Off a Matchbox

In every organization there will always be one person who knows what is going on: this person must be fired.

Halp!: I'm currently in the middle of a 17days workday stretch and I get to spend very single one of those with The Schizo Midget Bitch. Ain't life grand?

I Call It Survival

~Meeting room, KPWKM.

Small Evil Boss Person "Bla bla bla bla blah"
Nella "Hum hum hum, do do do, ding dong, the witch is dead, hum hum"
Debbie "What are you doing?"
Small Evil Boss Person "Debbie, if you have something to say, you can share it with the whole room. No? Then please stop talking and pay attention to what I'm saying"
Debbie "Sorry, Datin"
Small Evil Boss Person "Bla bla bla bla blah"
Nella "Hum hum hum, do do do, we're off to see the wizard, hum hum"
Small Evil Boss Person "Bla bla bla bla blah"

*Meeting ends*

Debbie "What were you doing during the meeting?"
Nella "Whaa?"
Debbie "During the meeting, you were like, crazy focused and doing stuff on your laptop"
Nella "Heh heh. Wallpapering"
Debbie "Whaa?"
Nella "Heh heh. Tadaa"
Debbie "Dude. The Midget would be hella pissed if she ever finds out"
Nella "Heh heh"
Debbie "Cute though. Can I have it too?"
Nella "Heh heh"

FIN

Drop a House on Me Already

I've heard news today from a friend about another mutual friend of ours. Good news. Excellent news, in fact. Friend A told me that Friend B got a new job with an awesome company and the pay is amazing. Friend A told me this and I said to Friend A that that is indeed great news. Because Friend B is a good friend. Friend B is kind, funny, loyal and cool. Friend B is also damn pretty, thin, has the greatest hot boyfriend ever and smart. So now Friend B is kind, funny, loyal, cool, damn pretty, thin, has the greatest hot boyfriend ever, smart, has a great job and rich.

I'm happy for Friend B, I really am. I want good things to happen to my friends and this, is what I wish for all my friends.

So, I know that I'm not a good person when I can't help feeling envious and bloody jealous for Friend B.

I can't help it. I know I should be happy for her but I can't. God help me, I just can't. Like I said, I know I should be thankful that something great is happening to somebody nice but all I can feel is this overwhelming feeling of envy.

It got worse when I unconsciously tried to justify this evil feeling with ungracious thoughts. Like maybe Friend B wont like the job, or Friend B'd have a terrible boss and reminding myself with the fact that Friend B's relationship with Friend B's family is not good.

What the hell, man?

I hate it that I'm apparently petty and shallow and insincere. I hate it that I can't just be happy for a friend. I hate that I'm jealous someone is doing better than I am. I hate it that I need to remind myself of the bad things so that I'd stop feeling jealous. Why can't I just be happy for my friend? Do I want something bad to happen to these people I care about? Why do I need to force myself to feel happy about these things? What does that say about me? That all this while I think I'm better than others? What kind of a crappy friend am I? At that, what kind of person?

Not a good one, obviously. So now, I'm jealous, I'm feeling bad that I'm feeling jealous, I'm appalled with myself and with my behaviour and now I know for a fact that I am not a good person.

A colleague advised me to calm down and pergi ambil wudhu'. Helped a bit. That and this ranting I'm doing.
How do you deal with the fact that essentially you're not a good human being?

Like You Need a Lobotomy

Imagine this.

Did you ever joined a club when you were in school? Remember that. Imagine that now. A club of something. A club for, say, engineering. An engineering club.
So, you're in this club, right? So, the president of your engineering club wants to do something and he/she wants you and everyone to help. She/He wants to build something you think is stupid, like, a helicopter that goes underwater. He/She thinks this invention would help save the world, cure cancer and eliminate global starvation. You know she/he only wants it built so that he/she could take joyrides in it and use it for her/his own personal shopping trips crossing the Selat Melaka, to Bandung.
You thinks building a helicopter that goes underground is stupid but being a member of this club, you have no choice but to help her/him build this thing.
Then you found out that the school is funding this stupid project. The stupid project you're helping her/him do.
Then you found out that besides the underwater helicopter, he/she is also planning to build other stupid, useless things, things like a diskette holder for fish and a biscuit coaster for biscuits and computer mouse made of jelly.
All to be paid by the school. And it's costing the school something like RM800,000 for these projects your idiotic engineering club president are doing.
Which you're helping him/her with.
It doesn't matter you're probably only helping to do 2% of the overall work because essentially it still means you're involve in this wonderful exercise of taking the school's money and churning crap out of it.
How can you not be pissed? How can you not be totally incensed when you know he/she is charging RM500 for a piece of wall brace? RM5000 for laundry? RM17,000 daily rental for a crane? Why would you want a crane?
And who the hell wants a jelly mouse?
But you still have to do it. However stupid, inane, crappy, shit-for-brains, effed up you think this whole shebang is, you still have to do your job.
Which is super for your stress levels. Do the job you hate, for the person you despise and at something you disapproved. Why the hell not, right?
Then you found out that the school is charging everyone extra RM50 fee to make up for the huge expense the engineering club is tallying up.
Hoo-farking-ray.

I am not making this up. You know what I mean, right?
Tell me you do. Please. Tell me you got what I really meant. Oh Lord, what if you don't? What if you think we all need biscuit coasters? Because we don't right? Do we?
*hyperventilate*

What Are You?

Happy:

Congratulations President Obama. 

Please be the American President the world needs right now, thank you.

Read his speech after winning the race here.

See how that doesn't give you goosebumps.

Not happy:

How this stupid blog is turning out. 

Dammit man, I'm too old to fiddle around with scripts.

Lazy:

Is I right now.

The World is Just..Awesome

I love the whole world
It's such a brilliant place
Boom-de-ah-da, boom-de-ah-da

Song lyrics : Discovery Channel; I love the world
Picture : Own, driving back from hell work

Work has been just brutal. Needed a heads up to remind me that life is worth living and why I should suppress that suicidal and/or homicidal feelings I have. I love that Discovery Channel song. I listen to it and feel my aneurysms fade away. My left temple would stop ticking. I love rainbows too. I could look at rainbows all day.

Unfortunately, all the soothing in the world can not help me from getting massive cluster headaches when looking up at the towering heights of paperwork I need to do trembling gently in the breeze. Add a psychopath midget yelling maniacally next to that, and I tell you, I could be swimming in a sea of lithium, soaked in rainbows, listening to serene murmurs of the cloistered peace monks of Nepal and cradled naked in the comforting bosom of mother earth herself and I would still have an anxiety attack every time I wake up and realized I have to go to work..

Lord, I'm too young to lose my mind.

What Would You Teach A Mynah Bird

Azzard (my cousin) had a mynah bird once named Bird (very original, right?) Bird was a delightful bundle of feathers. He could talk. Azzard taught him things to say and whenever we visit we would say (yell) our favorite phrases for Bird to repeat. Among the many delightful things he would screech was "I twot I thaw a puddy cat!", "Beam me up, Scotty" and "Hello Bird". Bird died and Azzard replaced him with a cat named, you've guessed it, Cat.

