Najua: The Final Chapter

Oh God it feels awful, doesn’t it? Coming back after a long Raya break. Kind of feels like school again. And we tell the children to buck up. Tsk tsk shame on us. Well, for me, I was already back at the office since last Thursday so excuse me for not sharing your extra strong, double caffeinated Monday blues for today. I went past that phase last week. Much so when I had to spend my third Raya in the vicinity of Northport, Klang. Land of bad roads, oversized trailers and crow infested landfills. So don’t even talk to me about post-Raya depression.

Talking about depression, man, do I have something to tell you people. The subject on hand is none other than about the girl that I have been raving about for the past months. The girl that goes by the name of Najua.

Yes, maybe some of you have gotten tired of me talking about her and I promise you that this will probably be the last time I’ll mention her name on this blog. At least, I hope so. Because I said the exact same thing about Eiwa a few years back and look how well that turned out. Man, I really have to do something about my obsession with obsessions. Nice pun, huh? Anyway, okay, I admit, Najua is an obsession. No need to fuck around about that anymore. Screw all false pretences. Time for some cold hard truth.

I’m gonna lay it plain and simple. Najua is with Paul. Yes, by ‘with’ I mean as ‘in a relationship’, okay? Get the message? I, of course, am fucking disappointed. No, make that before. Before, I was disappointed. As for now…, now I am upset. And moving towards outrage. It’s not so much that I lost the battle for her, but I lost to a middle-aged, not-so-good-looking bloke from England with a receding hairline. I mean, seriously, what does he have that I don’t? Well, apart from money and power, that is. Oh wait, that’s probably it. Fucking money! And befriending the owner of the company to whom you work for which happens to be the girl's uncle! Oh how could I’ve been so blind!? Oh yeah, sure, and people tell me it’s love. Ah fuck love! What’s love gotta to do with it? It's all about those nifty little notes which comes with the Agung's face on it. You see what’s going on here? You see? This is why, this is exactly why good people like us have a hard time falling in love. These women, the same group of women who constantly complains about no being able to find a good man anymore these days could not spot one even when he is standing right under their noses. Besides, Paul’s penis is probably too big for her anyway. Najua is like Amy Mastura, y'see. She’s 4' 11'', this Najua, and Paul is like Sam Allardyce. Now, unless you’re a porn star, you and I know that spells incompatibility all over. You can’t shove a white board marker into a pencil sharpener. Something will get broken. And it won’t be a pretty sight.

I’m bitter. And I have every right to be bitter! But you know what? No one is to blame in this thing. Not Najua nor Paul. They’re just two confused individuals who during their ignorant endeavours on life, has left me hurt. Well, I’ve tasted even worse emotional pains before but this does hurt nevertheless.

I guess the situation now begs the question – what now? I still could go out with Najua – as friends, whatever fuck that means. But I’m certain she’ll try her very best to bring that old lugger Paul along. So, might as well forget about that. And to tell you the truth, he's not that funny. You know, lately, a few of my friends asked me what if Najua ever finds out about my blog. Well, before this I would’ve reacted in a horrified manner screaming “Oh fuck!! God forbid for that ever to happen!”. But now, if it does happens, I could calmly say that I couldn’t care less. As a matter of fact, I think it’d be better if she does finds out. So here’s to you, Najua, if you ever stumble upon this. Najua, you’re an amazing woman with such great potential in life and it is such a huge disappointed that you should fall for someone like Paul. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see how wrong you are for each other. Sure, you’ve known Paul a long time and you probably think, hey, what’s wrong with that? Well, nothing, really. But don’t you think it’d be better if he’s twenty years younger? I don’t know about your family but if my sister comes home one day with someone who my father think is old enough to be his brother then I think he’ll have a heart attack then and there. As for me, I’d sell one of my kidneys just to get a smuggled gun to off him.

Najua, Najua, oh Najua. How could you even think that you will find no one else after your ex? I’d say 8 out of 10 guys will confess to how beautiful you actually are. And the other 2 are Ridhu and Watai. And it’s not as if you’re a bimbo. You have a degree for God’s sake. You tell me yourself how proud you are of that fact and yet, your actions contradicts everything that you’ve said to me. All I’m saying is as much as you favour Paul, I really do think you deserve someone better. And it may not even be me but to pick Paul without even glancing at me? I take that as a personal insult. Of all your admirable qualities, Najua, your most notable weakness is probably your naïvity. The same trait that lead you to self-denial that your ex was really cheating on you and now, that you and Paul could actually have a future together. But maybe you will find happiness eventually. Hey, I’m glad if I’m wrong in saying that but I assure you it’ll be a journey full of hardship.

(sigh) My final say? Good luck to you, Najua. I just hope it’s a bigger lost for me than it is for you.

Now, for any one of you who now even much as think about notifying Najua about the existence of this blog by the time you've finished reading this, by the hair of a midget circus bear named Ralph, I forbid you. If Najua should ever find about this blog, it has to be self-discovery. I don’t care if it takes ten years from now before she even read this but, people, promise me this - no telling, no matter what. Unless if Sandra finds out about this first then the moment of truth would probably come sooner rather than later. I sincerely believe that woman is completely incapable of keeping a secret.

It’s enough that older men are aftering women my age, but a foreigner? Fuck this is just too much. Then what we local young men are left with? The ex-wives of the older men whom they left behind? What am I? Ashton Kutcher? I don’t care how good they still look. I don’t want used products! Damn these Hollywood trends. And we just blindly assume they’re cool. Well, aren’t we the clever ones.

Let’s close this chapter on Najua. She is no longer an issue. Well, at least it has been fun talking about her. It did give some direction to my blog for a while. Now that she’s become unavailable once again, I have no main issue to pursue anymore. Maybe I should attend more parties. But they always put on such terrible songs. When would they realize that Justin Timberlake actually couldn’t sing? And the same goes to Ashlee Simpson. And don’t even get me started on Paris Hilton.

Anyway, even though it has ended painfully (for me, at least) I thank you, Najua, for giving me hope and then crushing it to pieces, and to serve as an inspiration to It’s A Guy Thing albeit momentarily. And screw you, Paul.

Pre-Raya Celebrations

It’s Raya season again. A time of joy and lots of food. By this time it is safe to say that about 60% of the city’s population has gone back to their respective kampungs to be with their families. But what about the other 40%? Well, we’d like to welcome Raya in a rather different way.

A few of us got together, picked a bachelor pad, order in stacks of pizzas and watch Man Utd vs Liverpool. Sadly though, Liverpool lost. Not that I’m a Liverpool fan. I’m just anti-ManU.

That's Watai with the red cap, me with the cool headpiece from Seaworld Indonesia, Kme in the white Liverpool shirt, Jalak in the red Liverpool shirt and Ridhu in green.


On the balcony are Small Fries (left) and Macho the host (right). Cipoi's on the right sofa alongside Jalak who I have no idea what he was doing. The TV is on the right. That's why we were all looking in that general direction.


That's Manjit on the left. Another Man U supporter.


Tasha Scoinsssssss!!!!

Since the match ended around 10 pm, we just had to go out somewhere else. So, we decided to provide KL with some company. More specifically - Starbucks, KL Plaza. This is Watai's rendition of an artistic shot - me on his digicam screen.

So, people, on behalf of all (including Jalak's finger), Selamat Hari Raya.

Majlis Berbuka Puasa Bersama Anak-anak Yatim (but without the anak-anak yatim)

Remember I told you about the buka puasa session that’s to be held at the JW Marriot during the weekend? Well, it went down smoothly last Sunday. This is a little bit about that night.

First of all, it was great to have most of the invitees present. A total of 13 people came and as the project manager, I’d say it was a successful outing. The people present were mostly friends from our university days and we hadn’t had a gathering as big and momentous such as this for a long time. Probably since graduation, which was last December. So everyone was excited and looking forward to this night.

Sadly though, the venue itself was a tad disappointing. It was probably because of the haze and the absence of rain on that day but it was incredibly warm on the premises. It was if we were all sitting beside a hot spring rather than the hotel’s swimming pool. And the food wasn’t great either. There were hardly any highlights. I could point out the roast lamb and that’s probably just it. Even the dessert table had only five items on it. Naturally I’d expected more from 5 star hotel buffet. I guess it explains the relatively low price as compared to other hotel establishments.

But most importantly I think everybody had fun. Especially with Kak Nieta around. So, to all who came that night, I personally thank you for making it a memorable one. It made the RM700+ full payment I had to pay upfront for the reservation worthwhile. 'Til then, people.

Webek! Webek!

Chillin' after a hefty meal. That's me flanked by women. But I guess you'd probably knew that.

(left to right: Aritha, Me, Jes (at the front), Sasa, Irwan (at the back), Apau, Acai)

This is the shot ala paparazzi that Cipoi took (siap ade frame lagi). As you can see, from left to right, there's me, Irwan, Acai, Yusrizal, Small Fries, Aritha, Regina, Jes and Apau.

The Second Date, And Everything After

It was probably a month ago that during a casual evening drink with some of the boys and a healthy dose of cleavage at Syed Kelana Jaya that Cipoi made an unjustified remark on Najua to me. He called her a “backstabber”. I call it unjustified because he was obviously just ill-informed. And I didn’t even correct him. Mainly because if I did, then I had to lay out to him and the rest the whole detail surrounding the second date which had completely rendered the horrifying experience of the first date irrelevant. That’s right, people. I did go out a second date with Najua. Needless to say, it was awesome. But I didn’t blog it, nor told anyone about it. This would be the first time. I don’t know why I didn’t. Probably because I never got around the proper angle on how to tell everyone how great it went. It was great but nothing really extraordinary about it. A 40 year-old guy and an aunt in a silver Audi, now that’s extraordinary. But this one, it was just a good classic date. Kind of like staying at the Hilton. It’s just a great stay. Nothing more, nothing less.

However, I finally decided (maybe even compelled) to write something about it because as a consequence of not following up on the entre about the first date has left some, if not many, under the impression that Najua is a wretched, and maybe even vile, woman for the way my previous evening with her had ended. I, for one, would like to dispel all those beliefs.

The second date took place at Starbucks, KLCC. As for when, well, if the meeting with Cipoi was about a month ago, then the date with Najua could might as well be long before that. Anyway, to start off, taking her to Starbucks was actually a bad idea because it was then that I found out that she hates coffee. She likened black coffee as a watered version of an ashtray. Quite a harsh comment but she did mention it was all her mother’s doing. The woman practically banned coffee from all her offspring since birth. So Najua ordered a caramel macchiato instead. Mental note to self: no more coffee and cakes sessions with Najua. Well, at least not coffee. Cakes are still delectable.

We spent about three and half hours together talking. It’s amazing what a little drizzle during the evening can do. As the sun sets in the horizon and the plethora of lights came to life surrounding the KLCC Park area, it can only be described as perfect. The only way it can be bettered was instead of the Twin Towers, it’s the Eiffel Tower that loomed over us.

