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!!!!

Perverted Perceptions

Have you ever laughed so hard you thought you might crash the car? Well I have and we completely disintegrated into laughing fits for a few harrowing moments in the middle of the road. The argument (well…laughing argument) was how many women the main protagonist in the film we’d just watched had slept with during the course of the show. It was quite a hopeless debate because all the women looked exactly the same and forget about trying to differentiate them via names because well, Korean names all sound the same to ignorant Malaysians like us two.

But I digress.

I’ve been going to these weekly foreign film screenings and have been enjoying them so far. However the host brought up a disturbing incident with relation to the film screened the week before which was a sensitive portrayal on the issue of abortion. Apparently a viewer had admonished the host for screening a film which he thought was “pornographic”.

Hah??

I had to scoop my jaw up from off the floor upon hearing this. I can’t even begin to describe how far gone the mind of this fler must be in order to come up with that conclusion. The only way someone with half a brain could have the gall to make such a statement is if they stuffed there ears, put their fist over their eyes throughout the entire film and imagined the whole thing. It’s…*let’s out an exasperated strangled sound*.. you know what? Such an asinine comment does not deserve a rebuttal.

But the thing is, and this is the state of Malaysia today, even such baseless “criticisms” as these have the power to hurt and possibly end an entirely blameless enterprise should some self-righteous vigilantes decide to pick it up and make it their cause.

As such I worry for the future of these screenings. It would be a pity if we had to bow to the demands of a few chest-beating, close minded individuals who would have us adhere to their perverted sense of morality.

Oh yeah and my friend and I? In the end we agreed on 5…wait, or was that 4?

The Rat, The Scared and The Broomstick

Yuck, yuck, yuck, YUCK!!!

Eiyerrr, geli-nya aku!!!

It was battle royale with The Rat this morning. Can you imagine coming out of the bathroom and seeing a big fat rat crouching in the middle of your living room????!!!! Oh shit! The image of The Rat is seared in my brain…beady eyes, twitching whiskers…splattered blood…God!!! Sob!...So horrible!!

After barricading myself in the bedroom and some violent phone calls to a very amused sister (yah! easy for her to laugh when she’s far away in a rat-free office zone!)…I steel myself with the help of a broomstick to push the foul critter out since repeated volleys of “Shoo!!" and “Out! Out!...please?”, fail in budging it. (maybe it doesn’t understand English eh?)

I push and stand on the stool within inches of it cos I need to open the door to send it off and on it’s way. But no amount of yelling, banging and prodding manages to excite a response more that a shivering of the body and a feeble turning of head. By this time I’m a nervous wreck and at my wits end….Oh! God help me!! So now I try to slide it out on the mat it’s crouched on. Success! Success! It’s moving! The Rat puts it’s front paws (are they called paws?) on the balcony....then comes to a complete halt. Prodding its butt doesn’t make any difference. I’m guessing it changed its mind due to the sunlight streaming in from the balcony.

Preferring the cool of the living room, it makes an about turn amidst deafening shouts from yours truly. Haiyorr!! Sei lorr!! I hastily shut the door to the balcony and stuff the slit under the door so it can’t come back in. But anyway it couldn’t even if it wanted to COS IT'S TOO DAMN BIG!!!

I’ve never been more grateful to be at work than right now. And I’m still getting the heebie-jeebies every few minutes when the image flashes through my brain. Macam mana nak makan lunch hari ni, hah??!!!

*Shiver, shiver shiver*

So sue me for being too chicken to pick the thing up and throwing it away. It was still ALIVE for God’s sake! Now I can go thru the day knowing I have a nasty piece of business when I get home tonight. Cos I’m sure it’ll still be in the same spot, dead. Rats vomiting blood don’t tend to run far.

Oh, and The Sis? She’ll be back late tonight. Convenient huh?

It’s a conspiracy I tell you, the rats are out to get me.

A change would do me good

I woke up this morning with one clear thought in my head “I need to get a new job”.
I need, I must, I have to.

Things are going ok for me. Maybe I could go so far as to say most aspects of my life are in order (eventhough more money would be nice). But now with soo much free time on my hands (why in the world do you think I can get away with writing during office hours??!!) there’s nothing left to do but think. So I think-ed and thunk-ed till I reached this early morning’s epiphany. Which I know isn’t soo significant cause I’ve been saying it for years. (CL stop rolling your eyes)

So anyway, I get my awe-inspiring epiphany and what’s the first thing I do?
.
.
.
I blog. Sometimes my sheer brilliance astounds me.

So what am I doing now?
Continuing to blog.

*slaps forehead and tries to strangle self*
Some people are too dumb or too stubborn to learn lessons they try to teach themselves.

Change is scary. And I am scared I might actually succeed.

Parking is soo easy here (can you imagine? Even something as mundane as parking can hold me back), it’s close to where I stay, the drive is easy, and I have earned enough respect from my colleagues and superiors to have my opinions heard and (at times) heeded. In fact I’m soo firmly entrenched here that I blend in with the damn furniture.

I won’t go into why I want, need, have to, leave. I’ve recited the reasons soo many times to myself that I can say them in my sleep and I’m sick of it.

So I have this voice in my head that goes “I must, I must, I must” with varying degrees of intensity depending on how crappy my day was. I’m hoping one day (today?) it will get loud enough that I’m driven to actually do something about it.

