Monday, May 30, 2005

Gift Matters


A colleague of mine came up to me and said, "It's my boyfriend's birthday tomorrow. I don't know what to give him. Can you suggest?"


"He is into F1 and Liverpool. He's quite trendy too. But I don't know what to get him. Buying a gift for guys is soooooooo difficult."

You've got to be kidding me, I said.

Sorry to say, but why is it so difficult to buy a birthday present for guys? Because seriously, it doesn't take much to please us actually. Buy us that Topman tee shirt, and we will wear it on the dates. Buy us that Eternity Summer Edition cologne and it will be the only scent you will smell. Buy us food and we will eat it. Difficult?

But, specifically for me, the only pet peeves with gifts is that it didn't exactly come from the person. For example, it was a collective decision from her girlfriends to the present she should buy for me. I say...why like that?

When you give a gift to somebody, make sure it comes directly from you, and only you, and your heart. The gift does not have to be expensive, or even bought. But, at the end of the day, the gift should be a reflection of your friendship or relationship. The best gifts to me are the ones that reveal a little bit more of the other person, and that is truly special.

And what utter nonsence about being too old for gifts. Simply can't comprehend...

"So what should I give him?" she repeated.

What do you want to give him?

"A white shirt, I think. I like him when he wears white shirts."

Than give him that.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

My Family and Weddings

I'm a little teapot...

For the past many weekends, somebody was getting married. And, like a bad habit, my family and I have been going to them without much thought, especially when the wedding involves some very distant relative or a friend's of a friend's son/daughter. Despite that my parents would always preach "We have to go! If you don't, then who's going to turn up at your wedding?" to my brothers and I, it was clear as day that we went for the free food.

However, last Sunday, my family and I were invited to go to my dad's highschool bestfriend's son's wedding. (Whew!) Pa was pretty much excited, telling all of us in the car how he used to jam with his bestfriend at underground gigs. How they used to sing for food. How they used to sleep underneath bridges because they didn't have transport to go home. So, in short, this wedding was more of a reunion for my dad and his bestfriend, rather than a celebration of a happy chap's marriage.

On the way to the wedding, my parents predictably ended up in an argument over a rattling sound the car was suddenly making.

"I told you to get the car serviced!" Ma said.

"Sudah lah!" Pa responded.

On and on they went, until we approached several yellow tents infront of a huge bungalow down the street. As Pa searched for parking, Ma instructed my younger brother to grab the wedding gift while she carefully retouched her lipstick. Once we found parking, we all paraded to the tents, shook hands with several men who greeted us at the front, handed over the present to this jewel-encrusted lady, and sat down at one of the round tables.

While my brothers and I indulged in the nasi tomato and chicken rendang, Pa kept on raising his head and looked around. "Mana Lan nih?" he said. With gentle strategy, Ma grabbed hold to one of the kebaya girls in the crowd, and said, "Ini anak Lan ke?"

"Oh tak," the girl responded. "Nak cari siapa?"

"Oh, Auntie nak meet the parents of the groom."

"Oooohhh. Uncle and Auntie kat dalam rumah. Tengah sibuk kat dalam kot."

To that, Ma thanked the girl, Pa nodded and went back to eat more rendang.

When the kumpang was heard, everyone looked in that direction, wanting to catch a glimpse of the beautiful bride and handsome groom. Among the sea of people, an elderly couple followed suit, while taking pictures. And out of no where, the kebaya girl approached my mom and said, "Ah, itu lah Uncle and Auntie."

Pa gave out a puzzled look, and said, "Itu the parent's of the groom ke?"

"Ah, ye lah," the girl responded. "Itulah Uncle Adam."

I remember Pa asked us to eat quickly, and to make a quick exit before anyone finds out what we have done. That we were indeed at the wrong wedding! As we washed our hands, got into the car and realised that the "real" wedding was further down the street, we all started laughing endlessly at our bumbling mistake.

