Laughing Matters

The Matter Is...

2008-11-18T21:29:00.000-08:00

Muddy

Silence is golden...

but heck.

Rules are meant to be broken. ;)

falling

2007-11-25T01:24:00.000-08:00

beautiful

being single for so long has caused me to wonder whether love truly exist and whether in the greater scheme of things, i am to fall inlove. when work takes you over and you go through routine, and when there are no longer true surprises in your life, you just accept that those things are not real.

you become cold. allergic. cynic.

that's how i felt until i went on youtube and found alicia key's new song, "like you never see me again." it's funny how a song changed me over. it literally stopped me in my tracks and made me go...

wow...

i really do want to fall inlove again.

spend time with yourself

2007-10-28T04:50:00.000-07:00

the original mood setter

there are times and days when i feel like spending time all by myself.

sometimes, it would be in a remote neighborhood mall, with my laptop and my favorite on-the-go mocha latte at hand, and i would surf for hours satorialist's blog to understand what true style means.

other times, i would spend a good hour or so at the gym working on the areas that need to be toned (alert : tummy) and just bask in the steam room to relax.

also many times, i would go over to the bakery at ikano to eat the usual (flying chicken sandwich + orange juice on the rocks) and read cover-to-cover the latest details mag.

i personally feel that at those times, there is feeling of peace which i love. it's the spending time to reflect, to be at ease with your self, which i feel makes me feel more...in love with living.

because i know, if you don't like spending with yourself, then who would?

(ps : marvin gaye crooning at the background makes me wish i was a singer...)

High Five!

2007-09-27T01:40:00.001-07:00

Well hello there...

There are a couple of new posts I wanted to publish today - very deep, very personal stuff. But, as usual, I got distracted and felt more obligated to Khaylis to fill up this freakin' meme.

So enjoy!

5 things in my wallet
1. My drivers with a decent pic of myself
2. My identity card with an obviously i-partied-last-night-and-i-am-doing-this-MyKad-at-9am pic of myself
3. Two credit cards from differing banks
4. Fitness First membership card
5. San Francisco Coffee loyalty card
* I wanted to put cash in here but it's too miniscule to be mentioned here. huhu.

5 things in my room
1. A creaking Ikea bed
2. Stacks of CDs (i am very old school)
3. A rackful of a) office clothes and b) others
4. Rows of white, designer sneakers
5. Cologne

5 things i need to do
1. Remain composed
2. Remain sane
3. Download the latest episode of Heroes
4. Watch Britney's "comeback" performance on YouTube
5. Save some money for Beyonce's concert

5 things i am doing
1. Avoiding a certain someone at the office
2. Replying emails, emails and emails
3. Attending meetings
4. Yawning
5. Looking for inspiration

Ta-da!

I tag all the sexy people who commented in my last post. ;)

Move Move

2007-09-11T17:16:00.000-07:00

If only boxes can pack themselves...

Moving into the new house proved to be a great form of physical and mental exercise. Physical in the sense of moving around the furniture and packing up the endless amount of vases, picture frames and other knick knacks which I never thought my family had. And mental in terms of planning out where the old stuff should be to coincide peacefully with the new ones.

Another mental exercise I had to go through was going through the costs of moving and purchasing of new things. As the self-appointed accountant during this period, I realized that stuff for the house can be so damn expensive.

For example, the refrigerator. So damn expensive.

The curtains? It is equivalent of a down payment for a new Lancer!

And don’t forget the flat screen TV because all houses need flat screen TVs.

Now I understand why my parents had always gone through their sets of squabbles whenever we had to move house in the past. Because someone had to be the accountant and provide restraints, when the other one just wanted to get that designer chair for who knows where. This time my parents are smart. They left the headache to me, and I am squinting as they go “oh look, this should be nice for the house”.

Oh really???

After calculating the total costs, I realized that the egg nest my parents had set aside for purchasing goods for the new home was a little short. I told my parents this and recommended that they take a short term loan to cover some quick but much needed expenses like settling the 20% balance of installing the kitchen costs or the 10% balance for the new security system they had just installed. Unsurprisingly, they threw the Frisbee back to me and recommended that I take out the short term loan on their behalf.

What the???

So, a few Fridays back, I took the day off to go visit the nearby Standard Chartered bank to apply for a short term loan for my family. The consultant named Jeslyn calculated openly my net worth and reviewed the details in my spending.

“Do you have any other loans?” she asked.

No. No car loans. No house loans. Just credit cards. So, basically, I am a loan virgin. Hahaha.

She did not laugh. “You pay on time?”

Always.

“Okay.” Calculate calculate calculate.

I was staring at a plant on her table when suddenly she said, “Wow, you personal trainers make a lot of money, huh?”

I looked at her blankly when she added, “Which gym do you work at?”

Gym? Did she just say gym?

I’m sorry, I said with all seriousness. I am not a personal trainer. I am a brand analyst at a very good company!

I look at her dead in the eye, insulted that she thought I was a him-bo. Sheesh! But perhaps it was the loan virgin joke that made her think that way? To cover it up, I began to detail my job experiences, the seriousness of my job scope, because damn it, I wanted her to take me seriously.

“We will call you when the loan has been approved,” she said. And just like that, I left the bank with the biggest dent to my ego.

WishList

2007-08-02T17:01:00.000-07:00

Ku De Ta at Night

(Inspired by Khaylis WishList)

Hot mocha in on-the-go paper cup from San Fran Coffee in the morning
Cool, breezy and jam free days in KL
Wide and beautifully tiled sidewalks in the city
Lounging with friends on wide beach chairs at night at Ku De Ta, Bali
A forever clean, never-need-to-be-washed sports car
The ability to build a wooden table or bed from scratch
Sunday brunches with family
Watching Malaysian sports men and women winning gold in the Olympics
The complete DVD of Dungeons & Dragons cartoon
Suits from Michael Kors
And, very like Khaylis, a good dose of self-confidence

Define

2007-07-08T06:00:00.000-07:00

Grounds to Play

My family will be moving into a new neighborhood soon.

Last Saturday, we visited the new house to see the contractors fix in the light fixtures in the living room and the media room. After twenty minutes of watching and scrutinizing the contractors at work, Ma sat on the staircase to read Vogue Living, while Pa stared at the garden from the balcony, probably devising a mental blueprint on where to plant the orchids. My ten-years-old brother and I, on the other hand, immediately escaped the madness by going to the playground nearby our new home.

We went straight to the swings, and we laughed as we swung higher and higher. “I’m flying to the moon!” my baby brother hollered. I laughed harder. Seconds later, I noticed my baby brother slowed down his swinging pace to watch these two small girls cycle into the playground.

Your girlfriends? I asked.

“Shut up”, my baby brother said. I laughed again.

The little girls cycled towards us and then stopped. They stared at my baby brother. They quickly glanced at each other and then cycled away. That was creepy, I thought.

Minutes later the playground was dotted with little boys and girls, and I noticed how quickly my brother ran into one of the soccer games and played. I sat on the swing, alone, and wondered whether I would make any new friends in this new neighborhood.

But honestly, I thought to myself, when was the last time I made a new friend?

Let me think.

Hmm…

You got to be kidding me.

Maybe it is my fault that I have not made a new friend lately. I am not a snob, if you are thinking that, but I have to admit that it is quite difficult now days to meet anyone new that jives with my wavelength. For example, I love to laugh. There are, however, some people who I have met recently who would say things like, “Wow, you love to laugh huh?” And the strangest part is that it sounded like it was a bad thing, like I had rabies and had peeling scabs off my face. That’s just absurd.

I love to laugh. So what. It’s my thing. So leave it the fuck alone.

Okay, perhaps this sort of attitude won’t make me new friends. But I guess I have come to a place where I feel like I do not need to resort to being a person that fits to someone else’s standard. If I want to laugh, let me be. If I want to pick my nose, you better let me be. But, if I have to act and behave according someone else’s guidelines, I rather walk out and not even bother to start the friendship in the first place.

I guess this is the reason why I hold on to my friends because they let me be me. And they have been there for me. They say “will be there” when I texted them for lunch on Sundays. They say “I am so sorry” when I tell them my brother had an asthma attack. They say “it is okay” when I tell them my heart was broken. And because of this, I consider them as my friends.

“Hey,” my baby brother said to me, with trails of sweat falling down his face. “I want to go inside for a drink. Thirsty.”

You had fun?

“Yeah he said,” as he waved to the kids at the soccer field.

Your friends?

“Yeah,” he panted.

I took his hands and we walked back to our new home, with me keeping silent that when he grows up, his definition of a friend will truly change.

Cocaine

2007-05-27T16:59:00.000-07:00

Track 13

In terms of marriage, everyone knows that tying the knot with your high school or college sweet heart is stuff of dreams. So when two of my college friends, who were dating for four straight years, decided to marry upon graduation, everyone was incredibly envious. They were indeed the loveliest couple, and I had always secretly wished to myself that I would do anything to be in their place. To find, declare and be legally bounded by love at such a young age – they seemed like they had it all.

Recently, over coffee, my friend told me they were divorced.

What??? How did this happen?

“Apparently, he changed, Muddy. He got all violent and disappeared from home for days. She just could not handle it.”

A part of me felt sick to the core because it was only a few months back when I was at their home, enjoying their spaghetti and iced tea. And they seemed so happy. It felt illogical that they are now divorced, and how could Karl be that way?

“I think it was the drugs,” my friend whispered. “He is still addicted.”

Karl was my first friend in college. We naturally gravitated to each other because we came from the same neighborhood. After class, I would often visit his room to watch movies on his PC or later talk for hours about the hot girls in our class. It was also in his room that I discovered his favorite pastime.

“You don’t mind?”

No, I responded. I sat there on the floor, still as stone, while he took out a small plastic bag of marijuana from his pocket and a plastic bottle from underneath his bed. He later deposited the leaves on this contraption made of tin foil, lit it up and sucked the smoke through a pipe attached to the bottle. The bottle gurgled. He exhaled.

“You want to try?” I shook my head. He looked at me, noticed how bewildered I must have looked and said, “I am only doing this because I can’t sleep without it. It puts me to sleep.”

I nodded and watched and slowly felt slightly intoxicated from the smoke that filled the room. This happened every night, and there were days later that I did join him because I was curious. And it was days later when I accepted his routine as normal. However, I noticed he behaved differently soon after. He missed morning class many times because he could not wake up on time. His eyes were always blood-shot red as well, and when people asked, he said he got shampoo in his eyes when he showered. There were also days when he would just be silent, ignoring me when I talked. And that’s when our friendship drifted.

When Karl got married, I thought he had changed. At his wedding, he looked healthy and had this positive glow surrounding him. When he saw me, he smiled, shook my hand and patted my back several times. “Thank you for coming,” he said, “it means a lot to me.” I smiled back, because it does feel great to know that your friend is clean and set on the right direction.

So when I got know his marriage failed because of his addiction, I was crushed.

He is not the only one I know of that has an addiction to drugs. A good friend of mine in the fashion business would often snort a trail of cocaine before he would hit the clubs. I never asked him why he does, but it was obvious that he needed it for the confidence. He was indeed very cocky when he is on it, hitting on every girl at the bar and even had the energy to dance until the wee hours of morning. “I feel invincible,” I heard him say one night.

But when he is not on it, he is different. He is quiet and according to a friend, he falls into a deep state of depression. He never let me see him in that state. He only let most of us see him when he is high on cocaine.

At the end of the day, I realized that I don’t have the power to change my friends with this addiction. They have to seek professional help and have the motivation to change for themselves. The best thing I can do is to tell them that it is wrong. I not done that just yet, and that makes me sick to the stomach.

It's Either Write Or Wrong

2007-05-02T17:11:00.000-07:00

The Bunny Laid These

I am unsure of where to begin, or exactly how I should say it with words, but I guess I have to start somewhere.

Because what I will tell you is essentially very amusing, and I need you to listen very carefully.

Perhaps you need to come closer, so that I can whisper it into your ears…

(…that I am ready to write once again…)

- - -

Mrs. Adams screamed at me when I took seven chocolate eggs from the basket on her desk. She told me, with her sharp index finger to my face, that everyone could only have two chocolate eggs, and not seven. She even told me that the Easter bunny was very disappointed at me. I just laughed. Hahaha! Because, when you were six years old, you really did not give a flying fart for rules and regulations, or the feelings of some imaginary rabbit. Especially when it comes to chocolate.

I ran to my desk, quickly peeled the red and silver wrapper off the chocolate eggs, and gobbled them up with glee. “You’re going to get sick Muddy,” Mrs. Adams cursed at me, “Too much of a good thing is never good.”

And boy, did she curse me good, because the next morning, I was stooping over the toilet bowl, puking a sea of chocolate goop out of my tiny, six-years-old mouth. It was like Exorcist reincarnated.

I guess that is exactly what happened to me with writing. I was so into it – craved it, loved it, indulged in it – that, like those chocolate eggs, it made me sick. How? Well, I am unsure medically how, but at some point last year, I was getting sick of writing. I did not want to write at all because it took too much effort. Too much thinking. Too much of my time, that I simply huffed that I had enough. Sayonara sucker, I thought to myself, it’s so over.

Funny though that when you try to run away, something or someone unexpected always catches up with you, and bites you right in the ass.

If my memory is still intact, I think it was October last year that one of my long lost friends from the magazine industry called me up and said hey, are you interested to write something for me? There I was, staring blankly into my laptop, at work, and reviewing that scene in my head when I dramatically vowed to myself that I would not write again. Because, you know, it made me sick.

I have stopped writing, I told him over the phone. And you have not read what I have written. So I might suck, you know.

I read your blog, he said. I need a two pager by next week. On fashion. Bye!

What the???

So I guess he’s going Hitler on me. I later gave him a call, said ok, I will do it but told him to give me a run down of what I would need to write. He told me that he wanted a list of fashion do’s and don’ts of last century. I thought, man, this is going to suck because I can’t remember the last time I wrote a list. Or fashion. And I don’t know anything beyond the eighties, because hey, anything beyond that is like prehistoric times.

I thought about it, toiled on it, googled on it and the night before the deadline, I was like, okay I am going to surrender. Give up. Because there is no sane way am I going to develop that list. Why didn’t he get a woman to write that article? I swear my stomach was making noises, and I think I am burning up as well.

So you see, writing did make me sick.

But it was the money that smacked me to my senses. The article was worth only a few hundred ringgit but hey, moolah is moolah. I ate a chocolate bar, and for a solid two hours, I typed away. Phew! The end product was not completely what my friend wanted, but to my surprise, his senior editor loved it.

Please find below a taste of the article (writer’s edition) :

10 Best Local Fashion Duds

In recent years, our nation has strove to become more fashionable. This is evident at how many fashion weeks are constantly done each year, and how many talented local designers are unearthed and promoted to help carry this mission. In fact, if we look around us, the majority is seen to be more receptive to fashion trends than ever before, thanks also to the heavy exposure to fashion infused TV channels like Channel V and magazines like Plan B.

Despite all the good that has resulted from the fashion movement, a large percentage of trends that were carried out have left many fashion gurus and the normal consumers screaming, “What are we thinking?” While some horrific trends do meet their timely death, some were found to be more persistent in the local attire. So, let us sit back, review and be reminded of our ten “best” local fashion duds which should be avoided in the near future.

1. The shoulder pads

While recent fashion celebrates the eighties, most trends defined by that decade should seriously be long forgotten. Shoulder pads, for instance, were famously incorporated into the baju kurung back then, which only diluted the demure and the feminine form of the national garment. For a good embarrassing decade and more, most women literally looked like they were wearing boxes. While a few may see the need for shoulder pads to power up a business suit, there is absolutely no sane reason why we need to also power up the baju kurung.

2. The winter clothing

Perhaps retailers are partly to blame. Despite Malaysia is evidently a very tropical country known for its humidity, winter clothing is nevertheless made available for local consumption. It is horrifying at how common it is to see a large percentage of the masses in puffy sweaters, thick leather jackets and snowcaps even when the sun is shining and baking everyone underneath. Winter is an unnatural season this part of the world. Some people, however, still don’t get it.

3. The low-rider jeans

The fashion forward, from Dolce & Gabanna to Calvin Klein, has sparked the rage for the low-rider jeans. They are regarded to be sexier, more appealing and if the eyes can talk, more exposing. There lies the problem, as locals sit at restaurants and cafes, while having large chunks of their underwear or butt crack peek-a-booing through their low-rider jeans for the public to see. In this nation, public display of anything is still regarded as taboo. A whole national campaign on common decency should be based on this.

4. The slogan tee shirts

To most, slogan tee shirts are regarded as a cool and hip way of self-expression, allowing others crossing paths to know when “I’m Getting Lucky” to whether you are a “Pimp”. The problem, however, is that the majority of the locals wearing these tee shirts do seem clueless on exactly what the slogans mean. For instance, if ever at the vicinity of Kajang for satay, kindly spot a tudung lady normally wearing a tee shirt with a picture of a cat and that says, “I love my pussy”. Now we know why the satay tastes so good.

5. The animal print

There are many tribes around the world where individuals dress up as an animal to evoke deep emotions such as courage, sorrow or even anger. When translated into our modern world, wearing animal prints are seen by some to portray status and power, as exemplified by the Mak Datins. Often decked head to toe with prints such as tiger, pony to zebra, these ladies would prowl and growl away at high-end malls to 5-star hotels. Little do they realize that such outfits seem more natural and apt at Zoo Negara.

(The other five points can be found in the magazine).

When the article came out, I felt kind of sick. You know why? Because the majority of my smart comments were edited out. I mean, the meat was there, but gone were the gravy, and what ever happened to good ol’ salt and pepper? My closest friends read it and said, hey this is good stuff. But for me, I thought otherwise.

Till this day, I have yet to collect my payment for the article. I did send them the invoice, but the money is no where to be found. A fellow freelance writer said that I should follow up and demand the money. But this is all so funny to me. I mean, the article published did not seem like it was mine, after it was edited out. It felt foreign, not really me, and I felt sick claiming for it.

See how writing is so nauseating?

- - -

So why write again?

Because I realize that it was in my blog that I could write about anything without being edited out.

Because it was in my blog that I could write without the pressures of a deadline.

Because damn it, I feel like it.

Pee You!!!

2006-09-12T20:35:00.000-07:00

Slice of humble pie

So let’s get this straight.

You did your undergrad in a good school in the States.
You brought back an American twang with you.
You brag that everyone in the office is so kampong, hence you’re the only one with the style.

Those three things, well, I can tolerate.

But listen here buddy.

Don’t you EVER scream at the cleaners.
Don’t you EVER call your assistants stupid.
Don’t you EVER think that the people at the top don’t deserve to be there.

Just because you studied overseas, have an accent, and claim you got style does not mean you are the shit. In fact, your attitude is what makes you shit.

And surprise, surprise, when I told you these things to your face,
You said, why are you so direct???

Why???

Because I KNOW it took you freaking five years to complete your degree when everyone else did it in four.
Because I KNOW your so-called accent is more hick-ville than Manhattan.
Because I KNOW you did not know what Bally or Zegna was.

So, that’s why! IN YOUR FACE!!!

