Frikkin' Internet and Me

I have been spending too much time on the net.

First it was the annoyingly fun MukaBuku phenomenon. Somehow I get satisfaction from throwing a sheep at MsJ and giving a blow up doll to Des and to also poke KCL so many frikkin’ time that if I do that in person, he would have been poked to death.

Of course, me being a ‘wallflower only’ on Facebook kind of give me a more relaxed mukabuku situation. Having less than 10 people on it saves a lot of time, in terms of figuring out who to pimp slap silly next. Granted, Sarcy don’t have a lot of online friends, I could live with that, just as long as I have more than twenty outside of my virtual life. I am easy to please like that.

And then secondly there is the amount of time spent on the net downloading songs. I am going to get this cool MP3 gadget that will play more songs than I could ever want to hear in my car without the irritating skipped CD thing happening everytime I drive over a hump. Which is cool, and which is something that another fellow blogger told me about. I have never really been into gadgets, I am a simple, uncomplicated, do-not-care-about-gadgetry-thingies- woman. The only gadgets I am into are MP3 players, cellphones and cameras.

I would rather spend the rest of my hard earned (very very hard earned) money on shoes and clothes and all the things that could ‘menambahkan semak’ in my eensy teensy weensy room.

Other than that, are things like boredom and the fact that I would rather stay at home in Ramadhan rather than going out contributes to this trend, although I do have a few Iftar gatherings to attend with different sets of friends, ranging from those who wouldn’t think twice about paying RM 40 for a buffet spread at hotels even though they only consume around 0.05% of the food to friends who would find even Secret Recipe a bit too much for buka puasa. It's all in good intention, at least I think so anyway.

Well, at least, now I finally feel that the RM 77 I am paying every month is worth it.

Life starts at 30

A friend who celebrated her 30th birthday last year told me that her life is coming together, at last.

She met the love of her life a few weeks after her birthday, an Ang-moh working for an O&G company. She got a huge promotion and she has got a bun in the oven. The love of her life proposed to her upon knowing about the pregnancy, which she held from him for a week because she thought he would bolt.

Turned out, he was ecstatic, and they are getting married in Phuket end of this year.

I am not that close to her, but we share the same complaints about men and life and such. We corresponded over the email and she invited me to her small wedding.

Less than 200 people, close friends and family, only people who really matter, no ‘tiga pupus’ and such, she added during our internet call.

I am honored that she looked at me as a close friend, although the only thing I have given to her was a Raya Card last year and also considering that I met her last in July 2005.

Life indeed starts at 30, babe. Don’t fret. She told me.

Then, we launched into girly talks on how the wedding gown would be like and such. She said she would have been about 4 months pregnant by then, so her dress will definitely have to conceal the bump.

She asked me about how I am doing, and I said I am still single, and that is ok, I answered.

“When I was your age, I was a mess. Work was frustrating as I was making less than what I deserved and my personal life, it was abusive, that’s the only thing I know how to describe it. I think you have it better.”

I smiled. Maybe so. I don’t exactly know if I either like / dislike being single. I like my privacy but at the same time, I hate being alone. So it’s extremely oxymoronic to me.

I told her about my plans of moving out next year, my excitement of having to struggle by myself after 5 years of staying with my parents, and the prospect of change that it will bring, hopefully. I am crossing my fingers on both. I’ll live life as it comes.

She told me that I am heading there. Life WILL get better and I WILL see things clearer.

I can’t wait, afterall, life, it seemed now, does start at 30.

Maya, Love you babe!

The writer's block Blog

I was alone last Ramadhan, and I am still alone this year.

So much for change, heh.

I am maybe a rebel that has swayed off the whole religion carpet, but heck, as far as fasting is concerned, this one I could do, much better than those so called devoted ones who get oh so excited when they get their menses.

For real.

I could still remember the housemate who yelled in all happiness just because she found out that she just had her menses.

“Aku boleh makan, jangan marah.”

Uh… and she is the one wearing the tudung here acting all goodie two crappy shoes. Heh, like, a joke right?

And then came Terawih, I mean, never mind that I feel so awkward being among the telekung clad women, but weirdly I think I should do it at least once in the whole month, just to kick things off by shocking people that I do know the how to-s of ablution. Heh.

Not to forget the Bazaar Ramadhan mushrooming on every space available in Malaysia. Due to the recent price war between consumers and chicken wholesalers, I am just hoping that I would be able to have my ayam percik and eat it too, without being judged on my level of consumer awareness.