One of the highlights of the conversation was the topic of breasts. In particular hers. See, she was complaining on how she wishes to have bigger breasts. I, in one of my rare exceptions of going against the normal male genes, thought her wishes are quite ridiculous. Primarily for the basic reason that she looks good as she is. Isn’t that what women want? For men to appreciate them as they are? If you already have a good package, then additional accessories need not apply. Take Eva Longoria, for example. Or Keira Knightley, or Natalie Portman. Women who aren’t exactly famed due to their prized assets but still held in high regards by the male public nonetheless. But then again, after seeing last night’s episode of Nip/Tuck, I think her motives are understandable. But I still she looks fine as she is. Why ruin something which by definition already beautiful?

Anyway, we got to more surprisingly serious stuff afterwards. We managed to tackle the subject of marriage. I asked her how in the world could she, a woman who share the same age with me, was mentally prepared for something as big as a marriage before the debacle with her ex took place. And she replied, as cordially as possible, that she just was. And she still is. It’s just that she isn’t ready to jump into a new relationship just yet. It’s one of those things, I guess. You just know, you know? Damn, I sound like David Carradine here. But for a moment there, I had to say I was kinda spooked by her cool demeanor on the subject. Because I, for one, am petrified by the husband concept, let alone embrace it.

But one of the interesting things when were talking about marriage was how the perception of it had changed according to modern times. Back in the days women used to get married for reasons of security and stability. Not so true nowadays where women could have such a formidable career that could even lead them to become CEOs of Fortune 500 companies and Prime Ministers that the aspect of securing a financially stable future that used to come with the promise of marriage has fell well within their grasp. In short, women have become so independent nowadays that she doesn’t need a husband for a Coach handbag or a trip to Europe every year. We both agreed on this and so, I asked her, since between the two of us, she was the one who got very close to matrimony.

“So, what, if any, are the benefits of getting married nowadays?”
“Erm…you could have sex more often,” she answered while a smile formed slowly on that thin lips of hers.

It was then and there that I immediately fell in love with her. How many women do you know who can come up with an answer such as “you could have sex more often” almost nonchalantly when asked about the benefits of marriage? Not many I presume. Most would probably come up with something along the lines of emotional support, as to display a fair amount of intelligence and reason, and to differentiate themselves from the sex hogs known as men. Nothing wrong with that. Just that it’s boring. Come up with a bold statement like the one Najua gave me and it’ll definitely spice up the conversation.

What came next was probably every man’s nightmare when it comes to dating – stories about the ex. Luckily, I’m getting it after she has passed the ‘I’m over him’ stage. So I got the objective and rationalized of what went wrong instead of all the crying, Kleenex and ‘Why meeheee?’ version.

However, as it weird it sounds, but I actually find myself intrigued by her storytelling. Particularly the part on how much she had contributed towards the relationship despite all the chinks that began to show up during the final stages before the break-up. I could not believe how lucky his ex was to have someone as wonderful as Najua and how foolish of him to lose her. The difference between Najua the girlfriend and Najua the wife is probably the absence of a golden band around her ring finger because she on par in terms of everything else. She practically took care him. From making his favorite meals to doing his laundry, on top of all the stuff girlfriends usually do (ie being beautiful and loyal. Oh, not to mention providing emotional support). I’m particularly impressed by the fact that once she even made truffles for her ex. Truffles, man. I’m not even sure if my mother could make truffles. And she even regularly made cheesecakes for him too. I mean, demmit, if I have a girl that would make sinful desserts for me just to cheer me up, then, hell, I would be more than glad to take her out shopping and pay for her shoes. But then again, that’s me. Watai, on the other hand, has a whole different perspective on it. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. But since when do I ever give serious thought about Watai’s opinions, anyway?

Fast forward to present and I’m stuck in this whole Najua business. For starters it’s the fasting month and, oh Selamat Menyambut Bulan Ramadhan, by the way, and there goes my modus operandi of asking her out for little evening drinks. Watai said my tactics of conniving dates around association with food is getting lame. True, yes, but it’s also the most effective.
“Kalau camtu, bile nak pargon nye, Badok?”
See? I told you I can never take Watai seriously.

I could ask her out for a buka puasa session. As a matter of fact I am planning this huge buka puasa get together of 12 people taking place at JW Marriot this weekend, consisting of Jes, Sasa, Aritha, Zalina, Apau and Acai among others. The thought of asking Najua to join the party has crossed my mind. At first, I thought, maybe since Ity has moved to Shah Alam, I could invite her (Ity). And by inviting her, she would also be inviting her hostess for the time being, that is, Marina aka Sandra Oh. Sandra, in turn, would invite Najua and then I could act all surprised and be extremely jolly about the whole affair when they all arrived in scantily clad dresses. Sadly though, Ity could not make it because she already promised to be with her boyfriend (boo~). Funny, isn’t it? I never knew or met Ity’s boyfriend and yet he has become a deciding factor in one of my elaborate scheme of things. Oh well, guess I have to ask her straight up then. But wait, by doing that I’d be taking a significant risk. The big question is, would she enjoy herself there? I mean, sure she knows some of the people but the instances when she actually had spent time with the rest of the gang is few and far between. She’s not as close as the rest of us are with each other. That could be a stumbling block. And by inviting her personally I’d be undertaking the responsibility of making sure she’s having none of that awkwardness and make her feel as comfortable as possible. Not to mention making sure that she enjoys herself as well. And I certainly have no time for such crappy nonsense. The last thing I want to come between me and a 5 star hotel buffet is undue stress. So? Another time, another place maybe. Warranted she doesn’t invite Paul along. It’s not as if he’s fasting, anyway.

Also, I have taken into consideration some of the requests made by a few readers in putting up a picture of Najua on this blog and finally make you guys see how we are MFEO (made for each other) (Gaby Hoffmann, Sleepless in Seattle). So you guys better pray for me in getting that third date.

All’s well that ends well, I suppose. On a parting note I’d like to make some discerning comments. The people I mention in this blog are true in existent, including the relations I have with them. I wish I couldn’t say the same about Paul but, yes, he too does exist. And no, Ridhu, I don’t exaggerate the facts. I just dramatize them. Ever heard of the term truth is stranger than fiction? I could be one of your prime examples.

It’s time for me to leave, people. I need to get to Pasar Ramadhan (Param) at Lorong Raja Muda and check out all the adorable young nurses from HKL dressed in their white uniforms and white canvas shoes like the ones primary school children wear.

We’ll talk about other women at a later date. Till then, people. Webek! Webek!

Miami Vice

I could not believe how disappointed I am with Miami Vice. Somehow, Colin Farrell with blonde hair just doesn’t work. I get that Alexander The Gay vibe all over again. It’s so sad because I think he is a decent talent (Phone Booth, The Recruit). Just not with gold locks. As for the movie itself, it fell short of my expectations. I was expecting a gripping, non-stop action epic. Instead I get a patchy storyline, intermittent pace and an extremely cheesy love story as a side show. The only highlight I could think of is the F430 at the beginning of the movie and Gong Li’s butt. Even for the villains, I’d put Scar from Lion King as more terrifying than the ones in Miami Vice. Vice? Certainly doesn’t do justice to its title there, does it? But it does have a nice soundtrack. Actually, I’d recommend you to buy the soundtrack rather than the DVD of the movie when it gets released. And the mood is way too serious. You can be serious but you have to have a compelling dialogue to go with it as well, which sadly, this movie hadn’t had either. So, in the end, you don’t feel the drama. You want to, but you don’t. It doesn’t have that Bad Boys feel to it.

So, if any of you guys want to go through the trouble of catching this at the cinema, a word of advice, don’t expect too much. Wanna a cop movie? You’d have much more fun watching Rush Hour.

PS2

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s back! My PS2 is back! Well, it’s not really my PS2. It belongs to my brother. Mine will cost RM350 to get it fixed so fuggeddabout it (James Caan, Mickey Blue Eyes). He bought his during his time in Zurich. Purchased locally and brought there, of course. But ever since he got back, he left it, along with all his other Swiss stuff at my mother’s other house at Putrajaya. Multiple attempts had been made by me to my father (the only person who knows how to get there) to retrieve it but my approaches were continually delayed.

Alas, when the TV upstairs finally blew its tube, it was definitely time to pick up my brother’s TV at the Putrajaya house to replace it (and along with it, the prized PS2). It was either that or they have to contend with having me watching every football related show downstairs. As a Hallmark devotee, my mother found this very annoying.

So, last weekend my father and brother went to Putrajaya to finally bring back the almost forgotten treasures. When I came back from class that evening, I was delighted with glee. Finally my love for Winning Eleven on the PS2 was reunited once again. It wasn’t long before I got my hands on WE10.The glory days are back. Now I will definitely have no time to study.

Talking Movies (an off-beat edition)

A couple of days ago I was at Low Yat, browsing through some ‘original’ DVDs at this store called Movie World. There was this other guy beside me who I noticed was getting restless because, I assumed, he couldn’t find anything that he would fancy. At one point, he stretched his neck over the counter where he saw the taukeh sorting a few DVDs to be placed into the cabinet behind him and asked, ‘Wah, pirates ah?’ motioning his head to a low stack at the side of the counter.

‘Er…yeah’ the taukeh answered.

‘Part 1 or part 2?’ the guy asked again, eagerly.

‘It’s not Pirates of the Carribean. It’s Pirates,’ the taukeh now giving him the look that any 17-year-old boy would have immediately understood. And yet, this 30-something guy was puzzled. So he picked up a copy instead and examined the cover.

‘Oh…’ the guy said finally, grasping what the taukeh had meant. He slowly put back the Pirates copy to its low stack on the counter, realizing that he had done something embarrassing and returned to his previous spot and pretended to flip through the other booklets that he had exhaustively went through earlier on. Needless to say, he left soon after that.

I found this scene rather amusing because I have a copy of Pirates myself. I downloaded it a few weeks back and it’s quite good. Keira Knightley’s character is especially hot. And although the ship is definitely CGIed but it’s better looking than any our local movies could produce. There was even praise from Newsweek quoted on the cover. I don’t know how much truth went into that. I don’t know if this is worth mentioning but I also have a movie entitled ‘The Da Vinci Load’. It’s not as good as Pirates but as it’s by Larry Flynt, it is quite funny.

Speaking about movies, I was surfing the Net and I stumbled upon this.

Apparently the Over The Hedge movie is based on a comic strip. Ah another borrowed idea from Hollywood. But I think the comic strip is better because unlike the movie it doesn’t need to end. The lunacy can just keep going on and on. And who can’t get enough of RJ, Verne and Hammy?

Now here’s a question of the day.

How do you feel if your car is featured on Pimp My Ride. Of course, if you’re driving a Proton or a Perodua then this question wouldn’t apply to you. But those of you driving around in a Japanese or a European make, what’d you think?