Finding Paradise Part 2 - Ulun Ubud

2006-09-05T01:28:00.000-07:00

Desination 1 : Ulun Ubud

Among the unique things I noticed about Bali was how dangerously narrow the roads were. It did not help further that the taxi we were in was moving at 90km per hour, and was constantly zigzagging around several parked cars in the middle of the road! I thought I was going to die. But when I peered outside the tinted windows and saw the green rice fields or the tiny wooden furniture shops nearby the roadsides, I was at ease. It was, in fact, easy to get distracted among beautiful things, especially among beautiful things in Bali.

We were going to Ubud, a town famous for traditional dances, the bargain markets and the spas. I can’t remember how long the ride was from the airport to Ubud, but I do remember how the cab slowed down upon arriving at a corner of a road. The cab then slowly moved down a narrow pathway surrounded by tall tropical trees, and slowly down into the driveway of Ulun Ubud, a resort owned by a famous Indonesian painter.

When you first stepped out of the cab, you are first greeted by four Balinese men wearing red sarongs, brown jackets, Balinese skullcap and an incredibly welcoming smile. They then rush to pick up your heavy luggage and gently hand signal you to the reception desk, while still withholding a smile in between. Talk about service!

While Shob registered, one of the hotel guys served us this small glass of rice wine. “It’s not alcoholic,” the guy said, but after a few sips of the pinkish drink, my head was slightly spinning. Such a bad drinker, I thought.

The great thing about the hotel was that it was really quiet. All you can hear from the lobby, which was open air and decked with intricate Balinese furniture, was the gentle breeze, chirping of a few birds on the hotel rooftops, and the quiet patter of the hotel crew footsteps. It was serene to its core, and I inhaled all of it in.

Once the paper work was done, the four Balinese men carried Shob, Len and my bags and we all walked down the open-air hallways to our hotel room. Actually, it was more like a chalet, but instead of by the beach, the chalet stood on the hillside and faced an endless mass of coconut trees and a river below.

The view from the balcony

By the river, we could see from our balconies stone cutters collecting and grinding riverbed stones for furniture and housing. It was indeed far better scenery than the usual traffic roads we used to see from KL’s hotels.

But enough of the hotel. Let’s get to the good stuff.

---

(Look out for Part 3 - On Hypnotic Dances and Naked Spas)

Three Weeks Time

2006-08-28T19:58:00.000-07:00

here's my card

Have you ever watched a movie or a documentary where a certain movement or action is played in slow motion? Well, I experienced it last Sunday, when I rammed my car into another Waja in front of me.

Yes, I got into an accident, but I was not the only one. Four cars were involved, bumper to bumper, but thankfully nobody got hurt. I was the fourth car.

I don’t want to detail a lot about the accident, since it’s not the best memory to reflect on. It happened really fast and I managed to settle it quite fast as well, thanks to AAM.

But what I want to talk about is this: I miss my car. I miss my car so much. It hurts to think how my car’s face is all ruined. And riding to work in a different car just doesn’t feel the same. The sound system doesn’t sound the same. The smoothness of the drive is not the same. Nothing is the same.

I used to hate how the windows don’t work anymore. I used to complain how I had to replace the door handles twice already. I used to plan how soon I was able to replace it with a new and better car. But now, all I wanted was to have it back.

Get well soon ok? I will see you in three weeks time.

---

Before I forget, Happy Birthday Malaysia! There is indeed no place like home.

It's About To Be A What???

2006-08-22T21:26:00.000-07:00

vicious

There is a movie about it. There is a song about it. It’s in the papers as well. For some reason, the duel between two females – whether it is just verbal abuse to pulling of hairs, or worse, lawsuits – always seems to keep everyone interested and glued. Because, as dirty as it sounds, everyone loves a girl fight.

I have seen one girl fight in my entire life. And it was bloody interesting. There, in the middle of club, I watched this girl in a skimpy black dress walked through the masses of dancing bodies towards this other girl. Before I could even breathe, they were hitting each other with their handbags, pulling onto each others hair, shouting out puki this and pantat that, and it was vicious! Although the commotion only lasted a minute, it felt like forever before their respective girlfriends pried the fighting duo from each other.

Whoa. Did that just happened?

Violence is never cool, but I do understand where these girls are coming from. When you are extremely angry, your better judgment goes haywire and for some reason, it seems only natural to hit (or bite and pull) to settle the score. It is incredibly animalistic, and I guess our primal beings get unleashed during such tense moments. Roar!!!

But the thing with all physical fights, especially when all the results are simply damaged egos, black eyes and dented foreheads, is to walk away. There is absolutely no reason to revisit. Unless it ends with a show down, it is wise to say it was a fight and that was just it. Move on. Because one girl fight is cool. A repeating girl fight is like get over it biatch.

Who's Laughing? - Part 3

2006-08-18T00:25:00.000-07:00

Multipurpose

It was one of those KL nights when the night sky seemed to have drunk too much and decided to spew furiously on the heated streets and buildings. And as usual, when it rained for hours at night, I always would get incredibly hungry and would crave for soupy meals. I feel like mee bandung, I told Evo over the phone. “Oh me too,” she said, with all puns intended. I then picked her up and drove off to this Malay restaurant nearby her place.

As usual, the place was packed with students and families with loud, pesky kids. We managed to find a table at the far back near the kitchen. Actually, we had to share a table with this family who said it was okay to do so. I then waved my hand at the waiter, ordered two mee bandung and two limau ais, and we waited.

I hope they prepare it fast, I said.

“I know,” Evo said, “I am butt hungry.”

I chuckled. I always do whenever Evo would use butt in front of anything – sleepy, bored, thirsty – to strongly emphasize an emotion. “I borrowed it off butt-ugly,” she explained. “There’s so much punch in butt.”

In five minutes tops, our steaming hot meals came, and the sweet smell of lime and tomatoes floating off the large bowl of mee bandung drove me insane. I wasted no time, and scooped the soft strands of mee and sour-sweet gravy into my mouth. Oh! Sedap gila!

“You know, I had always wanted to know how to cook this,” Evo said, in between slurps.

I think my mom has a recipe and we can –

Splutt!

Apparently, something fell from the ceiling into my bowl of mee bandung, and when I looked closer, it turned out to be a cicak!

OHMYGOD!!!

When I jumped back into my seat, I accidentally tipped the bowl of mee bandung over, spilling its contents across the table, and having the cicak swimming in the current. Within seconds, the cicak fell into this little girls lap who sat beside me, and she fell backwards, and then jumped up and down while screaming, MAK!!!!!!!!

The mother, like lightening, brushed off the cicak that clung onto the little girl’s baju kurung, grabbed hold of her daughter and yelled, “Diam! Diam! Dah! Cicak tak ada!”

Evo and I just stood there, feeling very serba salah, especially when people around us seemed to blame us for the girls hysterical crying through their piercing stares. “Kenapa tadi???” the owner of the restaurant shouted. “Ada cicak,” Evo said, “Dalam mee bandung!”

“Ada cicak???”

To this day, people have rumored that the reason why the mee bandung at that restaurant is so good was because they cook it with cicak. The funny thing though, despite the rumor, people still do flock to the place for the food and the mee bandung, including myself. But, every time when I do go to the place, the owner of the restaurant would always tease me and say, “Hah! Nak makan mee cicak ke?”

And I always said yes.

Reality Bites

2006-08-16T18:38:00.000-07:00

Dringggggggggggggggg!!!

What???

That was the first thought in my head. And I think I also said it aloud. Because at that moment, in the middle of opening the refrigerator to get a can of Coke, my mom told me that my brother was getting married. And all I could say was…

What???

“Yeah,” she said, while sitting down by the kitchen table. “He called me this morning to tell me about it.”

It caught me by surprise how calm my mom sounded. And???

“He’s really serious. He wants to get married.”

It only took me seconds to climb back to my room, grab my cellphone, dialed his number and hollored, you’re getting married???

“Yeah,” my brother said, while giggling in between. “Next year.”

After twenty minutes of talking to my brother, and then realizing how serious he was, I told him catch you later and then I just sat there. On my bed. Feeling completely, I dunno, just empty-headed. As if all my brain cells have gathered, voted and agreed to commit mass suicide, there and then, and so to leave me sitting there, mutating, into a freaking sayur.

I then just collapsed on my bed, breathed, hugged a pillow, and had my mind racing into thoughts like, where was I when I was nineteen? Where was I???

At nineteen, I was still a freshman in college. At nineteen, I was partying until the sun came up. At nineteen, I was just horny. But my brother, at nineteen, he wants to get married?

God.

Even at twenty-five, I am no where close to that…

God!

Where am I at twenty-five???

For some reason, as I hugged my pillow tighter, I felt inadequate, Under-achieved. No where close to the level of maturity my younger brother seemed to have. Ok, perhaps he is not as mature, but come on. I have never been certain about anything THAT huge. And there he is now, at nineteen, so certain about getting married.

And here I was, at twenty-five.

Nose Job

2006-08-08T17:05:00.000-07:00

Clear!

Reading about my favorite writer muse over her fascination with nose picking made me realizes that this activity is actually liberating and can be regarded as an accomplishment. In the most amusing way, it also seems to boost self-esteem, most importantly, among the over-worked. As such, getting your hands dirty to get the work done never seemed more apt.

This entire nose picking business only shows that the need for personal hygiene will always be with us no matter what. We bathe ourselves in the morning and in the evening. We brush our teeth diligently. We further pick our noses for clearer nasal passageways. We love clean. While bodily cleanliness is highly regarded, pursued and is integrated in our daily rituals, I realize there is indeed a fine line of tolerance, especially in regards to where it is done.

---

So last Thursday, I went over to my colleague’s cubicle to discuss over a forecast report which I have been working on for days.

I can’t seem to get it right, I said. The figures keep on coming back negative.

“Let me see,” my colleague said, waving me his right hand for me to pass the report. I did, and then placed my right elbow on his table, and I jumped when something seemed to have pricked me.

Ouch!

I quickly rubbed my right elbow to find a large clipped fingernail!

“Sorry, is that mine?”

Ewww!!!

---

So you see, one of the places where personal hygiene activities such as fingernail clipping should not be done is at the office cubicle. But it seems like majority of us do think other wise. For instance, there was many times when I saw a certain colleague of mine held a mirror to his face to pull strands of hair from his nose. There were others who would floss. And I have been a guilty for sometimes picking my nose swiftly when my nose feels “full”.

Perhaps the reason why most of us are at fault is because we believe that we have privacy in our cubicles. When in fact, we do not. The thing is, I am not saying we cannot pick our noses, clip our fingernails or pull nose hair at the office. What I am saying is, do it in the restroom cubicle. It is indeed the cubicle where you expect things to be dirty.

Food for Thought

2006-08-01T23:50:00.000-07:00

Once in a while

Today was one of those days where I wanted to have lunch alone. My colleagues told me they were all going for fish head curry (again), but I told them I had a lunch appointment. They then started whistling and poking me in the arm, thinking that I was going to lunch with some hot chick, when in fact my lunch appointment was with myself.

Why lunch alone?

Well, for starters, I wasn’t in the mood for talking. Nor was I in the mood to listen to the latest office gossips. All I wanted to do at exactly 1pm today was to drive off to McDonalds and munch on six pieces of crunchy nuggets, one large iced Coke minus the salty fries. And that was exactly what I did.

“Excuse me.” I looked up and saw this senior man in an immaculate dark suit by my table. “Are these seats taken?”

There were obviously three empty seats, so I shook my head no.

“You don’t mind?”

Not at all, I said.

He sat down, I smiled, and then I munch munch munch and stare stare stare out the window. So peaceful, I thought.

“You work around these parts?”

I turned my head, and apparently the stranger was talking to me. Oh no, I said. My office is (bleep). I just came here for lunch.

“Oh that’s far,” he said.

I know, I said. At that moment, I was hoping that the guy would smell from my short responses that I was actually in NO MOOD to chit chat. But the guy did not get it and continued talking.

He told me that he was in the security business. He told me that his partners are from Singapore, and they are “financially-smart but have poor people skills”. He told me that he was looking forward to play golf in Indonesia. He told me his opinions about the Israel-Lebanon situation. And I listened, because at that point, I was actually interested.

“Where are your colleagues?” he suddenly asked me.

Oh they wanted local, but I wanted fast food, I said, which was partially the truth. Where are yours?

“Well,” he said, “I am the boss and apparently, I have been eating lunches alone.”

Oh.

“Just to let you know that when you do climb the corporate ladder, it does get lonely sometimes.”

He later gave a huge sigh as if a huge burden was lifted from him.

At the moment, I realized the difference between him and I was that I wanted to have lunch alone, while he did not. But the similar thing about us was that we were both enjoying what McD’s got to offer, as well as the conversation were having over lunch today.

My Prayer

2006-07-31T17:05:00.000-07:00

May there be justice in Lebanon.
May there be peace in the Middle East.
May there be hope for the living,
And Paradise for the deceased.

Drive Carefully

2006-07-27T18:55:00.000-07:00

Keep on Running

One of my favorite bloggers commented that I should “[s]top working so hard!”, and when I read that, I went numb. For some reason, it was completely awkward to hear that because all I have been hearing from my environment was to push and to push for results. I have indeed become so goal-oriented, so completely mad over work that I have become one of those people that constantly think about what was said in a meeting or developing key recommendations in their minds, even when dear-dear friends are talking to them.

“So what do you think?”

What?

“You weren’t listening, were you?”

Sorry, I was just thinking about work.

“I hate it when you do that.”

It makes me wonder whether my drive and determination to succeed at my job has gotten me speeding down the career highway without ever appreciating my surroundings at all – the trees, the people, and the homes. The funny thing is that I am not sure whether it is a problem, because I love how my life is going. My friendships with my comrades are undeniable. My finances are in control. My family is still the best thing in my life. The only thing that I have been worrying over is my health.

(My back is still killing me.)

It has since April, and the nerves starting from my back all the way down to my left feet feels painful, every second I wake up, every minute I drive my car, every hour I am at my cubicle. I try to keep my mind busy and distracted from the pain, but when I do sit down for a breather, the pain just keeps reminding me that “hey, you are not as strong as you think.” And I cannot bear that.

So doctor, what’s wrong with me?

“It’s obvious that it’s a slip disk and although your condition has 60 percent improved, you are still 40 percent away from being completely cured.”

So what now?

“You have to do an MRI scan. We will see if you need to do surgery.”

When I was waiting for my turn at the clinic’s sitting area to get more packets of painkillers, I thought to myself that all my hopes and dreams can easily crumble down because of my health. And I hope, my dear readers, you understand this because I have, the hard way.

Rice Fields

2006-07-26T01:55:00.000-07:00

Schnitzel my nitzel

These days, I tell myself to meet with my comrades a minimum once per week. I can say that this personal agenda to hold on to the last threads of my drifting friendships, especially against my overwhelming work schedule, can fail at times. However, due to my killer ability to persuade, I am now able to meet with Kobis three times per week, as he got convinced (by, ahem, me) that he needed to join my gym to get rid of his “excess and growing baggage”.

One evening, after gym, we decided to go eat dinner at Secret Recipe. After a few minutes of munching on grilled chicken kebab and rice, Kobis posed me a question on the subject of lurve. “Tell me man, who you would not date?”

Say what?

“Minah mana engkau tak nak?”

That’s easy, I said. Never royalties, celebrities or lawyers.

“Why man?”

I have my reasons.

Kobis sipped on his Coke, paused, and said, “Never say never, man. Look at me. I am dating a German.”

---

In his previous life, Kobis would only date and fall in love with strings of beautiful Chinese girls. Although he has dated a few Malays, he would always tell me that he never saw himself dating a Minah Salleh. “I don’t know,” he would always tell me, “They can be gorgeous. But I am just not attracted to them.”

Months forward, over coffee and chocolate cake, he introduced me to a tall, blond German to which he found sparks with in Hong Kong. How did this happen? I whispered to him. “I don’t know,” he replied, “It just did.”

---

“You know what man? Lately, I am looking at only white girls.”

Hahaha, that’s cool, I said. I guess you are becoming the male version of sawah padi girl.

“What?”

You are the male version of a sawah padi girl.

“It’s sarong party girl lah mangkuk!”

It's In The Cards

2006-07-24T18:20:00.000-07:00

Luna is Loony

A few weekends ago, May called me up to remind me to have a social life again. It’s been ages, I groaned. “Well then we must,” she responded. As an initiative, she told me that she will drive, and I said okay, why not.

Once I got into her car and we headed down the NKVE to KL, she told me that she recently visited a Tarot reader. Oh wow, I said, so what does your future hold? “It’s not about the future, Muds,” she said, while speeding down the highway. “The Tarot reading was just to give myself insights on my current situation.”

In short, the situation was that she was not at peace. Especially with her past. For the past weeks, I have listened to her explain her “situation”, and we came to the conclusion that perhaps she needed closure. Just give him a call, I said. “And cry over the phone?” If that’s closure, why not, I concluded.

But the tarot reading said otherwise. The cards read that May can be at peace, only if she allowed herself to adjust to the things which are constant. For example, May was like a fish out of a pond when she came back to Malaysia after living in Boston for years. In terms of work, the pay was never right. In terms of rules, she hated how she is constant fear for holding hands. “If I have a ticket to New York, I would fly off now,” she would always tell me.

So the tarot was saying that it was not the past that caused her emotional chaos. It was herself that caused her own troubles. She needed to change and adjust to the present, and not worry about the past. “For example, Malaysia will always be like this. I just have to adapt in ways I know how,” she said.

So, how are you going to apply this to your ex-boyfriend?

“He is in the past. I just have to let him go.”

I nodded, and stared into the highway. It’s easier said than done, I thought. But seeing her smiling, at that moment, I knew she found peace. Even when it was within her all along.

Sometimes You Want To Be Promiscuous

2006-07-17T23:53:00.000-07:00

Promiscuous girl,
Wherever you are,
I'm all alone,
and it's you that I want.

Courtesy of Nelly Furtado's "Loose"

Virtual Coffee Interview by Dizery

2006-06-14T22:35:00.000-07:00

The latest handshake style was not too popular

1. Is it possible to love two girls at the same time?

Before I go any further, I want to clarify whether the context of love in this question is about being inlove. Because there is a difference. And because if you ask whether it is possible for me to be inlove with two girls at the same time, which I think is what you are asking, I will say no. I don't think the romantic part of my heart can ever that big for more than one person. Plus, I have never been good at multitasking, so when it comes with being inlove, well, there can only be one at one time.

(Because when you meet and have the one, why would you ever want more?)

2. In the late 90s, it used to be that if your neighborhood dry-cleaner had a website, you laughed at him for being pretentious. But now, you would laugh at him if he didn't have a website. Similarly, in 2006 I think personal blogs are something of a novelty for many people, but by 2010 everyone will have a blog. And they won't be anonymous, they'll have their names on it. First of all, do you like this vision of the future, and would you be prepared for it?

This is tough to answer.

If I interpret this correctly, you are suggesting that my future blog will have my name and identity clearly revealed for the world to see, to read, and to dissect. I don't like the sound of this, nor am I prepared. But, to be really honest, when I say that, I am being hypocritical here because I do have a Friendster page up with my pictures, my likings, and whoever is linked to me for the world to see, to read and to dissect. And the funny thing is, I really don't mind. So there lies the contradiction.

But the thing is, I like the fact that at this one public place known as the blog, my honest feelings on any valid or rubbish subject matter can be shared without any limits. I do agree there is a degree of self-cencorship (because I have learnt there are good ways and bad ways to say things), but it is virtually the best place for me to express ideas and share stories. Without feeling embarrassed or afraid.