Nevertheless, I like fasting, it’s detox with a dash of spiritual benefits fused together. My one wish is to able to have a full fast, all 30 days of it, but being the ‘bleeding one’, that I’ll have to pass.

So, Selamat Berpuasa all.

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Funny things I have been thinking about the past few days.

I don’t like the fact that I am still fraternizing with my exes sometimes. They tend to make me feel important and insignificant at times. Especially when they told me that somehow, they could talk to me like they never could with anyone else, and I would think, if that’s a fact, then why are we exes?

All the time, I would pretend as if I don’t care, but only when I am alone (And hell I hate being alone for this one stupid reason) will I think about how my exes just manage to be fools and bastards effortlessly.

*Throws a wanker*

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Vibrating condom, spotted that at a Shell kiosk when I dropped off my Merdeka lucky draw forms (In hope of winning at least RM 5000, what? One could wish right?).

I really want to know how that works. If only the kid at the counter was not smiling at me when I spotted it.

It was in a pink box too.

Hobi saya ialah…

When I was a kid, my hobbies were many.

I mean, which kid would not be tempted to collect stamps and even HotWheels when everybody else in the school was doing the same? Peer pressure was massive.

I remembered when a classmate brought her stamp books and bragged about it. It was THE in thing circa 1987. I was so impressed by her perfect rows of stamps from countries, some at that time, I have never even known existed.

Although I was also an avid collecter at that time, all I had were stamps from Malaysia, Singapore and Belgium and even that was because I have pen – pals (Yes… I did have pen-pals, paid bloody twenty bucks for it too! (and that only after I rolled on the floor asking my parents for the money).

“Korang tak ada kan setem – setem cam ni? Saya punya Ayah selalu pergi England. Dia kata sana sejuk.”

And I would be listening to her stories intently, wowed by her show of affluence. I also envied the girl whose Mum would be waiting for her at the gate after school everyday in her then trendy Proton Saga aeroback. Back then, anyone who has more than one car in a household was ‘kaya’. And her dad, was the ‘Kaya’ sort. And heck, at least she didn’t have to squeeze through smelly kids in the school bus.

Anyway, back to hobbies.

My hobbies when I was a kid were many. I collected stamps, stickers, paper dolls, books, comics and even started my very own dried leaf collection using my used up exercise books. I also remembered there was also a time when every kid in school were totally psyched over the feather phenomenon (we put a feather in our textbooks and ‘fed’ it wooden pencil shavings. Back then you will have to be ‘kaya’ to have a mechanical pencil.). Everyone who was anyone dabbled in it.

Besides being a collector, I was also the artistically inclined one in the family. I write short stories, I drew sketches and I rolled on the floor again begging my parents to buy me a set of Buncho crayons for my ‘Masterpieces’.

Now, at the age of 28, and personally, in a way, ‘kaya’, I lost touch with my wanting to have a hobby. I still write, not short stories but I write, and sometimes, I sketched on my A5 size pads which I brought with me everywhere I go. At the moment, I am in search for a ballroom dance class. Found one in Senai near my workplace but my ‘partner’ thinks it is too far.

It’s a hobby I am looking for, and I think, Salsa should be good for the soul, and so should Tango.

Now, will someone please tell me why are all these websites in Chinese? What now, Malays can’t do Rhumba izzit!!?

Twisties with his idea of a hobby, tackling lures.

Hek Eleh!

I wear bikinis. Is that too hard to believe that I do just because I am half Malay?

I find forwarded emails on certain local Malay celebrities frolicking on the beach in their bikinis amusing and most definitely… umm… well… what’s the word, stupid.

Why be judgmental on things like that? But then again, this is Malaysia, and in Malaysia, judgmental is only but a Malaysian behavior. Instead of thinking about more serious matters at hand like having to pay bloody income tax but to still drive on bad roads and having blackouts every 2 days (Yeah it has been that often) we are concerned about public figures wearing floral two piece showing their buff bodies on the beach.

Like… come on, talk about trivial.

I also don’t like receiving all the Halal and Non – Halal emails. I have to admit, I am not particular about this, and heck, more power to all those who really takes care of what goes into their mouths, but I would prefer them to just keep forwarding those emails to like minded individuals and not me. I would delete it just after reading the subject header.

