this to my galfriend the next day, we had a good laugh and she said her husband would probably also have sworn himself to manly secrecy if not for the fact that she was right next to him when the information was exchanged.

Smells Like...

2008-06-27T11:51:00.002+08:00

SHIT LA! That's because it IS shit!

While I was preparing myself to start Caitlin on semi-solid food, I read somewhere (can't remember exactly where) that when you start your child on semi-solid food, the poo will be firmer, more like what we are accustomed to. This is the baffling part. The writer said that the poo will no longer smell sweet and musky like when the babies were solely feeding on milk. HELLO! Shit is shit la. Where got nice smell one??? As far as I am concerned, her poo smelled like shit 6 months ago, and still smells like shit today.

Activity Blocks.

2008-06-24T17:49:00.006+08:00

Stacking Action Blocks. Developmental Benefits - Encourages developing motor skills; Stimulates the senses; Enhances learning through discovery.

I decided to let Caitlin have a go at these Fisher-Price blocks so I dipped into her carton of unpacked stuff and fished out the square box which housed these 3 blocks. Looked all over the box for the opening but there was none, which meant that I was forced to do something I hate doing because it just disrupts the balance of my universe - tear off one of the sealed flaps of the box. Every box should have a designated opening flap! Anyway, having done that I tried to yank out the cardboard skeleton which acted as a shelf that held all the blocks in place. A couple of tugs later, I discovered that one end of this skeleton was glued to the other flap of the box. Tsk! So instead I ruthlessly attempted to disengage the blocks which were attached to the skeleton which was still in the box.

A plastic coated wire was "weaved" through each block and fastened to the shelf by intertwining the two ends of the wire, secured by a plastic bracket and tape on the bottom. Attempting to unfasten these blocks which were still in the box was very ambitious and proved futile. At this point I was starting to work up a sweat and decided that I needed to sit to complete the task. Eventually I managed to detach the skeleton and free the blocks only to face with another obstacle - I still needed to free the blocks off the wire. I had to straighten out the twirly ends of the wire first before attempting to pull out the wire. Tug, tug, yank and nothing happened. Ok then. This was going to involve a little more thought and dexterity! It was learning through discovery all right - I discovered that I had to use my developed motor skills with brewing impatience (which sense is that?) to push in one end of the wire and pull at the other to free it. DANG! The third block required too much dexterity and patience so I said BUGGER IT and took them all downstairs. I presented the 2 free blocks to Caitlin and the problematic one to Keat to sort out.

While Caitlin was discovering and being stimulated, I heard some drawers opening and some clanking noises a yonder. A walk by the kitchen counter revealed some screwdrivers, a disected Fisher-Price block and some disgruntled muttering. By the time the block was presented to her, Caitlin had already completed her developing, stimulating, discovering exercise. Nevertheless, I wanted to show her the third block. These blocks have a little bobbing head with a smiley face on the top (to serve a developmental benefit of course). I placed the last block on the mattress with the bobbing head in the right direction and twisted a knob in one of the activity windows on one of the sides. I noticed that the little picture of the fish was upside down. I twisted the knob the other way and even that picture was upside down. Just as I released a baffled "EH??!!" Keat said as a-matter-of-fact-ly that he reassembled the block upside down.

I guess these activity blocks are for the development benefit of child and parents.

Neighbours.

2008-05-27T11:42:00.002+08:00

Having lived in a condo for 11 years, I somewhat got used to just chatting with my neighbours in the corridors or at the carpark. There was Eric the Nasi Lemak vendor in the unit below - we got aquainted one night when a car caught fire in the external carpark and like all nosy bodies, we hung out at our balconies to watch the bonfire. About a year ago a very, very chatty Shah moved back into his unit after his tenant, the very, very antisocial Mrs. Wong moved to the USA. I don't mean being antisocial like how I see someone I know in a very public place but rather not engage in small talk so I pretend I didn't see them antisocial. You pass her in the corridor, there is no one else and you smile at her because she is one out of your three neighbours and you're invisible antisocial. Then there is Alyssa, more affectionately known to us as "Hot Chic" coz she IS hot and a very nice neighbour. My favourite of them all is the very active, retired couple in the penthouse. Almost everyday they go out golfing (uncle calls it hard work in the sun), I've bumped into them at Bukit Kiara on weekends and auntie plays tennis too. When she saw me with my tennis racket (years ago) she offered a game with me to which I politely declined coz I'm telling you for a fact that auntie will beat the shit out of me.

On landed property though, people tend to spend more time in their porches or outside their houses simply because they can. While that promotes healthy neighbourly socializing, sometimes we see what we'd rather not. For example there are the two guys who live across each other and very much enjoy each other's topless nocturnal company - let's just say that you'd rather see them fully clothed. Across from us is the Teo family and we have deduced that the family recently moved to Singapore and only return on some weekends or during the school holidays. In their absence, Mr Teo Sr pops in almost daily to check on the house and do some chores. From our nosy observations, Mr Teo Sr is a thrifty person. One evening we saw him release the auto gate, put his car (bearing a Malacca number plate) into gear, let the car roll out of the porch before starting the engine. The following conversation ensued between Keat, Will & myself:-

"Wah! Si bey kiasu! Safe money until like that"
Chuckling victoriously, Keat: "Eh! From Malacca one! HAHAHAHAH!!!"

Very defensively, Will : "Aey, Malacca people not like that one"
Will & I: "Second hand car la, Malaccans not so kiasu one"

Anyway, a couple of weeks ago Keat was running around the neighbour at night. Our street is quite dark as most of the houses are still not occupied. When he passed the Teo house, he heard some noises in the unlit porch. Obviously he looked in case there was anything shady going on and there was Mr Teo Sr standing in the porch donning nothing more than a pair of black speedo underwear, fanning himself.

I'm Not Coming to Work Today Because...

2008-05-14T13:36:00.003+08:00

When I left my job 8 years ago, I was cursed by my Senior Manager. Amidst the well wishes he said, "Well, when you have your own staff, you will know..." and smirked. His sentiments I get. Over the years we have had really good staff and arses I'm embarassed to be associated with. Unfortunately, the latter throws the scales out so much that those scales wouldn't even know what balance is.

Almost every other week, somebody would be plagued with illness or feel the need to take unplanned leave for very pertinent issues like "my father-in-law coming for prayers, he suppose to come Saturday but now change to Friday". Like is that my *&^%$#@! problem? Seriously? Here are a few more:-

Mostly on Mondays, "I cannot report to work today because (not in proper English of course)

my grandmother is ill
my grandmother got hospitalized
my grandmother is in the ICU
my mother fell down
I need to take my mother to physiotherapy (we later found pics of her with her girlfriend dated the day before in the historial city of Malacca doing touristy things like clutching an albino python at the Clock Tower)
my relative passed away and I'm upset (when caught disappearing from the office)
I'm going to my house in Seremban and then to the old office to look for the receipts you have been chasing me for (conveniently on a Monday when you had the whole weekend??? And there is nothing left at the old office simply because, gee... I don't know.. WE MOVED???)
my aunt in the old folks home died and there is no one to claim the body (with "stressed out" voice effects); and subsequently
attending aunt's funeral
I fell down from the stairs (and subsequently came to work with bruises on her arms - her friend broke her fall by grabbing her arms)
Swollen toe

Another "legend" who lacked creativity tended to use the same excuses for taking leave or coming in late, not realizing that it was becoming just a wee bit too apparent. I think he had the SMSes in template format:-

got a sore throat and fever (almost every month, that exact combination - almost like a woman's period)
took medication and couldn't wake up (but would look in the pink of health the next day. What did you take? Chloroform???)
there was no water at my place ("so what time did the water come back?" "10 plus." "It's 1.30 now." "Ya, when there was no water I went back to sleep." " Didn't your mom wake you up knowing that you had to go to work?" "Errr... no")
(at 8.45am) I've got an urgent site visit
Tire puncture
Car battery died and had to wait for the guy. Then I had to wait for my brother to take me to some remote place to get new battery because it was a better deal

This is the person with the visiting father-in-law:-

Somebody died
Somebody got admitted to the hospital
Headache
Period pain
Urine infection
Having prayers at home (I truly hope she's praying for her deteriorating health)
Husband having chase pain (no kidding) and I want to take care of him
(and I quote, today's) ...Im hauing bd headache. Recently i bang on the wall it was swalan. Sen dat I got very frequent headache . my head like porking canot slep at al. ...

You get the idea of how those SMSes are constructed. See what I mean when I say I am embarassed to be associated with them? You may wonder why I don't strive to improve her language skills. Don't get me wrong. We do try our level best to help people improve, but I also do believe that in life, there are lost causes.

Doorbell.

2008-05-09T12:03:00.002+08:00

By coincidence our new neighbour is a good friend of my brother's. My uncle Pete used to give him and his brothers a ride to and from school and his family lives right next door to my dad in Melaka.

Yesterday a family friend, Stewart, whom we all know through Uncle Pete was scheduled to come over to take some measurements. I was upstairs giving Caitlin a mop so I asked Keat to wait downstairs. We have not installed a doorbell yet, you see. Anyway, Keat got distracted nattering on the phone and then came up to play with Caitlin (whom by the way is kicking her legs in excitement while I type. I think she likes the click-clack of the keyboard). Suddenly, we heard voices downstairs and Stewart and my neighbour, Will were in our house.

When he arrived, Stewart rang the non-functioning doorbell, called and SMS me but my phone was not with me. So Will climbed over the fence, went into the house and released the autogate for Stewart. Think we should stall installing the doorbell and put a sign to ring the neighbour's instead :)

Growing.

2008-05-08T13:44:00.003+08:00

Caitlin's been on an exponential spree over the last few months and I regret not documenting it but I plead not guilty for we were busy getting evicted from the condo (a very tearful time for me, having lived there for 11 years to the date), camping at the in-laws for 3 weeks and then finally moving into our new home. So here, lest the memories escape me.

She's been very facinated with her fist and has a tendency of suddenly trying to stuff as much of it into her mouth - along with anything else in sight (my fingers, her stuffed animals, her hanky, the parts of the pacifier you are not supposed to stuff into your mouth).

Everyone's been asking me if she has started to turn yet and I go, oh ya, she rolls to her side and then rolls back (Turning what!). Don't think that was what they had in mind. Anyway, yesterday while I was getting ready for work, she was in the cot nattering to herself and letting out an occasional cry or two to see if I would respond when I heard some odd squealing noises coming from the cot. Madam had flipped over on her stomach - and couldn't turn back. Limbs flailing wildly, she looked like a sky diver. I left her to her own devices to "unflip" herself and when I returned I found our friend fast asleep on her stomach. Guess she figured she might as well take a nap since flipping back was not happening.

Yesterday, the curtain man came to install our curtains and he said she would be afraid of the loud noise of the drill. Sure enough, when he started drilling downstairs, she started to wiggle her body looking ever so uncomfortable and tried to cover her ears with her arms.

She has also started to recognize people and would throw a fuss if someone she was unfamiliar with carried her and neither of us were in sight. She is also starting to be manipulative, trying to con people to pick her up. Outwit. Outlast. Outplay. No guesses which people give into the con instantaneously, unless under my watchful eye.

She has her favourite nursery rhymes and almost everyday we have a music appreciation session. This would involve me opening up my iTunes, picking a song and singing it with her on my lap. So far it's been lots of Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Queen, Beatles, BeeGees, Don Maclean, Rolling Stones and some current hits.

Ok. I think the rest has escaped me. Fail la.

Chinese New Year.

2008-02-14T12:06:00.003+08:00

As the pig wiggled its tail out to make way for the R-A-T (as my mom abhorrently refers to them), it was a new lunar year with some traditions broken, some improvised and some nostalgically remained just the way they were. For the first time since I got married we spent the first few days of the Chinese New Year with my family in Malacca. How dared I break that tradition? With permission, of course.

This year, the in-laws were celebrating the new year in Ipoh. My main concern was where were we going to stay with a 2 month old baby in tow. I particularly thought it to be quite intrusive to get one of the relatives, however obliging, to make way for a family with a possibly cranky, vocal, night-waking baby (and that she was) and for me to fumble in the wee hours with unfamiliarity in someone else's home. For my in-laws, there were concerned with the long travelling time and the fact that it was always excruciatingly hot in Ipoh. So we decided to spend the CNY in my mom's ever accomodating home. Besides, my dad and grandmothers have yet to see the latest family member.

This year, sadly, the reunion dinner was to be at a restaurant with the absence of our beloved Ah-Chong Chae, my grandmother's servant of 60 odd years who is now being taken care of by her daughter in KL. We opted not to join the family reunion dinner simply because our decision to go back was a very last minute one and I did not want to screw up the reservations at the restaurant. Anyway for as long as I could remember, the reunion dinner at my grandma's always had 2 signature dishes - curry and Ah-Chong Chae's famous soup. If that was not in store then I didn't think we'd be missing much in terms of food. Just as well, little missy decided to throw a fit just as we were about to leave and in turn throwing us off schedule. Luckily the drive home was pleasant since most of the people were most probably already at their desired destinations. So dinner was just me and Keat wolfing down mom's chilli fried ikan kurau (threadfin) - my favourite.

Traditionally on the first day of new year, we would go to my grandmother's place for bread and curry (how very Chinese we are!) and after exchanging angpows and kneeling before my grandmother and Ah-Chong Chae (only us grandchildren and great grandchildren would kneel before Ah-Chong Chae) in a ritual we call soja, we would head off to our ancestral home, the Rumah Abu in Heeren Street. With Ah-Chong Chae not around, I quizzed my brother if there was going to be any breakfast at grandma's. How glad I was to see that my aunt had catered for Indian chicken and mutton curry! Licking my chops, we left the baby in the car seat on the living room table while everyone else fussed over her, deciding if she looked like me or Keat.

At the Rumah Abu things were slightly different. For starters, my grandmother did not go to the Rumah Abu for reasons I did not question. I was also shocked and disappointed to see the adjoining house cordoned off due to a hefty renovation in progress to replace the rotten wooden beams. I was looking forward to taking Keat and Caitlin through the long halls to point out at things that brought me simple delight, although Caitlin wouldn't know what the heck I was on about - the old photographs and equally old piano in the front hall (someone not musically inclined would always pretend to be Liberace with stiff fingers trotting and pouncing on the already out of tune keys); the antique cupboard with the faded 60s or 70s calendar pin-up girls posing enticingly through the windows and the chrome yellow (or was it brown?) sofa set by the alter; the marble eagles perched by the entrance of this hall (I always loved giving them a stroke to feel the coolness of the stone), the bust of my great grandfather and portraits of my forefathers; the antique wall tiles in the open airwells and the gigantic fish drain pipe; the well in the middle of the house and the adorning tiles which gave ventilation in the bathrooms...

What was not missing though was the simultaneous chatter and laughter amongst my cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews and nieces and for a change, it was all in English or Malay (the in-laws are all Cantonese speaking). However, it was sad to see some of the older generation weary and wheelchair bound and needing someone to point out to them who was who ("Ini Ah-Chai punya anak perempuan dengan Ah-Chai punya cucu"). Keat on the other hand, I guess felt a little lost and was missing his family and their own set of traditions as did I for the past four years. I caught him standing in the porch sms-ing a couple of times while I was happy to catch up with my cousins and happy to be back for a change.

Back at my mom's place I practically single-handedly whacked all the pineapple tarts and spent most of my available time (now less with Caitlin around) stuffing my face with deep-fried calories. Some things never change, and I LOVE IT!!!

Outwit. Outplay. Outlast.

2008-02-04T14:45:00.000+08:00

Anyone who knows me well enough will know that I am deffinately not one to be reckoned with as "child-friendly". I refuse to carry babies unless at least a year old and my idea of entertaining a baby or a kid is using my high-pitched "Helloooo..." while opening my eyes as big as possible and grinning like a Cheschire cat, hoping to get a response. Give me a puppy and I'll show it a good time. So you might be wondering how did I even allow myself to be promoted to Mother. Now that I am one, I am still questioning myself especially when I evaluate my actions with the baby - for example, when I mocked her pulling her long face and crying, making her cry even harder or when with melting patience, I raised my voice at her and even gave her a stern lecture because I suspected she was manipulating me even though there was a possibility there was genuine reason for her crying.

It has been 8 weeks since my official promotion and amidst sleep deprivation (I must say, I had prepared for the worst so it wasn't as bad as I anticipated), parenthood does have its moments - mostly comical like when she gathers her lips to make a little 'O' for no apparent reason, or when she suddenly refuses to finish her feed and dramatically shuts her eyes, seals her lips tight and lets her limbs hang loose - over a period of seconds and the time when she squeezed her eyes tightly shut as soon as she heard the massage lady's voice.

While she is a bundle of joy (the bundle is getting heavier, by the way), she has a habit of needing someone to carry her to enable her to fall asleep most of the time - thanks to the mother carrying her and falling asleep herself in the early days and an overly attentive grandmother. So there's 2 schools of thought - the Let-em-little-buggers-cry-it-out technique and other milder approaches, both with advocates battling out against the other. I decided to try the crying out approach twice and it didn't work. The first time I felt really sorry for her and I went with the people who said that it was too soon to try that. The second time (a week later), we let her scream for 20 minutes - and we gave way because #1) She could be genuinely having problems sleeping (she's quite a windy baby) #2) The pity crept in and #3) she was screaming so damn loud it was starting to get to us. As it turned out, she had wind but we couldn't ascertain if the wind was already existing or a consequence of her incessant screaming.

So I tried a softer approach to help her fall asleep without us carrying her. One of it was to condition her to sleep whenever in a dark room. About 2 weeks ago after a pre-dawn feed, our friend refused to go back to sleep and screamed like crazy when I put her down. In the dark I could see her eyes were wide open. Not wanting to wake the father who had to work the next day and not wanting her to associate staying awake in a dark room, I decided to outwit her by taking her out in the hall, turning on the lights and TV and started playing with her. As soon as her eyelids got heavy I took her back to her cot. Ah! I was so smart! I won - until it happened again a couple of nights later. I took her out again but unfortunately, she literally outplayed and outlasted me by staying wide awake while my impatience was fast brewing. Darn it! So I took her back to the darken room, gave her a very stern warning and she went straight back to sleep.

So much for a soft approach.

Surprise Surprise.

