Mis-word

It's alive!

I realize that when I am chilling with my friends, especially with "the usual suspects", I have a tendency to say things which were meant to mean another. For example:

-Zales said that she loves blue bunny ice cream. Both Khaylis and Zales agreed that strawberry sandwich was the best. I went on to say, "I love the Napoleon flavor". FACT: It's Neapolitan.

-The whole group of ISKLers were sipping cheap drinks at Uncle Don's. Brandy's "Full Moon" blasted in the air, and someone asked what was the video like. I said, "It's the one where she was looking into the kaleidoscope".
FACT: It's telescope.

-Again, with the whole group of ISKLers, we were describing the worst food to eat. I told them that I saw a documentary on Korean cuisine, which show a white guy eating a live octopus "and the testicles were all over his face".
FACT: It's tentacles.

It's amazing that I say these things and I am not even high.

Giant

Don't go in there...

For the past few months, every Sunday is cook out day (or night) for the "usual suspects". For the Sunday of February 27, we agreed on making Mexican food, and as ordered by my head chef Khaylis, I was to bring in chicken and cheese for the Fajitas.

On that Sunday, I decided to go to Giant in Shah Alam to buy the ingredients.

As I parked by the yellow and green hypermarket, I cringed because I knew that going to Giant on a Sunday was a really bad idea. Because even before I could step into the place, kids from I-don't-care-where start zooming in and out of my way, metal carts block paths to my food destination, and angry looking people were everywhere. It was just not a happy place.

So imagine when I FINALLY made it to the payment counter; handed the grilled chicken and a packet of Mozzarella cheese to the cashier; saw the digital numbers blinked RM28.90 and then realising I was short in cash.

Shit!

"Abang, boleh tunggu sekejap?" The cashier nodded, while I turned around to find my parents in the food-buying masses. While I frantically dialed their numbers, it was at that moment when 1) reception went bad, or 2) mom/dad did not pick up the phone. If it were not for my age, I would have actually yelled, "Mama! Papa! Help me!", sucked my thumb but did not.

Only 10 minutes later did I managed to find my dad, who predictably stood right next to the free grape juice stand. In short, I demanded some cash like a thief, raced back to the counter, paid, grabbed the food, and never turned back.

So the moral of the story is this: Never do your groceries on a Sunday. Never.

Classmate

Memories

It was Tuesday, and I was carrying an LCD projector, my black bag and some files over my left shoulders while I zoomed down of Block C in the elevator. I stepped out of the Plaza Mont Kiara, into the blazing sun, while my colleague hobbled behind me.

"I need to smoke!" he yelled. Apparently, sitting through a two hour seminar with no smoke break can kill a smoker.

While my collegue lit up, I sat on a wooden chair by Haagen Daz, contemplating whether to eat some ice-cream. As I stood up to go to the counter, a pretty Chinese girl popped infront of me and asked, "Were you in my English class?"

I looked at her blankly. I did not know who she was, and English class?

"You were in my English class in Uniten, weren't you" she said, touching her shoulders hinting how awkward if I could not remember that.

"Oh yes! Yes, we went to the same English class..." Blink blink.

Seriously, I can't remember her. But it was amazing how she remembered me, vividly. She described how I would always come in class 10 minutes late, and how the English lecturer would always say, "You were riding the donkey, weren't you?" to me. Apparently, everyone knew that the donkey was my red Volvo.

As we exchanged name cards and waved goodbye, I could not help but feel somewhat special that someone, who I barely knew, remembered me.

Concert of the Year

Brown Sugar

The Goddess of Hip Hop Soul coming this way! 18 March 2005! Putra Stadium! Come join me to witness this miracle!!!

For more information, log on to : www.forceofnature.org

The X-Factor

Beach

It is a known fact that the world is indeed small. Even Walt Disney knew this and created a whole boat ride with this theme: I was 12 and was scared dung, looking at cultured robots screeching "Its-a-small-world-after-all, its-a-small-world-after-all...", on top of their mechanical lungs. Shiver.

Anyway, like all mathematical reasoning and logical deductions, if the world is small, than KL is indeed microscopic. Because, everywhere you go, there will always be a familiar face, or a strange face that know someone you know. To me, that makes KL quite comfy, but it is different matter when it comes with with your ex.

Yes, a particular ex. And yes, its SOOOOOO over, but why does the ex-factor have to be a constant? Why can't it be divided and subtracted and be reduced to a complete zero? Because, look here, I don't want to get back to you! I don't care who is after you! And I am not going to steal you away!