But to the couple that recieved the silver teapot set addressed to "Julie and Sham", happy marriage.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005



If you ever meet me, I might come across as extremely sociable. This is true especially in KL, where I am constantly surrounded by caring and fun individuals, whom I cherish all as friends. But yesterday, I realised that I can count on one hand whom I consider my closest friends. My soul mates. My better halves. And this difference, or special subset, is created based on how well they know me not only in my happiest moments, but also in my darkest hours. Or when I am in theirs.

Last night, one of my closest and dearest friend came to me and revealed how she suffered from deep depression. When I heard about it, I was completely taken aback, because to me, she is the definition of chirpiness. A bouncing bunny. My replica of a laughing addict. And when I asked her why she never told me about this before, she said she didn't know why.

It doesn't matter though, I told her. I am now listening.


There are two significant times in my life when I was also depressed.


I was 13 years old when I went to Athens Middle School. It was the first time I was in the States, and was extremely excited to enroll myself in a school which I envisioned to be a duplicate of 90210. The kids were really cool to me, especially this Jewish girl named Kate, who told me that she always dream to visit Malaysia and see houses on stilts. And to study the "Arangetaanss".

One of the classes I enrolled in was Health. There I was to learn about the reproduction system and about sex. As interestingly the subject matter was, there was this blond kid named James whom made it all that difficult for me to learn. From him, it was the first time I tasted racism.

"Are you a foreigner?" James asked me.

Yes. I am from Malaysia.

"So, you are an Asian queer right?"

Queer? What's that?

"It means foreigner."


"So you agree that you are an Asian queer right?"

I guess so.

Immediately, he stood on his chair and announced to everyone that "Muddy says he's an Asian queer!" The next thing I knew the entire class laughed at me, snickered at me, and pointed at me. And I didn't know why, until one of my classmates named William explained to me what a queer was. I remember, for days and days, I sat in my room, not wanting to go to school. Because, I thought, that nobody liked me.


It was my senior year in college, and for some unknown reason, I decided to invest in a relationship. Because she was fun. Because she was beautiful in my eyes. After three months down the happy trail, I found out that she was in fact attached to another guy all the while I was seeing her. And because I was stupid, I decided to continue being with her. Because I loved her. Because she told me she was falling out of love for him.

After another three months, I discovered that she had this habit. Of cheating. Because it turned out that not only was she cheating with her boyfriend with me, she was cheating on me with another guy.

What's wrong with you? I yelled down the phone.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you! You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into."

But I have stood by you all this while.

"Whatever." she said. "Anyway, I don't know why I went out with you in the first place. You are not even that good looking. You are not even that rich either!"

I remember throwing the phone against the wall, not wanting to love anybody else again.

Chick Arse

It has come to my attention that a certain unknown blogger named "Chick Arse" has been trying to reveal my identity by posting my Friendster address on my blog. All I can say is:


If Chick Arse thinks everyone has the right to know, perhaps her ass is right. But this is my fucking blog, and I can do whatever I please. Including keeping myself annonymous from those who do not know me very well. For God's sake, I only tell my closest friends about my blog, which definitely excludes you, Chick Arse.

Yes, I made a mindless mistake by publishing my blog's address on my Friendster's page. Well, sue me. But, it is indeed people like you which makes me want to throw one of my favorite pass time (which is blogging) into the trash can. Forever!

Chick Arse. Watch your fucking back.

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

On Guard


Exactly what is the most civil, the most diplomatic, the most strategic way for you to inform somebody that their breath stinks? Especially to someone important like your client?

Yesterday, this brick of thought hit my head, as I coughed profusely the moment my client opened his mouth during a one-on-one meeting.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

Yes Datuk, I whimpered. It must have been the Laksa I ate.

“This morning?”

Yes, this morning. Smooth Muddy, smooth.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Over and Over

Wheel of No Fortune

I realize that we are indeed creatures of work, something like ants but with a little bit more brain and personality. We were programmed to go learn and then execute our skills in a corporation and in some industry. At the end of things, most of us will be working forever and ever and ever, until we reach the “disposable” age. So, if this is the abrasive truth, I would want/need/desire an occupation which I am passionate about and which will make me grow. Like a potted plant.