Got me to think, what would I teach a mynah bird to say, should I have one (which I probably never would). The thing about teaching birds to talk is that they pick up words and say them at the weirdest time. More often than not, in front of company. So, I came up with this list of what I want my bird (the hypothetical one I am not getting) to say:

1. Du~de! (I overuse this word like you wont believe)
   
2. Scaramouche, will you do the fandango?
3. Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!
4. D'oh!
5. Jam for beavers.
6. Don't make me go there and smack you across your face. (I say this a lot)
7. Resistance is futile.
8. Re-for-ma-si! Re-for-ma-si!
9. No soup for you!
10. Say, you ever watched that movie 'The Birds' by Hitchcock?

What would you teach a mynah bird to say?

Rooming With A Stranger

Dear Stranger I'm Rooming With,

Hi. Seems like we're stuck with each other for a while, eh? I don't know you and you don't know me but we're about to share and see each other doing intimate stuff. Maybe you should know that I'm prepared to like you. I'm a pretty likable girl myself, I like to think. But also at that, I'm also prepared to think you're crap.

One thing I ask, since we're now sharing a bathroom, is that keep the floor dry. Please. This is very important. It's not okay have any water on the floor. Because I will do everything I can and have to, to keep the bathroom floor dry. I will harass housekeeping into giving us an extra floor towel. I will get (and stay) on your case until you get this right. And should I ever find the floor wet after you using the toilet, I will gladly use your bath towel to wipe the water on the floor, around the commode and on the walls. I'm not kidding. I made it abundantly clear the floor has to be dry at all time. I even made up that ridiculous story about having bad balance and mortal fear of slipping on wet tiles. I lied because I was being nice. So if you can't follow this one rule, I will straight out say to your face that how damn kampung or stupid (it's not exclusive) can you be not to know how to use the toilet and keep the floor dry at the same time? Seriously. And wipe the damn counter tops too when you're fucking done too, please.

And yes, stranger I'm rooming with, I bathe a lot. Especially before bed. I like being clean when I sleep. But I also understand that some people still struggle with issues of their hygiene even when they are 30 years old.

It is not weird to unpack and put all clothes in the drawers either, stranger I'm rooming with. I do that if I'm staying for more than one night. You correctly assume I do this because I like to avoid clothes getting crumpled. But I also do this so that I wont have my clean clothes and dirty laundry in one cramped, airless bag. So, you may well take heed of this, that when I have one piece of shirt stinking of BO, my clean clothes are not being infused by it when I shoved it into a small space together.

I watch a lot of TV. Whenever I can. I hog the remote too. This I am not ashamed to admit. This is where communication is needed. Tell me if you want to watch something else. I may (or may not) compromise. I believe I am a peaceful TV watcher and will always mute the volume when you're praying. I also believe I watch interesting stuff. I appreciate you approving my choices of TV programmes. I am happy to be the person to introduce you to the joy of watching Mythbuster, Dirty Jobs and Man vs. Wild. But stop talking when I'm watching. I do not need to hear your comments on anything regarding the show we are now watching together. This is where communication is absolutely not needed. Shut up and just watch the show. While we're at that, even if you can't understand what they're showing while I'm watching ESPN, the shut the fuck up rule still applies.

Stay out of my toiletries bag. And just because you asked, the reason I have sunblock in the bag is because I use this one toiletries bag for all my travels. It has everything I think I need for when I travel. Sometimes, where I go may require me slathering sunblock. Not this time though. The existence of that tube of SPF50 sunblock in my zipped toiletries bag does not dictate my desire to swim in the hotel pool. I applaud your use of brain to deduct this, Sherlock, but unfortunately this is not true. And again, if you ever touch my stuff, I will whoop your ass.

So okay, inasmuch as I detest asking you for anything, I need to borrow your prayer mat. Don't act so surprise that I know and execute this necessity of a Muslim to perform the 5 prayers a day. Your surprise insults me. And I don't really need your prayer mat, I could always use the spare bath towel and even better, I could just have housekeeping send one up. I understand how a shallow person such as yourself may conform your mind to stereotype people as it is easier than keeping an open mind, but I really do know what I am doing and you should stop acting so fucking astonished that one such as I can actually solat normally. You know what, keep your mat, I'm calling housekeeping.

I like quiet time to myself. For this may surprise many, I enjoy some alone time just doing things I enjoy i.e. reading, messing around on my laptop, watching TV. So, stranger I'm rooming with, you may find me in this room we share more often than not when I don't have to be anywhere else. Feel free to leave me alone. I am not lonely. I am not in need of you filling up the silence. I like the silence. I don't feel the same about you. Usually I would spare some time getting to know the new people I meet, for I am a pretty friendly person, as I have mentioned and I like talking and getting to know people better. But seeing how there's completely nothing about you that does not irritate the hell out of me, I don't want to talk to or with you. I'm sorry you only get to see my splendidferous stuck up bitch side for I do have a more lovelier side I present to normal people. But you had your chance and you blew it when you bathed a spasmodic whale on the bathroom floor on the first day we started rooming together.

Lastly, dear stranger I'm rooming with, you'd notice that I use the shower cap when I shower. I would leave the shower cap on the hook next to the hairdryer on the vanity. Should you feel like sharing that, go ahead. Just don't let me know. But if you're not using it, leave it fucking well alone. Getting the shower cap wet in the inside is not cool. At all. Why are you playing with my shower cap, in any case? Can you get any weirder? Do you need special attention I should know of? If you want something to play, play with my razor. Slide the top part on your wrists. Look at the pretty red liquid gushing out. Just make sure to do it in the tub. I still wont tolerate wet tiles. Even by blood.

So there. I can't say I'm happy to meet you, stranger I'm rooming with. I am sure though that you'll be no less of a stranger to me when we part ways then when we we first meet. I wish you all the best and all the wet toilet tiles you ever wish.

Sincerely,
Nella
Room 618, Concorde, Shah Alam

Good

Green tea with Sprite.
Sounds like a fright,
But tastes so good.
Better believe it, dood.

What's Normal for Me..

Warning: this is one long ass post.

Okay, I realized the previous post shows too much of my Raya Grinch-ness. To be fair, my Raya wasn't so bad. Pretending that you want to know (and since I have the whole Eid picture folder on me right now), I shall regale you with my exploits during the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Raya, in parts. Brace yourself (for lameness-esque).

Day Uno

Raya Pertama di rumah bonda,
Rumah bonda di ibu kota,
Nak buat camne, saya memang tinggal di sana,
Nak balik kampung, ramai dah mati pula.

