Baby Got BACK!

Last Friday, I and a few of my good office mates had a game.

The winner will get a Chocolate Fudge cake from Secret Recipe.

We had to guess who in the office had the flattest butt. Since my butt is so many times removed from being flat, I am not in the nominees’ list, obviously, it wasn’t me.

This morning, the perpetrator (Not me) announced that there’ll be cakes for everyone, not just the winner. So we are going to gag ourselves with pastry tomorrow during lunch.

The butt subject cropped up when a colleague forwarded an MPEG clip of Inul’s infamous ‘Goyang Gerudi’. I was baffled, honestly, of how she could even do that while singing, but in the ‘DangDut’ world, ‘apa – apa saja bisa sih.’

On the subject of our tooshie, I was only enlightened of how difficult it was to maintain a desirable behind when I joined the gym, two years ago. The lunges are not exactly the easiest thing to do, and to ‘clench’ them cheeks required vast amount of focus.

My butt has always been the epicenter of Sarclover. The first thing that my exes (most of them) noticed had been my ass and only a handful of them noticed my ‘sweet smile’ before my ass.

My butt was one of the reasons why they were attracted to me. (Other physical reasons would be my ‘steamy – come – to – bed’ eyes, my hair and my ‘smile’… whatever la.)

What can I say, men will be men.

Having a good, noticeable pair of bon-bons are both advantageous and also, troublesome. The bonus is that, we look good in skirts, we know how to shake it when we have to (Read; on the dance floor to Ricky Martin’s very appropriate ‘Shake your bon-bons’ song’) especially to any hot pumping Latina tracks and we could make the ‘jantans’ drool with something that they could only see but never touch.

The downside of it is that we always give out the wrong signs. Look, just because we have an ass doesn’t mean that we fancy doing the doggy with you (Lain la if ‘you’ happen to be George frikkin’ Clooney!) and speaking of personal experiences, being publicly touched by perverts on the toosh is also one of the problems we have to face.

The last perve who touched my ass had a rude shock when I went over to him and slapped him silly telling him, ‘Tak belajo eh? Bodoh! *Shows middle finger and walked off*’. Of course I was with a Jantan friend who has the size of your average bodybuilder.

And thanks to a flat ass colleague, we are going to have our cake and eat it too!

PS-I so need to hit the treadmill and work those choco off…

Sunday entry!

It seemed like every week, some new drama cropped up.

And I played the role of the rescuing best friend yet again. This time in staging an act, being a prop.

And yes, this one is also a relationship problem thingie, which I am not going to elaborate more on. Us independent women has a lot of issues, sometimes it could get tiresome. I could only be there for my friends and in no position whatsoever to judge or pass my conclusions nor advice to them. Afterall, they make more than RM 3000 a month and pay for their own bills, surely they could come up with something to sustain their sanity. Even an overworked underpaid coolie like me knows how to.

My weekends were a good one. Got a lot of things done and met with some friends I haven’t been meeting up with over, coke, JD, beer and water. Plus I have successfully deafen my ears with rock music approved by the whole entire Harley crew. And welly welly, I never knew Asians could Jamaican rap before yesterday… us Asians are pretty good at simulating other people’s lingos la I discovered.

My best friend, Anna is organizing a trip to Bangkok with a few of my other good friends. We decided on a month last night, which will be right after Raya. A friend has already been entrusted with the duty of ‘procuring’ good seats on flight to Thailand. As for myself, I would just have to concentrate on ‘kumpul duit’ for the shopping spree. It will be fun, I know that.

Babes, I don’t have a lot of friends here but I do know that I have found the best in you guys!!!

Halo Adik Manis apa nama???

My friend got picked up on during our lunch break yesterday.

The dude just came over, mumbled something in Tamil and dropped a piece of paper on the table written ‘K. Anderson 016-7xxxxxx’.

My friend was shocked in a blank baffled way, I originally thought the guy came over to pick up the dishes on our table.