However, in review of my job history, things haven't been that peachy. There are, I can say, traces of many, many occupational hazards. Or more like a damn curse...

My first real job was with a PR agency. The funny thing about this was that I got hired into one of the best in town without even knowing what public relations meant (“It has to do with a lot of writing, right?”). Chucking away my Entrepreneurial Degree into the waste basket, I went to write press releases, direct press conferences, entertain press folks, and more press this and that. It was really fun, minus my screaming-loving boss who altered my easy-going self into a detail freak (“Why is that bullet-point smaller than the rest??”).

A great year I accomplished at that agency, but then the sky grew dark and uncertain. Yes, people, my company was bought over! In addition to that, HR told me that they cannot convert me into permanent until things were sorted out. This translated to no fat bonus end of the year which I deserved. I was like, HELL NO!!!

So, I left and hopped onto “greener” pastures.

Now I am currently working at management consulting firm, supposedly the sixth largest in the world. And again, the funny thing about this job was that according to my boss, I absolutely did not have the experience for it, and only hired me because of my personality and my great face. (Let’s chuck away that degree, won’t we?) Over here, I am engaged with several small companies to help them review their business and find multiple solutions to their corporate problems. And the fun part is that they are paying A LOT of money for my opinion. Fun…

A few months at that company, and the sky grew dark and uncertain. Yes, people, my company is being bought over!!!

So, the cycle never ends, and I am currently secretly looking for a new job. And the parameters of the search is: Ain’t being bought over anytime in my lifetime!

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Finger Pointing

The Wrong Target

A very close friend called me up last night, and she told me that she finally did it. She finally broke up with her boyfriend.

Are you ok? I asked her.

"Sort of," she said. "It went smoother than I thought."


"But there's this one thing though that I don't understand," she said. "Of all the last things he could have asked me, guess what he asked."


"Did you sleep with Muddy?"


This is not the first time that I was wrongfully accused of ending relationships. And it sickens me that some people may think that I could do such things.

I remember when I was clubbing at Poppy with a group of friends, I realised that Jes was ignoring me the entire time. There were no response to my hellos. Even when I stood next to her, I felt like a glass window. Frustrated by her ways, I pulled her to the side and asked her, Am I missing something or are you ignoring me like hell?

"Muddy, I can't talk to you."


"Kay told me not to talk to you, because he thinks you are going to win me over."


I think I need a drink. A strong one. Teh O Panas satu.

Thursday, May 12, 2005



DaddyRo started this "The Official Interview" game, where one blogger interviews another. And it seems like everybody in the blog world wants to be interviewed! And I am no different. So, I decided to volunteer and be interviewed by Theroadie. (God help me...)

Please kindly find below my answers to his queries:

1. If you could change one physical part of your body, what would it be and why?

Weird to say, but I have actually grown to be quite comfortable with my body. I don't possess that lean-mean fat-free bod Armani models own, but it's good enough. I like my eyes, my nose, my mouth, my hands, my abs; every physical body part. The only complaint is that I wish I was taller. Even today, I sometimes wish that I would wake up one day, and find myself as that six footer I always wanted to be.

Why the height? Because I always had this belief that taller men are often taken more seriously...

2. If you have to serenade the girl of your dreams, what song would you choose and why?

It has to be Sting's "Fields of Gold". According to my Ma, my Pa sang to her this song when they were dating, and from then on, she knew that my dad was the one. It is an incredibly romantic song about loving each other through the test of time. And I shiver everytime I sing these lines :

"I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
That we'll walk in fields of gold..."

3. The best city you have lived in and why?

This is a tough one. Nevertheless, of all the places I have lived and visited, I cannot deny KL. It's the city where I met the most precious friends, and everywhere I go, there's a familiar face to be with. As such, this is the ultimate reason why I am completely inlove with the city. Completely.