Well, I had my car featured on the show yesterday. I drive a 1990 Toyota Celica. Pretty decent car I guess. Still looks good despite being 16 years old. If there was a baby born on the same day my car was made, he/she would be studying in Form 4 now.

Anyway, Ity brought the show to my attention last night because I was watching Horatio Cane and his gang at the time. She even called me all the way from Johor just to make me change channels. So I did. At first I was pretty excited. I thought it was kind of cool to watch your car on Pimp My Ride. But you know what? It wasn’t. Because it made me realize two things.

One: if your car is featured on the show, then it means that the model has been around long enough for someone to abuse it beyond fucking recognition. Two: once the West Coast people has the car pimped, it just goes to show how much potential your car has in terms of pimpinality and how inadequate the current state of your own car is. Sure Valerie is ain’t as bad as the one shown on the telly but there a few dents and scratches. My rims aren’t that bling and I don’t have an IPod Nano, a smart phone and a G4 iBook hooked on to my car that would able to supply me 4 years of music without having to hear the same song twice. But I’ll live.

Ah another whiny post. I should stop whining. It turns women off. Mainly because by doing it we are taking over one of their roles.

My highlight of the day, of course, is the upgrade of my office laptop. Now I’ve got style and wireless connectivity. I can finally be one of those snobby people at Starbucks checking their e-mails on their notebooks. Unlike the previous notebook which weighs like it’s made out of lead. And a battery life of about 30 seconds. Now it’s slimmer and has Bluetooth capabilities. Ooh geek-talk.

The fasting month is coming in a few days. By next week there’ll be no more chillin’ during lunchtime and no fag breaks at the office. If you have the eagerness to go karaoke-ing with some butterflies then I suggest you do it quick. Not that it’s less sinful in doing it now rather than later but I guess it does make you feel less guilty. Funny how the human conscious works.

Before I end this post, I’ll leave you with this joke from AskMen.com

Pinocchio has just turned 16 years old and Geppetto thinks to himself: "My son is going to take an interest in girls, I had better explain to him about the birds and the bees."
So he spends time telling Pinocchio about girls and sex and making love and all that. Pinocchio listens intently and then goes off to experiment.
Some time later, Geppetto sees his son and asks, "How's it going with the girls?"
Pinocchio replies, "Great! I'm doing fine, except that all the girls are complaining about splinters."
"Oh dear," says his father, "all I can suggest is that you smooth things over first with some sandpaper."
Some time later, he sees his son and asks, "How's it going with the girls?"
"Who needs girls when you've got sandpaper!"

Incompetence

Here’s a pop quiz for you:
What is more lembab than a woman trying to pay her parking ticket at an autopay machine?
The answer?
It’s 3 women trying to pay 2 parking tickets at an autopay machine.

This happened to me at Bangsar Village yesterday. You would not believe the unnecessary drama that unfolded before my eyes. First they can’t find their tickets, and then they tried to pay with the new RM5 note which the machine rejected. So they switch to the RM1 notes but found out they were short of them. Now the search was on for any coins that they have. When the fee was finally paid, the machine refused to spit out the ticket so one of them brilliantly pressed the ‘Cancel’ button and voila, the ticket did come out - along with their refund. So now they have start all over again.

At this point I was ready to shout out ‘You fuckin’ bitches!’ but held back when one of the parking attendants suddenly popped out told the rest of us queuing behind the three wannabe French poodles that we can pay our parking fees at the exit. Oh what a relief! I left the yelping scene without hesitation. But when I made my way past the parking attendant, who is a lady by the way, she made a whispering remark to me.
‘So slow,’
I just had to crack a smile and gave her an approving ‘Hmm’.

Can you imagine a woman calling another woman ‘slow’? How ironically funny is that? It’s like Victoria Beckham telling you that you can’t sing. And the parking lady was right. They were slow. I mean, how difficult is it to operate an autopay machine? I don’t care about your Gucci handbags and Fendi sunglasses. I have seen a monkey display a higher level of intelligence that all of you three combined.

As to confirm their lembab-ness, when I made my way with Valerie to the exit point, I came across them and they still haven’t reached their cars. Haih, what terrible children they will raise.

You wouldn’t believe how far people would go these days just to be an annoyance to the public. Just like the other day when I was at this petrol station. I was running a bit late to the office but my petrol was running low so I just had to stop for a fill up. All the pumps were full so I decided to pull up behind this motorcyclist, thinking he’d probably be the quickest to finish. And then can you imagine what this motorcyclist did next? He pulled out his wallet and took out his credit card. I couldn’t what I was seeing! It’s not like he was on a Harley. It was just a Honda EX5. He wanted to pay RM3 worth of fuel with a credit card? What the FUCK!? What is wrong with this person!? There is no valid reason why he should be doing this except by being exceptionally stupid. Could someone be that dense? Or does he just enjoy making the living hell out of strangers’ lives? He was lucky he was wearing his helmet. Otherwise I would’ve smacked him on the head with my car jack.

Haih, so please people, the next time you want to categorically divide your change in your compartmentalized purse, move to the side of the counter a bit to make room for the next paying customer. And please, do decide what movie you want to watch before you start lining up. And lastly, please oh please, learn how to operate an autopay machine. You’d do the world a whole lot of favor.

And they give us a hard time about not knowing where the clitoris is. And FYI, I know where it is.

In Memory of The Crocodile Hunter

Although I am beginning to accept it but the fact that The Crocodile Hunter is dead still hasn’t sunk in. It truly is an unbelievable piece of news. The man who made me watch Animal Planet in the first place and made the word ‘Crikey!’ sounds kinda cool is no longer with us. He made us see that crocs are really ain’t that bad. It really is such a shame, a tremendous loss.
He’s adored everywhere. He was on Jay Leno, made a cameo in an Eddie Murphy movie and as FlyFM put him, he’s like Superman to children all over. And maybe even adults too. He certainly gave me the impression that he’s invincible. He’s like the embodiment of fearless when it comes to approaching wild animals.
He’s to you Steve Irwin. Thank you for opening up my eyes to what wildlife really is and in the words of Ali G, respect, respect.

A Merdeka Post

As much as I’d like to put up a post commemorating our 49th Merdeka day celebrations, I’m afraid I’m not that good at writing patriotic articles. So, I found this captivating piece written by a brilliant columnist published in The Sun today and thought I’ll put this one up instead. It’s so good that I couldn’t have explained it better myself. Here’s a little sharing of thought, from Juana Jaafar.


A heart-felt freedom
Juana Jaafar

My thoughts are with my father this Merdeka. I can imagine us having a conversation about how superficially Malaysians celebrate the holiday, fussing over flags, fireworks and jingles.

I see us discussing the annual politics of Merdeka, where racial groups try to outdo each other's jingoism through boorish rhetoric. We would be watching television and appreciating some of the brilliant, heart-wrenching holiday advertisements that cost millions to produce.

We would then probably talk about the amount of money spent on this once-a-year corporate show of patriotism and how the funds can actually be used to send bright but underprivileged students for top-notch education. Ya, my father and I would definitely talk about that.

I can see our chat being disrupted by one of those offensive Filem Negara Merdeka clips. We would watch in disbelief at how the government, after all that back-to-the-future Super Corridor hoo-ha, would invade our private space with hazy power-point presentations that look like re-runs from the early 1980s.

Bad enough that they undermine our technological advancement, these productions are an insult to our intellectual maturity, using Cold War era propaganda techniques of associating the idea of freedom and harmony with marching tunes and military visuals.

I can imagine my father asking me: What does it really mean to be liberated, to be independent? He would ask this question, praying hard I would not regurgitate the dreadful answers I was taught in school.

You are right, Papa. Liberty and independence is not just about being free from foreign occupation. We may have negotiated our freedom with the British, but we are still heavily burdened by its racial and feudal divide-and-rule legacy.

It has shaped our social and political imagination in such a way that we are still by and large communal.

The public spaces we share seem limited to mamak stalls, shopping complexes and highways. The good folk of Klang Valley may beg to differ, but they only need to drive around town a little bit to see this reality.

Surely liberty and independence apply to more than just the material, the nation state. What about the colonisation of the mind? And ideological hegemony?

I am ever so grateful that my father raised us to be aware of the latent and the manifest. Since school my sisters and I were able to distinguish between news and propaganda.

As human beings we are of course gullible, but thanks to my father we are not so ignorant.

And what about conscience? My father always said that it is your conscience that will save you. It is the only thing that will force you to do what is right. If we were a nation with a conscience, we would not discriminate against race, religion or vocation.

We would not be flattening our precious forest reserves for slipshod housing developments, or be shooting barking dogs as we please. Nor would we have such crises as the "urban poor" or have corruption become part of our culture. Without conscience how can we have integrity? And without integrity, my father would say, one has no maruah.

My father died in peace last week after being ill for some time. I am still overwhelmed by the number of people who came to the house to pay their final respects to him.

He was a man who did not discriminate when choosing friends.

From Tan Sris and Datuks to former staff and drivers; Indians, Punjabis, Chinese, Malays and others; politicians from the left and right; scholars, writers and college students came to visit.

They were a pool of people perfect for one of those expensive corporate Merdeka advertisements, except that they were genuinely muhibbah.

My father was the quintessential Malaysian.

While I sincerely accept his death as God's will, my heart will be forever broken.

It is a good thing he married my mum 32 years ago on that very special Merdeka Day - a tough lady and a magnet who will keep the family together, looking out for each other.

In loving memory of my father, I dedicate this article to mum. Happy anniversary.

The writer is a regular Malaysian. Comments: feedback@thesundaily.com

A man, a woman and a discussion about Eskimos

‘Do you want to hear an interesting fact?’ said Jo. ‘Eskimos apparently have over fifty different words for snow. Snow’s really important to those guys – I suppose it’s because sometimes the difference between one type and another can mean the difference between life or death.’ She paused and laughed self-consciously. ‘You know they’ve got words for dry snow and wet snow, fluffy snow and compact snow. They’ve got words for that comes down fast and for snow that comes down slow – they’ve thought of everything.’
‘That’s a lot of snow,’ commented Rob as his eyes flicked to a scruffy-looking mongrel crossing the road in front of them, oblivious to the night bus hurtling towards it. It only narrowly missed being hit, but continued coolly on its journey to the bin outside the off-licence, which it sniffed studiously, then cocked a leg against.
‘So, what’s your point?’ asked Rob.
‘Well, it’s like this,’ replied Jo. ‘If Eskimos can come up with fifty words for snow because it’s a matter of life or death, why is it that we’ve only got one word for “love”?’

-Brand New Friend, Mike Gayle-

Ridhu

Ridhu kate kalau aku letak name die dlm blog ni (demi publisiti murahan), die akan kasi no phone awek dlm gamba yg terpampang di bwh



Spice kan buntut die? Cepat Ridhu! Kalau kau tipu aku declare kau lg pervert dr aku!