After slaving away the day before Raya to get the house ready (which deserves a whole different post), we woke up early and had our teary, emotional bersalamsalaman session before we went to pray at the Masjid Belakang Bukit together(bukan nama di sign board). As usual, I would be sleep deprived and would maintain my shameful tradition of sleeping through the 2 khutbahs.

Home, breakfast and the annual first visit from our neighbour, Uncle Lan and his whole brood. We would be the only 2 Malay families left in whole Lorong during Raya time. Soon after they left, we were decended by my dad's sister and his family. More food being served, more dishes to do. Sorry, just have to put that in.

Then our two families left for my dad's uncle's house. This was where I got my only duit Raya. Yay dad's uncle!

Again, our two families moved to Kajang to visit my dad's other sister's house (he has 8 of them, don't ask). Since this sister also married my mom's brother (confusing you?), us cousins are pretty close.

After which, my family (ditched the first aunt's family) and left with this new aunt's family to go to my mom's brother's house which is also in Kajang.

Later we maintained formation and went on to visit my dad's other sister's house in Sepang. This is where we regrouped with the first aunt on top of my dad's other sister. Basically, Sepang was over flowing with my dad's sisters. If you were keeping tabs (and you should), there've been 4 aunts altogether. In one Raya day.

So, what do you do at relatives houses when you come visit the during first day of Raya?

You eat. My dad sleeps.
Nom. Nom. Nom.

Snore.

You take and pose for loads and loads and loads and loads of pictures.
See that behemoth of a man on the left? Behind him, totally eclisped by his girth, is my brother and a cousin. Damn, you're huge Abah.

Dammit, people. We should be able to get this right already.

You eat somemore.
Nom. Nom. Nom.

You take more goofy, unnecessary pictures.
Themed photo.
Left to right: I'm confused, I want to play with the big cousins, I overact, I'm boring, I'm actually posing.

You be merry.
What's so funny, Maksu? We are. Yes, we are. We are hilarious.
Everybody: 'Yes, we are, aren't we?'
Hilarity ensued.

Of course, there's the bersalaman and bermaafan.
100% posed.

Best looking cousin couldn't pass up a photo op. He's cute though, right?
He's 15, you perverts. Sheesh.

Day one of Raya for me ended at 1.04 am. It wasn't all torture, I have to admit.

My Raya and I Care About Yours.

Selamat Hari Raya! Maaf Zaher Batin.
How was yours?
Mine?Never ending chores, obnoxious relatives, endless travel, violation of diet, non stop gabbing, unfamiliar beds, infinite squabbling, perpetual fund depleting and constantly pretending I'm joyously feeling the Raya spirit.

3rd Day of Eid, at our Kuantan hideout. Fast becoming less amused with the whole holiday idea and fast running outta Raya garbs.

..in our family potrait, we looked pretty happy, we looked pretty normal...

Postscript: Who blogs on Raya anyways? What kind of loser existence do you live to want to blog on Raya? Or even 2nd day of Raya, at that? Even I'm not that big of a loser.

Postscript: Lost 1.5 kgs during the fasting month. Yay. Gained 2kgs in 2 days of Raya. Die.

Vanity, Thy Name is Woman

My favorite stylist, Tommy, apparently has left the hair salon I frequent.
And since my hair is a disaster, I'm in quite a tizzy right now.

What now, brown cow.

Off with the Old

Said a few "hullo"s and a few more "guidbye"s this coupla weeks.

My bestest office buddy got transferred to Seremban. Office would be unbearable now. Oh waily, waily, waily.

That's her in green next to me. We're drinking to her escape from Hell. The unsuspecting Debbie (in purple on the other side of me), is her replacement, newly arrived from the warehouse and has no flaming idea what kind of twisted, horror movie she's now the lead cast in.

Welcomed a new supervisor (the old one voided her warranty and therefore had to be replaced). Am very content with my fresh from the box supervisor. It seems because of her many and somewhat dubious connections (not explaining), the Midget Schizo Witch a.k.a the big boss is a little erm, cautious in dealing out her normal shit to new supervisor. Yay.

Farewell to a friend who's off to have a blast on a three (THREE!) weeks vacation in Spain. Green. Jealous. Only I'm not really happy that he got to go and I'm stuck here so this farewell is like a fraction of a full farewell. Cheap imitation of what a real farewell will be like. Go play in traffic la, Ed. But don't forget my matador lithograph, ok.

Said hello to a new member of the extended A.O Bintang family. Cousin Deedy got married last month. Welcome Reena, we really hope you don't find out the truth about the circus you got yourself married into.
You can't really see the pengantin because that green blob brother of mine is blocking the bride. But you can see Deedy in his purple suit. Try living that down, cousin. Hahaha.

However, we are also saying Auf wiedersehen (we don't really say that. I had to google to find out how that's spelt) because soon both newlyweds are moving to San Jose.

Bought a new watch. It was on 20% discount. Sweet.

Dad replaced the cassette player in my car with a CD player. Way to catch up with technology, huh? It got embarrassing when the younger nieces and nephews genuinely didn't know what a cassette was. When I told them it's a box of string decoration for Christmas trees they took it literally. Only it wasn't a Christmas tree, it was the pokok bunga kertas depan rumah. Ah youth.

Afzan had a baby boy. I'm delirious for her.
Haven't seen nor touch the youngling yet.

Dad also got a brand new JVC HDD video camera for the house. Who cares it's probably 27 years and 100 family trips too late?

Lastly, not leastly, I'm saying "ta" to the last 25 years of my glorious life.

And saying "harlo harlo" to indeterminate more awesome years ahead! Wha hae!
Crivens. Quarter of a century old, I am.

Hell in a Handbasket

Read this. Malay version here.

Take the time to savor the utter hilarity of Part IV; Clause 13(7) and Part VI Clause 24 of the Act. (Page 18 and 24).

Tell me how this is not a fuckfest of the highest order. Go ahead. Just try.

Which kindergarten retard drafted this bill? Did he write in red crayon or blue? I bet he can't even pronounce DEOXYRIBONUCLEIC ACID without a visual aid and nap time.

And it's your problem too.
For your information, this Bill of Act is on the super fast track. The August Hall of Malaysian Parliament has already denied the request for the Bill to be studied further by a Special Committee (where after sometime a flawed Bill will be put to right/rest) and has announced the Second Reading to be had soon.
Soon (before you even know it) this will be a f.u.b.a.r worthy of it's own feature movie, a limited edition duvet set and an island named after it. Whatever island we have left not lost to Singapore, that is.

Fucking A.

Straighten Up and Fly Right

My life, as it is, is in complete shambles. I know this and I don't like it.
Things are to be done to overcome this. Measures.
I know this also.
Control needs to be asserted back into getting my life back in line.
I know this too.
I should do the asserting of control back in my life so that it will be shamble-free.
I am aware of this.
The problem is, should it be, I find myself simply..
TOO FUCKING LAZY.