4. Where would you go for your honeymoon and why?

I have this infinity towards ocean sand, sea breeze and blue water. For this reason, the honeymoon spot where I aim to go and which I think I can afford is Pangkor Laut Resort. It is absolutely breathtaking, and who needs tourists spots when you and your beautiful wife can be secluded from the busy-ness of the world in a Villa above blue water? Damn, I can't wait!

5. If you must have an affair with a close female friend, who would you choose and why?

It has to be Wanay. When we were in college, we gravitated towards each other, because 1) she found me funny and 2) I found her delicious. We did lunch together. We chose classes together. We clubbed together. Despite the good vibes, we both were dating other people, and so remained extremely good friends. So, if I MUST, I choose Wanay. Hehehehehe...


The Official Interview Game Rules (copied from DaddyRoBlog)

1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying "interview me."

2. I will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different.

3. You will update your journal/blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

Mystery Door # 1


There are a few living areas, be it bungalows, semi-d homes, or apartments in urban KL that I find breathtaking. Once I do stumble onto one, I will often pull out the "Things-to-Purchase-at-Thirty" mental list, scribble away, and tuck it away in my head. Among the properties that I aim to own is this two-storey penthouse situated in the Pantai Hillpark area, to which my friend Prof owns.

This desired property features two large balconies, to which the balcony downstairs acts as a second dining room, and the upstairs a jacuzzy area fit for twelve. Each balcony also provides an amazing view of the city's skyline, especially during New Years, where you are able to catch fireworks from KLCC, the Shah Alam area and even Genting all at the same time!

Also, the moment when you step into the Prof's home, you are invited by the scent of jasmine, which lures you into the spacious living room and dining area decorated by his Spanish interior-designer wife. There you see and feel plush white sofas, heavy teak tables and cupboards, large Javanese mirrors, jasmine-scented candles, black and white paintings, and miniature banana trees. To me, it's the closest thing to Paradise.

And for every Paradise, there should be a party right? Prof and his wife do think so. Every so often, they would invite friends over for a good hearty meal, composing of red wine, cold salads, soups, bread and olive-based pasta. And then, they would allure all of us to lounge at "The Balconies", to feel the breeze, to sip iced tea, and to realise how peaceful and colorful KL is from up there.

During the first time I was there, I asked Prof who are the neighbors.

"There are two," he said. "The immediate left is owned by a Russian. He's a great business man, an artist and have the most wonderful parties."

Woohoo, I thought. Party central!!!

"The immediate right is owned by this couple," he continued. He then leaned forward to me, made a sour face and whispered, "And we don't like them."

When the party was over, I managed to look around the halls to see the doors of the neighboring homes. The Russian have a strong steel-based door, while the disliked couple have a wooden one. Who could this disliked couple be?, I thought.

After a few months down the line, I finally knew who they were. And even met them. Yes, people, the couple turned out to be my boss!!!

My boss invited my colleagues and I to chill over his place to celebrate the win of a client one day. When he told me the address to his place, I seriously thought it was familiar. And yes, my heart and head almost exploded when I realised that I was standing at that wooden door of the "disliked couple's" home. Shit!

My colleagues and I sat around at the living room, me drinking Coke while the rest some Bacardi. In his t-shirt and shorts, my boss walked to a chair, plunked down, raised his hands and asked, "So, what do you think of my place?"

"It's beeeeauUUUttttifffful!" my colleagues serenaded.

"Who are your neighbors?" one of my colleagues asked.

"Oh, I have a Russian neighbor and he is cool. The other one is this Professor and his Spanish wife." Pause pause. "And frankly," he continued, "I don't like them."

No shit.

Sunday, May 08, 2005


Easier to Swallow

Call me an attention-seeker or whatever, but I enjoy receiving compliments. Who doesn't? Whenever my boss said "Good job on that proposal you've written!", I rule the world. Whenever a girl in a crowd goes "I love your voice!", I own Sony Records. But, for some odd reason, there's one type of compliment I have a hard time swallowing, which are compliments about my looks.