I applaud those (particularly you babe) for being able to go, this is me, these are my ideas, there's no hidden anything via blogs. But at this moment, I like my secret tree house, with having interesting readers come visit without me fully being there, and with just traces of my thoughts for them to discover. I enjoy the mystery. Don't you?

3. What percentage of people working in consulting firms know what they're doing, and what percentage are just making it up as they go along?

I like the fact that you want me to gauge this with a numerical value. Ok, let's see. At any occupation you are in, whether you deem yourself a specialist or not, it is healthy to say that you will need to know atleast 60% of what you are doing. The other 30%, I believe, is the gap needed to be filled with new ideas, concepts, procedures etc, which is crucial since so you don't want to become the dinosaur of your times. So the remainder 10% is the ability to bullshit. Studies have shown that this ability is what differentiates the winners from the losers. Sometimes appearing to know what you are doing is enough to capture the deal.

Therefore, my marshmallow formula for any career, more particularly in consulting, is :

60 % experience/gathered knowledge + 30% new tricks + 10% bullshit = success at your career

4. Do you have an exercise regimen, and if so, what kind of exercise do you do?

Since enrolling into an expensive gym in April last year, I have forced myself to exercise. Initial gym sessions were hell. I remember almost passing out after just running six minutes on the treadmill. But after a good and dedicated year, I have seen results and that is what keeps me grounded at the gym three times per week.

My exercise regimen starts with running a mile (which is 1.6 kilometers) as fast as I can on the treadmill. The best time I clocked was at ten minutes. But ever since my bad back incident, I have been walking instead on the treadmill for the same distance.

After that, I do weights for my upper body and some for my legs for a good 45 minutes. My regimen ends with me doing 500 sit-ups. Overall, I want to look like Usher. Let's just say I am not there just yet.

5. If you could borrow money without interest, which part of KL would you choose to buy an apartment in?

When I think apartments, I think urban living. And what better way to do that than to live right smack around the KLCC area. There is this new luxurious apartment being built along Jalan Binjai call the Troika. The project, built by the renowned Foster and Partners, is currently being considered as the tallest, residential development in Malaysia. And based on artists' impressions, it looks so dark and evil, I love it.

But if we were to think in financial terms, even when the money I borrow from Lala Bank is without interest, I cringe. One standard unit, ranging from 2,142 to 3,336 sq. ft, will easily fetch for a cool RM3mill. So, that means monthly payments for the next twenty years is at an estimated rate of RM12,500. That's gila at this point of time.

If realistically speaking, I can only afford the new developments around the Kota Damansara area. A good quality apartment around KD can be priced around RM250,000 to RM450,000. That means monthly payments of around two grand. That's extremely reasonable, since the infrastructure around the area is not bad. Plus Ikea is situates there, so anything around Ikea must be good.

But I prefer to buy grounded properties instead. One simple reason is that I hate carrying my groceries, what more via elevators and staircases. Bah!

Commercial Break

2006-06-06T20:29:00.000-07:00

I can relate

I know everybody is busy with work, but for goodnesss sake, I am completely overwhelmed! There are so many ad-hoc work given to me lately, I swear I got pending work oozing out of my ears and nose. Yes, yes, I have to prioritise, and things are indeed still under my control. But, I seriously need a breather, and so, right now, I am digging a little, dark hole in my mind and for a good ten minutes, take refuge in the blogworld.

As an update :

1) My back is killing me!!! Since April!!! I went to the doc and he said that I had a minor slip disk. He also said not to worry as these things recover naturally. But in the meantime I am fed with painkillers, which seriously are so strong that my fingertips sometimes feel numb. Khaylis asked what I am going to do with sex. I said, forget sex, give me the painkillers!!!

2) I am really digging PCD's new video "Buttons". I think I stop breathing everytime I watch that video.

3) World Cup is coming!!! (Atleast something is.)

4) Okay, back to work!

PS : Finding Paradise Part II will be posted up soon. So no worries k?

Finding Paradise Part 1

2006-05-30T21:13:00.000-07:00

Inviting

I have heard a few horror stories about my neighbors being robbed at night and in clear day light. The thieves, armed with sharp parangs and acid tongues, were unafraid to pry open pagars and doors, and harass families for cash and jewelry. Thank God that none of the neighbors were hurt, but you should look at their faces. You can feel from their eyes how such events have completely disrupted and changed their lives. As a result, more solid steal pagars are raised. Security alarms are placed. Their children now play indoors. Security is everything.

This is exactly what is happening to a tiny island known as Bali. And this is incredibly unfortunate.

---

Before my holiday in Bali, my perception of the place has always been Paradise. My friends, who visited the island many times, described how incredibly friendly the people are. Everything, from oil paintings of rice fields to ornate wooden sculptures, are dirt cheap. Gorgeous branded hotels deck the place, and the lulur body scrubs and spas are stuff of dreams. But when I told my colleagues that I will be going to Bali, the first thing they said was, "Aren't you afraid?"

Apart of me was. It is no secret that Bali was bombed twice by terrorists that have killed too many locals and tourists. Should my pals (Len and Shob) and I go then? Well, I had to. I bought the tickets already. I have renewed my passport. My boss have cleared my leaves. All I kept telling myself, as I sat on the MAS airplane, was to completely have no regrets.

When I first saw Bali from the plane, I held my breath. You had to. Because it is that amazing.

Almost Virgin

When the plane touched down and my friends and I scrambled out, we were greeted with the airport which was pretty much similar to the one in Subang. But what was different is this: a huge, decorative wall carving and a Balinese garden with a deep, dark pool. It was slightly mystifying, but I kept telling myself that this must be the commercialized version. For God's sake, it was in the airport!

Me like

My friends and I carried our heavy bags and lined up to let the immigration officers clear our passports and bags. When walking towards the exit, Len whispered to me that an immigration officer asked him whether we knew Nordin Mat Top. And that's when I paused for a second, maybe even for a two, and then walked out the airport with a quiet air of caution.

But I did not have to. When the taxi driver knew we were Malaysians, he cried out welcome, got our bags and us into his taxi, and cheerfully detailed the places to go and the history behind buildings and statues that passed us. As I laughed and ooh and aah at the taxi driver's version of Bali 101, I whispered to my heart, I am in Bali! I am in Bali!

And Bali whispered to back to me, well duh!

(To be continued...)

Muddy on What's Sexy

2006-05-02T22:53:00.000-07:00

Ohlala

Note : Have been incredibly busy with work. Currently powered by andreline. Beginning to scare myself how efficient I can be as well. But, anyhow, been itching to write something on blog. Here's something inspired by a witty column in Details.

---

1. I love the look of well-kept skin, especially when you touch it. I think skin that glows and feels like silk is a major turn on. And if it smells like any of those fruity lotions from Body Shop, you will definitely hear me growl.

2. There's something incredibly sexy with women born with long legs. I love the fact that those blessed with these assets are unafraid to show them. Love how my stare will start from their well-pedicured feet and continue upwards. It's like a long journey towards better things.

3. It's downright sexy when a woman claims that she can't cook actually cooks you something. The food is not important. What sizzles right is how she's willing to try something new.

4. I think I naturally repel against women who thinks they are hot. Self-confidence is sexy, but over-indulgence, well, not my type of cupcake. I am more naturally drawn to those that have some little insecurity. It's more natural, more relatable, and that just oozes sexy.

5. And talking about food? Well, I find Thai food explosive. Spicy is key. And yes, anything Mediteranean. The mixture of olives, fresh vegetables, and seafood makes me go ga-ga any day.

6. Yellow or red sport cars are major turn offs. Go black. It's classic and mysterious, which is undeniably sexy.

7. Dark-chocolate music from Sade and Maxwell gets me into the zone everytime.

8. A smile. Especially sincere ones. And if it follows with a laughter, a definte big bonus.

9. When you follow a friend to Ikea and you tell yourself NOT to buy anything, but only hours later finding yourself at the counter holding scented candles or some thing-a-majig in your hands, that's so not sexy. Impulse shopping is a definite no.

10. Impulse holiday, on the other hand, well, that's sexy. Like the one I will be going to next week. ;) Bali, here I come.

Back to Back

2006-04-17T20:45:00.000-07:00

Which is step one?

You know, I am one of those people that questions "What does it all mean?" whenever anything out-of-the-ordinary occur in my oh-so-ordinary life. I guess I take comfort in reason, and that in life, there is reason to everything. There is reason why I am snacking on a cracker at my desk (hunger). There is reason why my colleague stumbles 15 minutes late into the office every day (traffic jam).

But sometimes I find myself scratching my head profusely, wondering whether there is indeed any reason to some things at all. Like the string of events that occurred to me last Friday.

---

It all started with me standing infront of a mirror trying to tie a tie. It was a beautiful deep purple hued tie my Pa bought for me from Sweden. And there I was, fumbling over with my bread stick fingers, trying to tie it.

If you are not in the loop, I have to confess that all these years in the academic and working world, I have not mastered how to tie a tie. Shameful? Yes. More shameful that I would resort in having my Pa or my eight year old brother to tie my ties in advance for me. And then hearing my Pa boom "You have to learn!" in the hallways. Or my eight year old brother shaping his little fingers into an L-shape against his forehead and then calling me a loser. Whatever.

But last Thursday, my colleague sat infront my desk and said, "You gotta fix that tie. The knot is off tangent." I stared at him in the eyes, and said, Can you show me how to fix it? And he did. You should have seen the big smile I had the whole afternoon. Me! Tied my own ties!

But, on that Friday morning, I could not remember the proper steps. And instead of a perfectly American knotted tie, it just looks like a tie with many, many knots in it. It was ugly. I hated it. Useless tie! And I stormed off, grabbed one of my knotted-in-advance ties, and then, ten minutes late to the office. What a way to start the day!

---

Later that day, I had a big meeting with several important individuals from differing divisions in my company. After several cups of hot tea and plates of cheese sandwiches, I managed to receive their input on the strategies I developed for a certain project. When the meeting was adjourned, I packed up my laptop and next, the projector.

And that's when it all occur.

I guess my body did not anticipate how heavy the projector was, so instead of sliding towards me when I pulled, the projector remained still. As a result, I pulled every muscle in my back and I yelped. The pain!!! Well, not aloud, but in my head I was like, the pain!!! The pain!!! while the important individuals gracefully exited the meeting room.

It was also a true test of Faith when I had to go for Friday prayers with the pain on my back. Every time I stood up, I was like the pain!!! Every time I sat down, I was like the pain!!! And no matter how hard I prayed, it just would not go away.

---

The thing about me is that I like to park my car by the park on Fridays. You know, the three ringgit one? Well, the great thing about parking there is that it was nearby the mosque, so limping a few metres did not seem that bad at all. But, be reminded, that on that day it was no ordinary day for me.

When prayers was done and I limped towards the carpark to change into my office shoes (I was wearing flip flops for prayers), I saw in the distance some guys running. And the weird thing was they were running like for their lives. At first, I thought a gang of rabid dogs was chasing them. But, I found out that it was worst that that.

It was raining! And it was raining towards me! At that point, I was like, what on Earth am I suppose to do? Should I limp my way to the office which was meters and meters away? Or should I limp to my car which was a meter away but boasted rain? I took the second option, and found myself wet in my car, with a terrible back pain, and having only fifteen minutes to another meeting.

There was no sane way for me to walk back to my office in the cats-and-dogs, so I decided to drive my car out and park in the underground parking instead. The funny thing was that all the entrance of underground parking had a sign that says it is full! Isn't that just so funny???

I circled the building many times hoping that I could enter one of the underground parking, but I was short of luck. It was still full. I had no option but to park at one of the hotels instead. So, I opened my car window slightly and pressed the button of the parking machines. And for some odd reason, the parking ticket flew! It flew out of the machines and out of my hands. I thought it dropped to the ground, but when I opened the car door and looked at the ground, I could not see any signs of the white ticket at all!

It did not help that cars behind me honked like crazy, so I was pressured to go down into the carpark without a ticket in my hand. How much will this cost me? I thought. Once I parked my car, I decided to just come clean with the hotel folks and said that the ticket flew and I don't know where it went. So I got of my car, and was prepared to tell this story.

But, I guess there must be atleast one good thing out of this whole weird experience, because there it was: the ticket glued onto the outside of my wet car. What luck!

---

So, there it is. Last Friday. If you can find any reason to any of it, well, do entertain me. But, for all I know, it does add color to my oh-so-ordinary life, don't you think?

Text Message from an Unknown Number

2006-04-11T17:08:00.000-07:00

Crystal Clear

When your ex after three years text you and says she had a dream about you last night, exactly what do you do? Do you ask back what the dream was all about? Or do you ignore the text message and pretend it never happened at all? In my case, I did exactly neither.

---

At the event of being 25, I realise that you can live without certain people. Because, no matter how ugly it sounds, you are really better off without them. You can call it whatever it is - relationship, friendship, contacts, mere association - well, sometimes it is indeed a waste of your God-given-time.

(Because when someone breaks your heart/your soul/your existence and was never truly sorry, you can indeed forget. But truly never forgive.)

---

So what do you do when your ex after three years text you and says she had a dream about you last night? Well, in my case, I texted back that I was busy and in a meeting. And then deleted her message in the Inbox. And then deleted my response in the Outbox. And continued living with the ones I want, need, love, trust and am truly happy with.

The Other Daily

2006-04-02T17:17:00.000-07:00

Powered by winds and cows

Last week, I think I went completely mad at MPH. The incredible discounts given on all them juicy books sent me on a rampage, and I felt it was the closest I had ever been to cocaine. I was also all determined to become an exclusive MPH's member, but the thought of spending a total of RM200 and in turn, busting my budget this month was disheartening (I am indeed to save a motherload for my trip to Melbourne this year). So, I restrained, tightened my belt and picked up only what was crucial (which ended up being a novel and a cookbook for my friend's birthday gift).

While cruising down the aisle, I walked passed two girls that were chit-chatting over something they read in a local magazine. What stopped me in my tracks was when they mentioned out a name I knew. "I can't believe she did that," the girl in the black tee shirt said. "She thinks she is so pretty. So perasan." Later on, they ranted over something which I surprised me, especially when I knew my friend (who they were raving about) was not capable of doing such things. Or so I want to believe.

As I was waiting in line to pay for my items, I could not help but wonder whether there is indeed some truth in gossips we hear everyday. But what strikes me to the bone are those that are about the ones you love.

It's amazing how you are put into the most uncomfortable situation when a casual friend comes to you and tell you this-and-that about someone so close to you, especially when you have never have heard about it before.

"You did not know she is divorced?"

No, I responded.

"How come? I thought you are close?"

Uncomfortable. Situation. How did you know? I asked.

"She told me."

Hmmm...

Also, what drives me mad is how unlikely it was for me to confront (okay, not confront, but to bring light to) the gossips I hear to my friend. When I heard that a friend was described as a money-sucker, till today, I did not have the nerve to say this to her. I guess it is because you don't want to be put in that "uncomfortable" situation where you drop such a bomb during those get-together dinners.

But a comrade told me that I have to tell. "It's your obligation to seek the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it gets."

And that was what I learnt today. I called my friend and she told me she is not divorced. So, all I can say is, khabar angin mongers, in your face!!!

P.S. During a party, someone asked me whether it is true that Greener Pastures give discounted fuel prices to their employees. I was like, you gila ah? Mana ada company like that??? And what was hilarious was how he believed it was true all along...

Ah gossips. You are so full of shit.

Dawn of a New Age

2006-03-26T19:58:00.000-08:00

I ain't no penny no more.

On March 22, a year was added onto my 24 years on Earth. And for some reason, I wanted to welcome it silently (to the dismay of my comrades). I don't know, the thought of celebrating my birthday on a Wednesday, moreover a workday, sounds very depressing. This is indeed apart of my belief system ever since I was a kid: I believe that birthdays are best celebrated during the weekend. It's more relaxing. You get to party harder. You get to sleep past 12 the next day. It's better, better, better!

Anyway, I would still like to thank those who remembered my birthday, and wished me well wishes via SMS passed midnight. As such, I would like to apologise to the same group of people for the late replies (exactly during lunch the next day), because at midnight on my birthday, I was asleep!

And yes, this old baboon is never too old for gifts! I was overjoyed when my parents showered me with a Secret Recipe cake and my VJ brother with the BMW Sauber shirt. My comrades, always in good taste, gave me an aromatherapy set, a Zegna belt, a pair of Zegna Sport sneakers, a street-inpired red shirt, and a dim sum lunch at Star Hill.

Ah birthdays. No matter how older you get, on that day, you always feel like a kid again. Yippee!

Mess With The Bull and You Get The Horns

2006-03-13T16:58:00.000-08:00

Padan muka

One of the things that I really like about Greener Pastures is that they gladly enroll you to trainings to which, I feel, helps you become a better employee and person as a whole. So if we were like sparse screws and bolts and plywood, Greener Pastures will put you through a machine and turn you into a cabin. Or a car. A wooden car that is.

Anyways, last week I found myself in this very inspiring Leadership course with several of my colleagues. And one of the things that we had to do was role play. The premise was to determine how well you (the boss) can handle your employees. So, infront of the class, I found myself igniting some Oscar genes in me to become a boss for the day.

Come in, I said. My colleague came into the classroom. How are you today?

"Whatever."

(Whatever?) I want to discuss on your performance. It has improved tremendously. In fact, your sales has increased 20% last month.

"Whatever."

(What???) Lately, you have been receiving 15 to 20 personal calls per day. I feel this is unprofessional.

"So?"

(What the???) I need you to reduce your personal calls. Especially during office hours and via the office phone.

"I don't care. It's none of your business."

At that point, my stress levels went on volcano mode. It totally erupted and I don't know why. But the fact that in several minutes, I was facing a totally rubbish employee who gave me attitude with a capital A, and what the hell? Did he want to get fired???

And that was exactly what I did. You're fired!!! Perhaps I watched too many episodes of The Apprentice, but at that point, it felt good to do that. But I realised I did not solve anything, and said, I take that back. I reacted with my emotions and I should not have. I sense a lot of hostility from your end, why is that so?

To which my colleague responded, "I don't have hostility. You're the one with the problem."

To which I said, Please leave my room. And when he did, I felt like throwing a letter knife into his back. Over and over again.

When the acting hoopla was done, I sat back at my desk and pondered how the hell can I handle difficult people just like that without going amok. How ah?

Pride!

2006-03-04T03:40:00.000-08:00

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Medium
Wrath:	Medium
Sloth:	Low
Envy:	Low
Lust:	Medium
Pride:	High

Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz

According to the Devil, I got pride oozing out of my ass. How. Very. True.

1. Greed - What luxury item did you last purchase?

I don't think any of the items I have purchased could be considered as luxurious. My definition of objects in the luxury category include 1) a villa in Capri, 2) vintage high-end timepieces, and 3) a black Ferarri. Give a good six years and I will get back to you on this. ;)

2. Gluttony - What is your favorite food?

Oh my! Do I have to choose??? Ok, if I have to boil it to one type of cooking, it would have to be Thai. I love spicy/exciting/sexy food. Bland food are for the sick.

3. Wrath - What makes you angry?

People who never learn.

4. Sloth - when are you at your laziest?

I know this is really wrong to say, but during bulan puasa, dude! I get so lazy! (Haiyoh, the Devil is smiling now...)