"laziness is not a bad thing because- you figure it out yourself lah"

Lady Noisemaker

Have you ever met somebody who you think is just..noisy?
Not talkative-noisy, I don't mean chatty. Chatty is fine. Talkative is alright. (Eff off, Lizzam. I'm perfect)
Just noise-ful. Full of noise. A noisemaker.

I met such a person last week. At a meeting. Which is not a suitable place to be a noise-ful person. But she was.
How should I describe her?
She didn't say anything (which goes with what I said about talk-noisy versus noiseful-noisy)
But she constantly emitted various sounds that was not necessary. i.e. noises.
She jangled. She jingled. She banged. She clicked. She clanged. She clinked. She slurped. She buzzed. She was a bloody Onomatopoeia.
And she sat next to me.
I understand she created all these noises involuntarily. But it got irritating to hear the cacophony of the sounds she created nonetheless. Everything she did and everything on her would just screamed and hissed and barked. Her bangles, her wheezing breath, her chewing, her vibrating hand phone with some sort of small bells accessories, her handbag which she would not stop reaching into, her frequent shifting on the chair, her weird rattling pen with dangly bits, the lip smacking thing she did every 5 seconds, her loud bajukurung with the even louder scarf..EVERYTHING! She was this tempest of constant noises. Nothing about her was quiet. Nothing was restful. I swear, even her blinking was an auditory assault.

I came out of the meeting jittery as a junkie hamster made from coffee and found myself refraining from making any conversation with anyone for the next 5 hours. I needed my quiet. Lord, did I ever.

This is not her. But she was as noisy. Noisier, even. Stupid pig.

What Do You Call a Happy Burger?

This post is also titled; Spring Cleaning My Phone Camera Album Because I Take Crappy and the Most Ridiculous Pictures of the Weirdest Stuff.

Tell me if that's not a gorgeous looking plate of grub.
This was my highly aesthetic and very appetizing plate during Ed's Western cookout some time back. We had steak, salad, steamed veges and mashed taters. Good food.
I make awesome mashed potatoes and salad, I don't mind saying so myself.

This is my perfect Saturday morning afternoon.
Tak mandi, in my jammies, playing scrabble by myself with LoTR full volume on the TV, ignoring the piles of laundry that requires folding in the background.
Throw in a Stephen Fry in a James Denton body with Eddie Izzard humor and Jon Stewart wit, I could die happy.
I'll have two of those, thanks. With fries.

This is the view from my cubicle. Sunsets are lovely and I rate my day according to how many squirrels I can see running around before I finish my coffee.

But then again, the boss crazy-o-meter trumps any squirrel, regardless how many. The windows could be splattered with squirrels and I still would have a crummy day thanks to that monster.

So yeah, what do you call a happy burger?

Bergembira!
Har har har.
This joke would be lost on you if you don't speak Malay and have no sense of humor and have no pants that is made out of jam.

Made my day.

We've fully evolved from Single-Cell Organism, right?
So I should put in Multiple Cell, right?
So tempted.


Damn, this made me spurt water all over my keyboard.

Put my head down and cry

It's Monday and I came in work 20 minutes late.
I haven't had time to make my coffee.
I already have the meetings minutes that I've had to redo 6 times ready because I was supposed to send them to the boss's office last week, my supervisor just dropped a 330 (three hundred and thirty) pages UNESCO Budget report on my desk asking me to an executive summary by Friday, and about 6 other various letters for me to attend to; on top of the menstrual cramps.
It was father's day yesterday and it didn't go well.
Because (and only because) my browser's start-up page is the Postsecret Blog, I went for quick read through before starting on work.
I (almost) cried when I read this postcard.

Happy Belated Father's Day, Abah.
I'm sorry and I love you.

Let's get me some coffee now, shall we?
Blubbering, hormonal, emo mess is not a good look on me.

Caffeine Zombie

Waking up for work everyday at the ungodly hours of 6.15 am, I find myself unbearably grouchy and unsuited in a civilized capacity when I'm at the office until about noon. Also, I would be sleepy despite the mountainous amount of work to be done. After a week being a walking, half awake, time bomb, I resorted to drinking a cup of coffee in the morning. It helped. Of course it would. I was afraid of exactly that, actually.

My long history with coffee started in 2000, about the time I started working for Starbucks (big surprise huh?). I became a semi-junkie then but it wasn't really bad. I needed coffee but was still considerably functional without. I had to stop the habit when I started Matrix in 2001, mainly because my supply of free coffee ended but also because the story of another barista at Starbucks getting a severe stomach ulcer due to his heavy coffee drinking (2 carafes every morning, noon, evening and night) scared the beans out of me. Quitting coffee wasn't easy, nor was it especially hard. I just switched to Coca Cola instead. Har har. Same shit, different day. What was weird was my caffeine addiction got increasingly bad when I was hooked on Coke as opposed to when I was drinking it in latte form. At my worst, I would drink two 1.5 liters bottles in one night (I was cramming for a final).

This went on until I was in Uni. Off coffee completely, but Coke junkie, big time. It got so bad that I began slicing myself, spending all my money on it and doing everything just to get my next fix. Before I knew it I was living in a cardboard box in the streets, begging for drug money from people, not knowing where or what day it was. My ruin, was complete... KIDDING.

But it got bad enough that my mom had to conspire behind me with my roommates to make sure I wasn't drinking too much if it. I guess it got bad enough that the addiction had to be managed. It worked. Slowly, I weaned off that stuff. Still dabbled with it some time but not as bad. Yay me. Hello healthy kidneys.

So back to my current working conditions. Coffee every morning now. I was worried that I could be falling off the wagon so yesterday (after 1 solid month of drinking coffee every morning, 5 days a week) I put myself to the test, and I jumped off the deep end too. The most extreme condition imaginable; Monday morning, first day back after a long school holiday, I refused myself coffee. The verdict? Bloody hell. Tie me up, drench me in glue and roll me in hay; I am officially off the wagon!

Had withdrawal, bad. I was so sleepy and useless, I managed to finish one fifth of what was on my to do list, and there were only three things to do. You do the math. Also, I could barely contained myself from snapping everyone's heads off for no apparent reason other than their mistake to assume I'm a fully developed humanoid capable of taking control of my homicidal tendencies. And me minus coffee on a rampage would not discriminate (read: includes bosses and superiors). Not a very smart career move. Suicidal, even, yes? So today I'm back to ingesting my usual dosage of stomach lining drano. The only bright side to all this mess is that the Aik Cheong coffee in a bag I'm taking probably only contains 2% coffee. Yeah, I take what I can.

Lord. I'm so weak. So so weak. *curls up into a ball and cries next to the hot water dispenser*

I Heart Penang

After almost 20 years, I returned to Penang for a brief sojourn last Sunday. And man, it was nothing short of amazing rediscovering Penang. I thought of writing at length, waxing lyrical about the whole experience, but then again, I'm crazy busy and when you have 15 letters pending your attention, it's hard to get inspiration to write anything.