2007-12-20T19:53:00.000+08:00

Thursday 061207, pm. Made plans with galfriends to have breakfast at Jaipur Curry House on Saturday 8.30am (Someone wanted to see how fat I had grown prior to exploding). Having confirmed attendance I suddenly remembered that I had an appointment with my OB/GYN (Dr G) at 8am so I told one of breakfast buddies that regardless, I should be able to make it to Jaipur unless the doc tells me I have to have the baby immediately.

Friday 071207, 6+ am. Startled awake by a Alamak!-I-need-to-&^%$#@! pain but after one failed attempt, I hopped back into bed. Time check - 6.41am. A few minutes later, the pain revisited and this time I decided to have a drink of psyllium husk first and in the midst of it, I felt something discharging. Nevertheless I continued making my drink and gulped it down before visiting the throne again. Lo and behold I was leaking. Hmmm... my expected due date was 2 weeks away. So I had my shower and then decided to wake up the husband. I had just received advice to not rush to the hospital as they would admit you and the ordeal would be very long. Moreover, I wasn't in any severe pain, just very, very mild menstruation-like cramps. I called my friend (the only one I knew for sure would be up at that hour of the morning) and we contemplated what to do. After all that, I did nothing. We were still hanging around the house watching Ellen (rather, I was watching Ellen) and finally decided to call the Doc's clinic at 10+ am after much contemplation. His nurse said "You are still at home???" and ordered us to get our asses to the maternity ward for a check.

Materity Ward, 11am. After some strapping and hooking up to the contractions monitor, some probing up where the sun don't shine by the midwife, I was told that my contractions were very, very mild and Dr G was on the way up. So Dr G waltzed in shortly after, confirmed my expected due date and probed me again (Probe #2). If nothing happened by the end of the day, labour will have to be induced because the baby has to come out by hook or by crook by the next day. So he told us to get admitted. Mental arithmetic - end of day is a good full half day to be willed away stuck in the hospital doing nothing but WAIT???? "Can I go back to the office ah?" He gave me the look and granted me 2 to 3 hours leave. So we went home and back to the office to do as much as was necessary and to pack some stuff, dropped by at the bank, went home for a nice long shower and waltzed back to the hospital some 5 hours later :) Got strapped to the contractions monitor again, and NOTHING (See, luckily I took my time!). Doc called to check on progress and informed of an upcoming probe at midnight (this time involving pills) to induce labour if there was still no action. And he actually allowed me to pop out for a quick dinner if I wanted :)

Saturday, 081207 midnight. Midwife comes in the check my contractions and dilation (Probe #3) and then probes me with the dilating pills (Probe #4). Almost immediately, I felt some cramps and it just went downhill from then on. From having virtually no contractions the entire day, I was down to contractions every 1 to 2 minutes. Plus I was twin sharing as there were no bloody single rooms that day so I tried to be as considerate as possible, hoping to not bugger up the poor recuperating woman's sleep. By 4am, probe #5 (I think) revealed that I had only dilated 2cm. Mental arithmetic: A woman's cervix needs to dilate 10cm in order to give birth to a child and dilation will be at a rather constant rate. At 4am Woman A has been lying in bed in PAIN for 4 over hours and has dilated 2cm. At what approximate time do we expect woman A to be fully dilated?

To be honest, I wanted to give it a drug-free go.

Recap conversation with Dr G, 2 weeks prior:
Dr G: How are you feeling now that your due date is soon?
Me: Scared shitless!
Dr G: Really? I thought you are always super cool.
Me: Not when it comes to having a baby!
Dr G: If you take the epidural, half your problems will be over.
Me: Well, you know how some people have that Hero Complex where you want to try it out and see how it goes?

Dr G: Are you one of them?

Me: Of course!!!!!

So I threw in the towel and opted for the epidural. They wheeled me into the labour room and some inhalation of laughing gas later, I was falling into a deep sleep but the pain was still very persistent. Having administered the epidural (the Doc was so so nice!) I layed in the labour bed with hardly any sensation in my lower half of the body. When they came to turn me to the side, I knew I looked like some new born calf with my legs splayed all over the place but I just could not move them and I really couldn't be bothered anyway. By 6am+ I was 7-8cm dilated and by 7am I was about ready (that came with Probe # 6 & 7 but heck! I couldn't feel anything). So I was wondering what happened to the mental arithmetic I just did at 4am? Apparently the pain (or trying to bear it) was stressing me out, causing me to dilate in slow mo.

Anyway, Dr G came in and quipped "Baby is not happy, wants to come out" and sat infront of me - all my dignity lost. He reminded me of a cobbler or a shoe-shine man - don't ask me why. Maybe it was because I was slightly elevated (with all dignity lost) while he fidgeted and probably gave the mother of all probes. I don't know what he was doing, but he was asking for this and that - I could hardly remember because I was shivering like a bloody drug addict, grabbing on to the steel bars, a side-effect of the epidural. I heard him ask for the vacumm, I didn't hear him ask for the scissors but Keat did. Then he gave me instructions to push and to stop and to push again the next thing I knew, there was a baby all covered in schmuck and blood lying on my lap. Ok, so I wasn't expecting it that quick and while it was starting to sink in, I saw the midwife fidgeting with the baby and then came the super loud wail of my baby. Still in a daze and without my contact lenses, I was looking for the kookoochiow and I was like Nyeeh? Then they took the baby away and Keat asked "Is it a boy or a girl?" (Ah huh! So I wasn't the only blur one!) and Dr G replied "Take a look. It's a girl!". The both of us started laughing like a couple of drunkards because we were cock-sure (pun intended) that we were having a boy.

She has my eyes, the first thing I noticed when they gave her to me, cleaned and wrapped in a pink blankie. Those little sepet eyes darted all over looking at us and seeing the world for the first time.

Saturday 081207, 7.33am. A new chapter in our lives began.

Frustrated Hunter.

2007-07-03T18:23:00.000+08:00

My favourite part of the Sunday Star is the Heart & Soul aka Dear Thelma aka Dodgy Bits as we affectionately term it. This was Sunday's entry with extra commentary from yours truly.

"I had a loving family and an ordinary childhood. I did well at school and earned a Bachelor and then a Master’s degree overseas with scholarships. I also fell in love during my university days and we had a wonderful 2 years together.

But when we came back to Malaysia and met her mother, it all came to an end because her mother felt I wasn’t good enough – I was from a small town and, at the same time, jobless and penniless. For the first time in my life, I cried.

The break up was a turning point in my life. I wanted badly to prove to that family that I could be successful. I got a job in a multinational company and buried myself in work. I rose quickly, moved to other companies, and each time I moved, it was a career progression. Can't you just say "I got a job in a multinational company (which is already too much info!), focused on my career and progressed"? My career was my focus; personal relationships took a back seat.

I had 2 relationships that didn’t work out; when I was 27 and then at 35. They were just small setbacks to me and I continued focusing on my career until I became the director of the company I was working for. After several years in that top position, I finally realized I had achieved what I had set out to do. Do you seriously need to emphasize that you are a company director?

At 40, I was engaged to a woman but she broke it off several months later, complaining that I do not spend enough time with her as I am always working and traveling, After that break up, I began traveling even more to ease the pain I was feeling.

Now I am in my mid 40s. I am tired of work and travel. I have been everywhere and now prefer to stay at home. I live in a nice house, drive an expensive car, am well-connected, own property around Kuala Lumpur and have assets worth more than a million. My friends envy me. Brag... brag... brag... is all this info necessary ah?

But, Thelma, my life is empty. I envy my friends, as most are married and have nice families. They might not be a s financially well off as I am, but they have richer, more balanced lives. Recently, I quit my job because I thought, “What is the use of continuing when my personal life is in shambles?” Anyway, I figure I have enough to last me into my old age.

I now spend most of my time golfing and, yes, traveling again (thinks to cheap airfares) Eh! Been around the world, but still travelling? And with so much disposable income, take First Class la brother! Why take cheap airlines with non-reclining seats? And didn't he just say that he's tired of travelling?. I am hunting for someone to share my life, a soul mate. I have tried the Internet without success and I have even been going clubbing looking for someone. Each time I meet a girl that I fancy, something stands in the way. Most of them insist that I am married and not sincere. Is this it? Is this what my life is? Well, maybe, just maybe, it's because you appear somewhat conceited yet insecure especially when you start to brag about your nice house, expensive car, good connections (good enough to blow up a mongolian???), property in KL and let's not forget your net worth of RM1 million???
Alone & Lonely"

Phaahhh!!!!!

Scapegoat.

2007-06-12T12:08:00.000+08:00

That's what I've become - the family scapegoat.

We had a full day from breakfast onwards and since we had just snacked on McNuggets and fries after that, we decided to have a late lunch. So we were off to Ikea and halfway through someone got hungry and asked me if I was hungry. I said I was OK but I wouldn't mind eating so that someone pounced at the opportunity to announce "Hurry up! Let's go. Y-lin's hungry" - repeatedly. He later revealed that he was damn *&^%$#@! hungry. I was ok, really.

After the extremely late lunch/extremely early dinner, we snooped around The Curve and my mom made the mistake of walking into a bookstore. While I helped her scout for what she was looking for, the other 3 immediately dispersed to the magazine section to dwell in their own delights. Mom, happy with her purchase decides that she's had enough for the day and calls out "OK, let's go home. Lin is tired" I'm like, what???? I didn't even say anything.

Baaaaaaaaaa................

Interviewing 101.

2007-06-11T11:04:00.000+08:00

The news flash of Pak Lah's wedding stirred quite a buzz naturally. Like all nosy buggers, I read the whole article and was quite appalled at some of the questions thrown to the PM. Come on - what kind of dickhead question is "Will you refer to your new wife as 'Darling'?" Nothing else better to ask ah? And this is the classic. Pak Lah was asked to comment on his love for his late wife as compared to his future wife. What kind of idiotic question is that?

Luckily, this is not confined to Malaysia (though we still take the cake). After making it through to the finals at Roland Garros, world number 1 Roger Federer who has never won the French Open was asked who he would like to meet in the finals - newbie Novak Djokovic who has never been to a Grand Slam final or defending champion and clay court specialist Rafael Nadal.

But of course, nothing beats "Who is the hottest F1 driver?" or "Who is the sexiest man in F1?"

Serving Justice.

2007-06-08T16:13:00.000+08:00

A couple of weeks ago, I read in the papers that this retard (yes retard, he's not retarded) jobless, needless to say huan-na abducted a 23 month old girl who was lying next to her 9 year old brother. She was holding a milk bottle and in diapers. The next day the poor girl's body was found floating under some rubbish in a river and a post-mortem revealed that she was raped and blugeoned with a blunt object. What kind of sick fucked-up asshole does that? The best part is this fucker escapes the noose after pleading to an amended charge of abducting with the intention of murder. He now is gonna serve 15 years with a mere 3 strokes of the rotan. The brilliant and obviously huan-na judge said that they found it in the interest of the child blah blah blah, she was innocent blah blah blah. So that is why they are reducing the fucking charge???? Where the fuck was this judge when God was handing out brains and hearts? Probably standing at the back of the line with his fist up his arse.

Then in yesterday's paper 2 (guess what?) Chinese guys are going to the gallows for armed robbery of a chinese medical hall and one of them for additionally discharging a weapon. I gathered from what the mom said, the weapon was never recovered and no one actually got killed.

I do not condone armed robbery but I'm trying to visualize the scales here. So it's pretty much ok to abduct, rape and murder an innocent child as opposed to armed robbery when no one actually got killed? Yes, please, we'd like to spend tax-payer's money to keep an abductor/rapist/murderer in our society for another 15 years and let's just wait to see if he repents or does it again. Brilliant, just fucking brilliant.

Battle of the Sexes.

2007-05-29T11:25:00.000+08:00

Previously it was Channel 70-72 (StarWorld, Channel V, MTV), 11 (Discovery Travel & Living), 17 (AXN) and 81-82 (ESPN & StarSports). Then it was starting to get a bit stale for me and worse still now when all the reality shows come to an end. Then with the RM10 or RM15 hike, I discovered 77 - Discovery Home & Health (DHH) while Keat fell in love with 78 - Discovery Real Time (DRT). DHH was ok at first but I can only take so many shows on parenting, pregnancy and people who have way too many kids at one go so as you would have guessed I gave it a flick after about 1 week.

Then I discovered E! Celebrity gossip, celebrity true stories and who's doing who and what. It's like a trashy mag with video images and you don't have to read! Of course there was the downside when I found out who died in Season 3 of Lost and what happened at the end of Grey's Anatomy (DANG!) but it's worth every flick. So now it's a constant remote control battle between housemate and I. He's constantly trying to watch DRT which is mostly automobiles and fishing (YAAAWWWNNN) and whenever he gets the chance, any chinese shows (we have no Wah Loi Toi). Yesterday, we had a showdown. I monopolized the remote for a good hour watching E! and when his patience wore thin, he told me I was killing my brain cells watching too much junk. So it was my turn to give in and he immediately switched to TV3 to watch the Monday night cina-gerk movies. Killing my brain cells it seems. So for the next 5 minutes, I took the liberty of reading the Bahasa Malaysia subtitles outloud and threw in the hearty evil man laugh (MUUAAHHAHAHAHHAAHHA) and a few "KOT"s where I thought was necessary. Eventually I gave up when I found myself a little short of breath, possibly from the over zealous evil man laugh. As a last resort, I decided to tell him I was going to bed - not without switching off the fan and lights while he was still watching the Chinese show.

Romance, kot...

Paula I'm-a-Malai-Bimbo Ali.

2007-05-28T15:14:00.000+08:00

If there is one media personality that I really can't stand, it's got to be Paula Malai Ali. When she was a Channel-V veejay I felt embarassed for her, embarassed for us that she was Malaysian. Her jokes and apparent wise-cracks were not in the least bit funny and quite frankly, she looked too old to play the role of a hip and cool veejay.

Then there was the classic stint on the Oprah show which screamed BIMBO ALERT! How freaking deluded can you get??? What was it - the average 30 year old Malaysian woman earns USD3k a month, goes for spa massages fortnightly and has spill overs for Jimmy Choos? Of course under fire, she ditsyly defended that she based it on the account of herself, her sister and their friends. And I suppose that reflects the average 30 year old Malaysian woman???

Now, she is on EPSN Star and annoyingly covers F1. Farking irritating and embarassing to say the least. Ok, she's a good script reader and that's about it. During the Malaysian GP, our friend went round the Bukit Bintang area to ask "Who do you think is the hottest F1 driver?" Come on!!! Can you be a bigger bimbo than that? And, to top it all off, we went to the paddock after the race and we saw her sitting around looking all snot like a stickly bit of pee-sai with the Oh-I-so-belong-here look plastered on her face. When she actually passed our very friendly and fanatic F1 friend, he said "Hi Paula" and she just looked straight ahead and walked on. A fucking bitch or what??? Even drivers and pit crew and team bosses and Bernie don't act like that to the general public.

Yesterday I was watching the StarSports coverage of the Monaco GP and guess who managed to skive her way to Monte Carlo. And guess what she asked the general public? "Who do you think is the sexiest man in F1?" GET THE FUCKING BITCH OFF THE AIR. SHE'S DISGRACEFUL!!!!

Bangkok.

2007-05-11T13:40:00.000+08:00

My recent and long awaited trip to Bangkok with my galfriends was a plethora of new experiences... pardon the lack of flow.

The Empty Flight.

Our flight was at 8.25am, so needless to say everyone was half dead at the airport - don't let the volume of the voices fool you. The pretty boy at the check-in who wore too much foundation especially for that hour of the day told us to be at the departure gate at a certain time, so yippee! we could have some breakfast. After a very tedious effort, we managed to get our McDonald's breakfast ["1 Sausage McMuffin with Egg Meal, 1 Sausage McMuffin Meal. Both with tea" "1 Sausage McMuffin with Egg, 1 Sausage McMuffin with Egg Meal?" "No (hiding behind a tight, fake smile - repeat order)" Girl screws it up again. Exasperated, "1 number 3, 1 number 4. With tea" Punch punch, stare at screen blankly, more punching... "coffee?" ] After stuffing our faces and gossiping and spotting local celebrities (Eh! That's M. Nasir. He also take AirAsia huh?) we realised it was about time to get our asses moving. We got past the customs and starting looking for snacks. Interrupted by our boarding call, I was quite surprised that there was no kiasutic beeline at the gate. There was only a couple ahead of us all the way to the plane. An empty flight! Bloody freakin lovely - only to step on to a sardine-packed plane with some disapproving stares from some uncles and aunties. Yup, we were the last ones on board :)

Shopping Shopping Shopping.

During my previous visit to Bangkok, I didn't get to visit the Chatuchak markets due to timing. I've heard many things about it. To the avid knick-knack shopper, it was heaven; to the not-so-interested-in-that-kind-of-shopping shopper, it was dirty, smelly and hot - why the heck do you want to subject yourself to that??? So I just wanted to go there and see what the fuss was about. It took a little bit of I-don't-care-we-are-going-attitude/coersion tactic by the 2 of us to get our way. Ok, so it was hot and narrow and stuffy. There were nice art pieces which I could not afford, so bugger it. At the end of it, I left with a cute little orange and black puffy leather elephant keychain. RM1.50.

The Poacher.

After the Chatuchak coersion, we had to comply with going to a bar. We were walking around Patphong after dinner when a tuk-tuk driver approached "Where you go?" "Boy bar" "Ok, I take you" So we tailed the gentleman and passed a bar in a lane, boasting a poster of a muscular man in his muscleman pose. But we went passed that bar and had to go round another corner to the apparently newer bar. One person went in to have a look, the other 2 people took a dash in the opposite direction just as I was about to peek in, so I was greeted with human tenticle (not testicles) as I stood at the entrance. It was quite hilarious inside because there were boys, not men, boys hanging around at tables in their speedos, with their lala-chai ah beng coloured hair and let's just say the lighting was not flattering. They looked like university students. Outside we had to deal with a sulky papasan who reminded me of the Engineer in Miss Saigon (yes, he had the jacket too). So we decided that this was not gonna happen and suddenly this rather muscular man appears telling us he will take us to a real boy bar. He held on to my friend's arm and in big quick steps, he led us back to the first bar we passed. So he had tailed us and poached.

Tawan Bar.