5. Envy - What makes you green?

Very successful and established people. Don't get me wrong. I find this type of envy really healthy, because it drives me completely.

6. Lust - What/who do you lust over?

I lust for many business ideas that is creative and original, and that can make me gazillions of dollars! And I lust for the one who can accept me for who I am.

7. Pride - What are you most proud of?

I am really proud of my father. He struggled so hard to be where he is. For that, he is my source of pride. :)

(To Shopper Mom and Babe: Thanks for tagging me!)

Lose Face Value

2006-03-01T17:45:00.000-08:00

Can you feel the love tonight?

People say that first impressions are important and correct. Well, I hope not!!!

This morning, during my first ever meeting with THE MD, my tummy started to make loud noises. Like REALLY LOUD NOISES!!! I remember nodding my head, staring at my MD’s face, and scrutinizing every facial movement to see whether he noticed it too. Grumble grumble! Haiyoh, did he hear that???

I looked down in my diary, scribbled some important facts here and there, and then noticed that the tea lady finally strolled in the meeting room with a delicious spread of pastries and coffee. Tiba-tiba, my direct boss who sat next to me whispered, “Go grab some and eat. Your stomach is bising.”

HAIYOH!!!

Us and Them or We

2006-02-26T20:24:00.000-08:00

My Precioussssss

I promised to my deeply close friend yesterday that if I ever get married, our friendship would remain the same. Intact. Unchanging. Because how could I ever let it go astray?

However, a review of the married ones around me suggests that perhaps I made that promise too quickly. The reason being is that at that stage of life, priorities change. In fact, it is conservative to say that the vocabularies used by the married ones would consist mostly of “family”, “children”, “spouse”, “love”, and “responsibilities”. And for some reason, “friendship” seemed to be out of place or is regarded as less significant in comparison to the bigger, more important fundamentals.

I am not saying that the married ones don’t have friends. That’s just a stupid sweeping statement to declare. What I am saying is that it does seem that when you do get married, the time given in spending moments with friends gets lesser and lesser every year. But the cause is reasonable. When you have kids, you don’t have every Friday to dance at the latest, trendiest club till the break of dawn. When you have in-laws, you don’t have every Sunday to just eat brunch with friends at Bangsar. There is no argument to that.

But the sad part is, where does that leave us single, unmarried ones? Is it fair that because we are not at that stage of life, we get discarded and shelved until there is time to hang out with us? Are we indeed not as important as we used to be?

I really don’t know the answer. At the moment, the majority of my deeply close friends are not married yet. And the emphasis here is the word yet.

But, Ms V, do not worry. I am here for you whenever you need me.

Inspired by Sifu

2006-02-21T23:33:00.000-08:00

Howdy neighboor!

10 FIRSTS
1. First Best Friend : Zahrin. Shared a common, fanatical interest for Transformers. Plus, he was the only kid in the neighborhood who had a Nintendo back then.
2. First item you stole : A Mario Bros eraser from a Duty Free Shop (Felt like a convict after that.)
3. First pet : When I was two, I had a pet cat. Can’t remember its name, but I remember throwing things at it.
4. First piercing : Two studs on the upper part of my left ear back in college.
5. First school : Pakistani International School (Beijing, China). Every morning, we had to sing Pakistan’s national anthem. How cool is that?
6. First house location : A government quarters in Petaling Jaya. I seriously think that place was Monyet Land (monkeys were everywhere!)
7. First Crush : A Norwegian girl name Aino. In second grade, we had to walk to the cafeteria holding hands, and she was my hand-partner (giggle giggle).
8. First Kiss : Very late. When I was 16. With a Mexican-American girl (giggle giggle).
9. First Car : A red hot Volvo. It was madly pimpin’!
10. (Hey Sifu, what happened to the 10th item? Huhuhu…)

9 LASTS
1. Last time you smoked : Cigarettes? Last month. It was only one stick.
2. Last food you ate : Famous Amos Chocolate Chip Cookies
3. Last movie you watched on DVD at home : Kill Bill Volume II
4. Last movie you watched at the cinema : Syriana. It was SO long and SO boring!
5. Last text message : My engagement dinner will be on the 29 of this month. My friends, it would be the greatest honour to have you celebrate with us on this day. 7.30 pm Hyatt Ballroom.
6. Last music video you saw : Beep, PCD
7. Last song you listened to : Ordinary People, John Legend
8. Last words you said : Can you come this February 29th? Go check your calendar!!!
9. (Missing another question…where did it go?)

8 HAVE-YOU-EVERS
1. Dated a bestfriend : Yes
2. Been arrested : No
3. Been on TV : Yes sir!
4. Eaten sushi : What a dumb question.
5. Cheated on your spouse : Yes
6. Been on a blind date : Yes
7. Been out of the country : (Yawn!) Yes.
8. Been in love : Oh yes!

7 THINGS YOU ARE WEARING
1. Blue checkered cotton shirt from Zara
2. Black office pants tailored by a good friend
3. A black crocodile watch from Zara
4. Black framed pair of reading glasses from Gucci for my aging eyes
5. Black pair of comfortable socks
6. Black leather shoes from Lewre
7. Allure Sport Pour Home from Chanel

6 THINGS YOU HAVE DONE TODAY
1. Finished editing a Power Point presentation for HQ.
2. Finished one proposal to do a forum in Langkawi.
3. Met my potential new boss (who snuck up on me at my cubicle. Thank God I didn’t say Shit!)
4. Finished laughing at how my current boss nominated me to head the Idol competition at the Langkawi forum.
5. Finished grumbling at how my current boss nominated me to be the MC for the Langkawi forum.
6. Finished eating Malay lunch at a gerai.

5 FAVORITE THINGS
1. Studying the works and the life of driven, inspiring people. Currently : Azizi Ali and Heidi Slimane.
2. High teas at PJ Hilton or The Shang with family every other Sunday.
3. Heart to heart chill out sessions at Alexis with my Usual Suspects and Comrades.
4. Singing at underground gigs with the boys (Acoustic 39).
5. Going to a live concert.

4 PEOPLE YOU TRUST THE MOST
1. My father
2. My mother
3. My three brothers
4. Myself

3 THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE
1. Get hitched.
2. Produce an album.
3. Set up a clothing brand for men with my brothers.

2 CHOICES
1. Vanilla or Chocolate : Dark chocolate
2. Rock or Rap : R&B

1 PERSON YOU WANT TO SEE RIGHT NOW?
1. You know who you are. ;)

No Joke

2006-02-16T22:23:00.000-08:00

Baaaaaaaad

I don’t know what it is, or whether I am indeed a freak, but when someone has a bad day, my whole psyche just reacts. When I smell a bad-day brewing in someone’s coffee, you can expect me to be that annoying intruder that will repeat, “Are you OK? Are you OK?” You can brush me off. You can push me into the long kang. But, like super glue, I will be steadfast to make you feel better again.

Today, a-bad-day-a-brewing was my colleague.

Are you OK? I asked, with a mug of tea in my hand.

“Yes, yes, I am,” she said.

I wasn’t convinced. Hey, you wanna hear a really bad joke?

She stared at me blankly.

Okay, of all the coins in the world, which one is the darkest?

She stared at me blankly.

50 Cent.

She smiled, which quickly melted into a giggle and then a big laugh. “That is funny.”

You want to hear another bad one?

She nodded her head.

What do you call a sheep with no legs and no head?

“What?”

A cloud.

She laughed really loud. “That is so stupid.” I smiled back, and walked back to my cubicle. Five minutes later, she stopped by at my desk. “Muddy,” she said, “Thanks for the jokes. Made my day better.”

Mission accomplished!

PS : Know any bad jokes to share? Please do so. Have a fantastic weekend!

V to B Day

2006-02-13T16:47:00.000-08:00

That looks SOOOO Manis!

Once again, it is V-Day! And I felt a fuzzy feeling early this morning when finding 14 SMS wishing me a splendid one. Awww…Happy V-Day to you too! :)

But today is also the day that I realized I have forgotten someone’s birthday! So without much hesitation, I wanna say HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY LAUGHING MATTERS! You’re one year old! Oh yes you are! Now give me a hug!

Have a fantastic day ahead everyone!

Don't Forget About Her

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

At Her Best

Dear Mariah,

I have to apologize to you that there was a time that I thought you really did went bonkers. I watched that controversial strip scene on TRL, and it wasn’t the stripping that got me questioning your mental health. It was the fact that you were high! But you managed to explain yourself quite eloquently on Oprah, saying that your condition was triggered by your bad case of insomnia and your unnatural drive to succeed. Indeed, these two combined, when pushed to the extremes, can make anyone stumble further into a breakdown.

To tell you the truth, I don’t understand why people still consider Glitter as the cause of your career hoopla. Among all your albums, I thought Rainbow was crap! All the songs were super sugary coated, and to think about it, gave me major toothache just listening to it. Despite that Loverboy from your Glitter album is really annoying (especially that video where you do jumping jacks in a blue bandana top), there were extremely heartfelt ballads in there. But this is all overshadowed because of your poor acting performance in your movie. And yes, don’t forget your breakdown.

When you (and Whitney) disappeared, all this wannabe divas came to surface. They did strut their own stuff, but undeniably, they wanted to hit the higher notes just like you. They wanted to even have your hair as well. And all those years when they dominate, I always wondered what ever happened to you. You did come back last three years with Charmbracelet, but it was completely confusing and forgettable. At that point, I thought you would never come back in top form.

But you did! With Mimi.

And now you are the talk of the town. You already won numerous awards for your effort, even tying yourself with Elvis with 17 #1s in the history of music. You are also nominated for a total of 8 Grammy’s, which I feel you are most deserving. Because, finally Mariah, you sang. You sang with all your heart out, even when everybody (even myself) was against you. And that deserves much respect and a thousand apologies from all of us.

I hope you win the Grammy’s. But even if you do not, you managed to make me believe in you once again.

Cheers, Muddy

PS:

Dear Kanye,

You are indeed tough competition for Mariah. But now it’s you that I question about when it comes to insanity. Because, dude, you’re not Christ! Get over it!!!

Served With Rice, With Love

2006-02-05T15:57:00.000-08:00

Fluffy

It was highlighted to me last two weeks that a dealer from the most successfully run petrol station has decided to call it quits. I was quite surprised, moreover the reason why he did. According to the grapevine, the dealer’s health was corroding away because he believe that someone has put a hex on his family. Doctors, for instance, could not pinpoint why he was coughing blood every morning, which only further fueled his speculations that witchcraft is causing his grief. “The market place is indeed fierce,” my colleague told me. “To the point that we need magic to remain competitive.”

In a time and age when only religion and science rule, it is quite surprising that people, especially in this part of the world, still do believe in magic. As such, acting on your sins is not caused by human faults or the temptations of Satan, but because of someone’s voodoo. A splitting headache, in turn, is not necessarily caused by bad sleeping habits, but because a bomoh managed to pound steel nail into your head without you knowing it! I cannot help but wonder: can hocus pocus really do all this? Should we fucking be more cautious with our competitors?

As much as I want to deny its existence, it is no secret that my extended family on my father’s side dealt with magic. My late grandfather was indeed the son of a great bomoh, and despite that my late grandfather is an incredibly pious man, he knew and practiced spells to keep things in order. One time, when my family moved into this gigantic government quarters in the middle of the city, he cast a security spell on our home. “If anyone enters the vicinity of this house with bad intentions,” I remember my late grandfather telling me, “He or she will feel lost.” And indeed that was exactly what happened!

One late Sunday afternoon, my mother yelled from the kitchen saying that an unknown man was roaming in our garden. Alerted, my father grabbed his parang and ran outside, only to find the guy crying on the driveway. “Tolong bang,” he pleaded to my father, “Saya hilang jalan. Saya tak tahu macam mana nak keluar.” My father stood there in his kain pelaikat, looking completely confused, because the gate was wide open right in front of them. Nevertheless, my father then grabbed the fellow by the arms and led him outside the gate. The moment when the thief was outside, he ran away like mad, yelling aloud that our house was hexed. So, from that day on, I came to somewhat believe that magic does exist.

I recently discussed this with Kobis, and he asked me whether I have heard of nasi kangkang.

What the hell is that? I asked.

“Well, nasi kangkang is rice served by wives who want to keep their husbands obedient. And how nasi kangkang is prepared is like this: the moment when the rice is cooked, the rice cooker would be opened and the wife would then sit on top of it, allowing the steam to heat her vagina!”

That’s nasty!

“Well, now you have a new item to add into your lunch menu,” Kobis said. “One nasi kangkang please!”

Hahahaha, shit dude, my nasi kangkang is undercooked!

“Hahahaha!”

And imagined the makcik would say, “Penat penat makcik buat nasi kangkang nih!”

“Hahahahaha!”

You're It!

2006-01-25T21:31:00.000-08:00

Why can't someone give me this type of tag?

Got tagged by the Sifu himself!!! Got some shoes to fill...hehehe...

The Rules:

1) Write an entry of between 100-200 words which integrates these words once :*
a. I
b. Me
c. Blowjob
d. Grapes
e. Random
f. Power
g. Loneliness
h. Water
i. Robot
j. Blue.
2) Out of the ten (10) words, only two (2) can be substituted with other words.
3) The essay must be logical.
4) Nominate five (5) other victims. My victims are : a. The Kimster, b. Disco-very, c. Mommy in Denmark, d. Shobshob, e. My Bestfriend!

Right after a strenous day at work, my colleague and I went to Starbucks to chill. After indulging several minutes of small talk, Peter lighted up his cigarette and began telling me an interesting event that occured at HR. Apparently, earlier that day, he interviewed this lady who listed blowjobs as her favorite pastime on her resume. “Why is this so?” he asked the lady.

“It’s because I love lemon and grapes,” she responded.

Ok, that was random, Peter thought. At that moment, he knew that he was dealing with a nut, as the lady was wearing bright green sneakers along with her black power suit. Peter continued staring the lady in the eye, and said, “I senced a lot of loneliness in you.”

The lady turned her head to the side, and whispered, “I’m really thirsty. I need water.” But before Peter could call his secretary, the lady stood up and started dancing like a robot!

“What happened next?”

“You see this?” Peter pointed to his left cheek which had a blue imprint of someone’s hand. “This is what happens when you tell a ding dong she can’t dance!”

Word Count : 188

Happy Chinese New Years everyone!!!

Never-Defeat Comrades

2006-01-23T17:17:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you need to go BLONDE to have fun

Saturday night rolled in and a deeply close friend texted me saying that she was feeling lonesome. Immediately, I called in my allies to go out, even when a) I was exhausted, and b) they were already halfway in bed.

But when your deeply close friend tells you that she is feeling lonely, you cannot help but reflect on those nights when you were as well. And how it sucked. So, under the spirit of never-defeat comrades, we made our sleepy heads go down to Bar Blonde.

And I was glad that we did. Because when you see your deeply close friend smile, laugh, hug you and the glimmer in her eye reveal that things are indeed okay, just for that night, at that moment, among the warmth of deeply close friends, you cannot help but feel good.

Mind on the Money, and Money on my Mind

2006-01-16T17:28:00.000-08:00

"Look what I found!!!"

Yesterday, while I ran on the treadmill, one my friend’s comment rang in my head: “Muddy, saving is for losers.”

What? You don’t save up for rainy days?

“I am not saying you should not,” my friend told me, while he sipped Alexis Hot Chocolate. “What I am trying to say is you should be investing instead. In order to be wealthy, you must try to make your RM1 into RM100.”

When it was already 10 minutes on the treadmill, I realized that I have been struggling, like a fish caught in a net, with my finances. Every month, I immediately clear my fixed costs, and try to at least save 10 percent of my salary. This is because them damn financial magazines, and I think even an FHM article, told me so. In order to be financially free and be richer, you need to clear off all debts and save up! But, alas, this is an obstacle too great for me. That 10 percent of my salary is always used up for other reasons e.g. birthday gifts, sneakers, dinners, CDs etc. etc. etc. And every month, I find myself broke like an unwanted mangkuk.

So, how do I get out of this hands-to-mouth cycle? How do I change RM1 into RM100? And while we are at it, how the hell do I turn water into wine???

Perhaps this is what differentiates the normal people and the extreme rich. The wealthy know exactly how. And obviously, they don’t tell you how they do it, except dispense questions for you to ponder. But all I do know is that, after 20 minutes running on the treadmill, I will find some way to unravel this hocus pocus. Because, damn it, I want to be wealthy too!

When There Is One Too Many

2006-01-10T16:25:00.000-08:00

Specified

I have noticed that the simple mode of transportation, more commonly known as the car, is used as references to sexuality and relationships. Such references are especially laced in music; for instance, R Kelly’s grinding ballad for a girl whom reminds him of his “jeep”. There’s also the common phrase of wanting to ride with someone all night long, which perhaps could mean an innocent night cruise, but let’s be real here. However, of all the references I know, the most interesting does not refer to the car specifically but what is found in the boot. And that is the spare tire.

The spare tire is kept at the back of the car for an emergency. When one of the four tires goes flat, the spare tire acts as a substitute, but only temporarily. Once the driver gets to the workshop and replaces the flat tire with a brand new one, the spare tire is automatically put back into the boot until the next hoopla.

When it comes to human beings, spare tire equates to the hidden girlfriend or boyfriend, mistress or concubine. However, unlike the car, there are those who have more than just one spare tire! The question is: why is there a need among those to have spare tire(s)? Is it because, like sneakers, having just one partner is never enough?

A good friend once confided in me that she is now in a stagnant relationship. Like the swamps. “Everyday is the same. It is a routine. Predictable. No longer exciting.” As such, she has been secretly seeing someone she met through Myspace. According to her, meetings have only just been drinks at Starbucks or dinner at Dome. “We never have sex though,” she said, “although I have thought about it.”

So you don’t love your current boyfriend anymore?

“No, I love him. And I know he loves me. But Muddy…”

Yes?

“What if I am kidding myself? What if after years and years throughout the relationship you realize one day that he is not the one?”

So, perhaps in this case, having a spare tire is completely based on practicality. It is like having a backup plan. Sometimes, it is almost a plot. Because one fine day, a breakup materializes but you know you won’t be alone. In fact, there’s already a replacement next in line, which you later advertise as your brand new tire!

But yes, I know there are among us that do not agree to such concepts. Having spare tires clearly means: You. Are. A. Cheater mangkuk!!! It also means you have commitment issues, and/or have problems in appreciating what you already have. It is relationship sin and cannot be tolerated.

So how can you avoid having spare tires? Especially when your relationship seems to be on the rocks?

I am unsure with the answer. I am no relationship guru. But all I do know is that do talk. Do deal with whatever problems you have. Do try to put yourself in the others’ shoes. And try to understand why having a spare tire may not be the only solution.

Model Behavior

2006-01-02T16:06:00.000-08:00

She's a Bad Girl

Post mind-blowing New Years’ eve celebration at Westin in the morning and post scrumptious-buffet at The Shangri-La with family in the afternoon, I went to a birthday party at night. However, this is no ordinary party.

The thing is, The Birthday Girl is famous for conjuring up themes for her parties, and for Jan 1, 2006, it was Hollywood Glamour. Determined that everyone stick to the theme like glue, she called me five hours before her party and threatened that if I did not dress like Oscar material or at least MTV Awards, she would slaughter me and feed my carcass to her cats. Damn. So I did, and felt like a complete pimp in my Tom Ford inspired gear (minus the two blond Russian girls in short, red kimonos by my arms though). Double damn.