But I loved Penang. And I hope to go back for a longer stay. And I'm eternally grateful to Kailan and Eelin for lugging me around town. And to Ida for meeting up with me and introducing me to your fiance.

I should elaborate but I can't. For the time being, I take everything bad I ever said about Penang cause Penang is awesome!

Catching up on life

My first real job (Starbucks barista doesn't count), I basically did nothing for 2 whole years. They hired me, gave me a laptop, a cubicle and a fancy title. I was the Business Development Executive. I had nothing to do. No sales target, no portfolios, no performance report. Nada. But they paid my salary, gave me a brand new laptop when the old one went bust, gave me the usual bonuses, the works. Except they didn't. They forgot to give me something to do. And I was happy, as you can rightly imagine. I did some typing and research work for my boss, threw in some opinions and lame ideas for the business expansion plan, that was about it. Sometime I helped some other colleagues with their work. Mostly my time there was filled with downloading numerous movies and t.v shows, net browsing, reading thousands upon thousands eBooks (downloaded illegally) and quietly not being too obvious that I'm doing nothing.
But even from the start I know I had to get out of that place. As ideal as the situation seemed, I realized I was wasting the peak years of my work career doing nothing. I realized I wasn't growing, in fact I was veloping myself (the opposite of developing). I whined about it all the time. Really, I did. Go ahead. Ask anyone. And I also knew that the sweet deal (get paid doing nothing) can't possibly last. One day the management might wise up and I prefer to be long gone before that. It might not be anytime soon, but you never know.
So I left that job for this one. And oh boy, when it rains, it pours. Work. Is. Crazy. To top it all off, the heavens was kind enough to bestow upon me the gift of a hobbit Nazi boss with a Napoleon complex. Oh joy. And so the whining continues. Go ahead. Ask anyone. Hoho.
But as one friend candidly (with zero trace of sarcasm) stated when I was in the midst of my work lament, "So, you're having fun la eh? I can tell you're having fun,"; and I guess I am having a tiny, weeny, itsy, bitty, puny, tad, wee, bit of fun juggling the work load meant for 4 pack mules. No, seriously. Because, and I mean this, it's good to feel needed, to be necessary. And because it's nice to know you're earning your pay. It's fun to feel the rush chasing that impossible deadline. It's great to make calls for other reason than to tell mom I'm having dinner out. It's awesome to sign on that dotted line in some important letter my staff made (which I had them redo 3 times, I was being nice, ok?). It's wonderful to speak up in a meeting about something. It's down right near orgasmic running the last spell check on that report I laboriously been working since 9am and submitting it to the boss. It's fucking fantabulous knowing the decisions I make would mean something to the ministry. Power rocks. So hell yeah, I'm having fun. Surprised? As was I.

Just don't tell anyone.
And they need to pay my salary already. Seriously. I'm fudging broke and I don't do poverty very well. What the hell is taking them so long? Retards running the ministry, I tell you.
(There, I ended this post with a whine, balance is restored)

Work

My boss is the devil's incarnate. Working with her is ongoing the tortures through all the 7 levels of hell, on loop. Shall tell all about it but for now I have to fend off the hell hounds.

Dear Mak

It's mother's day and unlike every other year you might think this year's celebration sucks because instead of our customary ice-cream cake from BR, I only bought you a tub of Wall's Vanilla ice-cream. Instead of me making breakfast for you, I woke up late and you had to make them for me. Instead of a special, well thought of, nicely wrapped present presented with my usual gravitas and aplomb, I told you the 3kg of mangos I bought at the pasar malam yesterday and dumped on your lap in their shiny plastic bag is my mother's gift to you this year.

And yet, you're okay with it.

And yet, you laughed through the day and reminded me to wish my aunties happy mother's day too.

And yet, you were the one who said it's alright for me to give you this crappy mother's day celebration and you understand the situation (that being me deprived of 3 months salary)

So Happy Mother's Day, Mak. I love you more than you know and I wish you know that I think you're cooler than any other moms I know. I'm sorry I'm such a deplorable daughter but I hope you know that I'm trying to be better for you. And I hope you enjoy the surprise bouquets of 1 dozen roses, 1 dozen lilies and 1 dozen carnations I arranged to have sent to your school tomorrow.

Have a good one and may Allah bless you.

Kissis and Hugsus,

Ila
-yor adorable dotter-

TIME's 100 Most Influential

Have you heard?

Our very own Anwar Ibrahim made the Time's 100 World's Most Influential People list. And he's ranked ninth! How about that. Not too shabby, eh? While being Malaysian and the first to admit his sheer influence over our country's recent political structure renovation *cough*PAS*cough*PKR*cough*; it's strangely more exhilarating to know that the rest of the world thinks the same. Deservedly so. He was the Leonidas, showing the ever haughty `B&N (Xerxes) that they're not invisible, they are not infallible, they are accountable, they too can bleed. The Immortals, we put their name to the test.. (300 binge last night, sorry). Finding out he made the list (have I said he's ranked number 9?!), I felt the real pride of national achievement. Which I didn't feel even when we sent our first space tourist* for a vacation to space. Or any of the numerous previous, highly celebrated, so-called pencapaian negara (read: useless expeditions to the North/South Pole, swimming the Eng-fricking-lish Channel, Everest, etc etc). Yet, finding out Anwar Ibrahim made number 9 on this list, I felt real national pride. Last I felt this way was when the Malaysia team won Amazing Race Asia I. Heh.
And he ranked 9th, you know. Way ahead Oprah (22). After Barrack, Hilary and The Dalai Lama(okay, I'll give). After George Dubya too (well, idiots needs influential leaders too, I guess). Ninth! Even omnipotent Brad and Angelina is way back on number 21 (it is the Time's List).

For the rest of your ignoramus, here's some links on the Number 9 on Time's List the World Most Influential People. Anwar Ibrahim on Wiki and the Time's Article.

* for the last 2 days the news have been showing places in Malaysia namely Pahang and Sepang that are without the basic amenities of electricity and running water. They don't have electricity and clean tap water (yeah, sounds ridiculous the second time around too). Let's send some other useless schmuck to space, why don't we. Spend another million or so on that.

Happy Earth Day!

It's Earth Day, and being the tree hugger that I am, I am proud to say that I played my part and chipped in some extra help to conserve the environment today. Today, I went online shopping. Hurrah. How could that remotely helped anyone, you asked? Well, I online. shopped. ..I see I probably need to draw this out for you, eh?
You see, when I spend too much money online instead of the normal physical transaction, I use less paper. Less paper for printing money on since I only pay electronically and less paper for the non existent receipt also less paper for the paperbag I don't use. (Yes, they'll still have to use paper to wrap the stuff they'll post to me later but I did say I'm helping the environment today, didn't I? And they promised to used recycled paper. Earth still wins) Less paper, less trees cut down, greener earth, happy earth. Ta dah.
You're welcome, earth.