Needless to say, I laughed out loud at the whole thing and my friend said she should have told the guy that she was married! But then again, he came as fast as he left.

This got me thinking… the thing about local men is that it seemed that they are really, what’s the word… clueless in the art of approaching women. Realistically speaking, who in the right mind would even call up a number dropped to by someone who didn’t make any kind of eye contact and left hastily after dropping his number?

Smooth. Real smooth, and then you wonder why local women prefer to date expatriates.

I have never been impressed by local men who have attempted to pick me up. They were either too nonchalant or just plain brainless. Afterall, what am I to answer a ‘slick’ “Sorang je ke?” with when it was so obvious that I have been sitting at the frikkin’ seat for the past hour not acting like I am expecting anyone?

I guess I could give a tip. Every woman is subjective, but if the woman you are approaching is somewhat like me (wearing high heels about 3 and a half inches, black skirt, work shirt, bored and tired expression having her cuppa at a ‘kopi mahal’ outlet reading a Lahiri book on a Wednesday evening.) Then I would only entertain people who actually intrigued me to a conversation. Maybe, something meaningless like the weather or just that I am holding an interesting book, even though you have never heard of the author before. That ‘might’ work, though not a sure shot la. I am a sucker for spontaneous intelligent approaches.

In case you are wondering, I will not personally entertain to the ‘drop me a call sometime’ note technique. Afterall, what would a straightforward person like me have in common with someone who writes his number and walk away crossing his fingers that I would actually call?

But in the end, it boils down to first impressions. ‘K. Anderson’ was barely noticeable and by leaving in a hurry yesterday, he was forgettable, all I could see was his hands and the back of his head as he ran towards his car. Plus, he shouldn’t mumble, and my friend was actually a Punjabi, so she knows very little Tamil.

So an advice to all single Malaysian men, you guys are cute, but I guess we were hoping you have the brains to match that. Malaysia boleh!

PS – I love these men…

Go here… drool fest ..big deal... :P~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yO7oFBXLSvY

Agony Aunt and the Aunt who doesn't agonize

I have recently come into contact with one of my acquaintances whom I have met through an ex many many years ago.

She was, actually, the only person who could identify with my pain at that time. That said, I came to see her as a good friend. I lost contact with her for about a year after I left KL for JB.

She was the one who told me that my ex played me all along. She was there when I called my ex who told me he was in Hong Kong, when he was here in Malaysia, screwing around during the weekend with another woman. Being in the same clique and because we met through our lying and cheating boyfriends, we sought solace in each other’s company.

I am happy that she is now in a long term relationship with another guy. But things aren’t going so grand for her right now, she said. There is a third person involved, and she is not going to take that lying down.

After listening to her yesterday, I honestly do not know what would be the right thing for me to say. Who is a boyfriend but someone who comes (No pun intended, hahaha… I am cracking myself up here!) and goes? To me, a boyfriend has almost always mean one thing, disappointments, truck loads of it.

I told her, let me just call her F, to not think about it too much. Being that this situation is really quite impossible to control. She told me that she is not strong enough to end it, like me.

I didn’t mean to suggest that she end the 5 year relationship. I have never had that kind of relationship before, co I can’t reciprocate with the need for her to investigate the whole mess.

To me, it sounded as if she is the only one who is fighting to keep it going, whilst the guy is only taking it one day at a time. Trust is a big issue in these kind of things yes? and often, women would be the ones who run around in circles trying to make everything work!

“Babe, learn to care for yourself. Don’t care too much about him. No one could care for you like you can for yourself.”

I astounded myself for being so… unhelpful. Here is my friend who is in love with someone with whom she has been with for 5 years and when something like this happens and she asked me for advice (Though I could not imagine why), all I could come up with is the whole care for yourself crap?!

How did I deal with these things? I walked away, never looked back, as hurt and frustrated and disappointed as I was. To me, if my so called boyfriend could even make room for infidelities in the relationship, then he is not worth having one with.

But what if I am married? Could I just walk away and never look back? If that is not an option, what is? I am not sure if walking away means I am strong, or that I am just someone who gives up at a drop of a coin.