When I arrived at the hotel room and surprisingly strolled down an actual red carpet, The Birthday Girl immediately greeted me, kissed me on the cheek and pulled me to the balcony. There she said, “Muddy, meet Ash. This is the guy I was talking about.” Oh, THIS is Ash, I thought. THIS is the guy that The Birthday Girl swooned all over YM. THIS is the guy that the other girls in the party whispered about, and their respective boyfriends booed against. And all of this is happening because he is a model.

As I listened to the flirtatious conversation between The Birthday Girl and Ash, I could not help but ask myself: why are we obsessed with models?

It is because they are hot, stupid!

Yes, honest-to-the-core speaking, the model industry is the only industry where you know your colleagues are a hundred percent guaranteed girl or boy babe. Models are also society’s definition of what it means to be physically beautiful, and for this odd reason, they are credited to be almost superior against everybody else. They are sexier. They flock among glamorous people. They lead exciting social lives. They even smell better. Hence, by perception, they are almost untouchables, so it makes perfect sense that the majority of us mortals fawn and secretly dying to date them. Shallow but true.

For example, despite my busy schedule, I have been going home early every Monday to go watch two episodes, back to back, of America’s Next Top Model. Besides the obvious reason of the joy of watching hot women dress in almost nothing in every episode (tee hee), it is interesting to go watch and understand how models behave. After watching the show, I was quite surprised that these women actually have feelings. I have always thought that extremely beautiful women, especially the ones in KL and what more models, are nothing more than money-sucking vampires.

So, a thousand apologies on my side. Because the truth is, I have friends who are dating models or even models themselves, and they are the nicest people I know. I even give tremendous credit to one of them for building my self-confidence. For example, walking into a club or even in a crowded boardroom used to make me nervous. Then one day, a model friend gave me some advice. “Just remember that everybody out there wants to fuck you.” Now, whenever I feel that same nervous feeling, I repeat that to myself and smile. Everybody wants to fuck me. Everybody wants to fuck me…

So, it’s settled. Models are after all human, but are blessed with better genes. But despite that some may come across as bitches or, for the male counterparts, mere meat that are just good for sex, there are models out there that are intelligent, caring and cultured babes. But, where are they? Where do they hang out? And most importantly, how the hell do you attract them?

According to Sky magazine, one of the safest options to get attention from a model is to ignore them. The illusion is to make it look like you haven’t noticed them at all, until you happen to be standing right next to them at the bar. The magazine also advised that it is important to take the target’s looks on the side, treat them normally and they’ll be intrigued. Be confident but not cocky. And most importantly, once they tell you that they’re a model, act slightly surprised.

I called up a model friend of mine and asked, is this all true? Is this what it takes to go date a model? She said, “Just be yourself lah Muddy. You got the goods.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by my goods. But hey, if she said I got it, I got it. Because after all, I can’t argue against the advice of a model, can I?

It's the Final Countdown!

2005-12-18T18:23:00.000-08:00

Comey Ah!

It’s time again! To conjure up resolutions for the New Year!

On January 1 this year, the Usual Suspects professed resolutions out loud and to each other. While I sipped pineapple juice, I said mine was to get a job. At that time, I had recently resigned from a high-stressed, highly-sociable job stint at a tres tres-exclusive public relations firm. I remember swearing to myself DO NOT GO INTO PR AGAIN! Surprisingly, this year, I managed to get TWO jobs in TWO differing industries. How cool is that?

And if you haven’t noticed from my statement upstairs, I sipped pineapple juice during New Years. That’s because I wanted to quit drinking and jointly, smoking. Reason one was that I was drinking and smoking like no tomorrow while I was at that PR job. One of my clients, for example, is The Maker of Cigarettes (enough said). And the thing about PR is that there will always be extra bottles of champagne/wine from previous events. So imagine, during breaks, I would be sipping away Moet or sparkling at my desk. Gila!

Yes, I did drink during Merdeka (to the dismay of some narrow minded bloggers out there). And I recently have been picking up a few sticks. But, I still feel I have met my objectives and even my friends do tell me I have been extra good. (Thanks Khaylis! You’re da best!)

So what’s my resolution this year? That’s for you to find out in Laughing Matters 2006. ;) Happy New Years everybody!

When Jiggy Does Not Mean Fat

2005-12-08T19:39:00.000-08:00

A Local Delight

I realised that being a new exec at my department at Greener Pastures will also mean I am the youngest. It seems like the other executives and the non-execs are much, much, much older than I am. Sometimes I can't help but look at each one of them in the boardroom and whimper "Yes Dad!" in my head when they ask for my recommendations. Indeed, this place has a very different atmosphere in every aspect of the word from my previous, but it's A OK for me.

Because being older does not mean they are not young.

While I joined the crew for lunch, one of my evergreen colleagues decided to take a wallop of fish head curry along with his rice. "I love fish head curry," he said.

"That's not the only head you like," another one of my evergreen colleagues blurted.

The three tudung ladies on my table giggled and said, "Pak, selalu cakap dengan double meaning." Laugh laugh laugh. Giggle giggle giggle.

And there I was, staring into my rice, and feeling hard pressed to even think that all eight evergreens on my table are talking about oral sex.

Click

2005-11-26T20:28:00.000-08:00

The new corporate look was not well perceived

The sun was on high beam, and 90 new executives at Greener Pastures scavaged for shade catered by the restaurant at Seri Dinar Resort. Despite that our tee shirts and track bottoms were soiled by a good mixture of sweat, grass and water provided by the outdoor activities, we cared less, sat among each other, and drowned ourselves in afternoon laughter and the not-so-subtle armpit odor. So, as you can see, the orientation for new execs was actually fun.

While we all indulged in chicken rice and red jelly for lunch, one of the guys next to me asked, "Did you study overseas?"

No, I studied at a local U.

"Then how come you got a thick American accent?"

Long story, I said.

Oh.

This is the sort of conversation I will have among strangers. Before, I would treat them with chapters and chapters of my childhood life, explain and justify, and reveal when I moved to this country and that country, and when to this school and that school. But now, I am growing old and tired, so like yogurt, I give the no-fat version.

"I wonder," he continued saying, "how come you don't hang out with that group?"

What group?

"That group."

In a table next to mine sat six guys, all graduates from the States. It is easy to say that I can relate alot with them: New York, Krogers and a sport call soccer. But for some reason, I simply did not click with them, and prefer to hang out with those that I do. I guess I have come to an age where I admit no shame in saying that I do select who I want to hang out with. There's no need to assimilate. It's way, way, way too much effort.

Not sure why, I finally responded. Does it matter?

He shook his head, smiled and then continued sipping dark coffee in the heat.

Hari Raya

2005-11-05T06:01:00.000-08:00

Bunga Api Yang Berbeza

I have been hearing alot of grumbling that as we grow older, Hari Raya loses its original meaning and excitement.

However, at this time and age, I have discovered that Hari Raya has a new meaning for me. Last Thursday, I discovered how great it actually feels to give away packets of money to the young'ens. Like bees, my younger cousins swarmed at my feet, with their eyes glowing with anticipation in adding an additional five bucks into their plastic Batman wallets and Barbie purses. "I'm rich, I'm rich," they chanted. I laughed.

This Hari Raya was also the first time my family, Johorian relatives and I congregated at my Atok Wan's new home. It's a rumah batu with a fancy electric gate which swishes open to allow three cars in. All four rooms in the house also have air-con, and the bathroom boasts hot showers. "Atok Wan also have Astro," my grandma said, as she flipped the cable channels with the remote control. I smiled.

So yeah, Hari Raya is different, but hey, it's still enjoyable by my books. Selamat Hari Raya everyone!

You Give Yourself A Bad Name (Or Do They?)

2005-10-23T01:25:00.000-07:00

It Ain't Yours Honey!

When you break up with somebody, especially on a bad note, how far does your reputation get tarnished?

Last night, I listened to a conversation about this girl who was supposedly obsessed with material goods that she can identify the brand of your clothes without even looking at the tag. She even paraded to everyone that when she gets married to Our Friend (whom decided to leave her last month), she will get herself a BMW. She also brushes herself as the hottest girl in her university, and bragged to everyone that she was the ultimate reason why a couple broke up.

I have never met her. But after listening to all of this, I don’t like her. How strange.

VOTE!!!

2005-10-16T00:40:00.000-07:00

Aiman Asmawar rocks!

My third brother is an MTV VJ!!! How cool is that??? Well, not just yet. At the moment, we need to vote for him via online or via SMS.

To vote for my brother Aiman via SMS, type VJH, followed by a space, followed by M3 and send to 33776. Each SMS costs RM1. Voting ends on 20th October.

I surveyed the competitors and seriously, no competition. My brother is clearly a Hugo Boss suit, while the rest are Parkson Grand material. Muahahahah!!!

For more info and to read on my bro's profile, visit MTV VJ Hunt Malaysia.

So what are you waiting for, go vote!!!

7 Days, 7 Heaven, 7-Eleven!

2005-10-09T01:09:00.000-07:00

My list isn't this gruesome

It's funny that after 7 official days away from blogland, I have been tagged by the Goddess herself to respond to the 7 meme. Isn't this way, way freaky??? heheheh...

So here we go!

Seven things to do before I die :
1. To build a corporate empire under my name (yes, i am a tad ambitious)
2. To travel to ANY european country (i envy envy envy Mangolisa/Senor Anuar a whole lot)
3. To design a holiday home with wide windows and tall ceilings facing the beach front (preferably one in Spain, one in Capri, and one Miami) for me and my parents (which hopefully be featured in Architecture Digest/MTV's Cribs)

4. To own a walk-in closet full of shirts/suits/shoes designed by Tom Ford/Ms Miuccia Prada (yes, i am a fucking metro)
5. To be a loving husband to my wife and an awesome father to my kids
6. To be able to amazingly tulis dan cakap dalam Bahasa Melayu
7. To be a great Muslim

Seven things I just-can't-do :
1. Write and speak in Bahasa Melayu (although i am working on this...)
2. Look/smell pork without cringing
3. Look/smell/touch frogs without screaming like a little girl

4. Stop purchasing Zara/Puma/A|X
5. Live without sex
6. Tolerate holier-than-thou fuckers
7. Stop loving and be proud of my family

Seven celebrity crushes :

1. Aaliyah (because she was mysterious)
2. Sade (because she is cool)
3. Anggun (because she is exotic)
4. Lucy Liu (because she is cat-like)
5. Angelina Jolie (because she is dangerous)
6. Scarlet Johanson (because she is a classic blonde)

7. Mercedes from America's Next Top Model (because she is cute and killer eyes)

Seven often used phrases/words :
1. Fucking hell!
2. No way!
3. Really?
4. Serious?
5. Mari kita pergi makan.
6. I need to spend.
7. That bitch.

Seven things that attract me to the opposite sex :
1. I love the way she laughs...
2. When she can serenade you with a song she wrote for you...
3. When she cooks a delicious meal in the middle of the night for both of us...
4. The way she can chill with my family...
5. When she makes me laugh...
6. The way she smells right after a bath...
7. The way she holds me when we are sleeping...

Seven tags :
1. Silent
2. The Kimster
3. The Babe
4. Ms D
5. Rostam
6. Disco-very
7. Madnessinvain

Who's Laughing Part III

2005-09-29T14:13:00.000-07:00

Sedap

While I was lazying around the living room at my friend’s place in Terengganu, my handphone rang. It was Ma. Hi Ma, what’s up?

“Hi, tadi Evo dropped by. She thought you sudah balik from holiday.”

Really?

“Yeah, and dia dah balik. She’s heading to Seremban tonight. Evo’s really nice, she bought makanan for you, Fir, Papa and Mama. And there’s a note for you.”

A note? Ma, did you read the note? I asked.

“Yes.”

Typical. Ma, what does it say?

“Dear Muddy, I brought mee bandung for you. Hope it will make you laugh. Hugs, Evo.”

I said goodbye to Ma, and stared at the TV. How can mee bandung make me laugh? After several minutes driving down memory lane, it hit me and brought me back to a night when both of us were craving for mee bandung...

The Best Company

2005-09-26T11:00:00.000-07:00

Little pieces of Chinese heaven

It was Finally-Fucking-Friday night, and Khaylis called to see where I was. I am proceeding to Bukit Bintang, I responded. “Cool,” she said, “I will get the table first.”

That night, a couple of graduates from my high school congregated at a swanky restaurant in Starhill over several plates of dim sum and hot Chinese tea. We asked how was work, the usual what’s happening with who-who, and even discussed on the possibility of importing a clothing franchise from Australia to Kuala Lumpur. “I was also thinking of bringing in Target,” Gin said. “You should bring Gap!” Khaylis squealed.

When we were full, called upon the bill and realized that there were an extra 20 ringgit nobody wanted to claim back, we all democratically agreed to proceed to Lecka Lecka just outside the mall to indulge in Chocolate, Orange, Pistachio, and Crème Brule ice cream.

Guys, I said, while Chocolate dribbled on my tongue, Don’t ever go watch Land of the Dead. It was bad. Like, why the hell would the slayers of zombies wanted to go to Canada because “there is nothing over there”? Don’t they know Canada pun ada manusia juga that are possibly zombies as well?

And there we were, going on and on at the lists and lists of bad movies we watched. On top of my list was Playing God, a movie both David X-Files and Angelina Jolie featured in. I remember there were only like five people in the whole theatre in KLCC watching that movie. And the funny thing was that I couldn’t remember why it was bad, but remember the huge headache I got from watching it. Yes, that bad.

"Hey," Zales shouted from the corner, "Remember this?" She lowered down her voice and bellowed, "Hey, my name is Deja Vu." She turned to her right and said, "Yes, have I seen you before?"

And we all laughed. Laughed so loud that the Arabs at the next table chuckled with us, because we all knew that it was indeed a night of great company.

Leaving the Best Company

2005-09-26T00:45:00.000-07:00

Does these grow on trees?

Dear All,

This is it guys. Today is my last day at my company. And for some odd reason, I feel somewhat sad. I will miss you my laptop. I will miss you my cubicle. I will miss you my clients. I will miss you my colleagues. And I am actually missing my infamous boss.

I had great times here. Sometimes I feel like I am indeed an overpaid blogger and tea lady. But I am happy about that.

Which brings me to another point. The ultimate reason why I am able to blog consistently is because I have internet access at the office. I don't at home. So you know where this is going: I don't know whether I am able to blog like I am used to in my new company. Word has it that they restrict www.blogger.com. So, macam mana?

Am I to resort into forking out cash for that swanky Apple laptop and Streamyx this weekend to save my love in writing? Or am I to resort to becoming one of those cyber cafe bums during the weekend and blog away? How huh? Tak da ke sugar mommy nak sponsor aku nih???

I have to figure out someway or somehow to avoid a goodbye. Because saying goodbye to my company is already hard enough, what more to the blog world?

In the meantime, please take note that tomorrow, my toes will once again breathe under the salty waters of Terengganu. Can't wait.

Sincerely,
Muddy

In New York Last Night

2005-09-21T00:41:00.000-07:00

Idol

Dear Sting,

Please take note that last night, during my company's annual dinner, I sang your song for the kareoke competition. "An Englishman in New York" is among my favorite, and yeah, I decided to do that one. My company folks actually ate my act like the delicious halal Chinese 10 course meal we had. And I won!!!

Cheers,
Muds

Over Stolen Lunch

2005-09-18T19:48:00.000-07:00

"Bitch, where's my sandwich?"

The thing about my industry is that everyone loves a good gossip. Especially when it is about bitches.

It began with this certain email...:

From: Nugent, Katrina
Sent: Thursday, 1 September 2005 9:39 AM
To: sydflr19A - Senior Associates; sydflr19L - Lawyers; sydflr19S - Support Staff
Subject: My lunch...

Yesterday I put my lunch in the fridge on Level 19 which included a packet of ham, some cheese slices and two slices of bread which was going to be for my lunch today.

Over night it has gone missing and as I have no spare money to buy another lunch today, I would appreciate being reimbursed for it.

Katrina Nugent
ext 4739/4434
Allens Arthur Robinson online: http://www.aar.com.au

---

From: Bird, Melinda
Sent: Thursday, 1 September 2005 9:55 AM
To: sydflr19A - Senior Associates; sydflr19L - Lawyers; sydflr19S - Support Staff
Subject: RE: My lunch...

Katrina

There are items fitting your exact description in the level 20 fridge. Are you sure you didn't place your lunch in the wrong fridge yesterday?

Regards
Melinda
x4142

---

Melinda

Probably best you don't reply to all next time, would be annoyed to the lawyers.

The kitchen was not doing dinner last night, so obviously someone has helped themselves to my lunch.

Really sweet of you to investigate for me!

Katrina Nugent
ext 4739

---

Katrina

Since I used to be a float and am still on the level 19 email list I couldn't help but receive your ridiculous email - lucky me!

You use our kitchen all the time for some unknown reason and I saw the items you mentioned in the fridge so naturally thought you may have placed them in the wrong fridge.

Thanks I know I'm sweet and I only had your best interests at heart. Now as you would say, "BYE"!

Regards
Melinda

---

I'm not blonde!!!

---

Being a brunette doesn't mean you're smart though!

---

I definitely wouldn't trade places with you for "the world"!

---

I wouldn't trade places with you for the world...I don't want your figure!

---

Let's not get person "Miss Can't Keep A Boyfriend".

I am in a happy relationship, have a beautiful apartment, brand new car, high pay job...say no more!!

---

Oh my God I'm laughing! happy relationship (you have been with so many guys - yep really happy relationship with Gav BACKHOUSE), beautiful apartment (so what), brand new car (me too), high pay job (I earn more)....say plenty more.....I have 5 guys at the moment! haha.

---

And the next thing you know, the email was circulated to EVERYONE in the industry. The war only ended with bitches with no jobs. So in conclusion: don't steal someone's sandwich!

Update : Originally, I linked the article from www.theage.com.au on the matter, but apparently, it has been removed from the website. Can this mean that the sandwich war is brought into the court room? Will the FBI intervene and identify what ever happened to the missing sandwich??? And the plot thickens...

Oranges and Apples

2005-09-18T19:00:00.000-07:00

When oranges are oranges, and apples are apples

One of the things that I cannot stand are families (or people in general) who would degrade Malaysia quite openly. Yes, we all know that our country is really humid, has bad traffic, that national car is made of tin milo, that the government is corrupted, blah blah blah, but when you go “In THIS country this will never happen” or “In THIS country is so much better”, it can get very annoying. This is especially true when it is a known fact that you are indeed a local, and if you don’t like OUR country, you can always MOVE to another one. (Yes, immigration is an option.)

I still remember two years ago when Wanay and I skipped class to go on a boat ride at Mine’s. As we waited in line to be seated in the boat, we noticed a particular family in front of us who kept pointing at the surroundings. “Look, it’s so dirty!” “Look, the boat is SO small.” To top it off with their really bad British accent, they went, “If we were in THIS country, the river would be much cleaner.” The husband and wife looked at each other as if they said something clever, and then stared at the other boat riders as if we were some back water monkeys.

“Dia orang tuh bising lah,” Wanay said.

I know, I responded.