But seriously though, little things you could do to help around;

• refuse plastic/paper bags when purchasing things. If it's small enough to carry or to put in your handbag, you don't need the bags anyway right?
• try to practice using shopping bags (the reusable cloth/canvas/sturdy plastic ones)when buying groceries. I have heaps. I could give you one if you want. Avoid using the thin bags that you can only use once. Do you have any idea how long it takes to degrade that stuff. Bring your own bag to the market. Make sure you have some old newspapers to wrap the wet, gooey, icky stuff.
  
• print both sides of paper (sounds easy but harder to put into practice)
• register for online accounts for credit cards, banks, etc. This means less paper are used to print for statements/bills every months.
• care more about your purchase. Do not support companies/product that aren't environment friendly or in non degradable packaging.
• just fucking recycle. I think the ozone hole is a good size now for you to start, no?
• reuse, don't refuse. Donate things before chucking them out. Waste management is a serious problem.

Happy Earth Day, Y'All!

Missed out on some hilarious Rudy and JJ Earth Day Special show this morning. Bummer. Hope they'll re-air.

The Gloody Letter That Comes After 'A' and Hefore 'C'

Am at work, first day at my new jot. I got the department I (so holdly) asked for. They gave me a very nice cunicle with a view. Went on the intro-tour of whole juilding. Met arout 6 millions people and smiled until my cheeks cramped. So far, I'm liking it. People are nice. The offices (there are 6 levels of it) are really nice; the minister's and the high level officers' offices are frankly meyond awesome. And to top it all off, I'm hoping for this department (which I so fervently asked repeatedly for) would live up to it's name and I get to join the fun. Nut for the meantime, I'm happy to go through the heaps of 'fail meja' and 'senarai serahan tugas' to 'terkhidmat untuk negara' yetter.

My one very small, very puny complain though; can I get another keyhoard? The one I've got now can't do the one letter; the one that comes after 'A' and pefore 'C'. Y'know, the letter that makes sense of this statement I'm awout to make:
"slimey, sizzare keysoard this, what russish. Sos sossed the sall to the seaming sand of sushmen srother sefore suying a slasted soscat with sooss"

India Pictures. More of 'em.

I promised a travelog-esque post on my trip to India but by Io's ankle, I'm fugging lazy. So I'm putting up random pictures from the trip and hope everyone would be sufficiently entertained.

Pictures from our Taj Visit. Everybody should know about Shah Jehan, beloved wife, yadda yadda.. the Taj is that gorgeous with ridiculously intricate stone designs. Flat gorgeous. The addmission fee for foreigners are around RM100 (as opposed to RM10 for locals) and you get to spend as long as you want in the compound. The weather was alright , a little hot but nothing compared to home. You can't mess with a girl who lives in KL and traipse around Labuan weather with the best of them. Bring it on! (yells Nella from her shady, airconditioned office)That's the Taj's side view. Which is no difference from the front view, lateral view, dorsal view. Genius architecture that it is.

Terrorizing the locals for a picture. The shoe cover was provided with every admission fee for foreigners. Or you could opt to take your shoes off. We like the very stylish covers. Tres chic, non?

View from my hotel rooftop. Yes, that's the Taj. Woke up at 6am to watch the Taj at sunrise. Hence the bleary, basi look. Ignore me and look at the Taj already, will you.

Siblings at a photostudio with the Taj Mahal backdrop. They're on discount. Eiffel Tower backdrop was also on discount but that would be too cheesy, we think.

Stay tune for the next installment where I shall post more (disturbing) picture of myself having a nuclear implosion (like having a blast, only more fun) in India.

It's like a mango, only different

I'm back from India and from my PTD induction course in Terengganu. I'm dark, aching, wigging out and not happy.

Shall regale the masses (all 4 of them) with stories of my back to back adventures later. Meantime, here's some pictures to appease you lot(the aforementioned 4). Pictures of happier days. When I wasn't so dark, when I was ache-free, calm and relatively happier. Good old days, them 15 days ago. Sigh.

Camwhoring with my sister.

I can't rightly remember what this building is.

Poppies at the royal garden of Fatehpur Sikri.

Wind Palace of the Pink City.

The happy clan (minus one) at the Amber Fort.

Pwetty oliphaunt at the Amber Fort.

Crazy fun with Amanda celebrating the Holi on April 22nd. It was beyond awesome.

You Don't Talk About Fight Club

As the esteemed Brig. Gen. (r) Dato Haji Kamarul Ariffin Haji Othman once said,

..the first rule about going to India is that don't go to India..

And he thus continued by saying,

..the second rule: refer to rule number one..

So me (hopefully, God's willing) being the presence of the great Taj Mahal tomorrow would be my way of saying sod off, uncle.

Also, this is my last day at work today. It feels so good. Everyone should quit their job too. Seriously. I'm hopping with joy. Or it could be the psyched traveling jitterbug from the impending trip. Either way. I'm feeling pretty good right now.

Tagial Obligation

Cause Lynn and Afzan tagged me several millenia ago. Let's start with the more ancient tag.

(Aku alihbahasa eh, Afzan)
1. Superhero power I want: I would like to have no bodily smell.
2. Vhy? : Because. (You can probably guess how much thought I've put into answering this tag)
3. Downside of this power : I would have no smell. Should the trend of the future favors people with BO, I would be screwed.
4. My superhero nickname : Cauliflower-Man. -Girl. Whichever serve the merchandising function best.
5. My motto : Smell my fart. You can't, can you? *Insert evil laughter*
6. Sworn Enemy : Secondary school girls/boys who's not contributing to the deodorant industry. Or Too-Much-Cheap-Cologne Guy.
7. Official vehicle : Awan Guling ala Goku. Damn cool.
8. Day job : Perfumier.

Here's from Lynn
10 Things About Me That Might Freak You Out.
1. I've an encounter with aliens. Or as I like to call them, extra terrestrial friends of different form. Don't ask.
2. I've had plastic operation done on one area of my body.
3. One of my extended family (relatives) is adopted and only I know about it, other than the mom and dad.
4. I can't sleep on green sheets.
5. I hate people who likes specific cartoon characters.
6. I can't feel anything on my left top earlobe.
7. Strawberry shampoos give me nightmares.
8. I had my first sex dream when I was 20. Don't ask.
9. I've snogged girl(s) before but have not done that to any guy.
10. I'm probably lying about one or more (or all) stuff on this list.

So there. Done my duty. Now I'm tagging everyone on my blog list (scarce as it is) and everyone else who feels like doing it.

Some Cheese with that Whine

Sometimes, good things happen to me and I'm not a complete and total fucktard that I don't realize it. Or be thankful for it. Like now, I have good things happening to me (when it rains, it pours) and it's only right that I write about those happy moment too. Not just the whiney moments. Balance, see.

..So..

Good Things Number 1: PTD. I've got it. Results came out the 25th and I got it. Offer letter is still in the mail so I am not really sure what's going to happen. But basically, I've got a real good job offer that is worth thinking about.