'Brand New Friend'

If there is such a thing as a chic-lit author for blokes then it’ll be Mike Gayle. I first came about his writing when I borrowed his first book My Legendary Girlfriend from my uncle. I thought it was different and vastly entertaining. But I truly enjoy reading his latest work, Brand New Friend. I would rank it higher than State of Fear or even The Da Vinci Code because unlike from running around England looking for knights’ tombs while keeping one step ahead of an albino monk assassin, Gayle’s story is feels closer to home. Anyone who has a penchant for reading, I strongly recommend Brand New Friend. Although I can’t be sure whether it’ll have the same on effect on women as it did on me. But I do want to know. So if you’re a bird and happen to pick up this book, tell me what you think about it. I would love to hear your thoughts.

As I said before, after finishing the book, it got me thinking. Now how often does that happen? A book has a got a bloke reflecting on his life after reading it. The last time this happened to me was when I looked through my first ever Playboy magazine. Yeah, maybe magazines don’t count but it really opened up my eyes on how far chocolate syrup can sensually be. Not to mention whipped cream.

Anyway, Brand New Friend raised something that I find very interesting. Well, the story is about Rob who spent almost all his adult life in London where he belongs to a close group of friends. One day, he had to move to Manchester to live with his girlfriend. So he had to leave his good mates behind and start fresh. Problem was he’s 32 and making new friends is kind of difficult. He struggled, of course, and after a year, visited his friends back at London for a little reunion. But what he expected to be an all-boys night out turned out into a couples night out.

All of his friends brought their respective spouses over because they felt wrong leaving them behind. Some were expecting their first child, some just got married and some were thinking about getting married. In so, the conversation that evening no longer comprised of meaningless opinions about films, music, football and who is the best looking actress ever to appear in a movie and in what movie she looked best. That’s how it used to be. Now it’s about honeymoon destinations and house prices in Didsbury. So Rob turned to his best and surprisingly still single friend, Phil. He too admits that the conversation going on does feel a bit strange. But things have changed, Phil said. Rob was about to ask since when did this started to happen but then he realized it was when he moved out to Manchester was the answer. His move was the first and the beginning. Priorities change. As you get older, that what happens. It’s inevitable. This was what got me thinking.

Next year I‘ll be 25 and even though I don’t think I’d be that old and was offended when one of the staff at Sunway College referred to me as ‘Encik’ but truth is, I will be THAT old. At first I did fantasize about working my way up to become a millionaire, buy a Brabus, grow a moustache and then by the age of 40 find myself a pop princess and marry her. But realistically that would be very impractical. The issue of children is one major weight point in that argument. Point being, staying single until I’m bored of it may not be an option. Sooner or later the friends you usually hang out with will begin to lead a life of their own. First they’ll get girlfriends or boyfriends, then if they think it’s the right one, get engaged and then married. This is no joke because I’m experiencing it first hand. One by one of my friends are getting hitched and I can’t stop thinking whether I’m being left behind here. Oh great, here I am in my prime and having Ally McBeal-like thoughts. By the way, side-stepping a bit, Najua was getting ready for marriage life if her ex hadn’t fucked up. It’s quite scary to think that Najua was actually ready to become a wife. I mean, my big priority in life is whether I can afford the PS3 when it comes out.

So when does a bloke like me plans to join the bandwagon.? Some of the people I know had set the deadline of the age of 27 or 28 to get married. I don’t think I can put further pressure on myself by declaring a marriage deadline. But I do think it would reasonable to do it before 30. Having said that, time is not in abundance. That’s more or less 5 years from now and that is not a long time.

I call this the Natural Progression concept because it’s normal that humans do progress from one phase to another in life. As much as I’d like to remain a heat-seeking bachelor all my life I know that’s impossible. Yes, some day I do want children of my own though I can’t see how will I manage that right now but I know that it’s lurking behind a corner somewhere, ready to jump me.

In the meantime, though, I’ll just venture on looking for that perfect person. Yes, I’m one of those idiots who still believe that there’s The One for everybody. My justification for it is why could be the harm of not believing in it? It certainly gives some edge on your perception of life. Whether I’ve found her yet or not is a different matter. A part of me likes to say ‘yes’ but another part is still hoping for something better. Okay this conversation is getting too soft. I’m just pissed Chelsea lost the other day. Oh how I’d like to see Abby today. Then she could give me that head rub. Aaahh~ Oh fuck it’s Friday init? Ah shait another weekend looming. I’m now apprehensive towards weekends. Me. Apprehensive. Weekends. Oh thanks a lot,… you…ah I got no one to blame anyway. Demmit, I do hope I have a highlight today. Too much lowlight can be very detrimental to my mental health.

So, cheers, people. I do hope you all have a lovely weekend. And a toast for me so that finally one day I could tell her how much I fancy her. Here’s smoke gets in your eyes…

I Need A Girlfriend

I wish I have a girlfriend. There I said it. The last time I said that was back in 2003. I don’t remember what triggered me to say it back then but I know why this time around.

As a working individual, the weekends are supposed to be a period of release. For two days when you don’t to have wake up early just to beat the morning traffic or worry how to explain to your superior why you haven’t finished that report which you were meant to submit to him three days ago. You can put on your favorite shorts on and switch on the TV to catch the highlights of last night’s EPL games. Weekends are the time to kick back and relax as the world passes you by. I used to have that luxury. Now, even though a bit strained with the ACCA classes and all, I could still manage to find a bit of fun in between now and again. Even when I don’t have anything specifically planned for my tight leisure time, I still could find solace in playing FM, catch up on my reading or watch CSI Supreme Sunday. And with the new football season have gone underway, surely ‘boredom’ would be the last word in my vocabulary, right? Wrong. And how I hate to be wrong in this one.

Last Friday I have set myself a task, or call it a mission, if you may, to make an effort and call Najua for a second outing. Well, I didn’t, sorry to say. Mainly because I gave myself the lame excuse of not regaining my voice back yet. I still sounded like a 15-year-old record player. But in truth I was too chicken shit to make that call. Instead I called some of my mates looking for any type of amusement for the night. But it was a dire effort. One had to spend quality time with his girlfriend and the other told me to come up with something instead and later call back to tell him what it’ll be. Then what’s the point of me calling in the first place? So eventually, Friday night passed uneventfully. But it didn’t quite bothered me though because I get to play The Godfather game and it kicks ass, even more so if you’re a fan of the movie. Then again, if you’re a normal bloke, you should be.

Saturday mornings are supposed to be spent watching cartoons in your pajamas until noon with a sugary bowl of cereal in front of you. That is, if you’re 10. If you’re my age (or me, to be exact) then you’ll probably be watching Mythbusters and have a slice of soggy microwaved pizza in one hand. I had made a promise that morning that whether by hook or by fucking crook, I going to have fun that night. That is, right after class. Problem was, nobody who’s sane enough would make plans for Saturday night as early as Saturday noon. Unless you’re planning for a long day out that would stretch into the night, which wasn’t an option available to me. So, like it or not, I had to kind of wait until night itself to actually came before I can ring people to ask what’s up. At first I thought, that shouldn’t prove too much of an obstacle. I mean, I know quite a number of people. What are the chances all of them were not free? Once again, as it beginning to happen more often to me lately, I assumed too soon.

I probably called around 11 people that night and none, I repeat, none, were free. Some didn’t pick up, some were with their families, girlfriends, at weddings, you name it, every possible event that you could think of and all the people I called was attending some form of them. For 45 minutes I was pacing around the parking lot at Sunway College, exhausting the battery life of my Nokia phone until I finally got fed up, ignited Valerie and headed straight home to Gombak.

The whole family was out, visiting my sister at Shah Alam, so I had the house to myself. I took comfort in the living room, switched on the telly to Arsenal vs Aston Villa, turned up the volume and had a hot steaming pizza from Pizza Hut by my side. Very the bachelor style. It was kind of cool. But it didn’t feel like it. Truth was, I would’ve swapped everything that night for a hot female companion. It was then that I sighed heavily and wished how it would be great to have a girlfriend. At least, if I have a girlfriend, and if it turns out she has some plans with her friends, I could make her feel guilty for leaving me all alone. Then I would sulk, have a bit of a fight, won’t talk for a few hours, apologize and have make-up sex the following day. Awesome.

But this is not Faizad’s Fantasy World. This is reality. And in reality, Faizad does not have any girlfriends and there are times when everybody has a plan except for Faizad. Are you feeling sorry for me? Well don’t. I have enough pity for one day. I’m more annoyed right now. Want to blame somebody? Blame it on swine fluuuuuuuuu!!!

Anyway, back to topic at hand, my high hopes of getting laid on that Saturday night just ended at that – high hopes.

Sunday. What is there to tell about Sunday? I woke up ridiculously early for Sundays to drive across Klang Valley for 45 minutes to hear someone talk about the Malaysian Taxation system. While most of the population were chillin’ at home, I was learning about Capital Allowance and Qualifying Plant Expenditure all the way until evening.

As class ended and the afternoon heat subsided, I thought, well, yesterday was a mistake because when I called those people it was already the time when people already made their plans for the night and for me to come bursting through asking them to change it for my sake just, well, not right. Bad timing, if you’d call it. But this time, aha! This time I’m way ahead. It’s evening and it’s the right time to coax people to make plans with me. Besides, people don’t do much on Sunday nights. A simple drink would be enough to make my day and I know that isn’t much to ask for. So guess who was the first person I called? I give you a hint. Her name starts with the letter N. Haha, since my voice was pretty much ‘okay’, I say, why not? So I called Nosferatu, hoping for, well, anything.

But the bad signs were already there even at the beginning. I straight away got her voice mail, meaning she has her phone turned off, meaning she could be in a cinema, meaning she is already out having a good time, meaning I might as well forget it about seeing her today. Though I did try again half an hour later, it was the same outcome and further reinforced my theory. But in that half hour, I tried my luck with other people. Guess the second person I called? My muse, of course! But I was 30 minutes too late. She was already on the road driving and had her nieces in the back seat, tormenting her, as usual. Another one struck out. Then I called Aritha. She has a wedding to attend to that night. Sod. But we did manage a little chat and established that Solar flowers is another name for Sunflowers. I called Jes but she didn’t pick up. Then I remembered someone whom I haven’t spoken to in a long time – Aida. Ha tgk! Aku letak name kau ni, Aida! Anyway, Aida is probably one of those people that I click whenever I talk to her. Though I still couldn’t believe she’s a fan of my blog after all this while. In her words, she described my blog as “bes gile!”. It’s good to know that I have a growing fanbase. Also, she’s trustworthy enough not to tell Ara about my perversive thoughts I have written in this blog about her former roommate. Yes, indiscretion is key in blogging. So we got talking for quite some time and even when Jes returned my call I couldn’t answer because Aida and me were, well, sort of gossiping. I know, I didn’t think that I even had the ability but we did gossip. It was weirdly fun. We talked until my phone went dead. But alas, she too already has plans for the evening. Too bad, eh, mate? I returned Jes’ missed call but she told me to call back in 10 minutes because she was in a hurry to go out. Well, kind of defeats the purpose, ain’t it?

