Can someone invent this already?

Don’t you wish sometimes you had some kind of machine that converts thoughts to words on paper? It should work like some sort of an internal thought transcriber.

I mean it’s bound to be damn useful in inconvenient situations when you’re mind is going furiously but:
1. You’re having a particularly trying time locked in the toilet or
2. When an almost super human effort to retain your fleeting thoughts caused you to absent mindedly try to brush your teeth with hair conditioner (don’t even ask…).

How many times have you come up with the wittiest commentaries while flat on your back after lights out and with the light switch way over there? I have found that by the time I actually decide my thoughts are too brilliant to be entrusted to my increasingly unreliable memory, drag myself out of bed to trudge all the way across the room and switch on the lights, rummage for a notepad, scramble for a pen and finally sit back down comfortably, I will invariably realize that I can no longer recapture that kick-ass turn of phrase.

And like all kick-ass turns of phrases, it will remain elusive until the next such time you so happen to be inconvenienced yet again, like while stuck in an endless traffic jam with not a scrap of paper within sight and a totally dead cell phone so you can’t even painstakingly type it out word for word.

All I’m saying is, the moment someone invents this machine, I sure as hell will be the first in line.

It's their loss (?)

I need to get this off my chest before I write anything else otherwise it’ll be totally screwed up.

I’m reeling from the shock of not getting the job. No wait, more like shock from not even having been called for an interview.

How is this possible?

Was long-listed to attend an Assessment Test, but I told them since I had already sat for the test when I applied to their company the year before, perhaps they could check their records and get back to me. Which they never did do of course.

Now this is the part that I don’t understand. The previous year when I sat for the routine test, I was short listed and attended the first interview. The HR Manager calls me up after a long silence apologizes for the delay stating the company was in the midst of a mulling over a recruitment policy change and if I was still interested to come for a 2nd interview should it go favourably? I re-stated my interest and urged them to keep me updated. Which they never did do naturally.

So now this: being unceremoniously booted out without even being given a chance to be interviewed.

At times like these it’s nice to console yourself and go, “It’s their loss, it’s their loss”.

But funny how I’m the one who ends up feeling the pain right?

The Wedding Bane

I was prepared for it. Psyched myself out. Dusted off the bullet proof amour. Gathered the heavy artillery for defensive counter attack. Stocked up on a barrage of witty comeback lines. And so when it came, surprisingly instead of all hell breaking loose, there was hardly a ripple on the surface. After all that build up….what a bummer!

Attending weddings, unaccompanied, when you’re in your twenties, is usually the worst possible situation you could get yourself into. Nosy aunties and sometimes even complete strangers will magically assume the right to pinch your cheeks and drawl ever so condescendingly, “So when’s your turn darling?” In situations like these it is always advisable to keep sharp and heavy objects far from the victims reach. However the alternative of witty comebacks only leaves them wagging their heads while reprimanding you like a naughty child. It’s a lose-lose situation in everyway.

Worst still if you’re attending the wedding of the 2nd among your group of 3 bosom buddies, which basically means you’re the only unmarried one left and EVERYBODY knows it. It’s enough to give even the most independent girl a strong dose of inferiority complex. And I don’t even want to get married!

But yeah, all said and done I guess seeing the radiant bride and the adorable albeit nervous groom made it all worthwhile.

And yes, I got the same old questions, but miracle of miracles, it rolled off like water off a ducks back.

To the happy couple, dearest C & S, I truly wish you both every happiness together.

And you both have your names engraved on my wedding invitation (along with a dozen or so unlucky people), which unfortunately for you though might very possibly come like, never. So don’t grow old waiting at the postbox eh?

Breathe In, Breathe Out

Can’t. Help. It.

I agree with everything he says.

He makes me nod after every single sentence and grin like and idiot. (Note to self: Must remember not to do this in the office, The Inwardly-Evil Colleagues with Outwardly-Mild-Temperaments are just waiting for the slightest reason to have me committed)

So I struggle to keep my mouth shut. From banging the table and proclaiming “Exactly!”, “That’s so true!” and “I feel you babe”, while nodding vigorously.

Because that’s too much affirmation to be dished out to a complete stranger, even if it’s all true.

The problem, my Dear Imaginary Reader, is who would want to come across as an over-eager-Energizer-bunny-like stalker? No, no, under all circumstances one must act calm and supremely cool. That is of essence.

Compulsive commenting on a complete stranger’s blog is NOT the thing to do. Yes, yes, must restrain ourselves from virtually patting people’s backs and saying “You da man!”
And posting a rebuttal or an agreement of views held (as in this case) in one’s own blog is also so not done.

*summons dwindling will power*

Ahah…hmm….methinks the problem is pride, of which I seem to have cultivated an obvious over abundance of. Sigh and double sigh....