Again, someone went in to check it out and outside, a Mat Salleh recommended entry. Well, this looked more like a bar, with the same fare of undergarmented men. Men though, not boys. Inside we were seated near the stage unfortunately, where the guys paraded with numbers tags on their underwears. We did not want to make eye contact as we didn't want them to think we had the hots for them. So keeping it at eye level.... it was the crotches, mostly stuffed with socks or handphones and god knows what else. And everytime they offed the stage, you would feel hands touching your back or your arms or someone trying to shake your hand. We managed to move to the sofa seats which provided better viewing and comfort. Unfortunately, I got stuck at the end and lets just say that I got hassled the most. A transvestite performer plonked next to me and apparently flashed me her boob (I was looking the other way). Since I did not respond, she took the liberty of rubbing it against my arm. How gross.

We later learned that the patrons were mostly men so unfortunately for us (me especially at the end) we got the most unwanted attention by virtue of being female. It was an eye-opening experience, I'll give you that! I'll leave the other sordid details out. You just had to be there.

The Singaporean Tiger.

At breakfast on the last day, I greedily got hold of the last 3 succulent jambu airs (pink guava) from the tray only to find one bruised with a little insect on the bruise. As I discarded the fruit onto another plate, the bug fell off. My friend decided to put the bug back at its original position and handed it to the waiter. Not wanting to be passed off as snotty food wasters, she asked him to please take it away and notified him of the bug. The waiter looked at the fruit and nonchalantly said "Oh. No good?" and started to walk away. Now, I could not let him think that we were throwing it away because of the bruise and since he did not have much of a reaction to the bug, I chirped in "there's an animal" - hoping to evoke some reaction from the boy. Shortly after, the boy returned to clean more plates and said "Normally, animal is big like tiger or elephant" much to our delight. I suppose I insulted his intelligence :) And when he saw me tucking away at the jambu he came back and said "Be Careful! Maybe have animal!" The boy sure made our day, likewise I'm quite certain. Not to be outdone, we told him that in Singapore, the tigers are very small. Entertained, he asked "Where you from?" to which in unison we said "Singopore".

Oh yes, and at Tawan Bar: "Where you from?" "Singapore"

Day Care Center.

2007-04-19T14:55:00.000+08:00

Something I feel very, very strongly about surfaced in the papers today - tuition. Basically the government is imposing a 4 hour per week tuition restriction on teachers and the teachers aren't happy because obviously someone is tipping their ricebowl.

Here's my 2 cents worth. Why do we even need to have tuition??? I was a victim of tuition (and our education system) like most of my friends and peers and now that I am older and wiser I feel very strongly against it. Why do school teachers give after hours tuition? A) Because they are sincerely concerned for the educational well-being of the student population B) $$$ Although "A" is the more soothing and politically correct answer, I guess a realistic answer would be "B". Back when I was in school, on average teachers charged RM30 per month per student. Some of my classes were almost as big as classrooms, so lets just be prudent and say 30 students. That's RM900 per group. Most of these teachers have a minimum 5 different sessions, so that's RM4,500 additional income per month. Why not? It's deffinately more lucrative than the meagre government worker salary they are getting. And bear in mind these figures are like 15 to 20 years ago. If I was a teacher, I would have done the same. Afterall, what else is there to do in the afternoons?

So why did I go for tuition? Because I felt that if I didn't, I would be losing out or left behind. Peer teenage pressure. In upper secondary I took tuition classes for Art, Malay, 1119 English (this was not taught in school), Modern Maths and Add Maths. Almost everyone who could afford it went for tuition, from the nerds to the mischief makers like myself. I cannot understand why everyone is so hung up on tuition. If the student is not learning from the school teacher but from the tuition teacher, then something must be very wrong with the school teachers. Somebody is not doing their job. On the other hand I'd advocate for the school teachers because there they are, standing infront of a bunch of know-it-alls who won't freaking listen because they have the power of tuition. In Form 4, my english teacher was the Physical Ed teacher. At the beginning of the year we submitted our English Wookbook for marking. I have never seen the likes of the book till this very day. In Form 5, I officially wrote at the most 3 Malay compositions (Karangan) in class and I never made it pass the middle of my exercise book. I never did a single Chemistry experiment until the day of my SPM practical exam (and I broke the test tube, having no experience) and I was constantly sleeping in the science labs. The only thing I really paid attention to and did not take tuition classes for was Accounts. So at the end of the day, most of the school teachers don't teach (or mark books for that matter) and the students end up doing tuition homework in school. So who can blame the school teachers for the tidak apa attitude? Of course there are the bunch of school teachers that take their day and after hours jobs very seriously, but generally this was the situation in my school. I guess you can call school a day care center then?

Advanced Technology.

2007-04-03T13:53:00.000+08:00

Known that the death of my iPod was indeed a tragedy, my friend sent me a sms to inform me that their company had an Employee Purchase Program tie-up with Apple and there was a one day sale. So I checked it out and after much (ok, I lied - not much) deliberation and coersion from my brother who just upgraded his iPod too, I decided to get a new iPod. Ok so I couldn't stand it any longer. Moreover I would be saving a couple of hundred bucks. After a couple of phone calls back and forth and the order confirmed, I arranged to collect the dead iPod which was rotting at the service center since my last contact which had to do with begging Kelvin to fix it. Kelvin has since resigned.

When it came back, I was hoping it would rise from the dead like the last time but it didn't. I took it home and with just one touch, Keat managed to get it going. WooooHoooo or what???!!! The irony of it of course was now that I got a new one, the old one was working fine. However, Irony/Estacy was shortlived as it died for the 4th time and none of the old tricks seemed to work. You can say my luck finally rubbed off. So I went back to the support site determined to give it a go because I remembered coming across a very extensive guide by a very helpful user which I never got down to trying. Then I saw it. Something to do with Banging - Desk - Works. I quickly punched in keywords of "sad icon - bang on desk" and voila! A few more thankful testimonials turned up.

As you would imagine, I could not wait to go home to give it a go. But being a little apprehensive, I decided to give the helpful guy's guide a try and for the first time ever, I managed to resusitate the iPod to disk mode - something I have tried many times unsuccessfully. But when I selected RESET it died again. Nothing left to lose, I put the iPod's skin back on and gave it a thump on the table. Nothing. A couple of seconds of exasperation later, I gave it a harder thump and like magic, the apple icon came to life.

In an era of state of the art technological advancement, who knew a good old fashion thump would do the trick!

Notes / FYI:

1. Apple does not allow any of its service centers to "dissect" iPods. If the problem cannot be fixed by resetting or reformatting, they will offer you a refurbished set at a discounted price and shorter warranty. The faulty set will be sent back to the factory. See how they work, those sneaky buggers!

2. So far, I've discovered that there are 2 Apple centers in KL that sell the "battery replacement kit". They will not do the job for you but apparently, the pack comes complete with step by step instructions. I heard it even involves a hair-dryer.

Grandma's House.

2007-03-28T09:08:00.000+08:00

Some pics I took of my grandma's house in Limbongan, Malacca. The house and contents has been pretty much the same from my first memory of it.

Clockwise from Top:

1. The airwell in the middle of the house - I always thought this to be the most special part of the house.

2. The opposing side of the airwell - they used to have guppies in the matching blue tub below. Loved peeking at them.

3. The banister of the wooden staircase which my cousin went tumbling down when he was 5 or 6 years old. It was one of the scariest things I experienced as a kid and I apparently had something to do with it. I beg to differ till this very day. Ok, so me & my friend were playing with him running from the front of the house to the first few steps while the old foggies with their mulut suay (jinxed mouths?) chirped "Be Careful! Wait you roll down the stairs!" As kids (or rather as humans) the forbidden reaps so much better so each lap brought us one step higher and it was HE who insisted we go the top. Lo and freakin behold, he trips and comes tumbling down like Jack minus the pail and two Jills standing at the top with jaws reaching for the floor. If &^%$#@! was in my vocabulary then, that was probably what I would have said. I think in my head it went something like "Aiyo! Die la! Die la! DIEEEE LAAAAA!!!!!" His forehead was covered in blood and he had it stitched, that was about it. Phew! My friend and I got a smack on the face each by one of my uncles (Yup, I hated him for a while because IT WAS NOT MY FREAKIN FAULT!!!) My cousin bore no grudges against me and am wondering if he actually remembers. Will make it a point to ask him the next time I see him. Anyway, see the airwell in the picture?

4. Mama's basket of onions hanging in the kitchen.

5. The essential footware of cha-khiak for the back portion of the house.

6. The back portion of the house. Even those metal tubs have been there forever. See the blue door? Just in the area in front of it was where I had another horror experience. Beyond the blue door is a little compound where my grandma rears her chickens (which were later sacrificed for curry). The toilet is on the left, by the way. So anyway, there was one night I was misbehaving and my despotic mother made me stand in front of the door. I could hear the freaking chickens cackling and clucking and shifting and adjusting their feathers in the barn. YUCK!!! I cried and cried and begged to be let in (how obidiently stupid I was not to make a dash for it) and when my brother came to the kitchen to peek and attempt to save me she yelled at him and forbidded him. She denies ever doing this till today. Selective memory. But I remember. I'm scarred for life. She doesn't remember when I had the chicken-phobia but she must have knew it then. Wicked woman.

7. My Ko-chik (youngest aunty) chatting with the maid in the hall - good life, the maid.

F1 Shuffles.

2007-03-27T17:25:00.000+08:00

If you do not have the slightest interest in F1, please do not read further.

At the start of every F1 season, I will get myself reaquainted with the teams and drivers (i.e self-torture) due to the heavy shuffling that occurs during the winter. Over Saturday breakfast, Keat and I were discussing the changes and I think if there was a wall nearby, I would have driven him up it. So here's what I've gathered from this year's line up and the opening race in Albert Park:-

1. Unchanged teams since last season - Honda with JB & RB but an unrecognizable car raising awareness for global warming, Toyota with Trulli & the frequently overlooked Schumacher

2. It'll take a whole load of getting used to with Alonso shifting to McLaren (no more hearty pats from Flavio) and the ultimate blow of Kimi Raikonen trading his silver overalls for McLaren's Anti-Christ - Ferrari, and will be partnering Massa (not comments). And there's a new Finn on the block, Heikki Kovalainen in Renault to pair up with Fischella (50 bucks says he'll out perform Fissy)

3. No more blue Renault as the team is heavily sponsored by ING Insurance now - ugly!

4. Ohh! the new McLaren driver is a black Brit Lewis Hamilton (hooray for a podium finish on a virgin race!)

5. Alexander Wurz who was a test driver for McLaren and prior to that driver for the then Benetton-Renault team when they had the 116 degree engine is now in Williams which will be equipped with a Toyota engine (here's last year's confusing part... last time it was Williams-BMW in a blue-white outfit and then BMW ditched them for Sauber also in a blue-white outfit in the same season- how to not get confused???)

6. Although Peter Sauber sold off his team, it will still be the BMW-Sauber team, heavily sponsored by Petronas with Nick Heidfeld (yay!) and Polish Robert Kubica

7. Red Bull has 2 teams - the namesake with a Renault engine and 2 lembus - DC and Mark Webber (yuck for Mark) and Scuderia Torro Rossa with guess what? Ferrari engine, driven by Antonio Luizzi and American Scott Speed who used to drive for the US A1 Racing team. Red Bull was previously Jaguar so the carried forward similarities is the animal factor??? (jaguar - bull?)

8. Spyker was Midland was Jordan and Trulli was from previously from Jordan

9. other teams not so important lor.... except I like Super Aguri's Taku(ma Sato) (Honda engine), previously from mother team BAR Honda, though he tends to fully overdrive his vehicle

I have this bad bad habit of trying to recall who came from where and what engines they used to use... I cannot just accept it as it is, so you might say I am the root of all my problems. I stand corrected anywhere in the above. No guess who I'm supporting this year!

Mind Not Willing, Overrides Flesh.

2007-03-19T13:41:00.000+08:00

This is the drill for Saturday morning walks at Bukit Kiara.

Friday night - confirm attendees and time via sms, something like "7.15 at the gate"

Saturday morning, around 6.45am: sms to attendees "Wakey Wakey"

Wait for response while still lying in bed.

Typical responses, not more than 5 words:

"Ok up d" or "Laze la. Cancel la" or "Not going"

This is a classic which happened a couple of months ago, only 2 participants - me and KMY.

Me, 6.45am: "Wakey Wakey"

No response.

Me, 6.55am: "u awake?"

KMY: "Barely. Still lyin"

Me: "Are you movin?"

KMY: "Tmr la"
Me, gratefully : "ok" (after all, it wasn't me who pulled the plug first!)

On Friday night received confirmation from KMY & WPK to meet at the gate at 7.30am.

Alarm rings at 6.45am. Groped in the dark for phone and in a drunken-like stupor, yanked the phone which was still attached to charger, brilliantly toppling cup of water all over the freaking place. I already had a premonition the night before that this would happen but who the heck cares. I ain't no Nostradamus. Cursing any profanity that came to my mind at that time of day, I had to dab up the freaking water with loads of tissue paper, thus a trip to the bathroom was inevitable, all in the dark as my roommate was still sleeping. After clearing up the mess I jumped back into bed, still cursing and decide to sms the gals to pull the plug.

Keyed in KMY's number and in attempt to "Add Receipient", accidently sent blank sms to KMY.

KMY replied : "Up Up"

Me, to KMY & WPK something like: "No go"

Instantaneous replies of : "No!!!" and "Come on. U R up. Sleep later"

Me, to KMY something like: "Tired la. the only reason I'm up is coz I spilt water while trying to grab phone"

KMY: "So long sms. Wake up la. CML* also walking. Come on. Come on."

[*Trump Card - CML's first attempt at Bukit Kiara and she will be coming from her home much further away]

Me, to KMY & WPK: "Haha. ok la KNN**. Gate at 7.30 no hp"

[**Well accepted Hokkien profanity]

And after all that procrastinating, guess who was first at the gate?

Mind Willing, Flesh Too Weak.

2007-03-07T10:02:00.000+08:00

Over the past couple of weeks, we have started running. For me 1) I am deffinately putting on the pounds; 2) Am trying to get back into running again (how far is very subjective considering the 3 year break). For him, lets call it Weight Management. Actually he wanted to join the gym but I managed to con him to try running with me first.

11.45pm yesterday: Optimistically set alarm for 6.30am without telling him. Had trouble sleeping as was hyperactive after playing squash. So I tried to entertain myself by attempting to indulge in intelligent conversation with Keat (and this by no means is a metaphor for sex). Operation Failed. Next, tried to piss the crap out of him by stealing his pillow, throwing a limb or two onto his side of the bed or on top of his face just to see his reaction and laugh maniacally to myself (again, by no means is this a metaphor for sex). Response (to the effect of): If you can't sleep just go watch MTV or something coz I want to sleep so stop *&^%$#@! disturbing me. Darn it. Then I remembered my 6.30am wake up call. Uh Oh! Die la, sure cannot wake up. Made a point to try yoga breathing exercise to help calm me down and leave Keat to sleep in peace. It actually worked.

6.30am and my bloody handphone is annoyingly bleeping away. Got up and saw the moon nice and bright shining through the window. How to run with the moon so bright? Gives the impression like its in the middle of the night and I don't want to be the pyscho woman running in the middle of the night. Clutched the phone in my hand and snoozed it. Phone bleeped again and this time I actually woke him up "Eh! Look at the moon" (No, not metaphor for sex you perverts!) and snoozed again and again until it wouldn't let me. OK. Reset alarm. Current time 6.57am. Reset to 7am. As you can imagine, the snoozing went on way until Keat's alarm rang, Keat got ready for work and was about to leave before I finally seperated myself from the bed. Time: 7.45am.

Will deffinately try to pull that stunt again tomorrow.

The evils of.

2007-02-26T13:57:00.000+08:00

Yes, the ugly head of CNY is raring its nicotin-stained teeth. I am one of those people who likes to look back on how days were spent during a holiday season or during a holiday, indirectly reminding myself that the holidays will soon be over. Almost masochistic, some might say. So it's back to work on a Monday and as usual, I can't be bothered to look for proper clothes. I grabbed my must-wear-at-least-once-a-week pants (no need to iron, very airy), put on a top and looked at the mirror for approval. It looked fine, except that it didn't feel all too fine especially around the tighs. Brushed that aside and waddled to the kitchen to sit on my one and only multi-purpose stool and stare at my vitamin bottles while waiting for my drink to cool. And then it happened. Possibly (and almost deffinately) due to the lack of space, the fabric was sticking uncomfortably to my tighs. I had to sit down and literally pull up the pant legs up to the crotch area to ease the discomfort. Damn it! Damn it! Damn IT! I've gotten seriously fatter over one week. I don't even remember eating that much - decent meals, that is. I so DID NOT over indulge this year. I mean, come on, look at the pic in the previous entry. Obviously I had just enough to keep me from dying of hunger or seeming rude. So, I did what I do best. Reminisent.

Ok, there was the first day "snack" of a Calzone pizza (yum yum cheese) and aglio olio at Pizza Uno with Keat, FIL & BIL (my treat!), oh, and a roti-kosong just before the 2nd day lunch (not my fault - Keat was seriously hungry, I was merely the accomplice). Back at my mom's place, let's see... there was my favourite of the favourites deep-fried kurau with chili and some insignificant veg and another meal of prawns and sambal petai and some other insignificant dishes. And the meal when the outstation visitors came - now deffinately I did not eat much, just some roti jala and curry. Nasi Lemak with the visitors (last resort) and Brother's Laksa (Joyce & I used to go to frequent his shop on Saturdays since we were in secondary school and like all well-mannered teenagers, we called the laksa man "uncle" only to be told off that we should acknowledge him as "brother" instead) and my Uncle Pete's gerang asam ikan parang (Me: Pete, it's damn farking good! Kow-lat!!!... Background, my mother: Wai Lin! Watch your language). And I'm seriously wondering how the heck I manage to add on the pounds?

Then there is the evils of snacking. I have taken an inventory of the stuff i whalloped back at my mom's. Almost the whole standard container of Nga-Ku, possibly 2 bigger containers of keropok (not including the smaller container courtesy of Mom consumed back in my abode while doing a Grey's Anatomy marathon), uncountable number of mom's pineapple tarts, slices of poppy seed cake, mini deep fried rolls to name the most significant. Oh! And pretty much the whole container of coconut cookies. Again, it's not really my fault. It's almost impossible to make a run by the dining table without making a snack-stop, the dining table being in between the TV room and the kitchen. And I didn't want to offend my mom by not eating the cookies she slaved over.

So how now? Run lor. Burn the freaking fat lor. *&^%$#@!

Oink! Oink! Snort! Snort!