Good Things Number 2: Bonus baby! Feb's pay is in and good gosh golly, look at that account balance. Let me soak the moment in before clicking away to pay my loans, credit card and bills. Right now, this moment, I'm rich.

Good Things Number 3: Family Trip next month. Insya Allah. MAS Trade Fair last weekend had some wicked prices on airfare. We took the chance to plan out our annual family trip and I'm stoked. March can't come soon enough.

Good Things Number 4: My weird, pseudo diet is going admirably well. Meeting up with Shiren Monkee some weeks back and seeing how much weight she lost (She joined a gym and also doing yoga and now she looks awesome!) prompted me to stop stuffing my gob with food so much. So far so good. Lost a few. I'm not so hungry all the time now and I don't have to worry about going up a bra size (a good reason as any to lose weight). I have 2 more (sale) La Senzas I haven't worn.

Good Things Number 5: Scored big (big!) 7 letters words on 3 consecutive Scrabble games. Played 'palsied', 'mashed' and 'hangers'. The last word was on a triple word square lagi. Woot! Hell yeah. ..What? It's a bloody good damn thing to me, this is. Shutup.

Good Things Number 6: I'm in love* with my Flavor of the Week.
* not to be mistaken with the real thing.

Good Things Number 7: Quality time with friends. Had a friggin' awesome time with my bestest mates throughout February. Plans for more playdates with a few more this weekend and next week. Life is fantastic when you have crazy beautiful people like these to hang out with. I don't even mind the utter demolition of my pseudo diet whenever we hang out (because it's always always over food). Sante!

Alhamdulillah.

Funny twinge in my marrow for more good things to come. Here's to good things happening to you too! Hear hear.

Lobster's Favorite Things: Subway's OR cookies

it's like Oprah's, only with crappier stuff.

om..nyom..nyom..

For the second exciting installment of this..thing I'm doing, I looked at my lunch decided it's going to be the very delicious Subway Oatmeal Raisin cookies.
I once hit the peak of my obsession with this deceivingly unattractive food item and tried to make my own Oatmeal Raisin cookies. I scoured the internet for a seemingly reliable recipe and tried it as soon as I reached home. The results weren't exactly the same but it was alright. It was the color of albino puke but I got the chewy center to crumbly edges ratio pretty close to Subway's (think Gap of Rohan-close).
I decided when I woke up this morning that I was going to have a Subway with their OR cookies for lunch. Stopped at the nearby Subway and proceeded to order a number 7 on Hearty (I'm never sure how to correctly pronounce this word. Har-T? Her-T?) Italienne (this I know how to pronounce. Rhymes with 'alien') bread, hold the chili pickle, mustard, ketchup, some more mustard. Opted to take the meal deal, add some 5 bucks and get a cola and cookies of choice. As usual. Simple enough.
Imagine my surprise upon discovering that they no more give you 2 cookies now, but only one in the meal deal. ONE! Quel dommage! I asked the staff, thinking she might unconsciously skimped me, to which she replied that it's the new meal package. One cookie (ONE!), cola and sandwich. She explained some crap about fuel price hike in 2008 affecting the costs of whatever and rather than increase their (already exorbitant) price, Subway decided to cut back on the cookies instead.
I was obsessed enough with the cookies to fork out the RM1.37 for another piece. Yes, I'm easy.
But now that I'm full, obsession sated for the time being and had moments to reflect; I'm incensed. There were no fuel hike this new year, thus rendering all the argument Subway gave about skimping my one piece of cookie meaningless. They're simply cheap pieces of turd, bent on making 400% return on every scrap of regurgitated synthetic chow they tricked us into buying by manipulating the vulnerable need for acceptance and inclusive effort of taking part of the newest and trendiest muck consumption the western world deemed indulgent enough to bring to our pitiful, culturalless shores.
Franchise capitalism at their best. Bastards.

Yes, I still think their Oatmeal Raisins are the shizz. What's your point?

Shakespeare..

..I'm verily not. As I was valiant in effort and pespiration sorting out the sheafs of cereal-kind fodder on my desk yester eve, I came across this scant dribbling I made. 'Twas done when I had to while away the grains, some time ago. Lo, here's how it goes:

I'm so hungry
it's not even funny.
I could eat a rhino
if it's dipped in curry.
My stomach's empty,
there's nothing in it,
even a lint nary.
I wish someone would just
feed me.
I know people in Chilele,
could hear my tummy.
It's empty.
Growling. Hungry. Not happy.

How doth thy liketh it? Entrancing scribe vomit, 'tis not? Indeed, the very action that sway the quill that was plucked off an ancient raven's wings to this parchment is masterly as their content, so masterful such depiction. A guiless guile. To the common, splendor'd, even. Aha.

Love's Labours Lost, Act I, Scene i, Ferdinand to Costard
"Then for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter
that obscene and preposterous event, that draweth
from my snow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, which
here thou viewest, beholdest, surveyest, or seest;

Lobster's Favorite Things : Nightwatch

It's like Oprah's only I'm not giving it out .

This is my favorite book. It is Night Watch by Terry Pratchett, as you can see. This book is wonderful and very delicious when eaten with fruit spread. Yes, that's a rubber band holding the book together. It started falling apart 1 year ago. You know, when you get to certain age you just let yourself go. There's only so much abuse you can take. Let it go, just let it go... . I'm gonna start my geekspeek now so you may want to step back.
I love this book more than I do my brother. I love it because Vimes kicks ass in this. I love it because you get to see Reg, Nobby, Colon, the ladies of negotiable affections, young Sam Vimes and mostly Vetinari when they were younger. The only way they could make this better is if they had more Carrot. That'll be awesome. More Carrot. It helps your night vision, you know, carrots. Also, this is when Sam gets little Sam. Wow. My favorite part of the book is A) when the committee of the The Glorious People's Republic of Treacle Mines Road were discussing what they want to put on their new crest (Truth! Justice! Reasonably Priced Love! Freedom! And a hard-boiled egg) B) the ingenious way Keel dismantled all attacks on the barricade. C) any scene with Mossy Lawn or Vetinari D)Night Watchman's oath

It's more than a Discworld book. You'd notice societal implication and political nuances in it. It is a Ankh Morpork history happening and it adds depth to all the other books in the series. On top of the drama and suspense of the plot and colorful characters. Pratchett is a bloody genius, by Io! This book is witty, mind boggling, fucking well written, entertaining and most of all, funny. There are jokes that you wont get the first time around but will make you snort out rice through your nose the next time you read. It's not a book. It's an evolution, in a handy paperback shape. I always bring a book when I go anywhere and this book is my most oft travel companion. Would explain the dragged-behind-a-garbage-truck look.

So there. The thing I love most in this world. This book. Can you tell?