PS: Dear Imaginary Reader, am soo very sorry for my incoherence. Tut! Tut! Shall now bury my head with the shame of it all.

PPS: Oooooooh man….I need to find something else to write about already!!

September

The surest way of declaring bankruptcy by the end of the month:

2 weddings and 6 birthdays.

I swear I shall slap the next friend or relative who dares to be born or wed in this month.

There are 11 other freaking months to choose from, spread out for God’s sake!

Bedlam! Chaos! Hysteria!

*Warning! Excuses to follow...

The Parents are down: indefinitely.

The Sis is “stressed”: sic.

The Blogger is catering to the whims and fancies of The Last-Minute-But-Damn-Cocky-Prospective-Client: *passed out*

The Boss says smugly, “Don’t kill yourself over it”: ^&$&*;@;#$&%#&^%$***&!!!!

Therefore The Beloved Blog is: neglected.

The Writing on the Wall

There are stories in unexpected places.

And in this case: my bedroom wall.

In started during a recent (infrequent) spring cleaning, I found a paragraph written in ink by an ex-tenant on my wall. It began:

“ I hate you.
You cheated me. I love you soo much but you did this to me…..”

It goes on to ramble incoherently (generously peppered with a multitude of exclamation marks) why the author hates/loves/will-never-forgive, her paramour.

After some background investigation (read: nosy poking around) the whole sordid story was uncovered. Said authoress was a small town lady in her mid 30’s separated from an impotent, abusive husband (I am NOT making this up!). After 3 lonely years moving to big bad KL, she found true love in a married man with 3 children. The outpouring of anguish on the walls was during a particularly trying time when his wife found out about the affair. Why this translates to him cheating on her is beyond me. But it’s not for me to judge.

Anyway the story has a happy ending of sorts. She becomes his 2nd wife and they now have 1 child together.

As entertained as I was by her colourful life story, I do wish she’d have expressed her feelings a little less permanently…..like with a pencil maybe...or a blog.

Now excuse me while I figure out how to remove it…

Firmly ground into the asphalt

What higher accolade can you receive from a favourite blogger than for them to link to your blog on their site?

There I was leaping about excitedly doing a little victory jig.

And then I read her Disclaimer.

Whoosh! Slammed back down to earth.

Seems she won’t be responsible for contents on external sites and neither does she endorse them, us, I mean me.

I’m a little slow, should’ve caught on that she links to all sites that link her.

Sigh, well it was fun while it lasted….like all of 10 seconds.

PS: But "Flypaper for freaks"? That’s harsh girl. Personally I prefer self-centered narcissist myself, not that self-centered narcissists’ aren’t freaks too. Hmm….Freaks Unite!

Ms. Brightside

I don't want to look on the bright side.

I want to wallow in self-pity.

Who said indignant self-centered hurt never made things better?

Things you really did not need to know about me

1. Top on my list of dubious abilities is epic yawning. I’ve been nicknamed “hippopotamus” and I proudly live up to it.

2. The Sis says I’ll never get a boyfriend because of (1). I have yet to prove her wrong. (Surely there must be a man out there who thinks prolific yawning is a lovable trait in a partner…. No? Well, bloody ‘ell!!)

3. I have been trapped in lifts twice.

4. I am claustrophobic.

5. Hence when (3) happened (4) ensured that I experienced my 1st panic attack.

6. It was during (5) that my crazy friends introduced me to Crayon Sin Chan. It made me laugh and calmed me down. Now I’m forever indebted to that pint-sized flasher.

7. “Drama in Real Life” from Reader’s Digest issues in the 60’s and 70’s is the cause of my fear of lightning.

8. As it is I am also wary of electrical appliances for fear of being electrocuted.

9. And I stay as far away from microwaves as possible and use them only when absolutely necessary. I always think they are going to explode at the slightest provocation.

10. I graduated top of my class. Dad cried at my graduation. I was too shocked to react.

11. I love trains. I find them endlessly romantic. My dream is to ride a steam engine winding through the Himalayas.

12. My maternal grandfather was a stationmaster. I wish I’d been born before he retired.

13. Mum has 14 brothers and sisters, Dad has 8. This is always an impressive fact to be trotted out at dull parties. It would be even more impressive if I could remember all their names….

14. I dislike (most of) my relatives. They think me anti-social and dislike me with equal vigour.

15. There are 2 genres of books that I like: humour & horror. Other than both starting with the letter ‘h’, they are polar opposites. I am unsure what this says about me.

16. In Form 6 I was entrusted to the care of 2 white mice being fattened up for the dissection table. Over the course of a weekend in my care, they died. I think their kindred have been hounding me ever since. Proof!