2007-02-22T17:41:00.000+08:00

No fire-chicken scare this year, but I've just about had enough of pak-cham-kai (steamed chicken), vegetarian dishes and plainly cooked veges. 4 meals is more than I can take and surprisingly more than Keat can take too! The closest I came to my pre-nuptial CNY meals of rich chicken curry and such was fresh chili padi in soy sauce. Yes, I am quick to admit that I eat to live, not live to eat but I do enjoy food ever so often - contrary to popular belief - I just wish that eating is not a trice daily chore. Anyway, we came back to Malacca on the 3rd day and were kept busy preparing for some outstation visitors due the next day. Today, after the dust has settled, Keat and I decided to go to the ZOO!

I can't even remember the last time I went to the Malacca Zoo, but I remember the entrance located elsewhere and vistors were greeted with the piercing cries of the Siamang, a black gibbon, desperately agile swinging around in its cage. I also remembered being fearful at the aligator pit and loved watching the antics of the Orang Utan. Sadly, together with the bears and big cats, they were all behind bars in tight, stinky, wet cages. Mostly, I remembered it being full of attacking mosquitos (me being the prime attackee amongst the whole family) and SMELLY. It was my mom who told me that the new zoo was worth a look, having taken her nephew and niece there a couple of years ago. We also figured that should be quite OK considering most of the animals on rehab frequently get transported to this zoo. For the whole morning Keat and I were like excited little kids, maiming in a singsong fashion "We're going to the zoo"

Overall, the Melaka zoo has upped itself a couple of notches. It's very clean and the animals were all given spacious enclosures, done away with the prison cell designs of 3 decades ago. So what did we see? Too many species of deers which pretty much looked the same, a couple of white rhinos and macho cattle, lemurs and slow loris, the very cute Binturong (Bearcat), a lynx, giraffes and zebras who looked like they had just had their stripes done, gibbons (very quiet and contented Siamangs literally hanging-out in a tree), gators, cute elephants, even Capybaras... and our favourite, the majestic Shere Khans (tigers la). We even saw the infamous Nicky (the tiger cub that was rescued from the boiling pot) all grown up and looking glorious, proudly sponsored by The Star Publications Bhd.

Anyway, here are some of the pics taken. It's worth a visit if you have the time. It's not as glamourous as the likes of the San Deigo Zoo or such (cool weather scores points too) but deffinately much better than what it was. And NOT SMELLY!!!

Over.

2007-01-22T10:01:00.000+08:00

My yoga instructor has a very dedicated bunch of students (not surprisingly made up mostly of ladies) who are very... well, dedicated (I can't think of a replacement word that would not be offensive). Whenever there is a function - celebratory or informative, they will put up what is now known as their usual presentation of asanas (poses) and delivery of sanskrit scriptures, be it at the studio or some public area. While I have to take my hat off to them for their sheer determination and good intentions, there is also this part of me that finds them over the top, too eager to please or even showy. Needless to say, while I enjoy my classes and try to absorb as much as possible, I have not been to one of these celebratory functions because 1) I'm anti-social 2) I will be so left out 3) I'm too darn lazy So who am I to judge these people who do try to make a difference?

While browsing the newspapers over the weekend, a blurry picture of a girl doing some variation to the upward bow (a yoga pose) IN A BUS caught my attention. I think the caption said sometime like "getting attention". Darn right, I thought while I rolled my eyes and possibly shook my head thinking not so nice things. As I scanned the page I saw a picture of my yoga instructor and his wife, enough to give away that this was one of the "groupie" doing some public display stint again. But in a BUS??? Somewhere in the deeps cracks and crevices of my mind, I remember hearing about being humble, not showing off. Ok then, that's taking it into perspective. So I read the article and it was about the trip to an ashram in India. And then there was this part where they did their usual routine (mentioned above) at the ashram, receiving praise from the head something at the ashram (Surprise! Surprise!). I'm not being a sour grape and I am entitled to my rude opinions. I try to think of the good intentions they had in mind, that maybe they wanted to do our teacher proud but I get signal interference with a notion that somewhere, somehow, humbleness is compromised. So I read on and it came to the Taj Mahal. Like everyone else, they were awed. I think I would be too. But some of them were so awe-inspired that they acutally started doing the asanas at the Taj Mahal. AT THE TAJ MAHAL!!!! OVER OR WHAT??????!!!!! Maybe because of my poor participation or because I am in a totally different zone, for the life of me, I cannot see myself being so inspired by a monument that I would want to start doing a yoga pose, let alone poses. I think I would have been embarassed to be in that company because it seems to me to be all too "look at me! look at me!"

Here's to being humble.

le Beauty Shop, Ipoh Mali.

2007-01-15T20:32:00.000+08:00

Some pics taken over the weekend - what normally happens when the whole family congregates for a dinner function (pics compressed).

The Firsts of 2007, Many More to Come.

2007-01-03T11:47:00.000+08:00

Was driving to work this morning anticipating a new work day, a new month and a new year. Nothing too exciting there but I compiled this enroute. I'm not someone who's big on New Year's celebrations except in my younger days when we'd find any excuse to party (how foolish!) so forgive me for not replying or sending any thoughtful sms, but I am touched by the kind friends who took the trouble. Anyway, I thought this would be fun to look back on later. In random order....

The First Person I Wished / Saw : My significant other - simply because he happened to be there while I was getting ready to call it a long day coincidentally right at the brink of midnight (couldn't be bothered to wait for the Ooh! So exciting! Countdown!!!)

The First Meal : Teluk Intan Curry Noodles (not bad at all) for RM2! (Kar-Liew - RM2.50... Bargain or What???)

The First Splurge : Ok, I only intended to spend about RM300+ to change my balding front tires but ended up swiping RM1250! YowZA! No, I did not add any Ah Beng accessories to my car - just happened that many things needed changing, all to do with my front tires!

The First Person I Called : Me mom

The First Person Who Called Me : My brother, needing rescue coz they managed to lock the car keys in the car

The First Drive to Work : Surprisingly smooth, considering it's the first working day and the first day of school - what more with my brand spanking new tires and brake pads and joints etc

The First Scary Sight : A man lying in the middle of our side of the trunk road from Teluk Intan to Bidor, flung off his bike (This is after my bitching to Keat on why there are so many road accidents during festivities)

The First Dump : Simply satisfying, after almost 2 days of stuffing my face in short intervals leaving my guts bloated

The First Sing-Your-Heart-Out : My Chemical Romance's Welcome To The Black Parade, of course!

The First Silly Thing I Did : Inspired by a little boy, I decided to play his game. I closed my eyes and made Keat lead me through a busy shopping complex but the party pooper stopped when traffic got heavy.

Happy New Year All!

Mr. Chu Yong.

2006-12-29T16:24:00.000+08:00

I had dinner with one of the carolling sistas yesterday and was reminded of the other nonsense we did during our "group study". I'm determined to get this down for fear of losing my memory one day - which may be sooner than anticipated.

In Form 2, I am proud to say I scored 37 /100 in Science for the mid-year exam. I hated Science and Betik's (Mrs. Gan) teaching did not help. So I attended Science tuition thereafter with the 2 carolling sistas. His name was Mr. Chu Yong. We would sit in a row in the super cold study room and this was where all the action took place (demo tape, plastersine balls etc). We were good at first but the 3 of us in one room was a recipe for disaster. Most of the things mentioned earlier was done after tuition and on other days, but we didn't spare Mr. Chu Yong. While he was trying to educate us we would play "hurt your neighbour relay", doodle on each other's books and that was also when the plastersine chocolate balls were invented. I think we even offered him some. I clearly remembered one lesson we were mocking around the entire lesson and in trying to contain our laughter, we were looking everywhere else except the white board. When I looked up the whole white board was filled with his scribblings and drawings of experiments. Unfortunately it was me who looked up at that very moment when he turned to face his notorious audience of 3 and went "Eh! You all listening or not?" You think????

At some point I think we came to our senses a little and tried to pay attention. Maybe it was close to the exams or maybe he changed his strategy. We were going through the multiple choice questions. He would read out the question and we would have to answer. Most of you would be familiar with the choices of a, b, c, d or e. So when Mr. Chu Yong read the question and we would tembak something like "aye" "bye" "sai" "dai" "eye". I don't know who started it but it was so funny. He could get "bye" "sai" and "dai" but maybe there was a fine line between "aye" and "eye" because when we picked of the those, he said "There's no "I" there".

Halfway in Form 3, our science tuition got combined with 3 other people - Meera Menon from another class, a small, dark guy named Bok and the satanic fat *&^%$ named Khor Kee Meng. Oh how we loathed him, that Fish-Lips Kin-Cheo-Kia (Banana Boy) but that's a different chapter.

Anyhow, I feel sorry for Mr. Chu Yong for all the times he had to talk to the whiteboard and take in the fumes of the whiteboard marker at close proximity, but heck! At least he got paid. For the record I actually got 74/100 for Science in the final exams (100% improvement!) That's got to account for something :)

Medical Intervention.

2006-12-26T13:21:00.000+08:00

After 3 years of wedded bliss (or so it may seem to some) and no offspring, some folks are getting impatient. Subtle hints have transformed to down right blunt interrogation. My paternal grandma aka IGP is very eager especially since my cousin who got married just over a month after us has 2 sons to his name. My dad, well I think he just feels left out because 2 of his younger brothers are grandparents of 4 and 2 respectively. My mom and MIL need no mention.

While having breakfast on Saturday, my MIL suggested that we go to a traditional chinese medicine (TCM) practitioner to possibly shed some light. How do you tell your MIL that while there may be something inherently wrong with one of us, most of it balled down to family planning and choosing sleep over the other S word. Not wanting to explain, we went ahead with it because I am one of those people who likes to find out the medical state of my body be it western or eastern.

Ma Kuang TCM Medical Group originated from Singapore and it's now sprouting its branches here. We went to the Puchong branch specifically to see Dr. Wang Neng Mei. It's a very clean set up with an electronic number system like the banks and shelves lined with identically-shaped plastic bottles. When our turn arrived, I was the last one to get into the room so I did not hear what my MIL told the mainland-Mandrin speaking doctor. All I understood was "3 years" which Keat uttered and I think it's safe to say that that was a reply to "How many years have you been married?" which I gathered was supposed to be synonomous with "How long have you been shooting blanks?" or "Since when have you discovered you may have a fertility issue?" It's like wheneven I went to the panel doctors for fake or legit MCs they always ask you "Are you married?" which I will automatically say "No" but am always tempted to add "but that does not mean I am not sexually active" Anyway, since I had kept the family planning bit away from my MIL, I did not protest.

The very pleasant doctor took my pulse and blood pressure and got me to stick out my tongue. He said I have poor blood circulation also evidenced by my pale fingernails and the fact that eczemas kept sprouting on my limbs only. I have lots of wind, phlegm, frequently felt tight around my shoulders, did not sleep well and got irritated easily as a result of stress. While he was explaining stuff to my interpreter aka MIL, I heard the words "Ta-Pien" to which I quickly replied "OK! OK!" and in turn was scoffed off with a negative. Hey, to me being regular means OK but not to the doctor. I shan't go into the sordid details of my bowel movements but let's just say he got it spot on, just like everything else. Anyway, he sent us off each with a nasty concoction of dirty looking powder mixed and sachet-packed before our very eyes and told to return the following week for a follow-up.

Verdict: Smell - NASTY;Taste - NASTIER

Advice : Avoid spicy food (yeah, ok) and deep fried food (hmmm.. if only he knew we just had some Yong Tau Foo), no Bak Kut Teh (Doctor's orders)

What did we eat yesterday? Bak Kut Teh for brunch and I had a McDonald's apple pie and fries and a sundae.

Sudah Cuckoo.

2006-12-23T13:20:00.000+08:00

Since loading Sudoku on the PSP, it's been a battle of domination with Keat. Now it's a matter of who comes home and gains control first. I admit it's starting to get abit boring but Somebody politely disallows me to store other girlie games in the Memory Stick. Nevertheless, something's better than nothing, so I play on even when my eyes are watery and the eyeballs feel like they are on stretched rubber bands waiting to be flung out of the sockets. I play on even when it's uncomfortably warm at the same spot on the sofa, I play on even when it's way past my bed time. Yesterday, we got home pretty late after a "goe-thong" family dinner and although I was buggerred, what did I do? Sudoku. Sudoku. Sudoku. When I finally quit and got ready for bed, I closed my eyes and saw a sudoku grid with random numbers. I blinked open to clear the grid. I closed my eyes again and the grid magically appeared in my vision. I think that's a sign of too much Sudoku. Anyhow, what did I do today? I went to the Magnum-4D to buy numbers la.

Tis the Season...

2006-12-22T13:32:00.000+08:00

I've been meaning to take a picture of my fibre-optic christmas tree which hosts about 8 little silver bells, a rotund reindeer at its foot accompanied by a hoard of bills and chargers but I've been too darn lazy. Anyway while fixing up the tree (i.e. pulling it out of the box, straightening the branches, plugging it in and hanging the 8 silver bells) I was suddenly brought back to the mid-point in my life tis merry season. 14 to 16 years ago, together with 2 whacko friends(yes, you know who you are), we were supposed to be "group-studying". The 3 of us had lots of fun doing anything but. We bottled a life rat, made plastersine chocolate balls, made too many prank calls, cycled to the hut to buy mee goreng from Yaakob (we don't know his real name), messed around with the doggies and carolled. Yes, Christmas carolled. We practised our harmonies and even recorded it. Why, I don't exactly know. It's not like we were planning to submit it to an agent for talent search. Of course that was just a few of the silly things we did, but it was all so fun. If only I could have it all over again - minus the parental spot-checks and impromptu coordination of parental deceit [What did you all study? Err.. err... Huh? You don't know what you studied??? or Studied Geography huh? Ok, what's the capital of Bolivia? Err..] Landing in hot soup was so not happening, but it was a small price to pay for the heaps of rolling on the floor laughter which I will take with me to my grave.

Fast forward to the next half of my life, how we have all moved on. Most of us have become wives and mothers, wives-to-be and mothers-to-be, earning a living as supposedly responsible adults with one too many incessant bills to pay. It's such a nice feeling to know that we haven't changed much since. We are still the whacky girls we were half our lives ago and I am eternally grateful for all the good times then and now. We all turned out OK despite what the teachers and nerds predicted and HECK! At least we had fun. But then again, who are we to judge that the nerds didn't have fun. Maybe getting a science experiment spot-on or gluing their eyes to books was fun by their standard.

Feelin It.

2006-12-18T18:16:00.000+08:00

When the PS2 got stolen last year, sure I was pissed off. I was pissed off because someone had voilated our privacy and pissed off because it was me who gave Keat the PS2. The theft made me so angry that I didn't so much feel sorry for Keat who's been moping around the house PS2-less. Anyway he finally put himself out of his misery and got himself a PSP while my insensitivity came round and bit me right in the ass when my iPod died. Then it was me moping round the house with a sense of loss, confessing that now I know how he felt when the PS2 got stolen. Ironically, they were both things that we had given each other and things that meant very much to us - for their entertainment value, not so much the sentimental.

The arrival of the PSP brought along its share of pros and cons. Pro - he gives in to me more easily when it comes to the TV (except when the PSP is charging); Con - it can be quite eeerrrgggghhhhh!!!! when he gets so hooked to the PSP, forgoing sleep hours, forgoing my great company. Anyway, I managed to download my girlie game of Sudoku on the PSP (memory space limited) and then the tables were turned serving sweet revenge. It was ME hogging it, addicted. I was glued to the darn thing from 5pm until the battery waned a couple of hours later. As soon as the battery got charged, I was at it again until 2am forgoing my sleep and calling a raincheck for my 7am morning walk appointment the next day. The next morning we were fighting over it and I won obviously when I put forward my argument of "You've been hogging it since you got". I guess now he knows how it feels to be ignored :)

OK Go.

2006-12-04T18:32:00.000+08:00

If you haven't heard of this group or seen their music video, go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NINJQ5LRh-0

It's hilarious. I've watched it about 5 or 6 times today and it cracks me up everytime I watch it. My brother was the one who told me about them and the video. Somehow I have never caught them on MTV or Channel [V]. It's so damn funny and it brings back memories of the 80s - the aerobics-influenced dance steps, the roller-disco motions, the invisible lasso... gosh it's so funny I can't even type this without giggling about it. A Million Ways, that's another great one but unfortunately the ones posted at YouTube do not stream very well. The awesome part about it is the fact that in this day and age of special effects and air-brushing, these 4 guys managed to pull something so cool deffinately on a shoestring. While who knows how many takes and rounds of practice they had to make, in the end the entire video is made out of one full take. This so brings back memories of school days!

ope you guys enjoyed it as much as it cracks me up just thinking about it :)

For the Dearly Departed.

2006-12-01T17:07:00.000+08:00

World AIDS Day. For me it's taking a moment to remember those who have passed or are in suffering because of the lack of knowledge or information, mere ignorance, failure to take precaution or seriousness re the matter at hand or just plain unfortunate to be a victim of circumstances. HIV infection has been something which has gotten to me perhaps because of the extensive research I did for my ESL project donkey years ago and the fact that I have had someone close succumb to HIV infection some years back. I salute the champions who campaign for AIDS/HIV awareness because every bit helps and being informed can help curb the spread. Yes, I can be quite dramatic huh!

On the subject of HIV and immune systems, 2 days ago while getting too engrossed in My Chemical Romance's Welcome to the Black Parade my iPod decided to die - again. I love, love, LOVE that song just as much as I love my iPod - the lyrics, the video, the whole arrangement, the zest and passion of the boys. It's so captivating, so epic and I so dig the underlying message. It somehow all reminds me of Freddie Mercury/Queen. How ironically coincidental that he died of AIDS in November, 1991 (24th, if I'm not mistaken) and once I chanced upon a listener tagging MCR as "As gay as it gets" or something like that on Amazon.com. Gay or not, I don't give a toot because I think that both Queen and MCR are fantastic. Anyway, it seems that my iPod also suffered some kind of Immuno Defficiency - it had a bad hard disc sector and Calvin the technician was unable to send it to Disc Mode or reformat it. I begged and begged Calvin (whom I do not know personally, by the way) to try to resusitate it but I don't think it's gonna work. Yes, that was devastating and I know that being so attached to an object is quite pathetic but I DON'T CARE!!!!!!!! I want my FREAKING IPOD BACK! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Drama Minggu Ini.