Afterall, Mabe, another friend, did tell me that I give up too easily.

In the end, all I could tell her was to hang on, and do what is right, which is kind of elusive. I have never felt so… useless.

But I sincerely hoped that by just listening to her and being there for her could at least, help, a little.

I am all caught up... :P

Loneliness is a bitch.

Don’t get me wrong, I am fine with being single. I have more time for myself and I could see clearly the things that really mattered.

But loneliness is a bitch. It is that feeling of emptiness whenever I lie down on my bed, looking at my cell and finding out that noone called me at all on that day and discovering that I don’t even have the chance to be like the touchy feely teenager walking in front of me.

And I am 28.

I am stuck in between, if you may say so. I want to be on my own, having my own space but I also want to have someone I could turn to in times where I would be looking for support, or just someone to baby me once in a while.

That’s why I freaked when a relationship didn’t materialize and when all of the sudden, the man I am seeing would be talking about meeting my parents, weddings and what nots.

Both being single and committed sent me running. Now if only I could split myself to two then perhaps I could at least have the best of both worlds!

I want companionship. But I also want my independence. Is that so hard to get?

Say it, I am confused.

Do you and do I?

Before I start, this came in my inbox this morning;

“…Dear Sir

We are interesting in your online services for ordering for our company ABC (Singapore) Pte Ltd…”

Hehe… pagi- pagi dah buat lawak.

--

My weekend was, interesting (No relation to the above whatsoever).

Between realizing that I have done one heck of a big mistake (Personal story, no need for elaboration) and that I am an emotional blackout, I think, everything went on pretty, well.

It’s ridiculous how excited I was when I received a phone call from someone. This is the someone I could be myself with, somehow, I still harbor an impossible affection towards him. I like his smell, I like nice smelling men. I like talking to him, he makes sense and he listens to me, nothing could be more of a turn on than that.

He was the mistake I would like to rewind and pause. Me sabotaging the thing that we had? That’s old news. But don’t worry, I know how to contain myself.

Aaah… being one half of a couple, I miss that. I miss having to call that person whenever I finish work, JUST to tell him I finished work, the late night rendezvous, the fleeting kisses, the holding hands, the being called whenever he misses me, and the heady feeling of content just from being there with each other.

I may be an emotional icebox, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have affection and therefore not allowed bits of nostalgia. I am human, am I not? I do cry watching much ado about nothing on Hallmark, heck, I even went teary eyed when Bumblebee was detained by primitive violent humans. (Yes I have seen Transformers thrice, I am a geek.)

So yeah, my weekend was interesting, it was nice to hang out with the man who smells nice at a McDonalds 24 hour outlet at 12.30 AM and being able to drive him home, instead of him driving me back like usual.

Some things change for the better, some things for the worst, and some, they just don’t change. Reality sucks, what you gonna do about that ay?

What I did last weekend

Last weekend was laundry and spring cleaning weekend. I had prune fingers for about an hour as I wash my clothes manually because I am a frikkin’ perfectionist and I cleaned my bedroom throw the bedsheets into the RM 16 (I think, I bought it on a sale) Ikea laundry bin and put on fresh new ones, that made me want to just lie on them and sleep. I also washed Wiwa, myself. I didn’t even go to Starbucks for my weekend fix.

On Sunday, I was dragged to my father’s friend’s son’s wedding nearby. It was done in a hall and we stayed until the bersanding ceremony.

By that, I meant, we arrived at 12 PM and left at about 3.30 PM.

Keras akak punya punggung tau?

In that wedding, I spent about 2 hours plus observing people.

It was a colorful event, the guests were multiracial, largely contributed to the fact that the father was an Indian and the mother is a Mamak. The food was average and the band was playing old 60’s hits and the occasional irritating ‘dangdut’ numbers.

‘Aku benci… benci… pada diri mu
Aku bosan… bosan… pada dirimu

Aku sudah tidak percaya padamu lagi…’

Went the lady singer, whom my mother told me was the third wife of a man who was my Dad’s age. The singer was around my age.