17. I became an aunt at the age of 16. 10 years have passed and I’m still trying to get the hang of it.

18. I am an occasional clairvoyant and it scares me. I believe that when the time comes I will be able to predict when people closest to me will die.

19. I religiously switch off my handphone at midnight everyday. I have learnt that when the phone rings in the wee hours of the morning, it can only mean bad news.

20. I love X-Files. ‘nuff said.

21. I think Exorcist is the best horror movie ever made. Everything before and after is total crap.

22. My secret burning ambition was to be a Jedi Knight. I think it still is!

23. I obtained my driving license at the age of 18 and promptly stopped driving for 8 years. I’ve begun again this year but still cannot drive a manual.

24. One unexpected side effect of driving is my growing ability to cuss fluently. I am inordinately proud of this modest achievement.

25. I’ve eaten assorted bugs before. They were not tasty. Perhaps they needed more salt.

26. I am the perfect candidate for Fear Factor. Unfortunately the fear of answering inch-thick entry application questionnaires defeated me.

27. My aversion to taugeh (bean sprouts) is legendary. I have tried unsuccessfully to convince people that I’m allergic to it.

Lastly, this is by no means an exhaustive list. And neither do I guarantee that the above will remain true as time goes by. As such I will update and revise this list as an when…..I feel like it. Hah!

The End

He's wearing a GODDAMNED RING!!

And now I have to go to confession for taking God's name in vain.

Bloody hell!!

Budge the Budget

Did some budgeting last night.

Apparently if I cut out eating all together I should be just fine.

Tea

The thing about tea is, no matter what flavour it is: mango, forest berries, wildflowers etc, and no matter how great it smells, it still tastes like plain. old. tea.

But if you’re lucky sometimes the cold variety like you get from Starbucks, Coffee Bean and whatnot can taste like dishwashing liquid.

That’s why I drink coffee.

These hands

I’ve got hot hands. Yup, you read right: hot.

Before you go on off tangent and start imagining how this part of a person’s anatomy (this blogger’s especially) could be “sexy”, I meant in terms of temperature. Yeah, yeah, what a letdown huh?

Back to my hands now.

They’re always warm. Even when it’s freezing outside, my hands will be the warmest one’s around for miles unless of course Dad’s in the vicinity. It's genetic, you see.

Mom has an aversion to them though. Whenever I touch her, she’ll give a start and yelp “Your hands are just like your father’s!”

I still haven’t been able to decide if this is a compliment or an accusation.

But yours truly always has the last laugh, I'll huff, “Yah what, I’m warm-blooded unlike you reptiles!”

Needless to say I give a mean heated massage, assuming of course I be a good girl and refrain from attempting to break me some bones. Trust me, cries of pain only spurn me on.

And they’re disproportionately big and fleshy too (my hands, my hands, focus people!), what with being perched on spindly, bony wrists and all. My, don’t I just sound like your regular freak show?

One of my fondest memories is of Dad tenderly examining my hands, smoothing them over and announcing with gusto, “You should have been a boy!”.

I don’t know why I should remember this fondly cos if anything, it should have plunged moi into conflicting feelings over sexual orientation vs. parental devotion. Heh.
.
.
.

Ahem, I trust I have contributed to your daily dosage of riveting reads.

You may go now. Scoot!

Hollow

I wish I could take a break from myself. Just go and leave me behind.

Live outside of the inside,
Take respite from the reverberating silence,
Solace from this pregnant emptiness,
And welcome clamour to ease the hollowness.

Find relief,
Release.

Googlism Rules!!

My favourite results (own comments in brackets) are:

On Personal Attributes:
______ is the coolest girl in the world (oh stop, I’m blushing..)
______ is pretty cool (ya don’t say..)
______ is a very kind and sweet feline (this is revenge, I swear I hate all manner of felines!)
______ is hilarious sometimes (oh how she wishes....hey! whadja mean sometimes??!!)
______ is stupid (Hoi!)


On Physical Attributes:
______ is 5'9" tall and makes clothing look good (*chokes with emotion at instantly gained model-like height)
______ is perky perky perky and that's that (*coughs modestly*)
______ is one hell of a fezz ass grabber (I don’t now what it means, but it sure sounds good to me!!)


On her calling in life:
______ is set to been seen on CNN (Woo Hoo! Gonna be famous!)
______ is hostess to a theme tea party (Yes, in my spare time off doing charity work. You can call me “Datin”)
______ is collecting colonies that she grew in a liter flask and then inserted into a Petri (Aik! Almost hit the nail on the head-lah…)
______ is shown here making bead strap purse handles and chokers (What with charity work and themed tea parties, where do I even have the time?)