2006-11-28T12:14:00.000+08:00

(This Week's Drama)

It's 12 midnight in a low density block of a condominium. Suddenly you hear a female voice screaming till kingdom come. What would you do? Would you go out to check? I think I would have put my nose out because I am indeed a nosy bugger but I didn't - because it was me doing all the screaming.

I was taking some towels out to dump into the washing machine and en route I was outrightly complaining about Keat who was pretty much ready for bed, leaving the lights and fan in the hall on, the fibre-optic Christmas tree still aglow and the back balcony door wide open. I had noticed some increasing bird droppings on the balcony sill over the past few days and from about 1 meter from the balcony door (yes, the washing machine is located in that balcony) I saw a new spot of bird dropping at an unconventional place. So I stuck my head out of the door, looked above the dropping and bloody hell, there was a farking black pigeon perched on my drying line. It was about 2 feet from me. So what did I do? What anyone who knows me well enough would expect me to do. I threw the towels on the kitchen floor and ran away screaming at the top of my lungs. Who gives a rat's ass if it was midnight? I screamed so loud my throat hurt!

By the way, no one actually bothered to check from what I gathered (OK, so I was peeking through the blinds while Keat chased the freaking bird away and cleaned up). Maybe we live in a society where we mind our own business and have lost that neighbourly edge or maybe, to give my kind neighbours a little bit of credit, they were used to the crazy neighbour who's afraid of birds.

Near Death Experience.

2006-11-10T19:02:00.000+08:00

Not me, my iPod. Yes I know my attachment to such inanimate things could be frowned upon but who the heck cares. Anyway, I don't think you can fully classify iPods as inanimate...

While I was writing the previous post / downloading new music last weekend I noticed a funny monochrome battery icon on my iPod and it would not sync with my PC. So I fiddled and tried soft resets but a sad iPod icon appeared asking me to check the support site. I followed the instructions but no can do. Tragic!!! My world would fall apart. The iPod is very special to me because Keat gave it to me for my last birthday and simply because it's mine. Anyhow,after work I took it home to charge but it still kept alternating between the Apple logo (false hope) and the sad iPod icon and it wouldn't charge. Tragic! The next day I asked around and no one seemed to have had that problem. Well, some other users did but the thread was too long for me to find out how it was resolved. Mostly it was suggestions to send it in for service and my warranty had only just expired. Damn it! One of my friends who owns like 3 or 4 iPods (don't ask me why - he's mad) went "HaHa! I've never seen the sad iPod icon before!" and rudely messaged me the next day asking if I have converted my iPod to function as a paper weight. RUDE! Anyway, I checked the service centers and after 2 days of contemplation, I told my office boy to send it for a diagnosis. I stripped my iPod off it's sarong and I pressed the select button to show my boy what the problem was and lo and behold, it was working fine, battery fully charged! How'da like that???!!! I was super-elated and kept turning it on and off to ensure that I was not imagining it. I tell you these things have a life of their own, so inanimate they are not! It's like when your car plays up, you threaten to send it to the workshop and miraculously it will work fine after the warning.

Well for me it was HALLELUJAH! PRAISE THE LORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cinta Actually.

2006-11-04T11:47:00.000+08:00

Yesterday I finally caught almost all of Love Actually, the Brit-star-studded movie made up of a few stories on the theme of love with the characters of each love-chapter somehow connected to the other (man-made 6 degrees of separation?). I'm now in love with Joni Mitchell's Both Sides Now and Jeanette Lindstorms' version as well - that was the part when Emma Thompson found out she was betrayed by Professor Snape (Haha! I can't remember his name. OK, he was her husband in the movie). I kind of liked that movie, something nice to unwind to on a Friday night.

After the movie I did my usual channel-surfing and chanced upon this advert/trailer for "Cinta". There was snippets of scenes with single word adjectives. It was quite an impressive ensemble and I would have raised an eye-brow had I not just watched Love Actually because at the end of the trailer, in true blue Malaysian style closed off with "10 stars...5 stories...1 movie...CINTA" Ori or what????

2006-11-02T19:09:00.000+08:00

These are 3 cool bands but I am frequently confusing one with the other. Perhaps it's because they pretty much became "known" round about the same time and fall into the same genre? What's even more confusing is the fact that there is some kind of 6-degrees-of-seperation thinggo going on here.

Hoobastank. Very cool. Catchy "The Reason" is probably one of their bigger hits and is also the theme song for Smallville - the current day Superman series.

Then there's 3 Doors Down with "Kryptonite" and finally Five For Fighting (it's the number thing 3...5...) with a really, really cool track "Superman (It's Not Easy)".

Yea, I know it sounds like I have nothing else better to do besides figuring out some MTV-style rubbish but believe me, for the past week, work has been a bloody lesbian bitch for me.

That's Five for Fighting's frontman Jon Ondrasik.

Sniff.

2006-11-02T18:14:00.000+08:00

Just found out that Nobee (King of the Road) passed-away on Sunday. Cause of death uncertain, but he was abit sickly the past few days before his death. He now rests in the neighbourhood kebun. Will miss him dearly.

El-Nin-AiYoYO!!!!!!!

2006-10-26T16:28:00.000+08:00

I was channel surfing and came across Tata Young's El-Nin-YO! music video. I've heard this song on the radio before and it sounded very bimbo-ish and sluttish and voila! Her music video backs it up a notch.

To start with she has some kind of resemblance to Jennifer Lopez (eeeeeyyyyyeeewwww!!!!!!!!) So Ms Tata struts out from the elevator in a black overcoat, kinda like Robyn Givens in Boomerang and walks into a rather cheesy hotel room. At some point the overcoat is removed and she starts lip-synching while prancing around in a simpky skirt and bra-ish kinda top. Prance and gyrate on the bed, some slutty moves here and there, swish the dark hair oh and of course must have some strands sticking to her face while she gives the come-and-get-me-boys look straight into the camera. I suppose there is only so much you space you can prance about in a hotel room so to add variety she starts pouring a bottle of water over herself while swooshing about and then tilts her head back and pours the water into her mouth. When it's all starting to look like a cheap porno flick, you can't help but notice the resemblance of the water bottle to something phallic. And just as that thought crosses your mind, she wipes the spilliage near her mouth while the lips are seductively parted. To top it all off, picks up a rather huge strawberry (can you get any cornier???) and sluttily feeds herself with the come-get-me-baby eyes. AiYO!!!!!!!!! I think pubersent boys can make do with this if they can't get hold of any porno.

I consider myself rather liberal and I don't think it's my age catching up and hence the ghastly reaction. It just seems like a cheap and degrading way to get attention. There's quite a big, fat line seperating sexy and slutty and this chick is just bouncing on SLUT!!!!!. Everything about it is cheap - her manner, the look of the hotel room, the clothes, even the video is cheap looking. The only special effects (apart from the gyrating pussycat) is the fire effect (burning her up, Temperature Rising). Sad! Sad! SAD! Kinda reminds me of Brittney Spears. Sex sells, who the heck cares about talent.

Bollywood Beats.

2006-10-13T17:32:00.000+08:00

S.R.K. If that meant Sekolah Rendah Kebangsaan to you, you are not on the same page as my friend Bob, a die hard Shah Rukh Khan fan. Having run dry of music to download, I realised that my collection did not include Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. After several failed and foiled send attempts by my fellow downloader friend, I decided to try my luck on LimeWire and voila! A whole list emerged. In my eager attempt I downloaded the wrong song so who else to clarify with if not for Bob who happened to be online. Immediately she sent me the mp3, got me the artiste name for my updating purposes and a list of must-see Bollywood movies. I regret to inform that to date I have only seen Kuch Kuch Hota Hai to which I bawled my eyes out like a bloody twit at the train scene. Thank god I was home alone then. Bob also sent me a couple of must-have Bollywood songs which I was more than pleased to listen to during my ride home.

While getting intoxicated with the trancy drum beats I was quite pleased with myself for being appreciative of diverse music (my bro had recently given me a slew of Search songs - that brought back good memories) and I suddenly remembered my darling dad and the fact that I have inherited his love for music, loud voice and bluntness. A couple of years ago, my dad, the firm believer but non practicing Bahai attended a Christmas do at the Renewal Lutheran Church with his family, an invitation extended by his sister-in-law. I have been for one of these Christian dos before and fanaticism aside, I was very impressed with the quality of the musical interludes and performances. So anyway my dad told us that the musical performances (not lyrics) were so beautiful that he got all teary-eyed. His SIL said that he was all teary because Jesus had touched his heart to which my good ole dad retorted "My foot la! I will touch Jesus' heart before he can touch mine!"

She So Sucks.

2006-09-25T19:04:00.000+08:00

Let me just say that I just had my first Wednesday and Thursday without Rockstar and there was a strong feeling of loss. But I'm here to bitch about Friday nights. There's absolutely nothing to watch on Friday nights so I usually turn to 8TV to semi-watch One In A Million although most of the time I'm flipping through magazines or playing Sudoku as well because the contestants are nowhere compared to my beloved Rockstar rockers. NOWHERE!!! Ok, so back to OIAM. In one of the earlier episodes the judges ranked the contestants from 1 to 20 and this Ah Moi Suki was the highest ranked followed by Dayang Nurfizah, so I was expecting something quite spectacular. First time I saw her I was disappointed but I thought OK, they have good days and bad days. The other few times that I watched her she was still crap but somehow this girl never landed at the bottom. A few times the judges really gave her harsh comments and even made her cry but she still managed to stay afloat and she made it to the final 3 along with Faizal and Alif.

I may be a self-proclaimed racist but I'll give credit where it's due. Sure I would have liked a Chinese to win but I found Faizal to be a much better performer compared to the Ah Lian Avril Lavigne-Kelly Clarkson wannabe (come on - pink top, white boots, white hat???) on too many occasions. He took the stage so much better and gave much more thought to his performances and outshone everyone especially during the finale. I think that rightfully in terms of talent, the million bucks should have been his.

Suki sucked as a viable and deserving singer/performer winner but I have to give her credit for being a smart, strategizing cookie. She chose to sing Malay songs on quite a few occasions and when she was allowed the liberty to pick a celebrity to duet with, she picked Ella and undoubtedly did a Malay number. During interviews, this Ah Moi chose to reply in very fluent Malay, not that her English was anything close to horrendous. Not surprising it was revealed in one episode that she had quite a strong pool of Malay fans who took her to the finish line victorious and also contributed to her RM1m. Guess the genes still wins.

Practice In Stillness.

2006-09-25T09:57:00.000+08:00

I look forward to my Wednesday yoga classes but the extended version of breathing exercises at the beginning has always been the biggest challenge. Lately Manoj (le teacher) tries to impart some knowledge about the yoga scriptures while we sit in silence with closed eyes. Ok so I'm not one of those very devoted students who go through the scriptures, decipher, co-relate or whatever it is they do (you should see how these people discuss and analyze in the email group) . Me, I try to make sense of what is being said with hope that whatever I hear and don't get goes straight into my Random Access Memory and one fine day I will see the light. I'm frequently wondering if I'm the only one who doesn't get it all but I do try to listen and absorb as much as the mind is willing to compromise. Many times he tells us about ignoring the external disturbances. Instead to look into ourselves and draw attention to the body, the mechanics and the cerebral connection (I think - he can get quite scientific). Ironically, while he tells us to shoo away disturbances, I start to feel my body betraying me - my upper back getting tight and tired, my nose needing a good twitch, a brow in desperate need of a swipe and the army of ant congregating in my crossed legs. Surely all this constitutes external disturbances. On top of that, I get all sorts of nonsense criss-crossing my mind. So I take this part of the class as a good thing and work towards achieving something from it.

Now here's the fun part. Last week Manoj annouced that we will start with the standing postures and seated postures will be done at the end of the class. Darn it! I like to get the part I least enjoy over and done with ASAP. So after completing our routines he tells those who are going to the ashram with him in November that there will be one hour of sitting in stillness practice everyday and they should start to practice which will benefit the rest of us too. We had to get into our most comfortable seated positions and no that does not include sitting like a trishaw puller backed up against the wall. It had to be lotus, semi-lotus or plain cross legs and basically don't be kiasu or try to show-off because you had to stay still in that position for the next 20 minutes. No guesses which position I opted for :)

We got into the scriptures and again I got lost at some point but I really tried hard to listen and apply. Somewhere in between the silence, I felt as though my fingers where touching although I specifically recalled leaving my palms open. So I wiggled my fingers to confirm and yerp, they were just the way i left them. At a few points I felt like I was falling asleep and actually felt my body tip forward. I don't know if I was deep into that state of relaxation or so way out that I was falling sleep. Now wouldn't it be funny if I actually tip forward and hit the floor! So as my body was dozing off, I had to make sure the legs and feet still had some sensation left to break any attemped fall if need arises. But my legs started getting numb and any cheating toe-wiggling left me in a streak of semi-numb pain. We did some breathing exercises and when his buzzer went off I did a mental WOOHOOO!!! only to find out that that was 10 minutes gone, 10 more to go. How about that. I think he knew that there was at least one poor soul crying out for help for he gave us some encouraging words which I interpreted as block off the disturbances, enjoy the silence and you won't feel the time.

Miraculously the next 8 minutes of so was a breeze and when he told us to put our palms in namaste (prayer position) I was singing hallelujah! But when I slowly unlocked my crossed legs, the pent up army of ants went out in full force causing me to wince in pain as the blood started circulating properly. No pain no gain, I still don't know if I did it right but heck! At least I made it through the 20 minutes and I think I'm getting somewhere. And I hope in my subconscious I'm learning to apply all the good things he tries to teach us.

2 Cool.

2006-09-20T17:43:00.000+08:00

On the left is almost 10 months old Jared, offspring of Selina and Norman. Now I am no baby expert but I'm guessing at that age they pretty much do lots of observing and absorbing otherwise known as starring and occasional drooling because lil Jared did pretty much that along with other regular toddler antics. The first time I saw him he just starred at me and was probably trying to process where all that extra noise was coming from. Likewise, I was analysing him too - trying to figure out if he looked like Selina or Norman. But I couldn't. One angle he looks like Selina and kabaam! Eh! Looks like Norman. So I have concluded that Selina and Norman look alike although I'm picturing them now and they so do not look alike. Anyway, back to Jared. He's a cute little bub. He was very well behaved in the short time we spent with him so he's a good bub in my book. Anyway Selina, when he's older and you guys are driving by somewhere and Jared goes "Eh! We're on Horr-Lan avenue" you will have proof that them babies were really absorbing at that tender age (for the non-french speakers, that's a Hokkien profanity).

Next to him is almost 2.5 years old Denzel, offspring of Joyce and Damian. You might recognize him from the Pringles endorsement in one of my previous entries. He's very cute and entertaining, to say the least. After getting our apprehension out of the way, we got along fine. This is my most significant contribution to his vocabulary (Ben, you would approve of this):

Me: Denzel, do like this (to his fingers) and say "WWHHHAAAAZZZZPPPP!!!!!!!"

after about 2 illustrations
D: WAAASSSSAAAPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!! (giggle giggle)
Me: Good! Ok! OK! One more time "WWHHHAAAAZZZZPPPP!!!!!!!" (with hand signals and feng thou head)

D: WAAASSSAAAAPPPPP!!!!!

Me, whispering: OK, now to go mama and say "wwwhhhhaaazzzpppp!!!"

no reaction, just bewildered starring

Me, still whispering: wwwhhhhaaazzzpppp!!!!

still no reaction

Me, in full force: WWWHHHHAAAAAZZZZZPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!

suddenly..
D: waassssaaapppp... waaasssaaaappp... WAAAASSSSAPPPPPP!!!!!!

After a few rounds of practice (with the first 2 wwhhhaazzaapps in whispers) he ran to the kitchen with his right hand stretched stiffly by his side, fingers still in the pose and gave his mom the drill. When Joyce came back to sit with us at the sofa Denzel and I were still at it and he was so excited, squealing with laughter after the last "WAAAASSSAAAAAAPPPPPP" that he accidently flung Joyce's handphone which went flying behind the sofa and landed hard on the floor. Luckily there was curtains. If not that phone would deffinately have gone out the window to a fatal end 5 floors down.

Farewell Stevo.

2006-09-06T14:00:00.000+08:00

A very close friend of mine is very affected by the untimely death of Steve Irwin. She feels a loss so deep as if she has lost a family member. Funny though, she was not a fanatical aaaahhhh!!!! throw-your-knickers type of fan. My friend thinks that her "grieving" is perhaps because she always wanted to be a naturalist / biologist (but ended up doing something completely different) and that is some kind of connection however remote. I too am not that type of fan but I have enjoyed watching him on TV tremendously and have always admired his zelousness, passion and energy that he puts into indoctrinating conservation of and respect for wildlife. I am very sadden by his death as we are now short of a someone who tried and did make a difference. He did what he loved and he did it great. We are now left with his legacy and re-runs of the shows.

I guess to my friend, Steve's death is kinda like a jolt questioning or hinting at her to assess her life (again) - what has been done, will be done and most importantly, if it is what she really wants in life. I have had this sort conversation too many times, mostly in monologue. Especially in our society, we are all champions at doing what is expected of us, the "right" thing but how often is it something we really want to do? Life if short and we can't live on regrets. Yet there is the harness that keeps yanking us back to our definition of reality and practicality. I watch young western travellers who throw caution in the wind, take months off during semester breaks or after graduating to travel around the world. Some just quit their jobs, travel for years and go heck! I'll get a new job when I'm done. While I had the liberty of doing a little bit of travelling after university, I felt the harness. For us here its get an education, get a job NOW! No wasting time and money. I'm not saying that I wanted to be a backpacking globe trotter but I guess I have been guided to do what's "right" which may not necessarily be what I really wanted. Sometimes I wished I had wreckless guts to say I'm living my life for me but I think of the repercussions and put it in the sack. So life goes on in the path I laid for myself . Sure there are little thorns of regret, but then I think about it again... the many good things that I have going for me now may not have been if I had chose of different path.

As for Stevo, I'm sure he died happy and in his short life he did what he loved which much passion and gusto. Hope he's resting peacefully with all the crocs and reptiles that he tried so hard to protect.

Star-ry Eyed Surprise.

2006-09-04T11:29:00.000+08:00

If reality TV is better than sliced bread, Rockstar had got to be the bacon. If I had to pick my favourite reality TV show this has got to be it no doubt. Much as the excitement and anticipation builds up as the season draws to a close, I feel a little heavy-hearted as I will no longer have something to really, really (and I do mean REALLY) look forward to on Wednesday and Thursday nights as Supernova picks it's ultimate front man or woman come this month.