Even typing those lyrics made my hair stand in agony and ‘kegelian’ so just imagine me sitting there trying to eat amidst the deafening ‘music’.

Malay weddings are always chaotic. Relatives grouping around at one side gossiping, guests coming in heading straight to the buffet table, kids running around with ‘Bunga Manggar’. It was also something that gives you the opportunity to really ‘see’ people.

There was a woman wearing a conspicuous pair of ‘Baju Kurung’ dotted with shiny pieces of beads and whatnots, a makcik who was wearing her whole collection of gold bangles until her fat arms could not fit them, girls who wore too much make up on their face and men wearing unpressed pants and shirts.

If western weddings always make it a point to prioritize the couple’s guests, in a Malaysian wedding (because I think all weddings, be it Chinese or Indian ones are the same) what matters most is the parents’ guests. They would invite the moyang, sepupu, dua pupu, all the way to the 4 pupu if there is such a thing, and plus all those distant relatives we have never even known existed.

At the back of my head, I was thinking of what my own wedding would have been like, if that happens. Would I be shocked by the presence of faces I have never seen before, would I be tortured with the horrendous music, would I be dressed in a color that totally didn’t complement my skin tone, would I have a Pak Andam who wears a wig, would my husband looks dashing in a songket get up, should we choose to have a big wedding.

Or would I choose to make it a low key affair, close friends and family, white tube dress, a deejay and a three piece band playing at the side.

Knowing my family, it would probably be the first. I would probably be sweating and there would probably be a full scale zapin performance even (Which I kinda don’t mind because I love zapin).

Eh… hello, berangan tak salah kan?

Sarcy does not rhyme with marry (well, maybe not yet)

I am disgusted.

Nothing against marriage but seriously… I am disgusted.

This may be the reason why I am so reluctant and hesitant to get married.

I have always been told by married men that the wife is the wife, they can’t fool around with their wife, because she’s a wife. You can however get all raunchy and about with other women, women, whom according to them, could give them what they want that the wife couldn’t.

So, this is what I figured, before a couple is married, the woman is the only one who could give them what they want, and when they tie the knot, the woman is only the ‘wife’ who now is unable to give them what they want.

“Have you told your wife what you want, and how you want it, I mean romantically speaking?”

This friend of mine shrugged.

I am no female magazine writer who could give you long evaluated list on methods and stuff, but I know that ‘telling the wife what they want’ works. So I told him that maybe he should tell her about his idea of being romantic, even if its as small as holding one’s hands under the table during dinner with the kids.

After all, what is soooo wrong with asking???

“Kenot la. Later she will look at me funny. Kata buang tebiat. Worst if she asked if she is not good enough for me.”

As far as I am concerned, marriage is no bed of roses wot, and get this, I am frikkin’ single. If I could see that, why can’t they, the married couples?

And I am not putting the blame solely on the men, women too get too comfortable that they tend to forget the person that they were before they get married. The women that have made their then boyfriends go gaga are now the ones who make their husbands yawn and turn away disinterested.

I guess you can call me paranoid, because one of the reasons why I loath the whole idea of getting married is that I am scared that I might end up being too comfortable too. I could not stomach my husband wanting to ‘get it on’ with other women because I could not ‘get it on’ the way he wants to.

But I guess realizing that fact is a start. That’s why I included the ‘Have a shag on the washing machine every Sunday afternoon when kids (If we have any) napping / going over to friends’ house’ agenda, if and when I get married someday. I expect my husband to be (Hello… whoever you are.) to have his own personal plan on ‘keeping the love aliiiiveee’ as well..

Too many wedding invitations make me write this… so bear with me… hik…

It's a matter of covering up

Bloody hell blogspot, I couldn't put the title up there!

“Would you ever wear tudung?”

I was asked by a friend of mine. I was wearing a tube top and 3 quarter pants and was having brunch with her.