When I finally landed on the sofa, I was tired. Tired from classes and tired from calling people to ask for a cap.
“Man, I wish I have a girlfriend”
Then was probably time we have that make-up sex. And afterwards Nosferatu would lie naked next to me looking as beautiful as ever. Did I say Nosferatu? I mean, it could be just about anybody, right? Figuratively speaking. Err, moving on!

So, the way I see it to overcome this momentous amount of grievance is to blog about it. Haha, that’s not really the plan. I would’ve blog something anyway. I see this as a signal to further expand my social circle. Starting off with some of the people that I haven’t been in touch with for a long time. I know this isn’t really ‘expanding’ but more like ‘rebuilding bridges’. Anyway, like Aina, for instance. That should be an interesting prospect. Weird thing though. I’ve always enjoyed talking to these people, yet somewhere along the way I stopped calling them. I even called Regina that Saturday. I know Gambit would probably give me that wtf? look but truth is, I enjoy the conversations I have with her. Though she does have a tendency to be melodramatic when talking about the Korean movies she saw. The list would include you too, Aida. We are going to get together and talk about your single CBN friends.

Anyhow, thinking back, in the event I actually manage to secure a girlfriend, love of my life, my sunshine, puchini, whatever, question is, would that be something that I want? I mean, a man in a relationship? Would that make me a better or worse person? I’m contemplating this because I do know people who, once in a relationship, they tend to drift away from their friends. They made their partner their center of their world. Even in my current hectic lifestyle, I already am meeting less of my mates. I certainly don’t want to further distance myself away. Because it doesn’t feel nice. Even if my girlfriend turns out to be Diana Danielle even. Bold statement, I must say, even by my own standards. Point being, despite my desperate calls for a female companion, I think I still pretty much enjoy being single. As the saying goes, if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it. Yes, last weekend was horrible but it could just be a stutter. There are certainly a lot more weekends to look forward to. I mean, what is it with having a girlfriend anyway? What it’s all about? (Jude Law, Alfie)

Thoughts

Is it true that some things are better left unsaid? Or there is a right time and place for everything? But what if that moment never arrives? Or what was said was uttered too late? Which then resulted in doing more harm than good? And make no mistake these are instances which are cannot be taken back or reversed. Once said, it’s sealed and will adjudicate a new course in your life. As one of the more popular saying goes, you have everything to gain but also everything to lose. Or as Michael Keaton once put it, “My life is complex”. Man, I’m beginning to sound like Ity.

Anyway, to more pressing matters – the haze. A little advice from health experts - less outdoors, more indoors. Less jogging, more TV. Less sex in public toilets, more in the bedroom.

Now that’s cleared, let’s move on to more urgent stuff – Najua.

After a prolonged period I think I have finally conjured enough strength to retackle this problem. Wait, problem? How can I say Najua is a problem? She’s not a problem. She’s, well, let’s just say a conundrum. No, even that is too long of a word. Anyway, doesn’t matter, point of fact is Najua is too much of a golden opportunity to be dismissed based on just one solitary date. Problem is though, and this is an actual problem, is while I’m feeling well psychologically, I’m physically unfit. I took Monday and Tuesday off this week because I was diagnosed with a viral fever. My first MC in 3 months. I’m still not completely cured yet even today. Quite a tough virus if you ask me. So, being unwell isn’t a probable option when you want to attempt that important 2nd date. As if I can’t give enough thought about it, anyway. You know, for a guy who’s interested in Najua, I’m doing a very terrible job at it. I haven’t called her since Ampwalk. When was that? Nearly two weeks? Or neither have she. Not that it’s important for her. She has Paul, for God’s sake. Oh yeah, now I remember why I decided against calling her last Saturday. She was probably with Paul. Last thing I needed was to hear what Paul did during the day. Or what he bought or didn’t buy for his apartment. Why can’t she have a girl friend who she hangs out with every weekend like any other normal single girl does? Where’s Sandra? Sandra! You’re not doing your job! I’d prefer Sandra over Paul any time of the day. For one, she’s a lot less intimidating. But sooner or later, if things should work out between Najua and me, I have to accept Paul’s presence one way or another in our future liaisons. Since she’s comfortable with him, she would expect the same from me should I want things to work out with her. Like the case with Siti Nabilah and her troupe. Now that would have been very difficult. Good God, Najua is like Mary. Remember that cripple guy who was Mary’s voice of reason? Paul is kind of like that. Only in that movie the guy just turned out to be another in a long list of her admirers. I don’t think Paul would go that far. That would just be disturbing. Wait a minute, aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves here? Should things work out between…? Let’s get back to reality here. Mic check!

I haven’t called her in a long time, which is not good. I still have a sore throat, which makes me sound like Farah Fawcett doing a bad imitation of Cookie Monster when I speak, which is also not good. The phone call, I imagine would be quite the disaster. Oh God, I’m speculating again. It’s just like last time. Nothing is certain until I make that phone call. It can be so nerve-wrecking dialing her number. But, at least it’ll be nice to hear her voice again.

I think I’ve figured out why I’m like this today. Because it’s Friday. I used to relish Fridays. Not anymore. Lately, Fridays are just like any other day of the week for me. With the slight exception that I can get up a bit late tomorrow. Then it’s back to Sunway and my whole week starts all over again. You’ve guessed it. My week ends at Friday evening and starts at Saturday afternoon. I no longer have weekend breaks. More like intervals. That’s why I’m now more pressurized to come up with something worthwhile to do on Fridays to make my so-called weekends at least feel justified. Another date with Najua would certainly fall into that category.

One reprieve though, the new EPL season kicks-off this weekend. Yes, Chelsea lost the Charity Shield and yes, Liverpool were the better team. Still, it’s a long season ahead and once we hit our stride, try to knock us down then.

So, task of the day – call Najua. Or not. I hope I can regain my voice by then. If not, there’s ….oh yeah, there’s always her. Well, I can’t tell you who she is. Every story needs a bit of mystery, don’t you think? Why do you think people keep coming back to this blog?

A Night of Pleasure

I finally got my wish last Friday. I had spent the night at The Ascott. And it wasn’t on the sofa.

It was on the bed, with three (or was it four?) other beautiful women. It’s one of the perks of having gorgeous women as your friends. You get to sleep with them occasionally.

It all started out as a birthday party for Jes, who actually celebrated her birthday on the 27th of July. It was held at non-other than her own apartment. Talk about convenient. It was fun, naturally. Lots of fried chicken, cakes and fake booze. It went as every Friday night should be spent. Alive, enjoyable, long into, ‘till morning.

My plan, initially, was to have a good time, leave around midnight, wake up early the next day, have a short revision on Business Taxation and go for the ACCA Progress Test 1 which was to be held that evening. But, things turned out rather lovingly different. I’ve always had this knack of being one of the last people to leave a party and this was no different. I stayed back after most of the people had left and watched the Chelsea vs Celtic friendly up until half time in the living room. It was probably around 12.30 am at the time and I was ready to bid adieu because there was no denying I was getting sleepy. I walked into Jes’ bedroom where the rest of the ladies were for hugs and kisses when suddenly I got a telling invite to lay down on the bed for a while. The rest, as they say, is history. I never got up until the sun was shining at 8 the next day. It was probably one of the best sleepovers I ever had in a long time.

Not only did I skip my supposed revision time, I also quite purposely missed the IAFG football semis against KPMG (Deloitte won 4-0, by the way). It did cross my mind to go and watch because the Stadium Raja Muda isn’t that far from The Ascott. But, then again, watch a football match or lingering around in a cozy apartment with four women in their sleeping attires? Ooh, choices…choices. There are a few instances when something supersedes any matter of football. This was one of them. Besides, it also gave me the chance to spend more time with Aritha. Oh yes, the maiden from Chennai. Just looking at her and hear her laugh again just brings back a sense of familiarity that I have so longed. Her presence alone brings a smile to my face. Yes, some may argue that 3 months may not be that long. That is, if only you’re not counting every minute that passes you by.

Yet, all good things have to come to an end, I’m afraid. I finally left around noon just for the sake of Sunway. You think I’d leave if I had a choice otherwise? I wouldn’t hesitate to stay even for a second. But I guess one wonderful night was more that I could have hoped for. Reminds me of that weekend in Kuantan. Oh that was a glorious one. That was two nights. And we even had Ity. Haih, good times. Good times.

You see, sometimes good guys do get a break. And there are times when guys like me who get really, really lucky.

p/s: Jes, please invite me over for more sleepovers. Please?

Najua

Okay. Here we go.

(clears throat)

Najua.

She's...er, no.

The thing is....

Well, it's...

Ah forget it.

Recap for the Week

On Monday Eiwa agreed on principal to have a drink with me (albeit she insisted on having Nebu joining us as well) but she cancelled just when I was on my way to KLCC because there’s a sudden sending-off party for one of the supervisors and the whole department was invited. And, of course, who am I to stop her? Well, better luck next time, muchacho.

But Tuesday was good though. In fact, it was very good. It was one of those days when before retiring to bed, you can look back to the day and say with a smile, ‘That was a day well spent,’

It all started with me having nothing much to do at the office. And things turned better when I was assigned to be the despatch boy for the day. I love despatching. Mainly it involves going to client’s places to deliver and/or retrieve documents. Why I love it is because I get to jalan-jalan, waste loads of time while doing so and I get to claim the mileage.

Furthermore, I was to end early that day because IAFG (Inter-Accounting Firms Games) 2006 was already underway and football was on the agenda. All staff who were deemed surplus to requirements for the day are required to attend the match, which was held at SM Jalan Cochrane, and cheer on the team. I was reluctant to go at first because I had this Starlight thing arranged with my muse later that evening and I have to be at Sentul Park before 7 (and you know how the traffic is along Jalan Tun Razak during the evening rush hour). But in the end I thought I should be able to make it. Besides it’s football. How can I miss that? So I went. And it was a journey worthwhile. Deloitte trounced its opposition 8-0. In any game of football, no matter who your opponents are, 8-0 is always a good result. Luckily for me, the game is 25-minutes per half. So the match ended slightly after 5. I should have gotten a head start but I thought I hang for a while for the post-match celebrations.

Hey, look that's me! (The supporters bench)

It was 5.30 before I finally made my move and even though I (and Sasa included) had a bit of trouble trying to get onto Jln Ipoh, we did manage to arrive before 7. We traveled separately, by the way. And as for Sentul Park, wow, it’s still as amazing as the last time I remember it. Perhaps even better this time.

Starlight Cinema, I think, has made a wise choice opting to move from Bukit Kiara to Sentul Park because when I was at Kiara, I always couldn’t help but think this is probably where the horses went running around and poo occasionally. You always have that discomforting feeling. Call it paranoia even. But at Sentul, you know that even humans had rarely set foot there before you came. So it has that au naturel feel to it. That was quite liberating. I, for one, enjoyed the experience tremendously. The trees are beautiful, the green hills are beautiful, the air moist and the surrounding silent. The only thing missing are squirrels running around.