This insecurity started in forth grade. I was in art class where my art teacher, Mrs Stucker, demonstrated how to draw human faces, and randomly pointed to each kid the different facial features, like Ben's large eyes and Arlene's small ears. "As for Asian features," she said, "you have almond eyes and often flat noses. Like Muddy's." All the other 13 kids turned around and stared at me. Jackass Jason then went, "Look! Muddy's nose is flat!" and went on to press his sharp Swedish nose down with his thumb. I never felt so ugly in my life.

To be among three younger brothers who are much "better" looking doesn't help either. Whenever my family balik kampung, my aunts would often have a party in pinpointing the physical characteristics of my brothers and I. According to an aunt, my younger brother Wari looks like the Malay version of Brad Pit. According to another aunt, my younger brother Aiman looks like Yusry from KRU. All agreed that baby brother Firdaus is adorable. As for me, they would always say I am the smart one. Damn.

As I grew older, I do receive some occassional compliments to how I look. But, to me, they were a tad confusing. I remember this girl, who I dated back in college, had this habit of ranking the guys at my university in terms of their looks, and would always put this Fais guy as number one.

Where do I stand? I asked her.

"Baby, you're not cute," she said. "You're sexy."

Erk, what is that suppose to mean?

So, when a talent agent called me up today and asked me whether I was interested to be a head-shot model for an art show, I felt confused.

How do you know what I look like anyway? I asked.

"You were mentioned by your friend," she said. "And we saw your picture on your Friendster page. We love your look."

What look?

"You look exotic."

Damn, I thought. I look like a pineapple.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Who Did It???


Someone scratched my car, Goddamnit!!!

Apparently, someone with a red car did not know how to get out of the parking lot. How did I know it was a red car? By the obvious long red line etched on my car's door! I tried rubbing it with tissue and some spit, but the mark just would not fade. Arrrrgggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!

I angrily drove out of the parking lot today, and stared at all the red cars that passed by me. Which one of you did it? I thought. If there were built-in laser guns in my car, I would have joyeously zapped all of them red cars on Jalan Sultan Ismail into metal ash.

The nerve! I thought. Why did that fool hit and run?

Monday, May 02, 2005

Visual Dreams


Once in a while, I have extremely visual dreams. And what I mean by visual is that the imagery I received from it would often leave a deep impression on my being the next morning. The entire day. The whole month. The full year.

An example of this "visual" dream was where I found myself feeling extremely thirsty and searching frantically for water in a dark cave. Miracously, I found this small pond in the middle, so I crouched over and drank. However, the more I drank, the more I became thirsty, so I kept on gulping as much as I could. Why is this happening to me? I thought. After minutes of drinking, I soon realised that the liquid cupped in my hands was blood.

I remember waking up feeling extremely hot. My head was pounding heavily, and I knew I was having a fever. Trying to cool down my temperature, I went to the bathroom to wash my face and my head. When I looked up at the mirror, I shuddered as I watched streams of thick blood spewing from my nostrils, down my chin and my neck. Oh my god, I WAS drinking blood!

I told a friend about this dream, and she told me to quit drinking. Soon after, I did.

I am still unsure whether this dream was sent from God. Or was just a result of my fever. But what frightens me is that despite that I found myself drinking blood in my dream, a part of me enjoyed it. And 'till today, I don't know why I did.


Update : According to;

Cave - To dream that you are walking in a dark cave signifies refuge or unconscious mind. It also denotes that you experience some unexpected misfortune or disagreement.

Thirst - To dream that you are thirsty denotes that you are taking on too much than you can handle and you are reaching for goals that are beyond your reach. If you quench your thirst, then you will achieve your wishes and desires.

Blood - To dream that you are drinking blood indicates that you have a fresh burst of vitality and power.

No wonder I enjoyed it! Buhlooodddd! Hahahaha...