No, she was not a Muslim nor a Malay, but a Catholic. Both of us stood on the same line of spirituality. We are still on the middle of the line, not here nor there on this frikkin’ invisible line of spirituality, hopefully not based on the society standard but rather our own.

I grinned, it was not the first time I have been asked that question. Obviously, wearing a tudung is a big deal to me. It’s symbolic, something that a lot of tudung wearers seemed to have missed these days, somehow. A lot of women missed out on the significance of donning a hijab / tudung. They wore it illustriously with body hugging short sleeved T-shirts and stuff.

Truth be told, I am a little confused but even then, who am I to say anything kan? I am afterall, a person who enjoys wearing sleeveless tops and baring my cleavage (well… what little that I have of it.).

“Ummm… maybe someday, but don’t know when yet.” I answered.

“Would you do that after you get married?” she asked again.

Cyn… like seriously, why are you grilling me with these questions.

“I want to quit drinking once I bite the dust. Think it’ll work or not?”

Bite the dust first lor! I joked as I let out a small chuckle.

Marriage is usually the starting point of hijab wearing, I noticed. Most of my friends do that. Some of them were hinted at by the husband (I don’t want that kind of hubby), and some just want to be a better parent to their future offspring.

As far as I am concerned, between having a mother who wears a hijab with one who does not, it really doesn’t make any kind of difference at all. Some covered women are really not that good a mother and some good ones are not really covered. So there’s no weight in that.

“Marriage is not the turning point, the turning point is when I WANT to wear it, it would be because I WANT to.” I told Cyn.

Personally, I would eventually want to wear one, but it’ll be because I am ready to take on the responsibility. You can’t toy around with faith ya’ll, even if you don’t have lots of it.

Fliday kena tag!

I owe two people a tag, first, was the hardest tag I have ever done! Kak Intan Suraya, here’s my take. Hope this is good enough by your copywriter standards eh?

Rasa Ku yang Tinggal Mati

Andy loooked at Bad. He was standing there with his hands on his waist.

Andy knew about the break up from Delilah. It didn’t come easy for her too. It’s easy to make assumptions that Bad doesn’t care about the whole thing, but the short conversation that he had with him a minute ago confirmed that he was just trying to go on with his life.

How long can you live with a broken heart? How long can you bear the pain of love lost?

Forever was not an option, nor was a year.

“Yeah. I’ll change.”

He smiled and watched as Andy walked into his room. There was a knock on the door and Ben stuck his head in.

“Dude, you are a mess. Anyhow, ready to party?”

---
---
The Chamber was one of those places you go to if you want to be downright crazy. And tonight it’d be crazier because Tenacious D is crazy.

He looked around, looking for familiar faces. There was a group of people who always sat at the same table night after night. They usually came clad in office wear, weary executives in need of a temporary exit from their corporate hell.

But today, they wore anything but monotonous suits. Tenacious D was indeed an occasion. And there was a new face among them. A woman with raven black hair.

He noticed these things eversince things had been on the rocks for both him and Delilah. He would hang out, sometime alone, having his fill of beer and nuts at the bar, just trying to forget.

“Dude, this like, rawks right?” Ben smiled, handing him a bottle of Bud.

He thought, maybe I should stop drinking, but he took it anyway.

He glimpsed to the table he has been observing for the past one month. For a moment there he thought the raven haired woman was looking at him. From this light, she looks attractive, and somewhat familiar.

“Come on Man! Screw everything. Just have fun! Life is too short so don’t mope man… enjoy.” Ben said. He raised his bottle at him.

Yeah, screw everything. He took a large sip. And the curtain opened.

And then he saw her, he saw Del walking in. He saw Del walking in with someone else. and he saw Del seemingly stumped when she saw him. She looked awkward, she turned away before turning to the guy, smiling, somewhat still knowing that he was still looking at him.

‘Fuck!’ he thought.

The crowd was chanting, Jack Black was at the mic, cheering the crowd, the club full of anticipation, he was filled with shock, and possibly remorse or maybe regret, but he didn’t know which came first.