The boat slowly traveled down the man-made river, passing a small zoo full of many types of feathered species, and surprisingly after the zoo, some really impressive bungalows. While some of the tourists snapped photos, one of the little boy from the annoying family turned to his mother and asked, “Mother, mother, is this Hong Kong?”

I remember Wanay and I burst out laughing, openly, right in front of the very disgruntled mother. Because at that moment, it was they who should have known WHICH country they are at in the first place.

Who's Laughing Part II

2005-09-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

When Laughter Involves Exposing Secrets

“Hey you.” It was a voice I heard over the phone that brought me back onto Ramadan 2002, when I was stuck in horrendous traffic on the Federal Highway and with only minutes before buka puasa. My Volvo was low on gas at the time, so to save on the precious fuel, I pulled down the windows and switched off the air con. While my car crawled on the highway, I spotted a shiny red Evo that purred heavily beside me, and through the opened windows, I found a foxy mama with a pony tail driving it. Hot, I thought.

It wasn’t long that we caught each others eyes. She smiled at me a couple of times, and even mouthed out “Like your Volvo” to me. But before I could say thanks to her, the traffic cleared, forcing her car to zoom past by me. The luck, I thought. On my radio, the azan for maghrib played as I rushed to Shell to buy mineral water for me and gas for Volvo. Strangely, the stunning girl with the Evo was at the station as well.

“Sorry if I have disappeared,” she said over the phone, “I have been busy lately.”

Oh wow, same goes babe.

“Busy enough to have lost your sense of humor?”

And that’s when it hit me like a flying basketball to the face that she reads my blog. What??? How did you find out???

“It’s not hard Muddy. You’re the only copper stud I know in KL.”

Oh God! I thought.

“Muddy.”

Yeah?

“I am actually rushing to a movie, but I have to tell you that I know how to make you laugh again.”

How?

“That’s a secret plan,” she said. “I will tell you when I see you.”

We said goodbye and I continued to stare at the white ceiling from my bed. What is this secret plan she’s talking about, I thought. I wonder…

Who's Laughing?

2005-09-12T02:10:00.000-07:00

I think the kitten is laughing at me

If you ever meet me, the first thing you will notice is that I love to laugh. Sometimes I think that the people at Friends should have hired me as part of their “laughing” audience because I know I will have done a brilliant job. But recently, after re-reading many of my entries, I realized I have indeed lost my sense of humor. Yeap, it’s gone. Tak dak langsung. Sayonara! And I am now desperately trying to reclaim it.

I imagine my sense of humor with its little legs and hands carrying a leather brief case (and wearing a top hat), and running away to Bali. Or Brazil. But, if it did run away, why is that so?

Ask yourself: when was the last time you laughed out so hard that your perut almost burst? When???

At 4.45 pm at my work area, I actually thought about it to the point my kepala sakit. Is it possible that I am growing cynical by the day? How can I forget about something that I really enjoy? Did I leave it in the car???

I flagged this to Ms D, and she told me that I am like this because I am censoring myself. And when I informed this to Khaylis, she automatically demanded me to see her ASAP this weekend.

I hope they can help. Because I seriously, seriously need to remember how to laugh.

Twisted

2005-09-09T09:50:00.000-07:00

When you do feel like sheep

Warning : Please avoid this post if you are already having a shitty day

It began with a friend who called me and said, “It’s true. My company is giving me away six months bonus end of month.” As I was dodging after-work drivers on Jalan Sultan Ismail yesterday, I could not help but shout out back, Congratulations! I freaking hate you!

No, its not that I hate my friend per se. He and the other workers in his fucking company perhaps deserve that extra million. But what bothers me is that after two years of working my bloody ass off, I never had the opportunity to be rewarded like that. Which just makes me so damn angry.

Yes, there was a close time when the Agency planned a company trip to Langkawi. We were all to bake in the sun at the Berjaya hotel, chow down grilled fish, and wash the afternoon away at a spa. We were even to have bad karaoke night. But thanks to my constipated client who wanted me to fly to Penang and emcee a seminar immediately, I could not go.

Ok, perhaps it is my fault that I could not enjoy a fat bonus these years. I have been skipping company to company within the span of two tahuns. In fact, next month, I will be doing the same thing. So, does this mean that my “disloyalty” certifies no reward at all? What bullshit. My brain, sweat, and body have been heavily invested into the successes of your projects; this certifies as loyalty.

It also doesn’t help my porno boss is finding ways not to compensate the 18 unused annual leaves I have been saving. Yesterday, for example, he told my assistant and me that all the letterheads we supposedly wasted were to be paid back from our salaries. GILA!

I may come across angry (correction: fucking angry), but what bothers me is how my current company is shooting me down because I had found a better opportunity elsewhere. Yes, it hurts to say goodbye to an asset. Yes, your clients will probably leave because I did. But what hurts more is how my boss can actually close one eye and claim that the clients I won were actually won by him.

Why? Why? Whyyyy???

2005-09-08T09:40:00.000-07:00

Where's the damn time machine?

This morning, I walked into my boss watching porn.

I can never look at him the same way again. Why is it so difficult for me to accept that he is indeed a horny bastard like all of us???

I guess perhaps there's a kid in me who will never believe that his kindergarten teacher, the maid, the imam and the boss ever gets laid.

The Beautiful Ones

2005-09-06T17:44:00.000-07:00

Broken

Baby, baby, baby
What's it gonna be...
Is it him or is it me?
Don't make me waste my time
Don't make me lose my mind

Baby, baby, baby
Can't you stay with me tonight...
Don't my kisses please you right
You were so hard to find
The beautiful ones
they hurt you everytime

Paint a perfect picture
Bring to life a vision in one's mind
The beautiful ones
Always smash the picture
Always everytime

If I told you baby
That I was in love with you...
If we got married
Would that be cool?

You make me so confused
The beautiful ones
You always seem to lose...

(Prince, Purple Rain)

A Story I Will Never Know

2005-09-04T20:09:00.000-07:00

Balloons

Every morning, I would park my car at the stoney carpark, and stroll down the many abondoned Melaka shophouses to my office. And without fail, I pass this Mystery.

Mystery always sleeps sideways with his knees to his chest on the dirtied tiled floor. His skin is sun scorched, and there are many tiny patches of red, pink and black on his arms. His hair remains unwashed and unbrushed, and his right feet settles in a pool of urine. He only wears a bright green shorts with red and yellow balloon designs all over.

I wonder why he was there. Who knows him. What was his past life. Where will he find food. The questions are endless, which only feeds the mystery.

He is sleeping and decaying alone. I wonder whether he is sleeping away his misery or whether he is indeed very much contented...

But I will never know.

Yap Yap

2005-09-04T19:34:00.000-07:00

Still proudly stands on my Waja

Saturday evening, my parents begged me to stay home to take care of Firdaus. “We need to go on a date,” they said. So, being the obedient son, I kicked them out of the house, let Firdaus play his Detective set, while I grabbed a packet of Vinegar chips and cuddled up on the yellow sofa to watch bad television. As I surfed the channels on Astro, I came upon a talk show with four individuals sitting on a long table, yapping loudly over each other. A debate! I thought.

Apparently, the topic was “Merdeka : Trend or Tradition?” and like most intellectual discussions, noses flared, eyes popped, and hands were waved hysterically in the air as each grew more defensive :

- A young consultant argued that Merdeka isn’t trend or tradition. It is semangat.

- A TV male celebrity, with his confused brown hair, said that today’s youth do not understand the meaning of Merdeka. He was also persistent to say that local media production failed to “story tell” effectively on themes of nationalism compared to Hollywood movies.

- A man with a blue batik shirt said that there are many ways to show patriotism, from concerts to communal prayers.

- A young lady from UITM said that it is better to have a special day where people unite to show patriotism than have none at all.

While I agreed that it was healthy to have everyone vomit their views on TV, I did go into utter shock when one actually questioned why Merdeka was not celebrated the whole year long. Well, this sounded to me like a disgruntled accountant in KPMG who wished that the weekend will never end. Are you gila??? Well, yes, perhaps what he questioned was how come people are overly semangat only on the National Holiday, and not throughout the year. But, to me, there is indeed a flaw in this thought.

Well, let’s see. Are you saying that people in general are not patriotic enough? And exactly how should the public show patriotism throughout the year? Wear batik? Drive Protons? Eat satay Kajang everyday??? The consultant first said that Merdeka is semangat, but quickly turned around and questioned people’s semangat on August 31, saying KLCC concerts and putting up Jalur Gemilang on cars were inappropriate and tak payah. Well, who are you to tell us what is tak payah???

Let me tell you something. On Merdeka eve, my friends gathered at Ascott and got ourselves drunk. On Merdeka day itself, my family and I went to PJ Hilton and had high tea. Are you telling me that my way of celebrating Merdeka is not nationalistic? Unpatriotic? Anti-Malaysia? I think not! I believe how a person celebrate Merdeka is up to the person, and should not be questioned. In fact, we gathered in the spirit of union. We gathered to embrace the fact that family members are alive because of peace, a growing economy and national independence. So, let us celebrate the way we want to. Let us understand Merdeka the way we want to.

It’s like how we keep in touch with God. It’s special and usually up to the individual. It is Choice. It is not Failure.

In addition, I was annoyed at how the TV celebrity went on and on that local media productions are too blatant, too in your face with patriotic messages. According to him, the Hollywood movies are better at it. Well let me see. Is this a problem with local media productions with Merdeka advertisements / drama / movies, or is this a problem with the local media production as a WHOLE? Please celebrity, you must realize that there is a vast, deep lake underneath the thin ice you scrutinize. And besides, I personally think that the Petronas / Mas / TNB commercials are the best and are very well done. I got the message. I always have.

Okay, perhaps I should stop rambling at this, be patriotic and switch the channels immediately. MTV, here I come!

Not Exactly Back to the Future

2005-09-01T17:27:00.000-07:00

Um, what year is this?

Well, I'll be damned. Ms Khaylis and Ms Yoga have tagged me to complete this self-reflection meme. Ok, I will do it, but be warned. I am not completely rationale because (1) my mind is already on weekend mode, (2) didn't get much sleep. Had sex last night.

20 Years Ago, 1985
-The first time I flew on an airplane
-The first time I traveled overseas
-The first year living in the grey colored Beijing, China
-The first time exposed to duty free Lego sets and Transformers
-The first time I tasted Peking duck / dumplings / roasted sweet potato / shark fin soup / halal-Chinese buffets
-First time I saw and made friends with mat salleh / african / japanese kids when I went to a posh kindergarten at Hotel Lido
-Had a difficult time saying "the" (my tongue only said "da" cat, "da" toilet etc)

10 Years Ago, 1995
-Came back to Malaysia from Athens, Ohio
-Went into 9th Grade in ISK"Hell"
-Despite being a freshmen, hanged out with the juniors (I was soooo cool)
-The first time I smoked Malboro
-The first time I was "18" (my homemade ID card gave me access into Fire)
-The first time I tasted Vodka

5 Years Ago, 2000
-The second year at UNITEN
-Was coined as "The American" or "Mud Salleh" by peers
-Made into Deans Lists despite living in The Backroom / Bali on Wednesday / Thursday / Friday / Saturday and yes, Sunday
-The first time I fell inlove
-The first time I had my heart thrown into acid

3 Years Ago, 2002
-The year that I participated in universities events
-The year that my team became champions for the Business Management Competition
-The year how the juniors whispered-whispered about me because they saw me on MTV
-The horrible year when I streaked my hair blonde (what the hell was I thinking???)
-The year how I lived with my bestfriends (Zales, Efi and Fairil)at posh apartment in 101 Resort
-The year I jammed with underground R&B crooners (now famous) at Bangsar / Uptown
-The year I lived in Barbarrans / Orange with Aeyya

Last Year, 2004
-Graduated from UNITEN
-Became a slave at a public relations agency
-Made my first salary
-Tried and failed to become a Malaysian Idol

This Year, 2005
-Work, work, work at a corporate advisory group
-Gym, gym, gym with Gym Goddess Maya and Khaylis
-Bond, bond, bond with The Usual Suspects
-The first exposure to the Blog World
-The first time I fell inlove with writing
-Moving onto greener pastures and sell my soul to an oil and gas company

Next Year, 2006
-Work, work, work at an oil and gas company

10 Years from Now, 2015
-34, and filthy rich
-Married with a non-celebrity / non-royal / non-lawyer wife and have four beautiful kids
-Still the hot shit

Ok, I am tagging Mangolisa, The Kimster, Ms D, Silent and Madnessinvain.

The Watch and The Diamond Ring

2005-08-31T17:36:00.000-07:00

Shiny Emotional Things

“I like your watch,” she said, while pulling my left wrist with the brown leather timepiece towards her sexy eyes. “It’s really nice. I really like it.”

I smiled like the moon. For me, a compliment on my watch is a compliment to my being. This is because my Pa always told me that a man’s watch foreshadows a man’s belief system, style and heart. As such, I took considerable care, perseverance and patience to find my watch; cared less if I had to walk up and down, up and down, and break my legs in KLCC. But when my eyes fell upon this large rectangular shiny timepiece, with its simple dials, unbreakable glass and soft brown leather strap, I knew it was the one.

As her stunning eyes surveyed the details on my watch, I noticed a heavy shine emitting from her hand. Your ring, it’s bling bling, I said.

“It’s chunky, I knowwwww,” she squealed, her eyes now focused on her golden ring encrusted with specks of diamond. “I really, really love it. But, you must know, this is not my engagement ring.”

It’s not?

“Nope, it’s on the other hand.” She pulled her left hand onto my lap, displaying a simple white gold band with a petite diamond. “I chose this ring.”

Before my mind could quickly calculate the cost of her jewelry, she quickly said, “There were so many nicer rings. But they were just too expensive.” She surprisingly let out a deep sigh, and flickered her slender fingers to allow the small diamond catch the light coming from the lamp shades. Quickly, I noticed how her frown disappeared into a smile.

“I love him,” she said. “I really, really love him”.

And that’s when I knew that she really does.

Jas-abelle Month

2005-08-28T18:05:00.000-07:00

Get the fuck away from me!!!

I have a bloody migraine. I want to drill my head with this pencil. I want to staple my temples to end this misery.

Last night, my Pa tricked me into judging an amateur singing contest in Subang. There were eight contestants to judge. And all successfully screamed their way through the competition. I swear, if I hear another Ziana Zain wannabe, you will then comprehend why I will be running amok in Merdeka Square with a parang tomorrow.

What's with a whole lotta bad singing this month? God, what are you trying to tell me???

Jas-abelle

2005-08-24T17:38:00.000-07:00

Step away from the mircophone

For his 30th, Kobis decided to throw himself a birthday party at a karaoke centre in Ampang. So during that ceremonious night, adult egos and dignities were left by the door, as we beria-ria took turns into selecting vocal numbers. Including Jas.

The thing about Jas is that she is sweet. Almost diabetic for Kobis and his friends. “She’s very clingy”. “Very mengada-ada”. “Very very very”. But because she’s indeed their best friend’s love-of-his-life, it was silently understood among each other that these dire opinions about her should never reach Harry’s ears.

This is indeed the code of best friends on spouses. However, like your mother’s vase or your nose, a good rule is always broken by someone exceptional.

On the large television set, a song title by a group called Crystal popped up.

“Cryyssssttalllll???” Ez exclaimed. Everyone looked at each other to find out who was the village idiot that chose the song.

“Best lagu ini.” Apparently, it was Jas.

The second thing about Jas is that she can’t sing for nuts. The sound of cats skinned alive would have been divine compared to what she claims as singing. High notes were screeched. Low notes sounded like Satan. But everyone continued tapping and smiling as if she was the Malaysian Idol.

As Jas continued to yell, an unsuspecting voice surfaced among the noise. “Bestnyyyyyaaaa laguuuu iniiiiiiii!!!!” Apparently, it was Ez.

Ez’s husband pinched her elbow. Besides Harry and Jas, who both were too busy watching the TV, everyone looked at Ez with disbelief. But the moment when we all caught each other’s eyes, we were laughing so loudly inside our heads. Because we all knew that it was the damn truth.

A Smelly Starry Affair

2005-08-23T18:15:00.000-07:00

Cheap cheap cheap

Aeyya buzzed me via YM to notify how our friend’s brother will be exchanging vows soon to a celebrity. “It’s even in the news,” she typed.

So I searched for the “news” article via the world wide web, found it, and sped read :

“…member of a pop girl’s group is engaged to a luxury car and property businessman…”

“…broken off three times but love prevailed…”

“…just bought a house in Cheras so family from Penang can live with them…”

“…will do wedding at a five-star hotel…”

As much as I have tremendous respect for Brother, I rolled eyes like a Ferris wheel at how much the write up fumed of unnecessary details. I do not question their love (or do I?), but do we really need to know how many times hearts were broken? Or where the swanky house resides? Or that the wedding is catered? Do we, really???

Let’s have some class and not publicize your wedding to save your disappearing career, woman. It’s abusive and it stinks.

This further substantiates my reason for NOT wanting to marry a celebrity. Or a royalty for that matter. (But that’s a different story…)

What Is Your Police Moment?

2005-08-21T21:32:00.000-07:00

Soft like bunnies

I don't know exactly what ignited the conversation. Or who. But while feasting on Lotus's tandoori chicken at 3 o'clock in the morning (right after dancing out the accummulated work related stress and worries at Poppy), I listened to the Gym Goddess and her encounters with the FBI, the Cleveland Police and yes, even Nasa.

Not to sound uninteresting, I joined in the tale telling, which included this one:

When I was in Ohio (hick state of America), it was tradition to have a doa selamat for the new batch of Malay kids studying at the University. It was agreed upon for that night that we have it over at one of the girl's apartment.

While we all sat around the living room and read passages from the Quran, we suddenly heard a piercing scream from the bathroom. Immediately, everyone rushed to the scene to find a soaking wet M, who shockingly spilled abusive words from her petite mouth.

It was that night we found out that she was possessed.

My Pa called M's mother, and she immediately asked whether M was wearing the talisman. To our horror, she was not. Kicking and screaming, the men pulled her into the bedroom while yelling out God's name. Children cried. Everyone in the living room kept on reading the Quran. After the longest 15 minutes of my life, M finally sighed and fell asleep. The men trembled.

"The police are here!" Apparently, the nosy neighbors called the cops.

My Pa and the president of the Malaysian Students Association went to the front door to welcome them in. When they went in, they had this "What the hell happened in here" type of look. I guess for an American mat salleh, seeing groups of men and women sitting cross legged in the leaving room with a screaming women in the bedroom does seem suspicious.

After 30 minutes of interviewing President, the cops left. They believed our story that M was claustrophobic.

But, I swear, the neighbors didn't believe our story. It was also damn annoying how they peeked through the curtains and sneered at us when we left.

When Ketupat Isn't Good Enough

2005-08-15T18:25:00.000-07:00

I am Ketupat

It has come to my attention that a large set of beautiful, established, intellligent Malay women are losing faith in Malay men. They say that Malay men are hopeless.

This worries me. Because I am a Malay man growing into his skin. But does that mean...

1) I am not romantic?
2) I am kedekut?
3) I am malas?
4) I want four wives?
5) I am a liar?
6) I am emotionless?
7) I am a cheater?
8) I am perasaan?
9) I am sex crazy?
10) I am useless???