Get over it!!!

Theatre of Dreams

Seeing Red

I don't play sports. Since highschool, I have always considered myself as a musician, and watch the Grammy's like the way my friends watch their European Cup. The closest interest to sports would be my interest into the World Cup. But then again, it is more nationalistic driven (Go Germany!) rather than for the love of the game.

Last night, in my dreams, it was a different story...

I remembered running into a beautiful football stadium with grass greener than Oz's castle. I stood there infront of a team wearing red jerseys. I remembered looking on to my chest and read something in bold: Manchester United.

What??? I thought.

The next thing I knew I was running in the fields and realised that my opponents were in black. They swarmed me, but I kept on running. When I finally looked down, I realised that the ball was rolling by my feet. At that point, I was so damn excited. I wanted to go for goal, and no one could stop me!!!

The next thing I remembered was waking up by my handphone.

Bugger.

When I got to the office, I told my friend about it, who is a major MU fan.

"What color jersey were the opponents'?" she asked.

Black.

"Oh wow, black is currently MU home away jersey. But that doesn't make sence...". She looked somewhere into the ceiling, and I realised that she really wanted to understand my dream.

"OH MY GOD!" she screamed, "You were playing against Real Madrid. And you were playing in the Theatre of Dreams!!!" Immediately, she called her friends, giggling to them my vision of MU playing in the most prestigious football stadium.

I remembered sitting back into my cubicle and smiled. Me a football player, how awesome.

The Toughest Club to Get Into

Puffy

I recently watched Constantine, and after all the action and the awesome CGs, what lasted most from that movie was the concept of heaven. In the movie, we were given a glimpse of paradise which is a cloudy environment engulfed by golden light, and did I see right? Yes, condominiums...

To me, heaven is like an extremely exclusive club. There are seven floors and have a certain ala arabian nights theme to it (e.g. palm trees adorned around rivers of milk and honey). And at this club, your bling bling and that platinum card you carry does not entitle you to enter. Its the amount of faith, trust and heavenly deeds you have done that allows you to walk among the VVVVIPs, and then to mingle, laugh, and make connections with the likes of Angels and God.

Hell, on the other hand, is like for the masses. If you fuck up on earth (which you can so easily), there you go. Simple as that.

I hope I can go to heaven. It is THE exclusive club that I want to party in one day...

Later in Life

I don't know what time it was, but then again, who does when it is Sunday morning. Annoyingly, I woke up to my handphone that vibrated next to my left ear, and apparently, a long time friend texted me.

What is this about? I thought.

I flipped open my deep purple phone and the SMS read : "Hi! I am the baby GIRL of my mom n dad...I weigh 2.9kg n was born at 11.06am, today 6th feb. its my mom's bday too! Got to go. Nappy needs a change ;)".

Immediately, I fell from my bed, face straight to the floor and was laughing like a baboon. Omygod, my friends' have a baby!!!

After calling the dad (my friend's a dad!!!), and after hearing that mommy (my friend's a mommy!!!) and baby was ok, I paced back and forth in my room, and thought Man, one day, I am going to be a dad too.

I don't know, but it was a strange feeling. It was the happiest feeling I ever felt, because all of a sudden, life seemed much bigger than it is. It is not about work anymore. It is not about the enduring stress I face. All of a sudden, life is not just about my being, but about sharing life.

To Muhsin and Emma : Congratulations!

Killer Qs

Needing Answers

I am one of those guys that like to spend some time walking around a mall and go buy stuff. Particularly if it is by myself. There's a certain feeling of freedom doing so. You can dart in and out of any shop you like with no brakes on. Spend million of hours in MPH at your own free will. It is absolutely liberating.

So, here I am, skipping to my own beat when I suddently come across a familiar face.

"Oh how are you? It has been ages!" I shake his hand, his friend's hand and beam.

"I'm good." Pause pause. "Are you alone?"

"Oh yes I am..." Blink blink.

I hate that question. I know that it is a simple question which requires a simple answer, but I have never been comfortable with it. "Are you alone?" to me is equivalent to "Are you lonely?" and "You are alone. What a loser." To me, a better way of saying it is "Are you by yourself?" but I guess this sentence is not as common as the other.

I talked to my friend about it and he told me that he cringe whenever someone would ask him "How old are you? Why aren't you married yet?". To him, this string of questions is a string of statement, saying, "Loser! Loser!"

I guess I am over-reacting. But whatever it is, if you ever see me walking around by myself, do spare me that stupid question!