He felt someone touching his shoulders.

‘Not now.’ he screamed in his head, his eyes were still on Del.

He had to turn, and it was the raven haired woman, smiling. She looked better up close.

“Bad? Is it really you???”

--
--

And I pass the baton on to … (Drum roll pleaseee…) Minah Sepet aka Diamond Baby because I trust you could lend a little quirkiness to the story??? The rules are simple;

1. You must not finish the story. You can tag more than 1 blogger to continue the story.

2. There is no theme to the story.

3. It doesn't have to be a tragic love story.Sixty can decide later who should end the story :-)

--

Now, Sheryl has given me another tag to do, this time for charity. For each meme done, a total of RM 127 will be contributed to Darul Izzah Orphanage, Bangi. The tag was started by Idham and passed over to fellow bloggers.

1) A person is only as good as… his words.

2) Friendship is always … hard to be sure of.

3) To love is to … accept.

4) Money makes me … have an orgasmic spasm.

5) I miss … My old bitchy self.

6) My way of saying I care is by ... doing something special without an occasion.

7) I try to spread love and happiness by … smiling to strangers.

8) Pick the flowers when … I want to wear it in my hair.

9) To love someone is to … accommodate her / him into my life.

10) Beauty is … not stereotype.

11) When I was thirteen, what i remember the most was … having a crush on a guy called Khairul who sat in front of me.

12) When i was twenty one, I remember … being hopelessly in lust.

13) I am most happy when … I am out there with my camera taking pictures without a care in the world.

14) Nothing makes me happier when… someone makes the effort to make me laugh.

15) If i can change one thing, i will change … for now, it would be the shallow mindset of Malays. :P

16) If smiles were … thrown at me, then I … would smile back?

17) Wouldn't it be nice if we could … stop judging people?

18) If you want to french me… then you will have to be my partner for life

19) Money is not everything but … it makes the world go round

20) The most touching moments I have experienced is … when a good friend of mine took a flight down just to be with me during my hard times.

21) I smile when … I listen to the Dan & Young show.

22) When i am happy, I … infect other people with my happiness.

23) If only i don't have to … pay the monthly bills, then maybe I would have more money for shoes (Heck, a girl could wish)

24) The best thing i did yesterday was … watching Judging Amy, Swooning over Adrian Pasdar.

25) If i ever write a book, i will give it this title … I, Malaysian not Malay.

26) One thing i must do before i die is … to travel the world

27) Doing the meme, i feel like ... I really don’t know how I would answer if people ask me these questions and expect an answer in less than 10 seconds.

Since this is for Charity, I am tagging anyone who wants to do this… almaklumlah, benda yang baik ni, sebor –seborkan. Hehehe…

Friday’s here, me Roger and Ouuut!!!

NS Schmenes!!

I grew up in a time when it was alright to cane children when they are naughty.

Squeals and screams of a kid being caned by the parents next door was something that was normal. Children gets naughty, parents get frustrated, children don’t listen, so, caning was feared upon and was the only thing that could deter us kids from repeating the same mistake.

I was once chased all over the house by my Mum who came at me with a cane, one of those ‘rotan buluh’ for talking back. After that, I kept everything to myself, at least until I reached the age of 18.

Parents back then believed in hard core discipline. They allow teachers to do whatever that was deemed necessary in the name of education. I remembered being caned by my history teacher for not achieving the desired minimum of A-. I got a B, and it was unacceptable in that class of mine.

When I showed the mark to my Mum, all she said was, ‘Padan Muka’.

Talk about tough love.

The thing is, all the kids of my generation, turned out alright.

I also noticed that back then, kids don’t complaint much about school to their parents. Even if they do, it seemed that the parents had full confidence in the education system and that all of these experiences will enrich their children.

So when I read a reader’s letter on The Star last week about changes that was implemented in the NS module upon receiving complaints from parents, I started to laugh.

http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2007/6/26/focus/18058838&sec=focus

The reader strongly believes that the government was doing the right thing. I thought it was a move to produce wimps rather than strong individuals. They wanted NS to be more, quote; ‘safe and comfortable’ for trainees; unquote.