Please don't think that all Malay men are like this. We are indeed Sons. Struggling to get rid of such discriminations against us. And it hurts deeply that your faith for Us is frailing...

With Butter

2005-08-15T00:25:00.000-07:00

I'd love a slice...

Its an old aged wisdom that life for us has been planned out. You begin with Life. You end and begin again from Death. But in between lies a fabric of choices. All leading to that one destiny : Our meet with our Creator.

I have always thought about this constantly. And realised that in fact, you are given clues. To how certain paths leads to certain things. But the irony though is that at the time you found it, it doesn't mean anything. Only later, it does significantly...

...When in the bookstore, I always dwell in the Retail section. How I wish I could determine what products are to be sold, what they look like, the location, I thought...

...My friend told me her family opened a restaurant in Dayabumi that sells the best nasi lemak. "I make the sambal," she said, "Go try it one day."...

...My closest friend works in Company A. My best friend quit work from Company A...

It turns out that next month, I will be venturing into an opportunity composing of these three elements. And I am excited. That He gave me clues.

---

You may just see specks of flour in the beginning. Only to realise later that it is fresh Bread.

Hazy Solution

2005-08-10T23:14:00.000-07:00

Sumatra's gift stinks

According to the NST, the government is devising an action plan the moment when the API readings reaches 500.

I am amused.

What will this action plan involve? Do we run to the hills? Kill our new born? Lock ourselves in our houses until October???

So, open burning is banned. Schools are closed "temporarily". I am predicting that businesses and government offices will be shut down soon. But then again, my crystal ball is damn hazy too.

And bomohs!!! Apa lagi??? This is the time to do your hocus pocus to bring rain, and to call on the winds to swish the haze back to Sumatra.

Mother Nature, you're such a bitch. There goes my weekend plans. There goes my lungs. There goes our economy. As Ms D puts it, to the aliens.

---

And the neighbors that offered us gifts :

A forestry ministry spokesman, Masyud, said the Indonesian government did not yet plan to impose penalties for land-clearing but "actively continues to urge people to stop the habit". - Aug 12, BERNAMA

Aiyoooooooo!!! Mental ke diaorang nih???

Open, Close

2005-08-08T22:43:00.000-07:00

Keeps foodstuff fresh

When I was in second grade, Mrs Adams asked the class to write a poem for homework. "It could be about anything," she said. I remember snickering underneath my breath that this was going to be easy. A log in the fog, voila!

But, right after school, I instead ran around the neighboorhood playground, played Lego for hours at a friends house, and came home past curfew (that would have been around 6 pm back then). When homework time was up and while Ma yelled/preached in the background, my body ached and my eyes drooped out of pure exhaustion. Desperate for an easy way out, I decided to copy a short poem my cousin sent to me for my birthday, and submitted it as my own the very next day.

My teacher thought it was a brilliant piece, to the point that it got published in the school's magazine. When the magazine was out, I simply smiled when teachers and fellow students congratulated me on the published poem. But you see, behind that smile, I felt my insides chipping away, because I knew that I didn't deserve the recognition. If they only knew, I thought. Afraid of the backlash, I continued smiling and kept my secret shut tight, like tupperware.

Yesterday, I found myself smiling that same smile once again. To Him.

He pulled me over by the corner of the gym, and said, "I just found out that she also stole from my friend."

Ok.

"And basically, she was also seeing him," he continued. "But I am unsure whether it was during the same time I was seeing her."

I looked at him, and nodded. I even advised him to forget about it and move on. He smiled, and went off to carry more weights. I walked off.

But inside my head, all I can think is anytime now...

Anytime. Now.

Viewpoints

2005-08-07T22:36:00.000-07:00

Sweedish

Scene 1 : One afternoon, somewhere in Ikea's foodcourt, a group of friends listened to The Tale Teller

Tale Teller : "The last time I was here, I watched this man drink black coffee with four packets of sugar."

Group : Ewwww!!!

Tale Teller : "And get this: this man did it seven times straight."

Group : Gasps!!!

Tale Teller : "I noticed that a cleaner was watching the guy as well, so I asked her whether she knew the guy..."

Muddy : Ada ke?

Tale Teller : "...and she said that this man does this coffee thing everyday, at the same hour. Always seven cups of coffee with 28 packets of sugar. And she thinks he nak bunuh diri."

---

Kesian the man, I thought. Perhaps he just loved coffee?

To An Old Friend

2005-08-03T22:28:00.000-07:00

I don't know the postcode

Dear God,

It's been awhile since I wrote to you. Sorry k? Been busy at a job which I have mix feelings about. There's so much uncertainty around me. I don't know what's going to happen with management. And I am kind of tired being the only Malay in my department. Everyone eats pork around me. But like you always told me, take it as a challenge. Ok, I will.

I quit drinking you know? Yeah, since January. Haven't drank a drop, even when a delicious cocktail is infront of me. But, to tell you the truth, I kind of miss it though. That refreshing taste. Ok, ok, a coke will do. Yeah, the slice of lemon really does helps.

I just want to tell you that Pa is fine, Ma too, and my siblings. I don't know about Wari though. It's been awhile since I talked to him on the phone. You know what? I am beginning to think that I don't know him anymore. He has gotten a whole new life now over there. A good job and girlfriend and all. I hope that I can still relate to him. I hope that I can see him soon.

As for Aiman, I don't know anything about him anymore. He's grown up despite me thinking he is like still 10. I saw him at Zouk last Thursday. I don't know why I didn't say hi to him. He looked so cool actually. Him and his shades. Him and his rich kids group. I hope we won't fight as often. I hope he knows what's he's doing.

As for my friends? I am glad you blessed me with them. I am hanging out more with Khaylis and Maya now. We're trying to be healthy, you see. As for me, trying to bulk up. I don't want to be skinny like I was. Zales is great. Efi just got into a car accident. Han's still planning for the movie. I missed hanging out with Fairil. Shobshob is coming down to KL. Kobis is living his single life up. I'm going to see Vinnie later. And Aeyya is coming back into town very, very soon. Hooray!

I've got to go now. Lunch time is over. You take care ok?

Your number one fan,
Muds.

It Ain't Rocket Science

2005-08-02T17:31:00.000-07:00

Win, Lose, or Withdraw

Before I hit the gym, I decided to be responsible and go pay my outstanding bills. So, I rushed my way to the BCB to withdraw some cash, only to find the longest lines behind two ATM machines, with no one standing behind the farthest left machine.

Based on what I saw, I deducted two things:

1) The farthest left machine is not working.
2) The other two machines are the only ones working.

With this quick logic, I went to queue like the rest of the grumbling customers. However, its amazes me, moreover annoys me completely, that some people don't think this way.

Despite seeing that people were obviously lining up on the other two machines, there were a few complete idiots who rushed to the farthest left machines, snickering to the rest as if we were the bodoh ones. Hello? What do you take me for???

There were a few ladies, with their sweet coy tone, asking, "Machine tuh rosak ke?" No lah, tak rosak. Kami semua nih actually retarded, I thought.

Once I finally got to the front of the line, I saw this Chinese lady also trying out the rosak machine. Trying to be the helpful Malaysian, I told her that it wasn't working. Instead of thanking me, she gave me this stare; this "Mind your own business" stare. Soon enough, she found that it wasn't working, and instead of queuing like the rest, she casually stepped out of the bank.

Whatever, I thought. WHATEVERRRRR!!!

In the Name of Change

2005-07-31T17:28:00.000-07:00

Leave it alone! She's changing!

As I sipped tea, eight other individuals strolled into the conference room at the Equatorial hotel on a Saturday afternoon. Some knew each other, demonstrated by their endless hugs and kisses, but I didn't. I only knew my client, who was at the time busy directing the photographers where to set up the backdrop. While all this was happening, I sat at the table, smiled at the Lady in Green who sat next to me, and continued to munch on the hotel sandwiches.

Soon after, the moderator of the talk got up and directed everybody to say their name, their occupation, and explain why they were there. Predictably, I was asked to be the first to do so. Dammit!!!

Hello, I'm Muddy, I said, while glancing at everybody at the room. I am a management consultant, and...the reason why I am here is...because...I have always been curious about cosmestic surgery. I know absolutely nothing about it, beyond what I have seen on TV.

I looked at my client, and she gave me a smile, somewhat hinting how sorry she was that I had to filled in for a participant who cancelled last minute. Despite that I was actually there to view the dialogue on the side, I agreed to participate, largely because I was fascinated by the topic.

One by one, everyone expressed their viewpoints on cosmetic surgery :

"A person can do whatever they want. But the key point is moderation."

"These reality shows only makes people have high or wrong impressions of what cosmetic surgery can do for them."

"There is absolutely no insurance for cosmetic surgery. Why should there be insurance for a girl who wants to get her boobs bigger?"

"I don't understand why people want to have double eye-lids. You were genetically programmed not to have that. Deal with it!"

"I had liposuction done on my thighs. It's still big though."

Even I contributed my fair share, but while all this was happening, no one knew that I had a dark secret. And it's across my chest and upper arm.

You see, I have a large birthmark and I have always felt embarrassed about it. When I was a kid, everyone asked what it was, and I remember I said, It's sunburn. Strangely, it was a permanent one, and I kept on asking Ma why I had to have one.

As I grew older, I begin to accept this mark and carry it proudly, because truly, it's proof of my mother's love and how she never gave up into bringing me in this world. But, sadly to say, a tiny part of me still feels somewhat irritated, especially when some people continue to stare at the area whenever I am shirtless.

At one point of the discussion, I blurted out this fact.

"Take your off your shirt!" a lady yelled.

I soon came to realize what a big mistake I have made, as everyone glowered for me to reveal my natural tattoo. Miraculously, the moderator saw how embarrassed I was, and ushered everybody a pleasant evening ahead.

Thank God! I thought. Half naked infront of my client? Aiyooo!!!

Lalala

2005-07-26T18:14:00.000-07:00

I like the orange one

I have this habit of making up my own song lyrics sometimes...

While driving to work this morning, the radio played an old Macy Gray's song. There's a line in the song, which I always thought were: "I wore goggles when you are not there."

When I first heard that song, I thought that specific string of lyrics was very clever. I interpretted that line as if she needed to wear goggles to see clearly through her emotional mess when her boyfriend wasn't around. However, it was clear that she was in fact really sad but doesn't want to show it to her boyfriend. Thus, she continued to hide her tears behind her goggles.

Later on a friend told me I was a ding dong. It was suppose to be: "My world crumbles when you are not there."

I. Was. Crushed.

It Started Off With A Bus Ride...

2005-07-23T18:12:00.000-07:00

Destination: Paradise

It was a Thursday morning and I was at the bus station infront of PWTC. Unlike the usual and familiar Thursday mornings where the office is quiet as a dead mouse, the bus station was different. Old women with brightly colored tudungs munched loudly on kuici. Little children in slippers laughed and ran annoyingly around our plastic seats. Two blind men who sat beside me grew tempers on how the nasi lemak gave them stomach problems. While all this was happening, I remained quiet and confused. Like a bad habit, I kept on looking at the bus ticket and at the digital clock on the wall. I guess this is what happens when it is the first time you are riding on a bus to travel alone. You grow paranoid every second that you might miss it.

The bus finally came, and it surprised me that the bus wasn't that bad. The seats were comfortable, inviting me to doze off quite quickly. And I liked the fact that the people around me was quiet and minded their own business. No one talked to each other, except for a quick chat with the bus driver to where he should drop us off. It was perfect.

After a fast five hours, the bus finally stopped infront of the Petronas station in Kerteh. I went off the bus, thanked the bus driver, and stepped into the air-conned station, waiting for Shobshob to pick me up. And while waiting for him, my mind churned to find the purpose of this sudden holiday. Was it to relax? Was it to have fun? Was it for soul-searching purposes? I quickly snapped back, telling my Consultant self to shut up, while I grabbed an orange popsicle.

It doesn't matter, I thought. You're finally here.

---

Terengganu proved to be amazing.

At the sight of the sea, I took off my flip flops...

...to sit by the wooden benches and let my toes breathe.

The beach was serene and soul-calming during the day...

...and festive at night. (Yes, those chefs were at my call! huhuhu...)

---

It's Sunday, and my bus ride is at 11.40 am.

(I am going to miss this un-planned, ad hoc, spontaneous type of life. My soul feels rested and alive.)

And at 11.40 am I will travel back home. And to rush to Bangsar to meet up with Khaylis for an relaxing afternoon drink and a surprise.

Yes, today, I am going to meet up with Dina Zaman...

A Quickie Vacation

2005-07-20T00:29:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Paradise

As my company will officially be bought over in August, my boss asked everybody to use up the annual leaves as much as they can, while having 50 percent of the left overs carried over to the new contract or to have them compensated.

The Infamous HR emailed just now to remind me that I have not used any of my leaves. Gosh, do I love my work that much???

As I am forced to go on a holiday, I have decided to leave my beloved KL tomorrow by riding a buss to Terengannu, and to meet my homeboys, Shobsbob and Krinch. To think about it, this is a much needed break. My mind and soul is congested with unnecesary office politics, and I need to remember how intoxicating the sea breeze smelt. Or how alive my spirit feels when overlooking the vast blue sea. Or how walking and running barefoot in the sand makes me feel like a kid again.

I can't wait...

Human Peeves

2005-07-18T17:48:00.000-07:00

Like watching paint dry

Upon many interview sessions I had with an O&G company, they later asked me to fill in this huge questionairre. It was suppose to provide inroads to my personality. All I can say is, whatever.

I filled it up fairly quickly, but there's a few sets of questions surrounding a theme which I toiled and thought deeply about : "How well can I tolerate different personalities?"

Recently, at my current company, I won a client. (Woohoo!!!) Their business compliment me very well, because it involves with branding and media. The management team is very creative and down-right nice, except for one person. The Lady in Accounts makes me want to poke holes in my eyes. Or jump out of the building. Or set myself on fire. And all that would be completely bliss compared to what I have to tolerate from her.

Everytime I asked her a question, she provides me with the LONGEST pause, stares at me with the blurrest face, and then respond stuff like "I need to go to the ladies" or "Can this wait".

NO, IT CANNOT WOMAN, AND WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU THINKING WHEN YOU BLANK OUT???Argggghhhhhhhhhhh!!!

Lunch at 1.30

2005-07-13T20:02:00.000-07:00

Not My Type of Combo

"Hey, I think I scratched your car!"

That was what I heard as I was walking out of the car park at 8 this morning. I swear I felt my blood pressure went completely upstairs, as I found myself turning around, storming towards this Chinese couple and their red Camry.

Where did you scratch my car? I asked, trying to remain really cool.

"There," the Lady in the Short Skirt said, pointing to the passenger's side of my Waja. "But it's no longer there."

That's when I realised it was THEY who scratched my car.

"You got it fixed?" the Man in the Grey Suit asked.

Yeah, I got it fixed, I said, trying to remain really cool still.

"How much?" the Man in the Grey Suit asked, while flashing tons of cash notes in his LV wallet.

I got it fixed for only RM20 bucks, I responded.

That's when the Man in the Grey Suit laughed, and said, "You're too cute. Here's RM200. It's RM20 for the scratch and RM180 for not paying you on time."

At that moment, I stood still, confused that he handed me four crisp fifty notes and that he called me cute.

"By the way," the Lady in the Short Skirt said, "I like what you are wearing. You go the gym?" She lightly touched my shoulder with her fore finger and said, "Nice."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was 10.30 am, and I was YMing Khaylis of what happened. She typed: "They're swingers, Muddy!"

I always thought that those people only lived in Texas or California. But in KL???

I continued working, but soon got distracted, when the Couple texted me, "Lunch at 1.30. Be there if you can."

Shit!!!

Note to Moi Aussi

2005-07-12T01:37:00.000-07:00

He's Everywhere!!!

1. I have noticed that most in the blogworld are currently VERY BUSY. Unfortunately, I am subjected to the same virus and emotional decay. But no matter how busy I am, I managed some minutes to sneak and read my A-list blog writers. It keeps me feeling happy and updated. If I don't comment, please forgive my sudden inability to be witty. Or to think, for that matter. (My brain is fried, people!!!)

2. Now, a quick post for the day:

Who Cupid hits his arrow with have been the underlying subject of many lovers' tales and movies. But, for me, the interest currently lies in where he does his work.

Where, as in, cyberspace.

I have realised that there are a few special beings who have managed to find sparks of love via chatrooms, emails and recently, blogs. Through words and phrases used, and most importantly the way they deliver their thoughts and tales, have caused many into developing crushes over the other being, even without meeting them. Is cyberspace the platform which openly welcomes the notion of Love At First Words?

For me, that is truly special.

Brother

2005-07-05T20:31:00.000-07:00

Cruisin'

Hello...

"Hey, are you asleep?"

I must have been, because the lights were off in my bedroom. Yeahhhhhh, who's this?

"Hey its me, dude."

It took me awhile to decipher who it was. I stared at my phone, just looking at the numbers 2.30 blinking back at me. Below it was a name I haven't heard for the longest time. And it was welcoming.

Dude! I yelled, still in bed. What's up?

"Nothing really. Just wondering whether you wanted to chill. I am infront of your house already."

You fuck! Tomorrow's work lah. I can't!

"Dude, I don't care! Come out now! For old times sake."

Old times was when I would sneak out of the house to go to Nouvo with the guys. Old times was when we would drink teh tarik at Darul Ehsan until dawn. Old times was when we would honk at all the girls in little Kancils passing us by on Federal Highway. But now its 2.40 am in the morning, and I have a presentation at 10. Old times seemed like a very distant memory.

But I haven't seen him for the longest time. And found my self unlocking the gate of my house and stepping into his grey Beamer. At that moment, I felt like I was 18 again.

"Dude, how are you?"

Nothing much lah. Same o, same o. How about you?

"Well, I am leaving to Australia this Saturday."

For what?

"For good," he responded, still able to zig zag like a demon across the highway without looking. "I have decided to live with my mom there."

He is an only child. And for the past three years, his mom and dad seperated. His dad lives in Subang. His mother in Perth. I could never totally relate to his troubles, but as a friend, I listened. I remember there were times back then that he would park his car infront of my house and just sleep there. And my Ma would always, in her early morning routine of watering the garden, knock at his Beamer's window and asked him to come in for nasi goreng. He never onced declined. He always said that he loved my family.

"Dude, go check what's inside the dashboard."

I went to check to find some homemade cigarettes in a ziplock bag. You got weed???

"Yeah, go light it up. For old times sake."

It was incredibly tempting. The sweet smell lingered in my nose, but the thought of being high during a presentation with my largest client was disturbing. And funny too. I have to pass, dude.

"It's cool," he said, "It's my last stash before I'm coming clean."

We drove around Shah Alam, passing by Concorde, the blue Mosque, and Projet. Like old times, we sang along with 112, Dru Hill and Boys II Men. With the windows pulled down low, we laughed, while letting the breeze sail through our hair, remembering how good it felt to roam the night aimlessly.

Soon after, we were infront of my house again. And I got off the car, turning back so say, Thanks for the night pal. I hope we can chill again.

"Sure thing, in Perth," he said, while flashing out a grin. "And remember this always, dude. Be spontaneous."

Be spontaneous, I repeated.

Angel At No Good

2005-07-05T00:13:00.000-07:00

Motiv-ational

Okay, here's the situation:

No matter how many times I tried, Angel always dissaproves of the girls that I dated. And no matter I want to prove her wrong, for some bizarre reasons, the probability that she is right is high. So, should I listen to her? Should I venture out with the girl of her picking? Even when I know I am capable of dating on my own?