For the uninitiated, Rockstar Supernova like Rockstar INXS started out with 15 rockers vying to be the lead singer in the band. Supernova is made up of Tommy Lee from Motley Crew, Jason Newsted from Metallica and Gilby Clarke from Guns'N Roses (could it get any better???). The rockers perform, viewers around the world vote, the bottom 3 perform again and Supernova gives someone the flick. Now of course these aspiring rockers started up a bit rough around the edges but who wouldn't? However as the weeks unfold we see them evolving, stepping-up and even revealing hidden sides be it good or bad. In terms of talent, except for the psycho Latino chic from planet Pluto, there is no doubt. These guys deffinately give Brittney, Kelly (Clarkson) and gang a sprint for their money and they will win hands down. After watching them, what an anticlimax it would be to watch American Idol and worse still, our One In A Million.

I am so reluctant to let go. Every week I discuss the merits of the week's performances with the 2 or so people I know who watches it (ok, so you've got to like alternative and rock music to really appreciate them), scour the internet for their music and am always delighted to recover and uncover songs I have forgotten about or never knew existed (e.g. Starman and Changes by David Bowie anybody???) As for the rockers, we have kind of picked out the most likely to win and our favourites. Up to this point I think the rockers that got booted out are justified but now as it draws to a close and only the elite few are left, every next boot is going to be so painful to watch. I put my favourite as one of the last 3 standing, so what a blow it was on Merdeka morning when I turned on the tv to see Ryan Star in the bottom 3 AND got booted out (2 slaps please). I just sat there in disbelief and let out a drawly "FARRRKKKKK!!!!!!" despite being late for breakfast as it is. I guess it would have been inevitable at some point unless he won. Anyhow, I am thankful to have watched this great talent perform even if its only on tv.

Chiang Mai (part 1 maybe).

2006-08-26T17:07:00.000+08:00

This is my first holiday with my mom and we are in Chiang Mai. Being the first, I'm sure it will be interesting to say the least. We have been here for more than 24 hours and so far so good. Phew! :)

My mom set out a few "conditions" beforehand and one of it being that the hotel must be decent. Her definition of "decent" however may very well differ greatly from yours and mine, if you get my drift. Our holiday kicked-off on a good note as she was pleased with the hotel. Me, I loved the cosy, rustic decor and ambience with white-washed walls, brick roofs and frangipanni trees. Somehow it reminded me of my primary school.

With that out of the way, our touristy exploits began. Chiang Mai is dotted with temples (Wats) (and doggy poo) so for starters, we took a walk (carefully watching our steps) to the oldest temple in Chiang Mai which was about a 10 minute walk from the hotel. Unfortunately having been to that massive temple in Bangkok, this temple as well as the many others we walked pass didn't leave me gawking in awe despite the glittery structures. My mom didn't seem too keen on the temples so we opted for next on the agenda. We visited Warorot Market and I found the spread so captivating to the senses, especially the local delicacies. At night we visited the night bazaar which was pretty much like Chee-Cheong-Kai minus the Canto speaking Ah Bengs. We travelled around in the infamous tuk-tuk and my mom actually enjoyed it! But as soon as we settled our butts down, the tuk-tuk drivers like all the taxi drivers were quick to quip in their singsong fashion, "Madam, where you go to tomorrow?" "You go to see elephant?" while whipping out tour brochures like magicians and the elephants were a prelude to "You go to Doi Suthep?"

So today we went to Doi Suthep, the must-see temple on a mountain top via the red converted pick-up truck taxis. Doi Suthep is very much like Batu Caves what with the 300 odd steps leading up except instead of the monkeys you get Akha girls waiting along the steps singing something ending with "... I have no money". It rained when we got there and we had to rent umbrellas from ever-ready vendors. The umbrella was a bloody nuisance and many times I wished I could have chucked it down the mountain (So much for finding peace and serenity. Ok, I was trying to take pictures with the damn umbrella resting on the crown of my head. Tell me that isn't annoying) The temple itself is quite beautiful with many buddhas, stupas and structures of gold but again, it's was far cry from the momma temple in Bangkok. After the spindly drive down from Doi Suthep we decided to go for a massage and much to my dismay, we could not find any place where you could seperate cheap and dodgy. The hotel conceige recommended a very pricy spa which did not seem worth the quid (we can get better deals in Malaysia for that kind of money!), nor was I able to find anything on my own. Finally with the help of the tuk-tuk driver Big, we found a fairly decent place. Ok, it was a little old and dodgy but I was revitalized after the session of kneading, twisting and pulling which left me wincing in pain at some points, much to the amusement of the masseurs. So revitalized I am now that sleep would not come. That explains why I'm here at an Internet cafe while my mom is taking her beauty nap.

Revival of the 80s?

2006-08-22T13:05:00.000+08:00

My new dermatologist Dr. Bow-Tie has Ah-Lian aunties on his staff, except for the pleasant Sikh lady who puts me down to shame with her Cantonese. Anyway, back to the Ah-Lian aunties. There are 2 of them and what gave me the authority to call them Ah-Lians was the hair do. One had a pretty straight fringe flanked by flowing maggi-mee curls to just above the shoulders while the other had a big bowl of Maggi-mee with streaks of curry seasoning. Sorry, I meant streaks of reddish colouring.

The other day we were having drinks at Cafe Flem and the deepening night saw the influx of Lala-Muis and Lala-Chais. A plump Lala-Mui sat at the table next to us and I couldn't help but snigger because her apparently very fashionable hairdo much like aunty #2, reminded me of a poodle. I don't know about you, but when I see hairstyles like these I get flashbacks of the 80s.

It's quite scary to see the revival of the 80s simply because the 80s WAS scary. The maggi curls of Sheena Easton and Laura Brannigan, heck! even the guys had curls (Nik Kershaw, Boy George?), the ghastly plasticy earrings (think fuschia pink and turquiose blue). I've seen the stilettos and open-toe heels make a come back already over the recent years and when I saw a woman wearing hanging palazzo pants with them stilettos, it sure looked like a ressurrection in the making to me. YIKES! What next? The curry puff fringe and the overly padded tops and jackets?

2 More of Little Luca.

2006-08-10T13:23:00.000+08:00

Penang Mali.

2006-08-08T18:13:00.000+08:00

Over the weekend, the four of us made a trip to Penang to see my holidaying cousin Katy and family. Travelling to Melaka or Ipoh is already quite a challenge for me let alone Penang. Nevertheless, it was a trip well worth it.

After breakfast we started our journey pausing at the more glamourous rest areas (i.e. toilets) at Sg. Buloh and Tapah before stopping in Ipoh to perform some prayers for the hungry ghost festival and Hakka noodles. On the next leg of the journey, we decided to play a game we called Master of Categories and what fun that was. We started out with car brands and in a knock out system, we covered flowers, fruits, 4-legged animals, watch brands, sitcoms/tv series. It's quite amazing to observe how we get caught up with trying to win i.e. being kiasu that we overlook the simplest and most obvious. Anyhow the categories got even more complexed - Michael Jackson's song and you have to sing at least a line, songs containing the word "love" and closing up the game with Dead Musicians. Well that kept us entertained for most of the ride.

When we finally got to Penang, we scouted for accomodation along Batu Feringghi but believe it or not, they were all fully booked - even the dodgy ones. I was quite amazed at the transformation of Batu Feringghi what with the stretch of shops selling beach wear, restaurants catering to tourists and the street stalls selling anything and everything. I was also quite struck by the number of middle eastern tourist, the women readily identifiable in the black "outfits".

Anyhow our time in Penang was spent mostly in the car or eating (if you sat next to us you would wonder who died and made us food critics). We even drove through a scenic and very windy uphill road to get to Balik Pulau to tapau some especially ordered perut ikan and to devour (and tapau) some very yummy and unique laksa. It was like a combination of the Penang and Melaka laksa. LOVELY!

The whole intension of the trip however was to see my cousin, her husband Tony and their little angel Luca who turned one on Saturday. He was such a cutie I just had to put his picture up. It was so good to see my cousin again on happier accounts since the last time we met was almost exactly 2 years ago when my beloved grandmother passed away. Seeing them deffinately compensated for the restlessness throughout the journey :)

Pathetic.

2006-07-18T13:07:00.000+08:00

That's what I thought when I saw the front page of today's Star. In the spotlight is Siti Nurhaliza and Datuk K announcing their marriage. Well good for them. On the radio this morning listeners were basically bitching about him being a divorcee, 20 years her senior etc. WHO FREAKING CARES??? What got me clicking my tongue, shaking my head and rolling my eyes was the fact that she, not he, in my opinion tried to stir up a hype by denying the relationship all along when the general public was eagerly speculating. Now Datuk K, he is quite a cool cat. "Wait for the annoucement in July" which is fair enough. She had to do the c**k-teaser crap which I feel is a very feeble and amatuerish attempt at hoarding attention. I can understand if she is some cannot-make-it wannabe grasping for the tiniest flicker of attention, perhaps someone like Sarimah Ibrahim (that's Abraham in English. BTW, has anyone heard her sing? GOD!) Siti has already got the package and hence she is Malaysia's pop princess. She's Malay, she's pretty, she's got a clean rep and much as I hate to admit, she does have a good voice. I am deffinately not a fan of her music, but I am a fan of her English. So is all this drama really necessary? I think it's just pathetic.

Also on the front page is the Malay woman who apparently was the ear-squats victim. She's suing for RM10m. That just pawed at my pent up disgust about the whole issue. That has got to be by far the most translucently pathetic cover-up I've come across. First we almost instantly sent a minister over to China to do damage-control and suddenly weeks later we were mistaken. It was a Malay woman. I saw the ear-squats video. So when i looked at the apparent victim I couldn't quite place that stubby head on the squatting body. In fact when I saw her face, she reminded me more of the policewoman.

Tsk Tsk Tsk. Malaysia BOLEH!

That's Right.... Right?

2006-07-15T16:06:00.000+08:00

My dad is right-handed, my mom uses her right hand only to write and my brother is a full-fledged leftie. Me, I'm just a complete mess as I've come to realize over the years. While I use my right hand for almost everything, my ambidextrous uncle (mom's brother) pointed out that I automatically picked up and used a pool cue with my left hand. The other day a customer noted that I counted money with my left hand. I know I use my utensils the "wrong way". Those are the few I can remember for now. Anyhow, when I was in uni I sold myself for some extra bucks to the phychology students who were running cognitive-type tests. On one particularly arduous experiment involving lots of cleaning preparation, wires, electrons and finger tapping, I was told that I was "supposed to be" a leftie. With all this mess, it is no wonder that until today I am unable to tell which is left and which is right and that is probably why I never noticed that I did some things with my left hand unless pointed out.

Since I was in kindergarten, I have learned to look at my thumb to distinguish my left and right. I have a little mole on my right thumb and that has been my saving grace. Unfortunately, over the years the mole has kind of loss its shine and right now it is just a smeary dot which requires closer inspection to notice. As such at some point when probed for directions you would see me picking up an imaginary pen to scribble the air. I write with my right. Obviously that is a little bit more time consuming than looking at the thumb. But old habits die hard and I still instinctively look at my thumb to guide me. About a year or so ago, I have noticed that a similar mole has appeared on my left thumb coincidentally at a pretty much identical spot. This newer mole is deffinately more prominent (being new) and it has caused me to give wrong directions on many occasions.

Keat always takes the mickey out of me for mixing my lefts and rights. In retaliation, I tell him that I'll be having the last laugh if this "disability" is hereditary and his kids turn out to be just as confused as me. Then lets see who will have a hard time driving, trying to get the right directions from a bunch of confused people. Anyhow, the next day I was at my mom's place trying to teach her some short cuts with the mouse. I was illustrating to her when to use to right-click on the mouse when she suddenly said "Wait, wait! Which is right?" and lifted up her right hand and started waving it in the air. The mystery is solved. Not only did I inherit and mutated the semi-left semi-right cognitive disorder from her, but also the basic inability to differentiate between left and right. So it IS herediatary. Looks like I just might be having the last laugh.

Nobee.

2006-07-10T17:07:00.000+08:00

This is Nobee. About 3 years ago, a pack of male dogs came round to my mom's neighbourhood looking for some action - it was mating season. Somehow this fella got left behind, whether by choice or if he was ostracized by his buddies remains a mystery till today.
My mom started feeding him and now he sleeps in the neighbour's (Uncle Teoh) house. He even spots a legit doggie licence and I've seen Uncle Teoh's wife giving him a bath. He's a very lovable, loyal and protective dog with a temperament very much like my late darling Patches. He even has some physical resemblance to Patches (OK, Patches was much "wider" in her old age - stop making fun of the deceased).

It was my mom who christened him Nobee. In the early days of the adoption (who adopted whom is still questionable) my mom and Uncle Teoh both noticed that this lovable canine does not have any testicles. As he has no b****, he was named No-"B" - I just glammed up his name :) B or no B, he's not short of a great doggy personality and I love having him around whenever I visit my mom's though he is smart enough not to set paw into my mom's compound.

Nobee emphasizing the fact that he is indeed KING OF THE ROAD... or rather KING OF JALAN BUKIT BERUANG 3.

The Bestest Things/Thank You for the Music.

2006-07-07T18:24:00.000+08:00

One of the bestest things that Keat has given me (apart from his being and lots of laughter) was an iPod for my birthday last year. Besides that fantabulous gift, the next bestest thing is a brother who has a similar love for music. Hence when I told him about my present he was quick to meet me at the office, remove his HDD and copy his mp3s into my PC (mind you, I also contributed to that collection when he first got his iPod) to sync with my iPod. There are gadgets like the iTrip which allows you to use your iPod in your car but it depends heavily on finding the right frequency and being threaten with fuzzy noises at different locations. With my car it is a bigger problem as my car stereo has a stunted frequency at a max of 89, so any attempt to trip requires some basic mathematics which can be a pain in the arse when you are so eager to just get your music going. So iTripping was not an option for me. However about 2 weeks ago I discovered possibly the third bestest thing - that my car has an auxilary port. All I have to do is get an audio cable (>RM5) to connect my iPod. I was over the moon because I now have the pleasure of listening to my choice music at good quality output! Driving has a new plus point these days. What bliss....

======

One of the bestest things my parents have given us (amongst the many other uncountables of course) was introducing music to us as kids. My dad used to blast his LPs with the likes of Boney M, The Bee Gees, The Beatles while we waited for the bus to pick me up for kindergarten and I do mean blast. I remembered my dad telling me that one of the Beatles got shot and being the linguistic person that he is, made sure I understood that The Beatles was not spelled ala the winged insect. I also remembered my dad getting me a Cars casette when I was ill. He had no idea who they were but he just thought that the band name was cool. My parents also used to play those cartridges and we'd all just sit around the family hall and sing-a-long... yes, we started karaoke at a young age minus the video, lyrics and mic. For this great introduction to music, I am eternally grateful.

SuperCat.

2006-07-04T18:36:00.000+08:00

At a recent private function our dinner room came equipped with a notorious karaoke machine. I have to clarify that while I was related to almost half of the people in the room, there were also a few people I had met only on a few occasions (where I was mostly well-behaved) and even those I had only just met hours before. The karaoke session started almost simultaneously with the dinner and as usual, everyone did their tai-chi, not wanting to sing yet or at all. Anyhow, the entertainment commenced and when I came back from the washroom my younger brother perched next to me gleeful to announce that "Superwoman" was next. So yours truly was up next. I set my dinner aside and started my rendition, giving it my all. I also had some supporting acts and we all had a good time. At the end of the song I received the customary polite applause and I announced that I had something to say, stopping everyone in their tracks. Now remember, amongst the guests are some people I barely knew. There was my uncle, aunt and grandma too and while I'm guessing they sort of have a rather profound idea of what a whack-job I can be having been at my wedding, they really have not seen me in my element. With all ears perked up, I raised my right hand and simultaneously in my well-reheared bark, I did my rendition of The Alley Cat's David Arumugam's "TRIMA-KASEH". So much for a heart-warming speech I think they were expecting. Was I embarassed after that? Naaaahhhh...

The ItCHEE and ScratCHEE show...

2006-07-03T13:54:00.000+08:00

[Sing a long if you know the tune!]

I have been plagued (or cursed) with eczema which has worsen over the past couple of years. Having relied mostly on cortisone-based creams containing steroids that dermatologists and GPs hand out as if it's Christmas and having discovered that steroids 1) thin the skin (yikes) 2) sometimes promotes hair growth (double yikes) and 3) does not cure but merely controls eczema (triple yikes), I scoured the Internet and decided to try alternative treatments namely Neem and Milk Thistle. Shortly after consuming Neem, my eczemas and zits and ulcers and a sudden bout of influenza all decided to surface. It took a lot for me to bear with the unbearably itchy eczemas but they finally subsided after about 3 or 4 months and I was happy as a lark with scarred limbs. Then about a month ago, I indulged in a few fresh water prawns and a nasty eczema resurfaced. Horror! Horror! HORROR!

One of the reasons I had procrastinated the colon-hydrotherapy previously was because I was afraid them damn eczemas would flare. Anyhow, I also decided that maybe it would clear them off once and for all. When I stared my treatment that nasty one which looked like a slice of salami started to dry off but upon completion, it began to weep and weep and weep. It cleared up for a bit but resumed its weeping like a jilted lover soon after. The weeping was annoying, messy and inconvinient. And when it was not weeping, it was guess what? Unbearably itchy. Then other mosquito-bite like spots started sprouting all over my limbs near the eczema spots which also itched like crazy. And then an itchy rash surfaced on my face which caused me so much distress that another visit to a dermatologist was inevitable.

I waited almost 2 hours for Dr. "Bow-Tie" Ting (recommended by Sherona) who inspected my limbs and face and concluded that they were all eczemas. When asked what other treatment I had tried, I sheepishly told him about my colon-hydrotherapy which was retorted in Cantonese with "that's like catching a worm and sticking it up your ass" (it's apparently a famous proverb). That sent Keat on a wave of delight - at my expense. So Dr. Bow-Tie prescribed some cream (damn it! steroid-based! I had been clear for almost a year! Hmm... makes me sound like a drug-addict) and a jab to ease the oozing, itching and torture. So the nurse came in, told me to relax and gave me that ubiquitous "just like an ant bite" speech. Well it must have been one hell of a big mother of an ant because my butt was in pain. I later discovered I had 2 jabs - antibiotics and an anti-allergy.