On Self-Improvement:
______ is ready to learn the songs of weaving (konon-nya nak show off lah next time I go karaoke)

And she is currently:
______ is dressed for a summer wedding (well of course, what else would she be wearing?)


And all the above proves that:
______ is a self-glorifying narcissist. (my own addition)


PS: I suspect in the future I shall cringe in embarrassment about this post but in the meantime, go to: http://www.googlism.com/ and type in your name. Y’all have fun now!

Epilogue – RE: Previous Post

Now, there’s a whole long list of Malaysian bloggers that I’ve bookmarked for my personal convenience and reading pleasure, abuthen I don’t link them here (should I add “yet”?) cos well they’re a little too close, geographically speaking, for comfort. I’d like to retain the freedom in the future of being able to remove a previously professed “favourite” blog from my Links if I ever eventually discover it no longer catches my fancy without having to face likely severe repercussions. And by this I mean their not close enough to be able to come round and beat the crap out of me.

Did I hear someone say paranoid?

On another note, I’ve been having innumerable problems with Blogger over the past few weeks. It simply refuses to let me post. Sudah mau muntah darah I tell you. But for now I’m relieved.

Hope it lasts.

International Bloggers of Mystery

So here’s the thing. I’m kinda getting fed up with those Edit-Me links in my Links box thingy. They scream “Newbie!” “Novice!” (insert other N words of your choice here and “Nonsense!” had better not be one of them). Nevermind that all those labels are true after which a quick look at my “prolific” Archives and the fact that I use blogspot instead of having my own domain will attest to. But I like to pretend, work with me here people!

So I’ve gotten rid of ‘em. See! See!

The links I’ve added in are some of my favourite reads. And I use the term favourite here rather liberally cos I’m just too damn lazy to read all these blogger’s archived post in order to form a concrete opinion of their writing. So I read their top few posts, and trusting my instincts instead of diligent research, here they are.

So without further ado, and there was much ado-ing up there I’ll admit, I welcome:

Defective Yeti
I’m gonna start an “I Love Squirelly” fan club and elect myself Honourary President. We shall alternate club chants between “Hooray for Me!” And “Long Live Squirelly!” (read Aug 3rd post for context then read the rest of The Squirelly adventures in Archives)

Mimi Smartypants
Peguin mad mother of Nora – another mite of Squirelly-like proportions. Read her boob post and weep:

http://smartypants.diaryland.com/072105.html

Noodlepie
Foodster in Saigon. Lots of pixs. I sure do love street food!

Tokyo Times
Somewhat of a photoblog with quirky captions on those kinky Japanese-y.

Green Fairy
Someone who can write about various types of handshakes and leave me rolling on the floor is all right in my books!

La Coquette
She lives in Paris, and yes, I hate her.

360 Degree of Sky
The name’s Claypot and she’s an Irish chocolate-deprived lady in Zambia . No, seriously.

The Domestic Goddess
Because she cooks beautiful food and her writing is also so.

Post Secret
Because it’s voyeuristic and at times it’s comforting to know you aren’t the only deranged idiot in the world.

Go on steal a read. You know you want to…

Of Libraries and Such

Visited the National Public Library yesterday, and it sucks big time. How many levels does it have? 4? 5? Plus 2 wings. Shouldn’t that translate to a well-stocked library with a wide selection of books? Most definitely not.

Potong steam aje.

Not that I did a minute inspection of its shelves contents. This post is admittedly at best a sweeping statement. But I did walk its entire floor space, row by row. Paid close attention to the dismal Literature section and searched for a non-existent Fiction section.

Disappointment would be an understatement for how I feel.
The books pun berterabur di sana-sini.

This is in comparison to a library I know intimately. Boy, do I miss my university library. Used to spend hours poring over everything from forensic science (gruesome pictures – riveting stuff) to food photography (Asian food is hard to photograph due to it’s “messiness”) to literature (kononnya nak cultivate some culture-lah – an obviously unsuccessful endeavour). That’s where I first read Tolkein and indulged my penchant for all things Wodehouseian while wondering what on earth that Plath woman was going on about.

*huge blubbering sigh*

While I wouldn’t make a repeat visit to the National Library, I didn’t come away empty handed either.

Hear! Hear! I learnt that: German Shepherds must be given work to do even if it is merely entering obedience contests, because to subject this highly intelligent dog to a lifetime of domesticated boredom is both unwise and cruel. End of lesson.

My, my, the things we learn from books!

You should totally check this duo out

Double Take rocks! And Mia Palencia’s vocals totally kicks ass!

I’m aware I should insert adjectives here to describe her voice quality and his guitar finger work, but all can be summed up in two words: I like!

And Mia, you’re my Malaysian Idol. You go babe!

PS: There’s too many exclamation marks in this short post. Here let me add sumore!!!!