The only problem is that she decided to match-make me with a girl I used to have a crush on before I met up with my Infamous Ex at our local U. The girl of Angel's choice is her bestfriend. The girl of Angel's choice is also the Ex of my college bro. The girl of Angel's choice looks alot like luscious Camelia. The girl of Angel's choice is also currently dating another girl.

That's right. A girl.

According to Angel, I can save her. From what???

I think this is a venture that I know I am going to lose. Really, really lose.

Cats & Kids

2005-07-03T17:52:00.000-07:00

Here kitty kitty kitty

It was one of those weekends where I didn't want to do anything. I wanted to be lazy. A bloody sloth. I guess when you are highly productive (in terms of work that is) during the whole week, you just burn out to settle for no-brainer tasks during the weekend. Correction. No-brainer nothing. In addition to that, I was struggling to breathe, because a slight flu + sinus = a breathing disaster. According to my nose specialist, he said that my nose was slightly crooked to the left, so that it hits my sinus passage way, causing friction and bleeding if I blow my nose too hard. He recommended that I do a nose job. Erk???

Anyway, despite being lazy to do anything, I managed to move my body to meet a very close bud of mine, who was to leave to Bangkok for work. (Yeah right!) After a brief shopping stint at OU, we rushed back to his place, because he wanted to watch Marsha sing at the AF3 concert. I swear to God...

After the concert was over, we lepaked at a mamak close by.

"You know what?" he asked.

What.

"As a single thirty-something, I am pretty happy with my life. I treat myself well. I can afford anything I want. I can travel whenever I please. But all this is difficult at my company."

What do you mean?

"Everyone is married at my company," he said, while raising his left eyebrow. "And you know how it is. They always have this sorry look for me."

Ah, who cares.

"You know I love Jengga right?" he asked, referring to his beloved orange cat. "He's like a child to me. I even have Jengga's picture as the wallpaper for my work computer, while everyone have pictures of their family. And guess what?"

What.

"Boleh tak some of my colleagues would say, 'Oh, kucing tu hidup lagi ke?' I am like what the fuck. Imagine if I would respond with, 'Oh, anak anak hidup lagi ke?'"

I nodded, agreeing to every word.

He

2005-06-28T02:52:00.000-07:00

Killing Your Own

I just found out that Raya is no longer going to be the same. And it kills me.

Ma called me during lunch time, crying over the phone that Atok Wan just lost the house.

What do you mean Ma?

For the past year, Atok Wan's only and younger brother claims that he has the right over the wooden house my grandmother lived in for over 48 years. In his bid to find quick fortune, he have "legally" claimed back his 3/6th ownership of the house, and told my grandmother to move out, so he could rent it out to some Singaporeans. According to him, Atok Wan should be grateful to him as he has waived the rental fees she owes him for 48 years.

How the hell can he treat his own sister like an animal???

Raya is not going to be the same for my family. And it kills me completely.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Atok Wan, how are you?

"Ok," my grandmother responded over the phone. "How's work? Hear that you are a big shot corporate consultant."

Hehehehe, biasa je. Tapi really like my job.

"That's good to hear."

How's living with Auntie? Ok?

"Yeah, semua okay. Anyway, this Raya, you won't be complaining."

Why is that?

"Because you don't need to use the old jamban kat luar tu ever again. Kan selalu complain that malam malam buang air besar scary? Now, over here, you can use the toilet kat dalam rumah."

Hehehehehe!

No Claws, No Balls

2005-06-26T17:35:00.000-07:00

Unleash the Animal in You!

There I was surrounded by familiar faces which I haven't seen for almost a year. Or two years. Even three. It could be regarded as a mini highschool reunion, where many of us laughed, hugged (really hugged) and excitedly asked, "Where have you been?" to each other. Among two crowded tables at the club below Passion, my ex-girlfriend was there as well. I thought she looked really good. (But that's another story...)

After hours of talking, many of us migrated to the open-air dancefloor in the middle of the club. As we started dancing, I realised that one of our friends (let's call her Jane) brought along an actor friend with her. From the way they danced with each other, many came to the senses that something-something was up, and flashed thumbs up or mouthed out "You go girl" to her discreetly behind her project. She beamed gleefully.

But out of nowhere, this tiny girl with leather tube top and the shortest skirt came running to Actor and hugged him. Fair enough I thought, until we all saw how she left her arms around his waist and got Jiggy with it for several, several songs. Our friend kept on dancing besides them, looking puzzled. And this brought upon angry thoughts of Oh no, you didn't... in my head.

Perhaps it was perfect timing because Gwen's Stephani's "Hollerback Girl" blasted in the air. Many of us signaled to Jane to move in and get her man back! But she kept on dancing, brushing it off as if it was okay, when we all know it wasn't. Well, it wasn't for me that is.

I kept on looking at Actor, but he looked at me as if he was helpless. Please dude, I thought, just move along and dance with Jane! But, he didn't and provided me with the helpless look. I almost vomitted.

My ex-girlfriend and I glanced at each other, wanting to help Jane. But alas, to Jane's excitement, that little skank left Actor and paraded to her group of friends, making the Actor moved back to Jane. Seeing it all happened infront of my eyes, I almost vomitted...again.

An Elevator Meme

2005-06-22T17:47:00.000-07:00

Definitely not with them

From my previous post, Zetty asked : "Did u ever wish u r stuck with somebody else in the elevator other than the chinese lady and the tudung girl?"

And I was like, Hmmmmm, good question.

It would have been easy if I would have gone down the sexual route, and throw in Ms Jolie, Jessica Alba, or any olive-skin Brazillian model in there with me. Thoughts of I'm-going-to-die would have been converted into I'm-in-Heaven immediately. But if I had to decide only two people with me to be stuck in an elevator, to talk with for hours, who would they be? Siapa, siapa???

After tossing and turning in my bed and still thinking about it when going to work, I boiled them down into two : a blog writer and the other, a musician.

1. Dina Zaman

I went into the blog world really late, like only early this year. The only blogger whom I know (and whom I know in real life) was Khaylis. She coaxed me into having one, because "It'll be fun". I remember I was working on a business plan at work, when she emailed me the blog address, the username, the password she had created for me. Yeah, Laughing Matters would not have existed if it was not for Khaylis.

Anyway, I realised there were million other bloggers out there. Everyone seemed to be sharing their life stories, and I thought that was intriguing. Soon after, I asked Khaylis which blogger I should look out for, and she immediately said, "Dina Zaman. She's really famous, but sorry Muddy, she pulled her blog down sometime ago."

I remember feeling really crushed. I was like, who is she? What did she write about? Why did she pull her blog down before I could even read her writing?

A million to one questions I would love to ask her. Especially if she was stuck in the same elevator with me that day...

2. Lauryn Hill

I remember picking up her Miseducation LP and putting on X-Factor so many times that I wept. It was the most honest break-up song ever, and at that time, it touched me like no other song could.

If she was in the elevator with me, I would love to ask who was she referring to in that song? Was it Wycleff as it was rumored to be? And yes, why haven't she written a second commercial album? Die hard fans like me want to know why!!!

So, Zetty (and everyone else), those are the two people who I wished would have been stuck with me in that elevator that day. As for you, who would they be?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Based on Reader's comments :

- Blogger : 1 vote
- Musicians : 5 votes
- Doctor : 1 vote
- Fireman : 1 vote
- Stranger with no BO : 2 votes
- Actor : 7 votes
- Bestfriend : 1 vote
- Magic Lamp : 1 vote
- Alone : 1 vote
- Future husband : 1 vote

In conclusion, the majority would like to be stuck in an elevator with an actor of choice to talk to. Yeah, right! Hahahahhaa...;P

Morning Hazard

2005-06-19T23:13:00.000-07:00

Bring it!

Every work day, I am extremely early at the office. Don't get me wrong, I ain't a morning person. But the fact that I could have a good 50 minutes just for myself, tending to a hot chocolate by the computer screen (reading blogs), I could not help but be early.

But this morning, my stringent schedule went bonkers. As I realised that the elevator I was riding got stuck.

Brrrrrrriiinnnnnnngggggg!!! Bringgggggg!!! This petite Chinese lady kept on pushing the Bringgggg button. "Aiyoh, stuck ah," she said.

Like duh woman, I thought. The tudung lady besides me looked startled, and held her hand bag closer to her chest. The petite Chinese lady kept on Bringgg-ing.

All of a sudden, the elevator moved, stopped, moved again, and stopped. The door immediately opened, but to our horror (yes, I was scared), it only opened two inches wide. Through the crack, it was obvious that we were stuck between the third and the forth floor.

"Aiyoh, macam mana?" the petite Chinese lady said.

On my left, the tudong lady was already on Bismillahirahmannirahim mode, while I suggested to petite Chinese lady whether we should pry the door open. "Yeah, good idea!" she said. Both of us grabbed our respective side of the door and pulled. Surprisingly, it worked!

"Sekarang, macam mana?" the tudong lady asked. Sweet God, good point. Are we to climb or to roll over to the third floor? For some reason, both options looked incredibly Mission Impossible.

As I stood there to think, the elevator door shut again, and I remember at that exact point, that I was going to be a goner. But, I guess God still have faith in me, as I found the elevator lowering down to the ground floor and opened. Immediately, all three of us rushed out like very mad prisoners, and became bestfriends with the staircase that day.

PS: Just for the day...

Dining Matters

2005-06-19T19:36:00.000-07:00

"Erm, where did they go?"

I've discovered that food is the magnet of friendships. Especially recently.

When over-worked schedules finally coincide, my friends and I gather over deliciously prepared cuisines to debate, laugh, and (always) bitch over our most recent adventures.

However, no matter how pleasant the conversations we indulge in, the air immediately changes when the bill arrives. For some reason, everyone feels more tense, while faces grow more serious. Because in everyone's mind, everyone wonders how should the bill be split.

We can all pay for our own share. Yes, but sad to say some forget to include in the service and government tax, so some tend to a pay a tad more. (This may come across a tad berkira, but hey, it's the truth.)

When food are shared, I thought it be best that the bill be divided into the number of people there. But, then again, some eat less, while some ate more. So, is this fair?

Bill time always reminds me of a Friends episode, where Joey, Rachel and Phoebee justified why the bill should not be divided into six, because "I just ate a leaf of lettuce," Rachel said.

So, low and behold, even after mastering the art of financial analysis, I still can't figure this one out...

Booker

2005-06-16T02:35:00.000-07:00

Dusty

I cringed. Seriously down-to-the spine cringed when Senor Anuar Fariz tagged me to continue the Book Meme. I was like Que Pa Sa??? Because, on the contrary to some of your beliefs, I am really not a reader. Heck, I haven't picked up a novel for a gazillion years. Like gazillion gazillion years! Lately, and especially after working at a PR agency, I have resorted into reading tons and tons of magazines. Okay, sue me if I like stories with pictures by them; it's a old habit I stay dear to ever since reading the Archies and X-Men comics.

But since I have to stick to the tradition (or something creepy with long hair might come visit me), here we go!

How many books do I own?

Very, very little. I would say that 90 percent of the books I own were smuggled from my highschool library, and I guess remained permanent by my bed stand since. Overall, I can say is that my collection is *ahem* very embarrassing.

The last book you bought?

Oh God, when and what huh? Okay, if my memory is still intact, it is Kitchen God's Wife by Amy Tan. I bought it when I first started college, because 1) Khaylis always raved about Amy Tan and 2) wanted to know why. When I read the novel, I fell ccompletely in love at how it was delivered. It was written under the voices of two protagonists: Pearl (the Chinese-American) and Winnie (her mother). There was a moment in the story when I silently wept. For that, this novel remains quite dear and true to me.

Five books that mean a lot to me?

1. Obviously, Kitchen God's Wife by Amy Tan. The reasons? See upstairs.

2. 1984 by George Orwell. I originally picked up this novel because I had to for an English assignment. (Huhuhuhu) That aside, as I continued reading, I realised that the deeply pessimistic world Orwell painted was not a far-cry world we live in. Big Brother resembled so close to dis-comfort the many governments we know. In turn, I remember moaning in pain when Winston was tortured with the cage of rats in Room 101. Since then, Orwell's celebrated piece remains my most political favorite.

3. Animal Farm by George Orwell. Yes, I became an Orwell addict and wanted more! And this piece did not fail, as I remember reading it quickly over night. More political than Charlotte's Web, I was engrossed at how the pigs ruled and manipulated the other animals. The We-Don't-Do-Human-Things and then seeing the pigs turning into one was a hoot. And I remember feeling deeply, deeply sad when Boxer (the cart-horse) got shipped to the soap factory by the pigs. *Sniff sniff* Damn you, Napoleon!!!

4. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Again, I read this novel for an English assignment. (Hehehehe) Anyway, I found that Fitzgerald did a fantastic job at luring us back into America, right after World War 1. Despite revealing that many were clearly poor, there was segments of society that managed to rise above financially. More like extreme success as reflected by Gatsby's lifestyle and his elaborate parties (which would have been extremely cool to go to). The character I hated the most in this novel was Daisy. She was gedek to the max, and I felt like strangling her. Every. Damn. Time.

5. Macbeth by Shakespeare. Again, I read this novel for...yes, for English class. My superficial reason why I loved this was the Witches' spell. People rumored that Shakespeare took samples of actual spells for the infamous "Double double toil and trouble..." spell. And say that if you breathed Macbeth's name behind the theatre's walls, something bad might happen to you. Like losing an arm. Cool school!

Okay, to continue the tradition, I call upon :

1. Random Girl
2. Davina
3. Dade Ghost
4. Theroadie
5. Lissa Karina
6. Kepala Angin

...to share their reading materials with me. Enjoy!

Consumer Rights

2005-06-14T20:41:00.000-07:00

The Wrong Food Pyramid

A very informative and good friend of mine recently told me that he is at war. Apparently, in between our dialouge sessions via Yahoo Messenger, he was in the middle of writing a letter to the directors of Giant.

What the hell for? I asked him.

"For their stupidity," he replied. "I discovered that Giant have been mixing non-halal goods with halal ones."

What??? I shop there! But I don't recall seeing any pork items...

"Halal is beyond the pork issue," he typed back. "You see, the Japanese instant noodles are non-halal and are stocked right next to your beloved Maggi. This is not right."

"And by the way," he added. "Haven't you noticed that there isn't a halal logo on Colgate or even on Pringles?"

Erk???

How the hell can this possibly be happening? How can non-halal goods be placed next to halal ones? How can everyday consumer goods like chips and toothpaste not carry the halal logo? Sweet God, how serious is this country with the halal issue?

First, it was IKEA's sausages. Last time I heard was Wrigley's Chewing Gum. Sigh, it's like I am shopping at Wal Marts all over again...

After

2005-06-13T22:21:00.000-07:00

Leonardo Da Vinci Fashion Line

I am turning into a hopeless romantic, I swear, and it's not funny.

Last night, I managed to catch Ever After, a new-aged translation of Cinderella, on Cinemax. Or was it HBO? Anyway, I have watched it once upon a time, but since Monday television wasn't exactly exciting and there was nothing else to do, I decided to stay up and watch. Besides, I thought that Drew Barrymore was incredibly witty in this movie. Adorable actually. And like how the stupid prince professed to her, it was her mouth that left him intrigued. Obviously me too.

Anyway, after watching the movie, it left me with this feeling. This feel-good feeling that only movies can have on me. It's like a high minus the weed. And I enjoyed it. If you could take a picture of me sleeping last night, I would have this huge grin on my face. Ok, for once, let's call it a smile.

I don't know exactly what I am rambling about. This is not the usual type or style of post that I would normally write about. But I felt like doing it. Even if it means there isn't a clear explanation to it. Like falling in love.

Go Shorty!

2005-06-12T18:19:00.000-07:00

Zeta Bar

It was midnight on a Saturday, and I was fifteen minutes late. With the gift wrapped in silver paper in my left hand, I zoomed to the entrance of Zeta Bar and said, Wani's table. The door bitch (or bastard in this case) scribbled something onto his clipboard, and said, "Come in. You're late."

Bitch.

I walked into the much-talked about club and realised that I must have stepped into a Gucci catalog, because everyone was dressed to the nines. And, glad to say, there wasn't a mat rempit or a hip hopper in sight. Among the beautiful ocean of cigar smoke, cocktail glasses and nude legs, I managed to find the birthday girl, who grabbed me across the floor, and sang into my ear, "I missed you. You're late!"

I missed you too, babe. I said. Happy birthday!

With Amerie's "One Thing" blasting in the background, I shook hands and schmoozed with Wani's closest friends. Knowing that I no longer drank, Wani constantly supplied me with iced Coke, which made me was the happiest man there. As we all danced, shared stories, and drank all night, I realised that one of my buddies was getting it on with a hottie next door.

"You see that?" Teddy asked me.

Oh yes, I see. I replied. Apparently, Waf got lucky as the lady in black typed her number into his Nokia.

"Do you do that?" Teddy asked me.

No, actually I don't. I replied. To think about it, I have never ventured out to accummulate digits in a club. Which is damn strange, to think about it. I mean, isn't Da Club where all the hot girls are dressed to seduce? Where the singles mingle to be attached? Oh God, where have I been???

Because based on my history, where I have met my significant other(s) included :

1. KLCC's LRT station
2. At UNITEN's lounging area
3. A friend's sister
4. Via Friendster
5. On the Federal Highway
6. At Subang's Burger King
7. At Great Eastern Mall...

But never at a club.

Testing

2005-06-07T02:26:00.000-07:00

Fragrant

During lunch time today, I decided to bond with the new PA by accompanying her to purchase new stocks of tissue at Guardian. After grabbing six boxes of fresh Kleenx and then realising that there was 20 solid minutes left before lunch time was over, she decided to linger by the make-up area. I, on the other hand, decided to capitalize the time by buying much needed toiletries, like a new stick of deo.

Exploring new brands, I picked up a deodorant from Sanex and sniffed its contents. Wow, it's subtle, I thought.

Out of the corner, the new PA popped up and asked, "What are you doing?"

Smelling...

"You sure you want to smell a deodorant labeled TESTER?"

I paused for a second, and quickly cried out Sick! when realising what I have done.

Forbidden

2005-06-04T21:33:00.000-07:00

Dark Fruit

With all my opinions and remarks that I carry proudly in my mouth, I never found myself judging my friends. Whatever they do, I always try to be sympathetic. Understanding. Always reviewing their thoughts and actions in their shoes. But, recently, one of my friends made a statement that drove me completely up the wall. I almost felt like breaking the teh ais glass which I clenched in my hands. And the statement is:

It's damn easy to seduce married men.

Ok, perhaps its not really the statement, because it's a known fact that we (men) can be easily seduced. Even our champion Adam could not resist Eve's lure. But it was the fact that she and her friend seemed completely proud of their actions. As if their experiences merit some sort of an achievement, which I find completely sickening. Even poisonous.

Yes, it takes two to do the destructive dance. Or tango. But, in this case, there's no fucking trophy with it. Kapish?

Gift Matters

2005-05-30T17:32:00.000-07:00

Suuppplliiiieeesss!!!

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?"

Erm...

"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.

My Family and Weddings

2005-05-25T17:38:00.000-07:00

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.