Post Dr. Bow-Tie, the weeping one has ceased its spill and dried off and most of the rest have subsided, the itch even. Hallelujah! I hope that that's the end of it but most dermatologists will tell you that eczemas are incurable. I with the scarred limbs can only hope. Anyhow, Keat also had two itchy patches of bright red spots which looked like eczemas. He attributed them to the heat. Coincidently my MIL and BIL#2 also visited a dermatologist the next day though for reasons not as tragic as mine.

Everyone who sees me in this state tells me "Don't scratch". From Keat I just get that exasperated look. Please understand that I truly appreciate all your kind concern for my well being. However, To Itch is Human, to Scratch..... *^%$#@! DEVINE!

The Big and the Beautiful.

2006-06-26T10:35:00.000+08:00

During dinner on Saturday conversation topics somehow steered to the roundabout of pregnancy and the effects on our bodies, exercise and royal plumpness. OK, that's just a nice way of saying obese. We drew on our observations in real life and from Oprah on how hugely rampant (pun intended) obesity is in Europe and the very deluded US of A.

Come Sunday morning, we were having Bak Kut Teh in Klang and I suddenly noticed the girl at the opposite table pouring water into the teapot. She couldn't have been more than 15 and was dressed in an A-line cut dress, obviously tailor-made with a rather auntie-fied fabric that hung well above her knees. Clearly it wasn't the kind of outfit any teenager, fashion-cautious or not, would want to be caught dead in. Then I noticed the big bulge around her mid-section and I couldn't make out which of the Ps was she. Plump or Pregnant? Being the Tau-Kae-Po (big nosy) and analytical virgo, I glanced around the table to look at the rest of the family. They were big-boned, but they were not shaped like her either. She took a seat right across me and hello! She sat with the legs wide open revealing her knickers to me and anyone who looked in that direction (showing her "coffee shop" in the Bak Kut Teh shop - reminded me of an incident in school where us bitches made someone cry over something like that. Ok it was worse). It was quite disturbing to think that she could have been pregnant and was also ignorant towards these basic ladylike etiquette we were drummed by our mothers and teachers (I was a tomboy but I sure as hell did not sit like that, not without a pair of shorts over my knickers anyway). Ironically, she could have been en-route to an obesity problem which we only just discussing the night before. Then something diverted my attention away from the coffee-shop (thank goodness).

Something startled Keat which in turn startled me. Both of us turn around and I saw the most heart-warming little face. It was a little girl aged about 3 who had patted Keat on the back and flashed a generous smile at us. Then she walked away to her father and came back round us again, this time smiling at me with her index finger on her lips, as if telling a secret. Throughout the rest of my breakfast, I couldn't help but peek at her little back and her little legs and feet dangling off the stool, at her occasional sideway glances towards her very patient father next to her. She looked so happy just to be there with the utensils and her book. Every time I looked at the little caricature of a happy smiling cat on the back of her t-shirt, I remembered her face. Throughout the rest of the day, the memory of her little face kept coming back to me. The pure innocense of a happy child who is unfortunately a victim of Down's Syndrome. It made me delve deep into the whys, which unfortunately never gives us any definitive answers. However, her little angelic face gave me so much more that I could have imagined. Bless her little soul.

To Hell and Back.

2006-06-13T18:59:00.000+08:00

After much pondering, procrastination and having 2 people close to me go through it without much besides the usual complaints, I decided to give it a go. I psyched myself up and marched into the center to sign up for a colon hydrotherapy program. What it does is give your colon a clean up to rid off the toxic build up which are clinging to the colon walls. What is required is 2 days of pre-detox to prepare the body for the therapy and 5 days of therapy. Sounds simple enough.

Being in pre-detox meant limiting my diet to lots of fruit and veg and "clean" stuff like tofu or steamed fish. So for 2 days my diet consisted of salads a.k.a. rabbit food (yummy! I lurveeee salads.. not!) and briskly cooked vegetables. By the first evening, I was lusting over the 4 pineapple tarts and grandma's sardine roll that were enticing me in the kitchen. By lunch on the second day, I was salivating over my favourite fish paste noodles (Pavlov Theory - I was nearing the shop when it happened). If being a rabbit for 2 days was bad enough, the worse was yet to come (Yes, I know what some of you are thinking no problem for her, she doesn't eat anyway). On detox days I was on a liquid diet of 2 tablespoons of essential fatty oils, psyllium husk, wheatgrass drink and fresh juice (no pulp) per meal. The closest form of solids was the good bacteria capsules. You can imagine my excitement.

On my first day of the session I think apprehensive is the word I'd chose. You can have everyone tell you it's ok, don't worry, but no can do. Basically you are provided with verbal instructions, a sheet, a rubber glove, lubricant and of course the lovely rectal tube. Sticking the tube up where the sun don't shine... now there's something new. Let's just say it's uncomfortable if done incorrectly and you get the feeling like you need to let go if its done right. The next 45 minutes after was a breeze for me. Well mostly anyway. I imagine my position depicted a woman in labour, what with the sheet for that added effect. So water goes up, you get the motion, you expel and watch with anticipation. That's the routine. For me, the exciting stuff were only expelled on the 4th and 5th session (where I have to add that as the water went further up, I had to entertain slight nausea), while most people have bits to reckon with from the second session.

After the session was when I took a peek a hell. I got home, took my lovely liquid lunch and was nauseaous. I tried to sleep but it would come due to the nausea. In the evening I hurled my guts out and subsequently found sleep. I was feeling fine when I woke up on the second day. But after my afternoon session, I did 3 massive hurls at a couple of hour intervals which I think emptied my stomach of any water. After puking, I found relief from the nausea to doze off a little, only to have to go through the cycle three more times. As if the second day wasn't bad enough, the third day was the longest day of my life. I puked 4 times and my nausea was at its peak. Anything that went in my mouth (except sips of water) would send me running to throw up. The puking sessions thoroughout these days were the massive continuous hurls which hurt my stomach and throat and my teeth felt covered with a layer of corrosives. The nausea was so bad that I was on the verge of giving up. Things didn't perk up the next morning. I was deprived of any nutrition and liquids so I allowed to ease up a little. I had 5 cherry tomatoes, 2 slices of bread and veggie soup. I had to try to limit the intake of the veggie in the soup. Oh, and I could lay off the wheatgrass. HALLELUJAH! The center is closed on Sundays, so my liquid diet was already automatically extended to 6 days, but with my mini break my 4th session on Saturday got postponed which extended my liquid days to 7. Fortunately, the after effects of the next 2 sessions were ok. I still had the nausea afterwards but it was manageable.

At the end of it, I was given an assessment which was basically not very impressive. I was advised to have guess what? MORE VEG!!! Sorry, fresh fruit and veg and to generally eat better like not mix proteins with carbs and that kind of stuff we've all heard before where you raise a skeptical eyebrow and nod in acknowledgement to be polite.

Was it hard? Yes, the not eating part. But the nausea and hurling took the cake. Was it worth it? Yes. At least I know what's in me. And for those of you who now have this fear of doing it, let me just say that the nausea and vomitting rarely happens. I'm just one of those unfortunate ones who already comes with a pretty weak stomach and thirsty colon which refuses to release the water immediately after the session. I'm sure those were contributing factors.

OUR TEAM sucks!

2006-05-29T09:29:00.000+08:00

Keat and I are not football fans, especially not Malaysian football. As far as I'm concerned, they are a bunch of pompous dicks who bring nothing more than embarassment to the country and parasite on taxpayer's money. To give the Malaysian team a run for their rep, a friendly match ensued between MY TEAM and the Malaysian under-20 squad. For the uninitiated, MY TEAM is a football team put together by Shebby Singh and his fellow colleagues by scouting for football talents around the nation in a reality TV based outfit. The sustaining team is made out of a toll booth attendant, a restaurant helper amongst others. Basically your average Joes who underwent a mere 7 weeks of training as a team. While watching the Monaco GP, I suddenly remembered the match so a quick flip revealed at nearing halftime MY TEAM was leading 1-0. Yay!!! We were all for MY TEAM beating the crap out of the national squad.

After watching David Coulthard with a red cape depicting Superman take Red Bull Racing's first podium finish since inception and the post-race interviews, we quickly switched to catch the 2nd half of the game. After the challenging endurance of listening to the local commentators who reminded me of Mawi (Puke! Puke!) unfortunately the Malaysian team managed to poll 2 goals to win the match. They turned up the smug faces immediately after netting their first goal and I'm thinking wipe that schmuck of your sorry faces. You are the Malaysian team. You should be beating the crap out of MY TEAM and you are so pleased with yourselves for narrowly winning the game only in the second half with what? Free kicks????? That is just so pathetic. What more, some hotshot at the FAM called MY TEAM instant noodles - that they were of no substance. Instant noodles or not, I'm sure the Malaysian team was shitting bricks in the first half.

Anyway, I am proud of MY TEAM even though I am so not a football fan. It's just evidence that the Malaysian football team SUCKS and are nothing but a waste of time. Go MY TEAM!

Sleepwalking.

2006-05-25T19:03:00.000+08:00

A couple of weeks back I engaged in my first ever (to my knowledge) sleepwalk. I went to bed at 4am and was up by 9.30am, so come the public holiday afternoon I did my "Saturday nap". Stretched out on the sofa at 1pm, I was a goner in a matter of minutes. I remembered struggling to lift my heavy eyelids which felt like industrial roller shutters to check the time in about 1 hour intervals, only to slump into another position while subconsciously listening to the flaring noise of the TV.

Finally at a quarter to 6, I decided to peel the lump of me away from the sofa and languidly dragged myself to the loo. After regaining myself I asked Keat the normal and redundant questions of "I slept long time ah?" (DUH!) "Got snore ah?" Blink, Blink, Blink, Focus, Focus, Focus, I'm back to my normal self trying to physically piss the crap out of Keat by poking my foot here, tossing a cushion over there, flicking an earlobe... you get the picture. Still too grory to think of decent conversation topics and being successfully deterred from physical abuse, I refired my squirts of "I slept long time ah?" At this point I think Keat felt the need to feed me with (at that time) useless information to sate my redundant questions. He told me I woke up and walked to the loo, did my task, came back and plonked in another position to continue my slumber. I was quick to argue that I only went to the loo upon deciding to exit from my nap. But he insisted I did. So not only was I sleepwalking, I was also sleep-peeing. Quite a disturbing thought really.

Anyhow, I've come to realize with having a roommate that humans do lots of things subconsciously in their sleep, even farting and laughing. I have also discovered a new sleep-something. The other day in the wee hours of the morning, Keat did a full-fledged burp in his sleep, the massive tonsil-vibrating ones which always gets me cracking up. It was so damn hilarious I just started laughing out loud, but even my laughter didn't make him stir one bit. Sleeping can be quite entertaining afterall, apart from whacky dreams.

Temporary Pretty.

2006-05-15T13:34:00.000+08:00

I've never had much luck with plants. Most of them give up on me after a couple of weeks or days even. My reputation with plants are so bad to the extent that some smart-ass once suggested I get plastic plants. My mom was quick to guffaw over it and agreed.

Anyhow, we took my mom-in-law to the nurseries in Sg. Buloh and we ended up in an orchid nursery (original purpose sidetracked). Looking at all the pretty orchids, I was more than tempted to get some for my balcony which at present is a storage facility for a buyong and empty pots of the last plants. I didn't quite like the big orchids and found myself gravitating towards these cute little ones. But the orchid auntie says "50% morning sun" meaning a no-no for me since my balcony draws in too much direct evening sunlight and not to mention dead *&^%$#@! pigeons. As we were about to leave, I took one more scout around and auntie says "lee-kor ok!" Yahoo! Just the little ones I wanted. There were other lovely little ones as well but as they were "50% morning sun" category, I had to pass. But good ole auntie says in Cantonese, "If die, die la. 10 bucks only what" This auntie had some power marketing weapons I tell you. "Buy for your mother la, tomorrow Mother's day" "This one put at the alter very nice" Sorry but I find Mother's Day, Valentine's Day and the likes all too cliched.

Anyhow, I got this little baby in my balcony now together with a money plant I gratefully took from my mom-in-law (You should see her orchid collection now, many thanks to orchid auntie). I took this picture with the foresight of just-in-case-it-gives-up-on-me, knowing my luck.

Bag Behavior.

2006-05-04T13:45:00.000+08:00

I cannot for the life of me understand 2 interelated things (amongst many others) :-

1. Why do some women make their men carry their handbags for them?
2. Why the &^%$#@! do these men do it?

I was walking into an A&W joint the other day and chanced upon such a couple. Tsk Tsk Tsk. Why bring out a may I add, feminine handbag when you don't have any intensions of carrying it? I wonder what's the logic. "Dah-ling ah, if you love me hor, you hepch me carry my handbag hor. So heavy leh" Why put the poor guy through that ordeal? And she was empty handed too. Nothing! Zilch! On the flip side, I'm also thinking what the heck is wrong with this guy? Where are the two teabags previously known as balls to say "Heck women, carry your own dang bag!" Oh wait a minute. I think they were probably in the handbag considering the fact that he was carrying the handbag the way a woman would, slung around the shoulders and clutched at the armpit.

A Touch of Nirvana.

2006-05-02T17:32:00.000+08:00

As I walked through the front doors, I got the feeling that I was in a 4 or 5 star hotel lobby - a spartan area simplistically tasteful with a vast reception counter, a cafe, a big rotating decorative lighted ball and numerous seats around the pillars. As I went to inquire, I noticed a LED panel flashing in rotation the names of the deceased, parlour number, wake period and funeral dates. By the lift was a notice stand indicating similar information. When I reached the first floor I got the feeling that I was there to attend a hotel function - until I slipped round the corner and saw my relatives dress in white tops and black pants sitting around coffee tables with cuplets of RO water and groundnuts (house brand, by the way).

My great-grandmother, the late Mdm Chan Ann Keow passed away on Friday morning (28/4/2006) after undergoing 3 major operations over the last couple of months. She was 90, the second wife of my widowed materal great-grandfather. When I walked into the designated parlour, I was quite taken aback by the whole set-up. Cinema-type seats lined the walkway to the altar complete with cuplets of RO water in each drink holder. The decor resembled a hotel function room with modern designed carpets, 2 feet glossy tiles, trendy but subtle wallpaper, a LCD projector and a rostrum like structure holding a record book (and no, not the Buku Latihan type) and a slot to drop in the white envelopes or packets (yes, provided). It's quite a change from the regular grey-matter padlocked box we are so accustomed to. Needless to say, the entire place was fully air-conditioned yet we could still light our jossticks and have 2 pink lotus candles grace the altar (2 ventilation fans were placed directly above). There was even a restroom in the parlour complete with cabinets, 2 Joey-Chandler lazy-boys chairs and a sink. On the other side of the floor there was a smoking room, a waiting lounge and.... internet access! The mezzanine floor was a showroom of coffins, urns and clothings. Pete (my uncle) and I couldn't help but compare the whole setup to the likes of Six Feet Under (we are ardent fans) and how this company was like Kroehner with the trampy Mitzi Huntley who persistently tries to buy out the Fisher boys.

On the day of the funeral as we were performing the last rites about 10 to 12 of their staff dressed smartly in suits or uniforms paid their respects and walked with us behind the hearse. There was a bus to take us to and from the crematorium and they had also made the arrangements to take our change of clothes (we had to change into bright coloured clothes as my great-grandma had lived to a ripe old age) and shoes to the crematorium (some of us had to wear just white socks). When everything was over at the crematorium, we found our shoes neatly paired up and they had even prepared the burning paper for us to cross over and air bunga to cleanse ourselves with.

To say that I was impressed is an understatement but note that the price of the package was also not understated. Their slogan after all is "Total Peace of Mind" and they had planned for every eventuality that we could possibly think of. Sad to say, our ability to assess comes from the experience of attending more funerals these days. Unfortunately, even the best planning cannot prepare and compensate for the loss of a loved one even though we are well aware that death is certain.

I did not know my great-grandmother very well due to our complicated family background (I discovered a troop of Suans over the weekend) but all the memories and things I have heard of her were good and touching. May she rest in peace.

Ruffled Feathers.

2006-04-13T19:23:00.000+08:00

In a remote part of the state, I darted in and out of the training room taking and making calls while the guys worked. I spotted a slender, white ayam kampung pecking at the grounds about 10 meters from where I stood. I held my composure and gaze and was relieved when it made its way away from me. All was fine and dandy until two of the staff came marching into room muttering and gesturing towards the ground. Thank GOD I was standing at the front of the room because the next thing I knew, the darn chicken was already in the middle of the room heading towards me. I obviously freaked out and got my point across to GET THE FREAKING BIRD OUT. I know I let out some kind of noise indicating I was going to use anything and anyone as a shield in case the bird approached any nearer. In an attempt to corner the chicken (which very much resembled a game of hantu galah), the wretched bird flapped and flew atop one of the tables. Panicky and tensed, I wasn’t sure which way it was heading but it deffinately wasn’t about the make an exit. Luckily one of the guys managed to catch the bloody bird but not without it giving a struggle and letting out some horrifying clucking and vigorous wing-flapping (YUCK!!! I'm getting chills just thinking about it). The chicken was a suspected hitchhiker / illegal immigrant which hopped onto one of the tankers and subsequently got left behind. I heard her next stop would be at the catcher’s family dinner table.

I should have known the darn bird was a bad omen for me. It started to drizzle just as I stepped out of the room to go to the car and by the time I reached the open-air path, it was torrential rain. I watched haplessly as the rain got heavier for about 10 to 15 minutes and thinking that it wasn’t going to let up, I borrowed an umbrella and pretty much got drenched anyway. About 5 minutes after I returned, the sun was out full fledge. Typical. Then the clash of the titanic egos. My contractor offended the customer resulting in an exchange of statements laced with acrid sarcasm and snappy body language leaving me agape with Who? Where? What? HUH??? and You’ve got to be freaking kidding me!!! The contractor was affirmative in not completing the job, the customer thought the contractor was too cocky anyway (pun not intended - that was his exact word) and I personally didn’t give a rat’s ass about their personal judgements except that it left me in a lurch I’d like to climb out of.

Perhaps it was my nemesis for snickering at the thought of the chicken ending up on the dinner plate - I was thinking curry to be precise. Maybe it would have all turned out nicely if the chicken just stayed where it was minding its own business and not encroached into my buffer zone. Yes, it was the damn bird’s fault.