Speaking about being judgmental and such, one misconception that others have on me would be that I don’t read Malay literatures. This might surprise some, but as a matter of fact I do. I adore A. Samad Said, and the very controversial Shahnon Ahmad, Adibah Amin, and the delectable fusion of east and west in Zakaria Ali’s works. Don’t know them? Then you don’t know what you are missing.

So with everything laid out in the open, let’s make a deal, no forwarded emails on celebrities baring their abs on beaches and how Starbucks is not Halal cause I don’t frikkin’ care.

You dig?

If banyak sangat cekadak, go here - la.

BLEEETING HELL?!

I am a Baaaaaaad meat eating, intestine chewing sheep ya'll!

Who would find a movie with a flock of angry zombified sheeps scary?

Yeah, that, I would credit to Anna.

And this is my review.

We went on a Saturday. Anna called me and told me about this movie called Black Sheep (2007 film).

“Cerita hapa tuh la kiah?”

“Cerita pasal Kambing biri-biri jadi zombie. My friends said they have watched it and I read the preview.”

“Umm… okay… so what did it say?”

“The preview sounds like a thriller, but then my friends told me about the movie as if it’s a comedy.”

You see, Anna avoids horror flicks like a plague. She finds Supernatural (The Tv series la) scary, and when I asked her along for the ultimate scare fest of Alone (a Thai Movie), she said eh? No thank you, you don’t know me better?

I don’t get what about zombie sheeps that scares the crap out of anyone. Until I read an introduction of the movie on the web.

It is supposed to be a black comedy. And there I was thinking that seriously, is this what New Zealanders sought out as horror? Like seriously?

The story revolves around a man who suffers from acute phobia of sheeps, a scary housekeeper, a psychotic sheep shagger brother, a jolly farm manager and two seriously OTT environmentalist and of course, a flock of sheeps who would later be infected by a failed genetic experiment.

While sheeps that got bitten would be turned to meat craving herbivors (Eh...), humans on the other hand would turn into were-sheeps.

Yup… were-sheeps. I am not talking lambchop kind of sheep, just really butt ugly walking upright sheep wearing one size fits all ugly ass vest.

And they are angry, and not vegan.

The whole plot is predictable (HELLO!! ZOMBIE SHEEPS? What other plot could there be?). There were some scenes where I was the only one who got the humor (Of course all the other people in the theatre thought it was a real horror movie la kan.).

And mint sauce that go acid when thrown to the were-sheeps… PRICELESS.

So if you guys fancy a gore fest with a truckful of dark humor, and bits of bestiality action, go catch this one.

Just don’t expect to be horrified because you will be disappointed.

There’s more to Sarcy than just the palm ... really

(Be forewarned, on a scale of 1-10, this post is 5 on being emo…)

Someone once read my palm many years ago. The one thing that I could remember the most was when he said that help will always be around as and when I happened to be in a fix. True enough, I always get help when I am broke, always get company when I am depressed, always get my dose when I am sexually… umm… needy.(?)

Though, love wise, he said it was vague, he also said that he could be wrong. I am attractive, and smart, he said, smiling. There’s no reason why anyone should walk the streets without noticing me. This I shrugged off as a joke. I am not pretty, I am just enigmatic, a piece of meat that a man would love to sink their teeth in, because basically, if they could not get into my head, better get into my pants.

The someone also told me that palms don’t tell you everything, and even if it does, it is not necessary to believe in.

A friend of mine, was told once by her ex who also happened to read palms, that she would bring bad luck to whoever she goes out with, romantically. The dude was later charged as being an accomplice in a somewhat major murder case (the charges were dropped, no contest, inadequate proof) and her latest squeeze got into an accident, though the squeeze was not what I would personally call as a relationship.

She told me later that her ex shouldn’t tell her this, because now, she believes that she is a jinx.

Belief trumps rationale. True.

All these prophecies, some took as a foundation to living their life, to which I said hell no.

To me my life should not be determined by the lines on my left palm, or the number of moles I have on my back (Chinese believe the more moles you have on your back, hardships will throng you throughout your lifetime.). Life is what you make out of it. And then there is also a matter of fate. No matter how your life sucks, even after so many attempts to make it right, accept it. it’s fate.

But this doesn't mean that you could not make it better. There's nothing wrong with trying, agreed?

So that’s why I have, so many times, when I lie next to a person whom I care so much for, I accepted the fact that I could not be with him. I am contented with that little piece of heaven of me being with him at that moment.