As for the movie, it was Click. And I was surprised because I was expecting a clichéd storyline but it somehow managed to keep it interesting throughout. It’s more towards Spanglish rather than Longest Yard. Not as good or dramatic as Spanglish and not as funny as Longest Yard. Just between those two. But it was a quite apt choice for a movie under the stars. Wait a minute, there were no stars that night. Ah forget it. But one poor aspect of Starlight Cinema is the choice of food. There’s only one food outlet in the whole premise and it created a backlog of customers. The only people who are happy with that are probably the owners of the place who can exercise monopoly. And there’s little place next to it selling Twisties. So if you’re thinking, ‘Let’s just buy our food there,’ then don’t you’ll only end up disappointed because it’s just not worth the effort of lining up half-an-hour for a burgers and fries. Just like Sasa and me. In the end we just had Twisties and I stopped by at Burger King on the way home. Everything else was just fine.

It’s my mother’s birthday on the 10th and my brother has arranged for a big family dinner at Rahsia tonight. So that’s something to look forward to.

Sebagai penutup, I’ll put another picture of me as a supporter of the Deloitte football team when I attended the match against Ernst & Young yesterday at Stadium Jalan Raja Muda. Oh we won by the way. 2-0. And they were the defending champions.

My Hot Stylist and Me

Do you know that getting a haircut could be such an erotic experience? That is, if you have the right place and the right stylist. And that would rule out your local Indian barbershop.

It is that time of month again when I go visit my new happy place – Jantzen, Mid Valley. You’d probably remember a month ago I story-story about it a little when I said I went for a haircut and then I met Hadi and Ewok at McD,and yada, yada, yada. Anyway, what I didn’t tell you was that when I went for my haircut afterwards, I was fated to meet the hottest hairstylist I’ve ever known.

Usually, when the girl at the counter asks me, ‘Any particular stylist?’, I will answer, every time without fail, ‘Anyone will do,’. But not anymore. Now, my answer to that question will be a shorter, simpler version. One word, one name – Abby.

Abby is hot, for one thing but with her being a hairstylist, she has this funky, Avril Lavigne-esque vibe about her. Which just increases her hotness rating. And what’s more, she smells great. Kinda like baby shampoo. Makes you wanna cuddle her to bed.

But what I like most about my hot new hairstylist is that she has this delicate touch. Unlike the lady who washed my hair. That one almost tore my scalp off. But Abby, she caresses my head. And when her finger slid across my forehead, it felt so soothing and tingling. Also, she has this thing where she moves about in very close proximity with her customers when she’s doing her job. So I get a lot of brushes from her hip, from now and then. And did I tell you she smells great?

But the cherry on top was when she massaged my head near the end. It felt so good I almost moaned her name out loud. Of course, when it (the haircut) finally finished, I felt sad about leaving. My wish at the time was that if only my hair would grow fast enough so that I can have a haircut every week. And as if to cheer me up, after paying for her services, she said, ‘I’ll see you next month,’ with a smile so mischievous and naughty only Nicole Kidman can pull. I mean, like, wow. I’ve only been with her twice and she already recognizes me and knows my routine. I felt so happy.

Haih, I’m having an affair with my hairstylist. I mean, I only know her first name, she doesn’t know mine. We meet once a month, have an hour to ourselves and go our separate ways. The next month, we do it all over again. I mean, what? It’s only about the haircut.

Local Movie Scene

I think most of you had probably heard about the movie Dukun starring Umie Aida whose character is based on Mona Fandey. Encore to that! Finally a local film that we all could forward which is not a love story. I say we had enough of that lovey-dovey sap stories. I say kudos to the new direction our local movie scene is taking.

I know many wouldn’t believe me on this but I’ve always said that the Mona Fandey story should be made into a film since she was first caught by the authorities. But I’ve always suspect that it will come across many obstacles, mainly protests from the victim’s family and, of course, the censorship board. But things are looking promising. I just hope it’ll be good because I’m sure it will generate a lot of hype and I hate to be dissapointed. The last thing you want to do is to ruin a movie which already has a solid storyline. But the title does sound a little dodgy. But, then again, I don’t have any better ideas for an alternative title.

While we are on the subject and to add more weight to my future claims, I’ll give some more suggestions on local events that should be made into movies. I mean, anybody who reads this and decide to claim the idea I lay out here as their own, hey, it’s fine with me. As long as they have the resources to turn them into a feature length film, I have no objections.

First up is the Highland Towers tragedy. But the plot just shouldn’t focus much on the event alone but add a little courtroom drama in the aftermath when every possible authority was sued. Kind of like those John Grisham adapted movies or Erin Brokovich. But as to who should direct such a movie, well, that’s the hard part. I’ve never actually seen a locally made courtroom drama movie before. Have you? But I fear this too will receive a lot of opposition because we’re talking a whole lot more families involved. But, hey, if United 93 can be made, than I don’t think it’s that impossible.

Another kind of movie that I have yet to see our movie makers attempt is a political thriller like Thirteen Days or The Interpreter. And what better base to do a movie about it than the Anwar Ibrahim story? I mean, do this right, it could be an epic. A three-hour long movie which would attract the attention not only in Malaysia but also in the Asean region and probably even more. But in hindsight, it could undermine Tun Dr Mahathir and that wouldn’t be a good thing. Nevertheless, you have to agree it’s an awesome idea.

Relating to that, let me ask you, have you ever seen a local movie where an actor is playing the part of a Malaysian Prime Minister? I mean, look at Hollywood and they have countless actors playing as the President. We saw Harrison Ford as tough one in Air Force One. Michael Douglas as a love-roving one in The American President. Kevin Kline as a corrupt one in Dave. Bill Pullman as the inspiring one in Independence Day. The closest we’ve ever come to is Dato’ Rahim Razali in PGL.

But good news is they are making a movie based on Tunku Abdul Rahman even as we speak. Marked improvement if I may say so. But in the future I do hope to see more movies with fictional Prime Ministers in them. It certainly would be fun.

That’s it then. I’m leaving the office.

The Topic Is 'Women', Yet Again

What a glorious Monday, isn’t it? A little dark, a little gloomy, add a bit of rain and voila, more than half of the workforce arrived late to their offices this morning. Myself included. Fortunately for me, nobody noticed.

Another brand new week, another fresh new challenge waiting to be conjured. So who will it be this time? Well, I don’t have much of an idea now. No Najua, definitely. She’s been occupying my time for nearly the whole month of July. It’s time for find someone else. For this week at least.

One fantabulous news, of course, is the return of Aritha to Malaysia. Her 2 months stint at Chennai has finally ended. And the first thought she had when she made her first phone call to me since arriving back was to ask about the cite hot between Najua and me – at 1.30 in the morning. Well, I can tell you she didn’t get much for me. I was quite unresponsive because I was asleep when she called. I even had trouble remembering Najua’s face. But finally, out of annoyance, I think, she said she’d just read my blog instead. Then suddenly my phone batteries went dead (a strange typical scenario every time Aritha calls me) and I went to take a leak. My phone rang again while I was still in the loo but when I got back, I was too drowsy to make any return calls, or even text her. Sorry, luv, the bed just looked too tempting.

Moving on. Now, about Eiwa. I think I made that call to her around this time last week. Yes, it was definitely last Monday. Well, I think today would be perfect for that little tête-à-tête we agreed on. I could even pick up the latest copy of Esquire when I’m there as well. I just hope she isn’t busy.

As for tomorrow, well, thanks to my muse, Sasa, I’ve already got plans. We’re gonna go to Starlight Cinema. They moved it to Sentul Park this year and for you who’s never been to Sentul Park before and are asking questions like ‘Why Sentul?’, let me tell you that the place is b-e-autiful. I first went there to see Harith Iskandar doing stand-up-comedy at KLPac and I too was quite skeptical at first. But when I arrived I was so amazed that I couldn’t believe I was still in Sentul. It has lakes, trees and filled with little green hills. It’s a bit like a miniature Lake Garden. Hey, we do have decent parks her after all! Anyway, it’s so far deep that you don’t hear the commotion from Jalan Ipoh. Even Harith made a humorous comment about it during his show.
“You’re probably excited about the show, ‘Yeay, we’re going to see Harith Iskandar! Where is it? Ha? Sentul? Is it safe, ah?’. But wouldn’t you agree it is actually a beautiful place?”
‘Yay’ to that.

You know, all these talk about Najua recently almost made me forgot about Kat. A woman who would actually call me back if she ever promised to do so. Unlike some people! Anyway, she called me sometime during the weekend and one thing I noticed during our conversation was that we have shifted from the ‘aku-kau’ to the ‘I-you’. Hmm, interesting development. It could be just on the phone but it could also mean something else. But I am reluctant to make further advances because at the moment she does have a boyfriend. And I have seen him, picking up Kat for lunch once. And he looks, well, tame and harmless. He looks like the last kind of person you’d want on your side in a brawl. I know Kat would certainly have much more fun if she’s with me but it makes me feel sorry for the guy if I should ever decide to come between them. Well, there’s plenty of time for Kat in the future. No rush there.

All this women talk is beginning to tire me. I’m gonna talk about something else in my next entry.

An Evening With Najua

I once admitted that I produce my usual best in blogging when I write with emotion. But I refrain from doing that this time around because I want to be very sure how I felt about what happened last Thursday evening. Yes, the date with Najua.

As you may have guessed, things have gotten a bit awry that night. It was too bad, really, because it had started off so promisingly. Let me tell you what happened.

The venue was Secret Recipe, Ampwalk. The time agreed was 8.40 pm. It was strange actually because I had asked for a drink and the time was suggested by Najua. I was anticipating along the lines of 6.30 or 7, maybe. But 8.40 at night? Some people even call this dinner time. Anyway, I, somehow, quite unintentionally, managed to arrive slightly earlier than her. As I sat at one of the small tables overlooking Jalan Ampang, the waitress was probably thinking what a sad and lonely life this fellow is leading. Having cake and coffee all alone at this deserted place at this time. I say this because I noticed the surprise look on her face, almost amazement, when a stunner like Najua came to join me. I have to admit I felt pretty smug.

As she took a seat beside me I just couldn’t believe how I’ve managed to arrive at that moment. I was actually having a date with Najua. It felt like a fantasy come true. Well, my fantasy involves a little bit more than just cakes and coffee but let’s not get into that now.

We began to talk. She just came back from dropping her brother at his school, Victoria Institution (VI) which would explain the exhaustive look on her face and the slight delay of her arrival. It turned out she was familiar with this place. She usually comes with her friends whenever they feel like having Secret Recipe cakes. They never went to any other outlets. I didn’t ask why. She also told me that she no longer will be pursuing ACCA but instead will be taking a course in shipping which is more relevant to her job, according to her boss. Well, there goes my hope of ever being her classmate again.