2006-04-04T19:23:00.000+08:00

I thought this place looked very much like somewhere in Malacca.
Taken in Lorong Panglima, Ipoh-mali.

Ring A Bell.

2006-04-04T17:54:00.000+08:00

While at the driving range, Keat found a chunky platinum wedding ring inscripted "Daniel & Ginny 22 April 2006". The rightful owner did not return to the scene so Keat decided to take the ring home thinking that if he did pass the ring to the lost and found section of the club there was a high possibility that the ring would be "lost" forever. He was supposed to put a notice at the club but unfortunately he got tied up with lots of last minute travelling (and I don't think he was too happy with that either!). A week later, he went back to the driving range with the ring and saw a notice by Daniel. Daniel turned up grateful and obliging and kept offering something or another in return to Keat which Keat declined. So Daniel is a Mat Salleh and his wife is Chinese. Funny, we both thought that the ring belonged to a Chinese guy for some apparent reason.

Anyway, I had this hunch that they were gonna invite us to their wedding and lo and behold, they did. At some point I thought back of a girl named Ginny who was from my kampung and school while trying to cock up some excuse for not going for the wedding. I don't quite like going for weddings unless it's my own (and seeing that that's well over and done with) or of people I am close to. So the card arrives at Keat's office and he says "She's from Malacca" to which I replied "Ginny Ng right?" What a bloody small world.

Anyway, for those of you Malaccans who may be thinking... hmmm... sounds familiar, she is 2 years our junior, was a little bit notorious back in school, from Ujong Pasir. Has elder sisters Sharon and Charlene and a replica little sister called June (elephant at work).

A Grave Matter.

2006-04-03T19:31:00.000+08:00

Keat’s family takes Cheng Beng very seriously. Well most of the family. Every year it’s a visit to 7 graves across 3 separate cemetaries which are not exactly near to each other. My day started off with a 4am wake up and it’s not funny when you’ve had trouble sleeping at 1am and unemptied bowels. We stopped for McDonald’s breakfast enroute (YIPPEE!) although the wee morning service is really laborious especially for hungry customers. I took a little nap in the car (OK I know that's very bad for the poor driver) but I couldn't keep the bloody sepet eyes opened.

We visited the graves of Keat’s great-grandmother, his grandfather’s sister who had no kin, his beloved grandmother where the feast took place, some other grandmother (I don’t like going to her grave because the route knows no decent path with annoying weeds and random plods of cow dung all over the place), his god-grandmother (khai-poh), his uncle’s godmother and finally to the cemented site of his god-grandmother’s husband (no one present had met him before, his remains were brought over from China). The entire ritual is very well organized. Everyone present automatically goes about their designated tasks like clockwork. There are the grass cutters / cangkul committee of which I was a member of, someone to touch up the paint on the headstones, someone to make offerings to the guardians of the graves, the food and offerings committee, the hell money distributors and the candle lighters. When we were leaving the first grave, one of the twins asked us if someone had to stay behind incase someone attempted to steal all the money we had strewn on the turtle back of the grave :) I thought his innocense was so cute.

There are 2 things very different from my family’s practice of Cheng Beng. Before leaving the grave we have to eat something from the offerings like a fruit and throw something back on to the turtle hump of the grave. I thought it was a bit rude to throw orange peel or chewed sugarcase fibre back onto the grave but I guess it is just symbolic and it’s biodegradable. The other practice is the offering of jossticks to the surrounding graves (the twins happily offered to do this, sometimes going way off the track). I thought this to be very noble and respectful, replicating the acknowledgement of neighbours. Maybe it is also because of our trespassing. Whatever it is, it’s better to appease than raise the dead.

The entire task finished sometime in the afternoon. Although I like to call this Cheng Beng ritual hard labour, it really isn’t so bad if not for the humidity and Mr. Sun upping up his dial by the minute. I truly applaud Keat’s family for their effort and filial piety which is and I suppose will be well indoctrinated into the next generation. Serious as they take this annual ritual, it is nice to see the mostly whole family get together and turning something so grave into a well-organized and somewhat fun event. I suppose if you have to do it, you might as well make the most of it.

Suspicious Minds.

2006-03-28T16:37:00.000+08:00

He was a boy, she was a girl. Cannot make it anymore obvious. He is a goody-two-shoes, she… I don’t know her well enough to make judgements (yeah right!). What more can I say?

They have been going out for quite a number of years. About a month ago his parents came down for an apparent casual visit. My first instinct was that they must be getting married, but denied it was. On Friday evening, we found out that they were getting registered the next morning. Quite sudden, I thought. After recovering from the shock, my obvious reaction was “When’s the ceremony?” to which I was told that there was no definitive plan and all that shebang wasn’t important to them. Hmmm… OK, if you say so. Given the facts of the situation and how quickly it came about and ended, we (i.e. Keat & I) were wondering if it was a shotgun situation. It’s always quite delectable when a scandal is sparked by the people you least expect it from (Yum Yum).

Later during the day when I had a little quiet time to myself, I thought about it a little more and realized that maybe the pause to the ceremony was due to the fact that his grandmother had recently passed away. I guess to expect such a scandal to erupt from someone like him was just not possible. So scandal temporarily denied but then again, still waters run deep. We'll have to wait and see :)

Names have intentionally been omitted to protect the identities of those who are very unlikely capable of brewing up a scandal.

On a separate note, these 2 rascals (Keat's twin cousins) had their 8th birthday party on Sunday night. I think their actual birthday is sometime this week. I didn't get a chance to ask them as they were too busy flying around the house covered in sweat. The cool thing is, they share the same birthday as their mom!

Pringles.

2006-03-15T16:25:00.000+08:00

I have a terrible weakness for salty snacks and one of my all time favourites would be the Original Pringles. As kids, when the CNY hampers arrived we would peer through the normally yellow glass paper from all angles to inspect the contents. I would be over the moon whenever I spotted the Pringles or Planters sticks and could not wait to rip the hamper apart. Of course my mom would not hear any of it.

One of my fondest and most vivid memories of Pringles though was when I was in Form 4. It was a very hot Friday afternoon and Joyce and I had a bad craving for Pringles. So bad that we decided to take the public bus from my mom's house in Bukit Baru to The Store at the bus station in the sweltering heat just to buy Pringles. Gleeful with our purchase, we got back on the bus, sat nearest to the door so as to get the wind blowing right at us when the bus went along, opened the windows for added effect and stuffed our faces like there's no tomorrow. Then when the bus zoomed by the hospital and mosque, I had taken a bite of a Pringle and the darn wind blew away the remaining part of the Pringle that was sticking out of my mouth. It was so hilarious and we laughed and laughed all the way back. Until today I will giggle to myself whenever I think about it. Speaking of flying chips, I am also now reminded of the time when the wind blew Badak's papadam to the leaf of an innocent neighbouring patron at Acha Curry House. I think Joyce was there too and I think Badak did retrieve the runaway papadam.

Today, Joyce sent some pictures of her holiday and I had to put this picture up. That's Denzel. Another Pringles lover perhaps? And the Pringle was sticking out of my mouth like that before the wind blew it away.

Give It Away Now...

2006-03-13T10:27:00.000+08:00

After 8 years of idly consuming space in my storage locker, we finally got a move on things and opened up the boxes. When the "housemate" moved out, he left behind 3 boxes containing mostly clothes, stacks of photographs, a collection of NFL cards and such and debts outstanding to me until this very day (LOSER!). We finally decided to get rid of his stuff as they obviously bare no significant value to him. Either that or it's just not worth the effort since it has been that long (Reiterate: LOSER!). If I had broken a mirror then, the 7-year curse would have been lifted and them damn boxes would still sitting in the locker, building anthills of moss and mould. Whatever it is, I care not and I am ceasing the storage facility.

We dragged the boxes upstairs to the foyer and sorted out the contents into categories of:- "Charity", "I'll keep these because you still owe me money and hopefully they maybe worth something", "What the @#$%^?" and "Should go back to rightful owner". A maid enroute to the refuse room gratefully sifted through the contents of "Charity" and lugged a whole black bag of clothes. Then came the security guard who picked up the flashy jackets and other knick-knacks. Eventually Keat managed to convince him to take everything.

Call it closure or call it cleaning out my closet, I'd like to call it "buang suay". Just maybe and hopefully the lingering dark cloud that has been hanging around like a bad smell has been lifted. Here's hoping for brighter days ahead.

Reality Check.

2006-03-06T13:43:00.000+08:00

If I had to choose between TV and music, my spontaneous choice would be music. However when I thought about it a little deeper, I got visions of myself glued to the likes of RockStar INXS (I'll watch the reruns whenever), American Idol, Survivor, The Amazing Race, America's Next Top Model and The Apprentice to name a few. Throw in some Frasier, as many reruns of Friends, CSI, Lost, selected sports, dog related documentaries... Hmmphh.. quite a long list after all largely comprising a fair number of reality TV shows which I will watch religiously. Yes, I am a reality TV junkie and perhaps I enjoy watching them because they represent mostly ordinary people (although mostly deluded Americans) in a possible life-changing situation.

This morning, Sherona and I were again discussing reality TV over overnight KFC and potatoes. Who got booted out on Idol ("Thank goodness, I hate that catty byatch" "Cannot make it la that one!"), the new Survivor twist with Exile Island (and the exiled boobies), who got fired by Mr. Trump (speaking of which, did you know that Omarosa also appeared on Fear Factor after the Apprentice stint? I just found out), the fact that the new season of The Amazing Race just aired and that there is an asian version of the Amazing Race coming up.

Being such ardent reality TV fans, the topic of discussion steered to: Would you join such a race? (Not that we would get selected if we signed-up, but heck it!) And if so, with whom? I can think of people whom I would NOT go on a race with and number one would be a certain somebody who will probably ask to stop for food and I would get pissed off (food not so important to me) and it'll probably make things shitty thereafter. As for would I join in the first place? It'll be a fun and exciting experience, I'll get to go to places I've never been before and at the end of it when I get booted out, I'll say "We've learn so much about each other that we probably wouldn't have if not for this race" (obviously I've been watching too much). On the flip side, I'll be putting myself out there for the general public to criticize echoing rude comments which I myself have blurted once too many. Indelibly scarring what's left of a reputation? HELL NO! I'll stick to watching other real people on TV.

So TV or music? The reality of it? Both la.

Tumbler.

2006-03-02T17:11:00.000+08:00

Yesterday's yoga class had a lot to do with headstands. Being a bit shaky in this department, I went behind one of the pillars at the back of the studio as backing to break my fall if necessary and to help me while I gain my balance. I was feeling pretty tired to begin with, so my attempts at the headstands were not as good as I hoped and was already down in the counterpose while most of the class was still in their upside down positions. Then we had to do a headstand and subsequently move one leg to the front and the other to the back like a split. Naturally us shaky ones had to be a fair bit away from the wall or pillar in order to allow the split. Again, my attempts were quite weak and I was already feeling the strain so I retired early in all the attempts.

In the last round, I went back up again after my early retirement since most of the class was still upside down, and I thought, what the heck? JUST DO IT. That went well and I even managed a feeble attempt at the split. And then for that split second (pun intended) when I was so proud of myself, I lost that fragment of concentration and hence balance and flipped forward. With only the foot-wide pillar to back me, which was about 3 feet away from my body, I landed in some awkward, retarded position with a nice loud thud. I giggled to myself, thankful that I only slightly hurt my well padded left butt cheek when it hit the edge of the pillar. I collected my wayward limbs and got up to find Manoj peering at my direction to check if I was in one wholesome piece.

That was pretty embarassing. But in yoga, we are supposed to do away with the ego and look into yourself for more self-awareness and intelligence (I think). What have I learned from this tumble? How a teeny-weeny stray in focus can lead to your downfall. On the brighter side of things, if you have enough backing (in this case, my big fatt ass), you can soften the blow. I guess it's applicable to our daily lives, don't you think?

Uncle Magnets.

2006-03-01T13:37:00.000+08:00

I have been called many obscene things in my adult life, mostly by my sistas. The latest is uncle-slart (slart being a new word invented by Mem during a word game some years back, now used to endearingly replace the original 4-letter S word) .

We had our annual CNY-Loh Sang dinner at Hooi Loong Restaurant in DJ. Sara was late, so we went ahead with dinner and saved the yeesang for after she arrived. Meanwhile, there was a bunch of 7 or 8 uncles at the next table. Their volume was comparable to ours, what with the gruffy voices and hearty laughs. As dinner progressed, we forgot entirely about our yeesang until reminded by the waitress. So as the last dish, we tossed the colourful strandy bits and what? 3 thin slices of salmon in hope for good luck and better fortune this year.

All was fine and rosy until my auditory sensors picked up comments from our uncle neighbours like "Eh! People eat the yeesang first, then only dinner. This one terbalik one" and "No... they eating noodles la" followed by their bellowing laughs. Naturally I had to respond to the uncles. I can't remember what I said, but an on-going exchange followed. Then one of the uncles stopped by our table en-route from the loo to comment and another came up to our table and said something like or to the effect of "You don't mind us asking ah, but we noticed you all eat the dishes first before the yeesang. Normally people do it the other way round. Is it some kind of new tradition or something our parents didn't teach us?" Other comments that followed were, "I think they are younger than my son" to which Mem multitasked and replied "Eh, cannot be.... How old is your son?" "35" "OK, we are younger". We found out further that one of the uncles had 2 sons, the available one was 28 and comes with a condominium. It sure felt like cupid club!

As we were leaving, the uncles commented that us young gals are so happy and carefree to which we (as in Mem & I - the rest left the restaurant already) replied that we are not as young as we look. Just as quickly one of the uncles said, "We are also not as old as we look. If you see me outside ah, don't call me uncle. Call me khor-khor." It was all so funny and when we finally exited the restaurant, we were greeted with "SLARTS!" "UNCLE SLARTS!"

Happy, perhaps. Carefree? Not me. But in the company of my sistas, momentarily all worries are abandoned. HAIL SISTAS!!!!!!

Assistance Required.

2006-02-28T20:45:00.000+08:00

My mother-in-law called me this evening to ask for some help. OK, first it has to be said that when my phone rang, I started laughing because the ringtone was the PhuaChuKang theme song (courtesy of LuLu). She asked if I could help her write a letter to request for some waiver. Not a problem. Before I could ask, she told me that brother-in-law #2 (hereinafter referred to as BIL#2 where applicable) told her that I was good as writing these sort of letters. I was like "WHAT???? How would he know???" to which she starts laughing, suggesting that he probably heard it from brother-in-law #1 (hereinafter referred to as BIL#1 where applicable). You boys better own up.

I am appalled. Yes, I know I complain alot about bad service and regularly kick up a fuss when let down by inadequacy by my standards, but to suggest that I have a flare for writing these sort of letters???? Hrrmmpppp..... makes me sound like an evil step sister!

Well, I guess I better get started on writing that civil letter of request. And I will be polite. Of course this is a very simple request, not like I'm bitching about them barring my credit card for an outstanding amount of RM3.43, which if I may reiterate, WAS THEIR FREAKING FAULT ANYWAY.

Close Encounter with the Fire-Kind.

2006-02-28T20:37:00.000+08:00

Some of you have already read this, but since this is the most significant (and funny) event of my new barking year.....

This is my third Chinese New Year away from my roots and I’m proud to announce that I’m getting used to it. This year brings us to Ipoh, particularly to the humble abode of Keat’s third uncle and family. First, an introduction to the matriarch of the family. She is a warm and bubbly woman and has always been very kind to me. She speaks only a smattering of English but that has not once prevented her from having a go at conversing with me. So inevitably, I am forced to try out my Cantonese with her, which I believe is improving. Our conversations are quite comical and we normally have someone in standby to assist (mostly Keat) in times of troubled communication. It is with these chicken and duck talk sessions that we have affectionately given her the title of “SiFu”, or rather my SiFu.

This year, for some apparent reason, Chinese New Year was a little on the quiet side in terms of activity. Dinners and lunches were a pleasant blend of laughter and the clanking of cutlery, with an overwhelming display of food. But as the weatherman would have it, Chinese New Year was unbearably hot. So hot that the mahjong junkies decided to shuffle the tiles in the air-conditioned room, so hot that the ladies decided to go out shopping just to get away from the heat. Me, I spent my time mostly zapping the flies hovering over the food (I was getting good at it!) or playing Sudoku with my trusty IPod as my companion. So I guess that’s why there seemed to be a lack of activity apart from cooking and eating.

The second day brought the presence of the uncle and aunt from Teluk Intan and boy can she cook! We decided to stay for dinner (we normally leave after the second day lunch) since they had only just arrived and I was so pleased with that decision. For the first time in three Chinese New Years with my in-laws, I could smell it – the tantalizing aroma of chicken curry and the tangy spicy sauce spotted with chilli padi to dress the deep fried fish head. No offence to the other cooks, but I have been brought up feeding on the culinary treasures of spicy Nyonya food. While I dug into my newfound delight, I hardly paid attention to the high level Cantonese conversations going around the tables. Although I get word of a fire-chicken from my SiFu and a few mocking giggles around the table. And then it happened.

Kevin (Keat’s cousin) announced that his parents have arrived with the turkey (the fire-chicken, directly translated), the same bleeding bird that haunts me with its chuckles every time I pee or shower at their house during the day. The aunt exits from the back seat and I think Kevin is kidding when he tells me that his mom has got the bird. Lo and behold, she had a box with her and I recognized the spine-chilling fan of black and white feathers sticking out of the box. I was already freaking out and as she made her way behind me, the wretched fire-chicken decided to twitch in the box leading to my screaming like a bloody twit, much to the amusement of everyone, including my darling husband. How the heck was I supposed to know that the darn bird’s legs were tied! I was so freaked out by that near death experience (by my standards anyway) and I just stared to cry (some of you might remember the ugly crow incident at Mahbub). I could not control the tears and was simultaneously laughing at myself and my SiFu (I choose to believe she was the designated turkey-slaughterer), tickled by my fear, laughed so hard that she started to cry. Of course the onlookers at the other tables couldn’t quite figure out why she was crying, to which she summed it as a SiFu-disciple connection.

Well, it’s all fun and games until the darn bird twitches in the box. It truly was traumatic for me, part amusing part eye-opening for some I guess, seeing how fear overcomes someone. (I saw my father-in-law peering through the clutter of heads half-smiling, probably thinking to himself wow… she really is afraid!) As for the lack of action and activity this Chinese New Year, I’m sure I made it just a tad bit more interesting for the rest of them and I’m sure I’ll never hear the end of this.