Stay tune for the next installment of Nella's Favorite Things. la la tu tu tu la la laa (theme song)

Hungover

Went to a wedding last night at the JW Marriot. It was my first Chinese Wedding and I had crazy fun. Crazy. Fun. Between the 7-course French gourmet dinner and the open bar and good live band music and the endless (endless!) YaaaaaaAAAaaaAAAmmmm SeeEEEEnnNNGGGgg toasting to the bride and the groom (and to the families and the guests and friends), I enjoyed myself tremendously. It was a tad long winded but the company was awesome and the ballroom looked amazing as did the happy couple; Alesia and Julian. The event ended at midnight and it was more than torture for me to wake up this Monday morning to go to work.
Here are some super crappy pictures of the whole shindig. It was taken on my Motorola just so you know.
Monday was invented so that we have something definite to hate. Groan. Hold head.

By the by; I have 4 ex classmates who are preggers right now. Fatin, Anne, Irmazian and Afzan. Afzan got married last November. As happy as I am for them (delirious), I still think .. you know what, nevermind. I am happy for them and let's just leave it at that, shall we. Congrats, you fertile lot!

Sappy

I never imagined I'd know it for myself. My heart... It feels like my chest can barely contain it. Like it's trying to escape because it doesn't belong to me any more. It belongs to you. And if you wanted it, I'd wish for nothing in exchange - no feats. No goods. No demonstrations of devotion. Nothing but knowing you loved me too. Just your heart, in exchange for mine.

Just finished watching Stardust for the nth time and feeling the fuzzies. I like the sheer fluffiness of the lines above. I could almost forgive them for not giving Yvein any eyebrows and asking her to imitate a bobble head when delivering these lines. Almost, but no cigar. Sigh.

Waiting for My Godot

My life, lately has been ridiculously lame. I wake up, drive to work, eat lunch, drive back from work, have dinner with the family and go to bed. Repeat ad tedium. Sometime, if I think I can stand the excitement, I play Scrabble, Monopoly or Boggle. Mostly Scrabble with myself. Nothing else. Just sheer repetition one long day after another. It's driving me nuts.
It's been almost 3 months since I've been anywhere (Taiping) and 6 months (SIX!!) since my last overseas trip. It's almost unnatural. We Shuhaimes aren't meant to stay in one place for so long. It's genetically coded for us to ever so often grab our passport and a suitcase (or in my case, a backpack) and just head off into the sunset wherever the wind might take us.
When flipping through the channel last night I came across an ancient Craig David video clip on a beach and the overwhelming urge to just drive to the nearest beach was terrifying. And I don't even like Craig David. I'm a fairly impulsive being and at that moment I just felt I missed the beach so much and also I'm maddeningly bored of being stationary, I was so damn close to grabbing my car keys and going off at 3 am to Port Dickson. But apparently I still had some resemblance of self control. That and because the gate keys were with Dad.
I need to get out of this place. The thing is, I'm farking broke (January 2008 is stupid expensive and it just wont end). I'm just afraid one day I get into the car and the next thing you know I've driven all the way to Hanoi without me realizing it. And smeared all over my hood are pieces of rainforest trees, a monk, two buffalo, a straw purse, landmines and whats left of a Thai cooking oil smuggler. Which is not possible, of course but all the same, worrying. Worrying because I just might snap and do something as stupid. Not possible because Dad keeps my passport with the gate keys.
Right now, excitement is like Godot. I am waiting for him but he's not coming.

Star Light, Star Bright

Isn't this movie just simply gorgeous? I heart Gaiman to the power of infinity(I love his American Gods and Good Omen) but I haven't read Stardust yet. I was going to, then the movie came out and I still haven't read it. Anyways..
Watched the movie, loved it and am all over it.
Brings back memories of watching the Princess Bride (my sister's all-time favorite movie) speaking of which, is probably one of the more funny movie ever made, methinks. It was ages ago when I last saw it but I still remember the movie (Princess Bride) is hilarious. Great movie, that. Classic, even. Oh Westley..
Back to Stardust. I know Gaiman wrote the book and Jonathan Ross (Jowaton Woss)'s wife co-wrote the screenplay. I didn't watch it when it came out in the cinema because..I don't know why. But I didn't and I'm sorry for that (but thank God for p2p! Yeah, I am cheap. Don't judge).
So I watched it last night and I absofarkinglutely love it.
Claire Danes was delightful, most of the time she doesn't look her 53 age at all. Snort. Tristan was a welcome fresh face (nothing worse than to have some assembly line Hollywood play him. So that's a disaster well dodged) and Pfeiffer (spelling?) was good, as usual. (Although her hag-act have nothing on what I imagine Granny Weatherwax's could be. But then you'd would call me too exacting.) The Mister Al Pacino was tad disappointing, I felt. He fell into the well-oiled trap of stereotyping the whoopsies, as they put it. He overacted a little (sacrilege!)and went for the generic ensemble of a flamboyant fruit. He was basically a flaming pineapple on a purple unicorn. But still great altogether. Ricky Gervais was a wonderful surprise as was Peter O Toole and Rupert Everett, however brief their screen time was. And I discovered the delicious actor who played young Dunstan Thorn (Ben Barnes) who is also going to be Prince Caspian. Yay. And I never imagine I would see the day that I could watch Sienna Miller and not hurl myself sick. Who woulda thunk.
I love the beautiful locations, resplendent costumes, witty banters and the overall great directions this movie has. The special effects were seamless and the editing flawless. The characters were very believable which is a big challenge for a fantasy novel adapted movie. And despite the predictable storyline, Stardust really commandeered respect by showcasing Gaiman's masterful, ingenious and fanciful albeit dark storytelling style.
My favorite part of the movie was the seven ghostly apparitions of Stormhold's former princes. Sheer comic.
So, great movie, yeah. It's definitely going to be on my Best Movies of All Time list. And I'm also going to go excavate our Princess Bride VHS tape, unearth the video player from the bowels of Unused Applicants that is 4 miles under the Mariana trench and watch that movie again.
Or, I could always p2p it. Oh, the joy technology brings.

Nhu Ya

How was your new year?

Mine was celebrated according to tradition i.e. I was sleeping and oblivious to anything.
Ho ho.

Celebrated my mom's birthday the next day.

Order was restored after the party. Only the 2 balloons remained as a testament to the festivity that was once held there.

Went to Ed's for some scrumptious dinner Reena and Ulfah scraped up on Saturday. Great food, great (albeit slightly mental) company and great view. Fireworks picture above is taken from Ed's balcony last year. Amazing view of KL from his place. Lucky bastard.

Ed and his marvelous brownie concoction. This was desert, of course. No one cared to stop eating during dinner long enough to take any pictures. Food was go-Ud. Also, that's Reena, kitchen goddess.

Camwhores, Ulfah and I. Our impression of a goldfish. Not too bad at all.
We look high don't we? It was probably the brownies. Ahem.

Been spending quite some time with a lot of my friends recently (and I'm glad) but not with this group of retardos I know. Kinda miss them. Oh well.