The night progressed pretty well. The place was quiet so it was perfect to have a decent conversation. Interrupted only by the occasional mat rempits.

As I said, everything was going pretty well. That is, until Paul came.

Paul is this late 30s Caucasian male who once reside in London. He’s a family friend to Najua’s family and even now, works for Najua’s uncle who owns an oil & gas company located at, voila, Ampwalk, just upstairs. Najua even explained that both the Quattroporte and red Diablo parked at the front of the complex, which I had eyed enviously the whole evening, belongs to her uncle. Well, it’s under the company’s name but, y’know, kind of meant the same.

Anyway, Paul was working late, and he was coming down to get a fresh pack of cigarettes. He wouldn’t have noticed us when he passed by if Najua hadn’t called out his name out loud. He acknowledged, went on to buy his pack of ciggies and promised to come back and join us. A few moments later there he was – all 6 feet of him – at the table. Well, you know what they say. It takes two to tango and three’s a crowd. Unavoidably, Najua’s focus is now on Paul. She had known him for years. Even Ity and Sandra talked to him on the phone while Najua took a morning shower during her time at UTP. Plainly put, Paul and Najua are pretty close. She even described his apartment at Seri Maya at Jalan Jelatek as her refuge during the weekends. And being British he couldn’t help but have this sarcastic comment about everything. Probably the only thing I like about him. I know I sound like I don’t like the guy but you know what? There’s nothing wrong with Paul. He is a nice bloke, really. A bit of a generation gap there but otherwise quite okay. It was Najua who I was worried about. I was now slowly drifted into the shadows. I had become unimportant by the minute. Even the plates on the table garnered more attention than I did. Najua was suddenly turning ga-ga, and sadly not to me.

Paul stayed with us for quite awhile and had to leave to finish things up at the office. Probably the best thing about that encounter was that he took care of the bill. He pulled out RM30 like some loose change. When Paul left it was unavoidable that we spoke about him. And the fact that it was near closing time didn’t help. I tried to salvage the last few moments by diverting away from the subject but with little success.

As we walked out as the last people to leave Secret Recipe, I thought, well, at least now I have her all to myself. But I assumed too soon. At the main steps of Ampwalk, without even giving me a glance, she scurried over to this parked Silver Audi by the road. It was a mature lady at the wheels and judging by the way Najua’s reaction she’s probably family. I thought it was just a quick hello and how-do-you-do? So I just stood there studying the curves of the huge Italian supercar in front me, waiting. Then I realized they were now chatting for quite some time. Now I felt rather guilty for not going there and introduce myself. But when Najua finally came back to me I felt a little relieved. That is, until she spoke.
“You balik dulu lah. I nak cakap dgn auntie I sebab dah lame tak jumpe,”
I was suddenly left speechless. She was blowing me off, yet again. This wasn’t happening. But, then again, what am I supposed to say? Screw your auntie and stay with me then? I did what was expected – I bid goodbye. We shook hands and that was it. While I couldn’t believe how the night had awkwardly ended, Najua on the other hand couldn’t wait to get back to her aunt. As I walked back to the car I noticed even Paul had come down and joined the chat. Looking back, I felt like an outsider who was never welcomed in the first place. I tell you, the scenario bothered me more than I thought it could, but it did.

I drove home with lots of questions on my mind. I even turned the stereo off just to think. Just what the bloody hell happened? The matter of fact was I went out a date with Najua and that was supposed to make me feel happy, thrilled, proud like fuckin’ peacock but yet, it didn’t. I felt something was amiss. Something went wrong. It wasn’t a disaster. It wasn’t perfect either. Clearly something didn’t go according to plan.

I thought about this for a few days and I came to the conclusion that I was disappointed. I think it was M. Night Shyamalan who said that you can have a bad beginning and a bad middle but you’ll always have the ending. I guess it’s true too when you turn it around. You can have a good start, a good middle but a bad ending, will leave a sour taste in your mouth.

As much as I hate to admit and I once even thought was quite impossible to happen but the truth is, I was disappointed with Najua. It wasn’t really her fault actually. It was all circumstantial. Too bad for me, I guess. It was a bittersweet experience. I could finally add Najua’s name to the list of women I went out with but in terms of fun or was-it-worth-it?, I couldn’t rank her that high up. I even had a better time when I went out with Ara a while back. Wait, that was last year. Oh sod it.

Now I’m actually having second thoughts about asking Najua out again. I even contemplated asking Eiwa out ahead of schedule just to mellow my disappointment. But I know better not to. Eiwa is a whole different chapter.

It’ll probably take me some time to even consider having another go with Najua. Should that happen you can bet that I’ll be taking her somewhere far from Ampwalk, that’s for sure. Oh how it could’ve gone so wrong? It should’ve been awesome. Everything was perfect. The night was perfect, Najua was perfect but the place, oh, the place. What an ambush that was. It was a shame, really. You see, Najua is like Cameron Diaz in There’s Something About Mary. She has this vibe which garners so much attention from the people around her that it can be very frustrating for a man to get close to her. I’m sorry to say this but if this one of the things that drove her ex-boyfriend nuts, then it’s understandable. But asking her to change is like trying to change what makes Najua her and no one has the right to that but Najua alone. Besides, changing that would change the Najua we all know and, well, love.

I’ll end here by saying this – it would be very, very difficult to get Najua. By ‘get’ I mean tackle, ngurat, adjust, whatever. It’ll take a very brave and patient man to sweep her off her feet. Will it be me? Well, I have to come up with a thought out game plan first if I plan to proceed. Najua has now become a delicate issue. It has to be handled with care. In the meantime, however, as the saying goes – there are plenty other fishes in the sea.

I Told You So

It makes me feel guilty about being happy today. People around are generally sad with regards to the death of Sultan Ahmad’s half-sister and not to mention the Hani Mohsin story. And today my life is coupled with the news that one of my good friend’s father has passed away this morning. My condolences but, as cruel as this might sound, life moves on.

So, today, well, more like yesterday, has been a joyful day for me. Two things happened.

First, remember when I was bitchin’ about the firm not paying my half-month salary for May, when I first joined them? Did I blog it? Hmm, I couldn’t remember. Anyway, matter of fact is, I did bitch about it - constantly. But, as it turned out, they did pay me. It was in the form of a cheque, which I didn’t know of its existence until yesterday. I tell you, tears were running down my cheeks when I held that piece of paper in my hand. It was so beautiful. And I have become instantly rich. Joy~

Second, which is the biggie, happened around 4 pm yesterday. I had nothing much to do back then and was getting sleepy, and all the while trying to figure out what am I going to say to Najua when I make that phone call (hopefully) later that night. Then I had this sudden urge to take out my phone and, voila, I have a message. I didn’t realize it. So, I opened it and, I’ll be damned, it was from Najua. In it, she said how sorry she was she couldn’t entertain my calls lately and she asked if there was something important that I want to talk about. Well, hell yeah. Our dinner plan. Well, more like my dinner plan. But I thought carefully before replying this time. I have learnt my lesson. Probably asking for a dinner date is a bit too ‘big’. So I tried a more subtle approach – a drink. And she said ‘yes’. Oh yes! What did I tell ya? Just what did I tell ya? Once again, Faizad has emerged victorious! After we sorted out the finer details. It’s on Thursday night, if you have to know. About when and where, like the hell I’m going to tell you! Probably after the date itself, I’ll put on something about it. That is, if every thing goes well. If not, then,… er, I’d rather not think about it.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I have a date with Najua. Now, who said the life of an auditor is boring?

The Date

The answer is ‘no’.
Last time I was buoyant about the prospect of having a romantic dinner with Najua. But, no, that didn’t happen. But it wasn’t because a lack of trying though.

The Friday before (14th), I decided to give Najua a call right after office hours. I figured the timing would be just nice. The transition period between the end of the week and the start of the weekend. What better time to ask for a date? So after packing my stuff into Valerie, I sat on the passenger side of her, overlooking the playground and dialed Najua’s number. It was an adrenaline rush juts waiting for the call to connect (one of the best parts about the dating game if I might add) but guess what? I got her voice message. Disappointed, yes. Beaten? No. Apparently she was busy enough to actually turn off her handphone. Either that or she didn’t want to deal with the poisonous unwarranted calls from the boss so late in the evening. Oh well, since Maxis came up with this brilliant thing where you get an SMS telling you that someone was trying to get through while your handphone was off, I decided to redial. So that she will receive a notification of 2 missed calls from my number. 1 missed call would look like a mistake or unimportant. 3 would appear like an emergency or desperation. 2 would be just nice. Sure enough she returned my call while I was inching my way through Sprint.

“Sape ni?”, she asked.
Apparently, she didn’t have my number. Not really a big surprise. So I told her I am her knight in shining armor ready to whisk her away to paradise and beyond.
“ni Faizad,” I answered.
It turned out she too was stuck in a traffic jam. Ideally, this was a situation I’d like to avoid. Firstly, because she couldn’t give…, wait, no. Make that, firstly, because it’s unsafe and secondly because she couldn’t give her fullest attention to the conversation. I mean, normally people who receive phone calls while they’re driving prefer the conversations to be quick and straight to the point. Asking for a date has to be a smooth process of inquisition. Conflict of interests here. Rushing it increases the probability of receiving a negative answer. But I had no choice. I tried to prolong the conversation asking about how things are (the original plan) but she was ready to hang up at one point. So then and there I asked her. Her response?
“Dinner? Sape lagi?”
Suddenly it has taken a new direction which I had hoped earlier was the last thing to happen. But it did, so I replied,
“Kite dua je lah,”
“Menipu,”
“Eh, betul lah,”
“Menipu,”
“Betul lah kite dua je,”
“Menipu,”
3 times she called me a liar. So much for the power of persuasion. I must admit, things were suddenly beginning to look bleak.
“Kite ajak lah sesape lagi. Marina ke, Sasa ke,” she suggested.
It has become clear to me that she had no idea that I was really trying to ask her out for a date (well, I never did mention the word ‘date’ during the whole conversation, to be fair. That would be a bombshell)
“Macam ni lah. Nanti I tanye Sasa ke, sesape kalau diorang nak join tak. Kite go out next week ke… I’ll call you back later, ‘kay? It’s a date, then”
As I could only muster an unsure ‘okay’ myself, she hung up and I was left wondering,
“What the hell happened?”
Apparently her version of ‘date’ with me includes her band of entourage. I was supposed to ask her out for a one-to-one dinner date. Not a group excursion. Not that anything’s wrong with that but that wasn’t the plan! As I replayed the conversation in my head I had come to the conclusion that my fate was left in the hands of Sasa. If she agrees to the group hang then my efforts would be ruined. If she could recall and figure out that my only intention to ask Najau out for dinner is to get an intimate moment with her, then I’m saved. Coincidentally, I had dinner arrangements with Sasa later that night at Parkroyal.