*deep shaky breath*

Now where’s my headhunter’s phone number?

Consumerism with a capital 'C'

Noun: consumerism kun’soomu`rizum
- The theory that an increasing consumption of goods is economically beneficial
.
.
.
…they forgot to add spiritually beneficial too.

CONTENT ALERT: An adequate amount of female hormones is essential for full understanding and mutual appreciation of the following post. ;-)

Ahh….the joys of shopping!

Where do I begin?

The endless rows of gleaming merchandise. The rush you get when you pick up an absolutely divine piece that surprise! surprise! actually looks good on you and is within your budget. And if it’s on Sale, you feel like Christmas has come early.

I’m completely aware of how shallow it is to be discussing with my friends the merits of one piece of clothing over the other, or about whether a handbag is out of season, or whether the lace-up sandals look better on me as opposed to diamante slip-ons. But who knew such ‘deep’ topics of conversations could be soo endlessly interesting and refreshing? Ooo....it’s good to be a girl.

I’ve skived off work before to accompany a friend on holiday, shopping. It was all I could do to conceal my glee at the other poor miserable sods in office attire on their way to work. Shopping malls on weekdays are absolute heaven, don’t you agree? Oh wait, if you’ve never played hooky before, you wouldn’t really know would you? Hah!! Suckers!. No pushing and shoving teeming masses. No obnoxious kiddies on those roller-skating-shoe thingamajigs (What the hell are those? The inventor should be tortured to a slow painful death!) to dodge. No long queues for the changing rooms. Bliss. Best of all is the thought that while others are slaving at work, you get to go out and play! Yipee! Highly recommended, indeed.

Yeah, you guessed it, I’m going shopping this weekend. And boy, am I excited. Ha, ha! I’m not very hard to please am I?

One more thing, for those who say shopping is just another way (the others being, drinking, clubbing and other pleasurable activities) of filling the void within the soul, well please do us all a favour and go stuff yourselves!

So, when did you last have your shopping fix?

Haunting

"I can’t take my eyes of you.."

I kinda, sorta, did a review of the movie “Closer” in a previous post.
But I missed out the best part of the movie: the soundtrack, or more specifically the song “The Blower’s Daughter”, by Damian Rice.
It plays at the beginning and at the end of the movie, and I tell you, it made the movie.

Quiet
Introspective

Understated
Raw
Bleeding with emotion

And that mournful cello…ahh, that just kills me.

How do you describe a song that makes you feel like crying every single time you hear it?
Sigh, and I don’t even understand the song!

For me the measure of a great singer is not in the range of their vocals, or how many high notes or low notes they can reach, or how powerful their voice is. Rather it is in the use of a unique voice and that indefinable ability to take a song, own it, and move the listener.

The mark of this singer songwriter, in this particular song, is to be able to repeat the same line (first line of this post) soo many times throughout the song and never have it sound boring.

I’ve got Damian on repeat.

"And so it is."

To listen to the live version of Blower's Daughter: http://www.damienrice.co.uk/music.asp

(but try to take a listen to the original recording)

Moving Out, Moving In, Moving On

I’ve moved soo many times in the past 2 years that my friends have refused to take down my latest address cos they say I’ll just move again before the ink is even dry. Hrumphh!

This nomadic existence is the penalty I pay for renting which, given the circumstances, is a necessary evil.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. Sure it’s a drag, but this constant moving around ensures I don’t start sprouting mould and prevents me from being on a 1st name basis with the spiders that spin cobwebs around me. Yup!, complacent old me.
My sis is already making dire predictions of how she’ll need to prise my cold fingers from the TV remote, drag me kicking and screaming outside to air me out once in a while. (Me? a TV addict? Who said? Where got?!!)

Jokes aside, once I get through the pain (literally) of moving, I’m always gripped by a sense of excitement & endless possibility. I suppose I fancy myself quite the mini interior designer, albeit with a damnably miniscule budget. Still there’s always lotsa room for improvisation, creativity and make-do.

But aside from the obvious changes that can be made to the surroundings, personally moving also feels like a new beginning for me. I imagine I’m embarking on an adventure, and the world opening up to strange new frontiers. I suppose you could say it symbolizes hope. And who doesn’t need to be reminded of that every once in a while?


PS: And all this from moving house? Oy!

"Would you please like me too?"

Oh, woe is me.

I MISS him. We’ll technically I should say I miss seeing him, cos it’s not like we talk or anything.

He’s my brown-eyed boy (seriously, he’s got brown eyes) and he’s soo…. swoon-able. Ahem. Please excuse me while I nurse my teenage-like infatuation.

Beautiful, quite so.

Why doesn’t he talk to me already? The damn ball is in his court, so why doesn’t he fling it back??!!

Sigh.
I don’t really blame him. Truth is, chance meetings are far and few between. And I do have this misguided & uncontrollable tendency to scuttle quickly past him with nary a glance when they do present themselves.
So yeah, who could blame him?
‘sides, I’m the one that likes him, but who can tell what goes on in his head?

So this has to stop or change at least.

I do now solemnly swear (thru mightily gritted teeth) NOT to ignore or run from him again…ack!..gulp!..

Instead, I shall:

Stop,
Smile,
Say “Hi (…would you please like me too?)"