Honestly, I don’t remember any of the camps I went to as ‘comfortable’. We were exposed to all kinds of hardships and whatnots. Our activities were standard military training. We broke down sometimes but most of the time we suck it in. Safety wise, all of us were educated on the proper codes and procedures to cope with crises, should it happen.

Of course, we always had a higher commanding officer during our hike and camp outs in the jungle, which NS seemed to be oblivious to. Plus, trainees that were down with any sickness or allergies were immediately sent to the clinic / home, depending on the seriousness of their situation at the time. There were some trainees who insisted on staying even though their condition didn’t allow it, and were forced to go home!

The food was not 5 star but it got us through the day just fine. In short, we have no issues and we push ourselves to excel.

We came out of it a brand new person, with renewed opinions and respect not only for ourselves but for others as well. Even if we do complaint, our parents would only shake their head and tell us that these people know what they are doing and that it’s only for our own good.

It really did us good. It toughen us up and it taught us how to be mature in handling different situations. In life, that is priceless. We didn’t mind the shouting at our face part, dropping down to twenty pushups everytime one member of the team screwed up and we didn’t mind eating stripped down version of your local Nasi Padang stall except on Fridays where the dishes would be much more colorful and appetizing than any other day.

NS sounds like a joke now. And since when the flying fox, under full supervision became a ‘dangerous’ activity, since when strenuous activity should be cut down for book worms and those who are not used to these kinds of activities and since when do proper medical checks rely on the parents’ honesty when filling up the form?

Check out NS in Singapore, now THAT’S NS for god sakes. If we want to rule out hiking in our NS modules, then I suggest for the Malaysian NS to be carried out in kindergartens practicing on monkey bars, works?

Great, the youths of Malaysia are now Wusses. Pffbtthh!

Singgahporah 2007

I was in the land where ‘everyone who is anyone carries an original Gucci tote’. Its like, Gucci has a stall in your weekly Pasar Malam kat Kampung Melayu, like that – lah.

Not to forget the Makcik who was actually using a PDA. I was suddenly ashamed. Hers was so much more ‘latest’ than mine, and I found myself wishing that noone would suddenly call me so that I don’t have to get my beat up PDA out of my hobo.

I was not exactly there in MRT lala land for the GSS. Much rather to meet up with a couple of very good friends of mine. I didn’t manage to see them during their last trip to SG so I decided, what the hell…

Do you know that Singaporeans are slowpokes like us Malaysians? I am referring to the orang gomen here… same style, like there was so many people who wants to go in, and there were only like less than 5 counters open?

I thought Singaporeans are efficient… ceh… I should know better… dealing with those problematic and rude nationals are like, my everyday drama. Muak already… keep making me want to do the Merlion and puke my breakfast out… if I do take any… which I don’t.

Anyway, back to the GSS, I was bent on buying two things, perfume and a big bag. I ended up buying first a cheap shower gel and small handy perfume from M&S at Wheelock. The pair of shoes were totally unintentional as my flats were giving me an enormous amount of pain and I needed another pair, which I regretted the day after upon finding out that Ipanema was on sale at Royal Sporting House!

After going around several perfume counters in maybe 7 malls on Orchard, I ended up buying DKNY Be Delicious in Tangs, only because it came with a nice velvety black tote with a small gold metal piece that has the initials DKNY on ‘em… which was not offered in Atria, nor Galleria, nor any other mall that we went to but I don’t have any idea which… so there you have it, shopping done in a day. Coach? Maybe next year, when I terlebih mampu.

I don’t have much of a budget you see, because of Wiwa, so… that’s why my total spending was only about SGD 200. I think I want to ask for a boring deskjob answering calls and get paid SGD 1800 a month. Boleh beli Beg Gucci every month, like beli bawang kat Supermarket Q&Q kat Uda.