Dinner with Sasa was just a spontaneous act made earlier that day. I virtually had nothing to do that day so I sent a few SMSs here and there with the words “Buat pe?” Just mysterious and childish enough. I even sent one to Nebu. It ended with a dirty joke, of course. But Sasa was the only one who asked me back ‘kenape ye?’ Almost instantaneously I decided asking her out for dinner. Well, since it was ages since I asked her out, she answered back quite harshly, “Ape mimpi kau ajak aku gi dinner ni?” She probably figured out it was just a nice gesture, I think, because she agreed in the end. But now it brings together a new perspective.

So there we were at Chatz Brasserie being probably the two most animated couple in the whole restaurant. We did our usual thang. We talked, we laughed and I had the best grilled Cod in my whole life. We were even the last people to leave the place. After that we had a little walk down Dubai Walk, I mean, Bintang Walk, as Sasa wanted to burn off a few calories after that luxurious dinner. I had to admit I’ve always been the one ruining her diet every time she goes out with me. Little did she knew I had a futsal game later that night. A little walk was probably a bit frivolous for me but I had a pretty good game that night. Maybe it was because of the oysters. Anyway, the point is never once did the name ‘Najua’ ever popped up. I don’t know why. Maybe I was scared of the repercussions. If Sasa said ‘yes’ then she would have the upper hand on the negotiating table. If she said ‘no’ then it would trigger a whole load of inquiries. The gossip ball would just roll. But maybe….maybe I prefer to leave it to chance. It is certainly more exciting that way.

But back to Najua. That phone call? That return call that she promised me? It never came. All the way ‘til Sunday when I decided finally to ring her rather than waiting for it to happen. As luck would put it, she was driving her grandmother to somewhere when she answered, which meant I caught her at a bad time and incidentally led her to promise me the second time, “I’ll call you later, ok?” I stood there motionless at Sunway College’s parking lot. That’s twice. At that point I could only hope she keeps her promise this time around. But it was not to be. Sunday passed just it had came.

Monday (17th) breathed a whole new week. A fresh start. It felt weird embracing a Monday but I did. The new plan was to get the date scheduled by the end of the week. I had 5 days to work it out. It won’t be easy though. God knows what tricks fate had already lined up for me. But somehow, in the pursuit of that goal, I managed to score a dinner with Jes. That, too, came out of a spontaneous act.

I had dinner with Jes at San Francisco Steakhouse at KLCC. This was also one of the places I had always wanted to come. I had a few escapades at Santini’s located downstairs but have yet to step onto the upper floor. The ambience was expectedly warm and nice while Jes was singing along to the musical hits from the 60s and 70s which were playing softly in the background. But the most surprising and exciting part was I have finally stumbled upon the place where they serve Wagyu beef. Or more popularly known as Kobe beef. The best meat money can buy. I never imagined I could have the opportunity to dine this legendary delicacy. The price is exorbitant, of course, but, wow, I mean, it’s here. I’ve always thought that to get hold of this one-of-a-kind would require a trip overseas and a reservation at a world famous restaurant 10 months in advance. But, now, it’s just a trip down to KLCC, man. It truly is everything under the Sun. But sorry to say, I didn’t order it. Simply because I wasn’t that hungry, I didn’t have enough cash and I thought the experience should be reserved for a better occasion. Instead I just a normal steak and chicken breast. The chicken was typical as always but the steak was excellent. I could only imagine if it had been Wagyu beef. Jes, meanwhile, ordered salad. Well, I couldn’t blame her as she has a tennis tournament coming up next (this) week. I guess it’s true then - women never eat on dates (Jack Nicholson, Something’s Gotta Give). If you haven’t heard about Wagyu or Kobe, try surfing the Net about it You’d find out how rare and special it is. Dubbed the ‘foie gras of beef’, it just goes to show the high regard it demands.

As Jes and I talked, I peered out to the view of the KLCC Park at night. It was serene and beautiful and it occurred to me - we lack parks here in KL. I mean, proper parks like KLCC’s that we can walk around, breathing in the cool night air under the trees without having to hear the noises of streets. That’s why I think the Central Park in New York is such a brilliant idea. If you watch every love stories that is played in New York, there’d always a scene involve a walk around the park and how lovely it is. Take Hitch, for example. Just like the scene after Will Smith had that food allergy episode and was high after having too much Benadryl. Then he and Eva had a nice walk around the fountains. It’s even better in England where they have all these little gardens. Just look at Notting Hill. The scene where Hugh Grant exclaimed ‘Whoopsy daisies’ and at the end where he and Julia Roberts were reading books on a bench enjoying the sunshine and Julia had her head on Hugh’s lap. (sigh) we definitely need more parks in KL. As for Jes and me, we didn’t take a walk (although it did cross my mind) because she was already looking sleepy even though the clock was only showing 9 pm. We did, however, went up to her room and had the most passionate night of our lives. She was continuing her work from the office on her laptop while I watched CSI:NY. Ba-dabing. It was still memorable though. You know, if Jes and I were married, that would probably be pretty much the typical scenario – the hardworker and the slob. Anyway, all that happened on Tuesday the 18th. Now, back to Najua.

I thought about asking Jes’ opinion about my current situation with Najua and any advice on what should I do next. But I thought, nah. I don’t wanna spoil the night discussing about another woman who wasn’t there. So, Wednesday.
Then Thursday.
Then Friday.
Friday came and I still haven’t had the guts to call her. What should I say? Do I make a point of her failing to keep her promise? Or do I merely forget it and act as if it was an honest mistake? Do I further pressurize her for the Ciao gig or do I tone down to a drink at Alexis? I had no definite answer. Or do I just call and leave it to the spur of the moment to decide? That was the most tempting but also risky. Problem is, I could only speculate her response until I actually call her. It’s a mentally tiring game.

At 11 pm that night I decided to dial her number. It’s kinda late but what the hell. It took 3 hours of my time to gain enough courage. Now or never.

The phone rang.
Ringing.
Still ringing.
Voice message.
No need to repeat the double-whammy. She already has my number. So I hung up, without leaving any messages, set my phone aside (praying for a return call) and started to open Goodnight Nobody. Just when I was trying to locate my bookmark my phone beeped, indicating an SMS has just been received.
“Please say yes. Please say yes,” I whispered to myself.
To what? I’m not sure myself. It was just a hopeless mantra.
Hi faizad sorry cudnt pick up im watching pirates otc with my aunties in ampang.is there something u wanna talk abt?
Yeah, our dinner date. (sigh) just my luck, eh? I know what you’re thinking. So many blow offs she could just might be avoiding me. That’s probably true. But do you know the definition of “perseverance”? Continuing in a course of action without regard to discouragement, opposition or previous failure (Will Smith, Hitch).
But, this time I was the one who made the promise to call her back the next day. It’s now Tuesday. I haven’t made that call. Why, you ask? It’s because I’m nervous like shit. I know the longer this drags on the more awkward it’ll be. I have to make that call ASAP but what will I say? ‘Hi Najua. Remember I asked you out to dinner two weeks ago and we never actually got to talking after that?’ Oh I even called Sasa on the evening before I got that Pirates message from Najua. I asked Sasa whether Najua had made any recent phone calls to her. She said ‘no’ and, well she was driving then but I could imagine her bopping up and down in her seat asking me rapid questions on the nature of my inquiry. I intentionally didn’t tell her just to drive her crazy but here it is in plain writing. Come to think of it, I don’t know why I actually write this thing in the first place. Damn, I must be pretty bored at the office.

Anyway, yesterday (Monday) served up as a sort of a confidence boost for me. I called Eiwa. Oh yes, the old flame. The old flame who is still single apparently. Yesterday was the first time I called her in one and a half years. I thought I gave up on her. Wait, I did gave up on her. But somehow, with her working at KLCC I think it’s inevitable one day I just had to hook up with her. Problem was, I didn’t know her new number. Even though Nebu is her work colleague, I always forget to ask him for her new number every time I met him. Until the time I chilled with him at A&W before my dinner with Jes last week. So, finally her new number is in my possession and yesterday evening I decided to give her a ring. Her phone went unanswered the first time. Again I refrained from pulling off the double whammy like I did on Najua because chances are, she still has my number despite upgrading to post-payment.

It wasn’t until I was looking for Michael Crichton’s State of Fear at MPH OU that my phone rang. Without looking at the screen I knew ‘honey bunny’ was displayed.
“Hi Faizad!”
Well, she did have my number.
“You called me just now?”
Damn right, honey.
So we got talking. Thankfully I was in a bookstore so everything was quite. No need to shout or go “ha?” every once in a while. It was a brief chat but she sounded so excited on the phone. She was almost squealing. My intention for the call, of course, was to put her on stand-by for a future date. I only suggested a drink. A dinner date would seem too ambitious after a year and a half layoff. She agreed and Faizad triumphs again. Now, why is it so difficult with Najua? Demmit.

So things were going good as I made my way to Tower Records when I bumped into Kai Yin and KarYeng (not related). The two hot (and only) Chinese girls from my BITS class. BITS ended last week so now they were free, taking the opportunity lounging around shopping complexes during office hours. It was the second time I bumped into them at a shopping complex. The first time was at Bangsar Shopping Centre at lunchtime when I was just a week into Deloitte. “Kite macam ade jodoh la,” as Kar Yeng pointed out the coincidence. That was probably the nicest thing any girl has ever said to me this month. We talked a bit about what’s goin’ on with each other and the last day at BITS (which I couldn’t manage to find time to ponteng from work to attend). It was a brief chat and then we went our separate ways.

I continued my walk to Tower and then I bumped into another girl. It was Shima (or was it Syida? I always get confused) from my UTP batch. She was with I could only guess as her mother. She too is working somewhere in Uptown so it wasn’t a surprise to find her there. I even met her once during lunchtime. We just gave each other a friendly wave. I gave the Jack Nicholson playful wave. The one where you flicker your fingers plus that naughty smile on your face.

By the time I reached Tower, I think to myself, I still have that charm with girls. Now, why (again) is it so difficult with Najua?

Later that night (yesterday) I once again made the intention to call her. Problem was I fell asleep during Sportscenter. I didn’t even reach the part where they say Damien Duff signed for Newcastle. I only woke up at 4.30 am. I could only groan.

Now, Tuesday, back to the future. While all my side activities had gone well and looks promising for the future, my main objective still hangs in the balance - Najua, my Wagyu beef, my foie gras. Since when did this become so difficult?

So, next course of action – call Najua. It’s as simple as that. But what if ultimately she says ‘no’? I don’t think I can take that kind of rejection (Michael J. Fox, Back to the Future Part 1). Whoa, hey, wait, that ain’t me talking. The truth is, no matter what, no matter when, no matter who… any man has a chance to sweep any woman off her feet. Just needs the right broom (Will Smith, Hitch).

The journey, ladies and gentlemen, continues…