And plus I got to know this cutie, who I swear look like Dora the Explorer on Nickelodeon. (oor is it Playhouse Disney… what? Sarcy likes cartoons), and her baby sister Mia was so adorable, you just want to carry her and pretend that she is your baby…

Dora... eh... Maya with her Dinosoaaaarrr!

Wait, I did that, actually all of us did. Pushing the pram, taking turns in holding the baby and cooing as if Mia actually understands and all that.

Okeh… it was tiring… and Lene, I salute la!

Our dinner was Ayam Penyet, or crushed chicken at Far East. The sambal was so hot that even Sarcy was red faced after taking just a few bites of it… and someone got slight diarrhea eating that stuff, tapi, rasanya masih sedap ya? Bisa pergi lagi nggak??

The next day, we went gallivanting around Orchard again, not before having a nice Pancake breakfast which was made by F. Thanks dude.

Pancakes in the morning

Orchard around 12 PM

We came across this;

and I shot a picture of my frizzy haired SPG – like self with ummm… it? (If I refer to it as human, it’ll mean a failure right considering we were not convinced that it was actually a statue… or something like that.)

I respect people who do these things, for the sake of art, surely it can’t be for the few dollars tossed in by impressed passerbys right? All this takes a lot of effort… and I could not even sit still in a facial, let alone sitting still with no reason whatsoever but art!

And we caught Transformers. It sent chills down my spine watching the Autobots and Decepticons brought to life, if Megatron is not nominated for the Best Villain category next year in MTV movie awards, tatau la akak, because he was frikkin’ evil!

And I loved Bumblebee then, I still love him now… it’ll be cool if my Wiwa could talk to me.

But nevertheless, I felt a bit cheated. We paid SGD 9.50 for the movie, which we caught in Shaw House… and the theatre was so retro that it actually reminded me of my first cinema experience when I was a chaperone for my Auntie and Uncle who was dating at that time, watching Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

Remind me not to catch a movie at SG again. At RM 19 per pop, we Malaysians could watch two movies at one go and in better theatres too!

But, all that aside, I had a great weekend and to everyone, especially the ‘tuan rumah’ CK, F and Y, thanks a lot for your hospitality.

And to you two wackos, you know who you are, of course I will give you a buzz whenever I turun.. eh... naik KL, like kewajiban la pulak kan?

Singgahporah 2007 was wonderful, maybe we could do Singgahporah 2008 pulak if panjang umur??

Hear hear you snots!

I had a conversation with one of the bloggers who is now my good friend over the weekend.

Most of the time we will try to not talk about our online activity apart from what was written on our own blog, but occasionally, often unavoidable, we strayed to the topic of what other bloggers, the ones that we don’t bother to know better or to ‘layan’ per se, thinks about us, as a person.

Recently, Naz blogged about how different a blogger’s online persona is compared to the real person, in flesh. I have to agree with that. There were some, not that I have come across many, bloggers who just doesn’t reflect accordingly to how their blogs make them out to be.

I was told that there were some ‘silent readers who are also bloggers’ who seemed to have a real problem with the things I write on MY site. I had those hate emails coming from conservative Muslims and Malays before telling me how my behavior / habits are so going to condemn me to hell, but hey, I am not Islamic, I know THAT fact.

But , as for these bloggers who thought they had more class than everybody else, come on now. What gives?

Sure you could write well in flawless English and whatnots but that doesn’t give you the license to rant on what other people want to put in their blog, even if it’s as distasteful as a tubful of mouldy philly cream cheese. It is afterall, THEIR frikkin’ blog.

In the end, it all looked childishly petty. A bunch of adults, who were still apparently, trying very hard to grow up but failed.

I guess their ‘lavish’ vocabulary make them the snots they are. I doubt that these people are really quite alright in real life. I doubt that I even want to know them in real life. I don’t do snots. I ignore them.

As to what they think about my blog or me as a person? Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn. I have made some real friends from this outlet and I thank my lucky stars that I found them instead of the pretentious little snotters (I DO Know that there are no such word)